Chapter Text

 Captain Christopher Pike woke up to someone banging on his door. He was rolling out of bed and reaching for his equipment - his communicator, his phaser, his boots - before he realized that he wasn’t aboard his ship. There were no alarms blaring red alert. There was no piercing whistle proceeding one of his officers calling him to get his ass up to the bridge. 

 He was in his apartment, he realized, holding his communicator in one hand and his phaser in the other. It didn’t seem to matter how long he’d been planet-bound, the instincts developed out there in space stayed with him. He would hear the Starfleet whistle in his dreams for the rest of his life. 

 Christopher Pike looked at the communicator in his hand, paused where he’d already been lifting it to his mouth even half-asleep, reflexively about to tell Number One to report or come save his ass. Staying in contact and collaborating with his crew was everything when things inevitably went to shit. But no, Number One wasn’t even on Earth and Pike wasn’t on a ship. He was alone in his apartment on Earth and the dark out the window wasn’t the endless, starry expanse of that final frontier. 

 It was also, according to the communicator, four in the fucking morning. 

 Someone banged on his front door again. Loudly. Very loudly. Not just “I’m going to make your neighbours hate you” loudly, but “the ship is under attack” loudly. Insistent. Panicked. 

 Pike raised the communicator to his mouth. “House on standby.” 

 Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the small blue light at the corner of the bedroom command panel turn yellow. He then put his communicator and phaser aside, pulled on a shirt, pulled on his boots, and took up his equipment again. He was ready in seconds - Starfleet-quick, ready to run to the bridge - but not before his guest banged on his front door again. Pike had to wonder why someone that insistent wasn’t also shouting their head off. 

 On silent feet, he went to the command panel. Pike noted that there were messages waiting for him. Several of them. But he first pulled up a view of the asshole banging on his apartment door. 

 It was Jim Kirk. 

 Pike stared at the screen, then rubbed his face. This fucking kid. 

 He sighed. “House off standby. Code 20090805.” 

 The command panel beeped in response, the status light shifting from yellow back to blue. Pike used the panel to switch on his apartment lights and, before Jim could slam his fist into the front door for a fourth time, unlocked the door and had it swing open for the kid. A glance at his inbox before he left the bedroom confirmed that several of his unread messages were from Cadet James Tiberius Kirk and all of them were marked as urgent.

 Pike stepped out of the bedroom and crossed his arms, just as Jim stepped into the apartment and closed the door behind him. They stared at each other with the living room between them. 

 Pike’s best guess had been, before opening the door, that the kid had realized that the academic dishonesty hearing for his Kobayashi Maru hacking stunt was tomorrow, a little more than twenty-four hours from now, and was freaking out about it both far too late and far too early in the morning. But Pike’s best guess cracked as soon as he got his first good look at Jim Kirk. 

 The young man looked half-dead from a nightmare. Jim was pale, with bags under his eyes, bruising around his neck, and he had a windswept look about him like hell was on his heels. 

 Kirk’s reaction to the academic dishonesty hearing so far had been the devil-may-care flippancy that Pike had expected in response to his few “what the fuck did you do now, Jim” messages. Starfleet was more than reluctant to let go of a legacy cadet as brilliant and well-known as Jim Kirk and everyone knew it, including Jim, even if some of them disagreed with some of his personal life choices. The worst they were honestly likely to do was slap his wrist for his stunt. 

 “You better have a hell of a defense prepared,” Pike had written in one of his messages over Kirk’s latest Kobayashi Maru debacle, and Kirk’s quaking-in-his-boots response had been, “Sir, with the speech I have ready for their hearing, they’re going to be giving me a commendation for beating that test.” 

 Even if the kid had worked himself up into a panic for some reason, Pike had expected some “fake it ‘til you make it” bargaining, not… this. Whatever the hell this was. 

 “Jim, what happened,” Pike said. 

  He asked the question calmly. Like he hadn’t just rolled out of bed and like Jim hadn’t just pulled himself out of a gutter or something. Like a Starfleet captain demanding a report from the officer he wanted Jim to be someday. 

 Jim looked him dead in the eye and said, “Someone is going to destroy Vulcan.” 

 Even the best of captains would have needed a second to take in a statement like that. Pike allowed himself several. Pike also blinked, several times, but Jim’s face remained deathly serious, as he stood in the middle of the apartment living room with his chin held high. 

 “You don’t believe me yet, sir, but you’re going to,” Jim said firmly. Immovably. Unstoppably. “I’ll prove it to you. I’ll swear this is true on anything you ask me, sir. I just need you to call Commander Spock and get him here immediately.” 

 “Spock,” Pike repeated. 

 “Yes, sir. You look like you could use a cup of coffee. Where’s your replicator? I’ll get the coffee. You call Spock right now and tell him to get here.” 

 Pike followed Jim into the apartment’s kitchen. He hadn’t known that Jim Kirk and Spock knew each other outside of the most recent Kobayashi Maru debacle. He thought that at least one of them would have probably mentioned meeting, having decided some time ago that they would probably get along like a house on fire. He hadn’t yet decided whether “house on fire” meant in a good way or a bad one. The Kobayashi Maru was tilting it more towards the latter. 

 Jim started going through the kitchen cabinets and Pike could see there was no getting rid of him. There were probably worse ways for Jim and Spock to meet face-to-face for the first time, Pike mused, though he couldn’t think of any off the top of his head. 

 “Far right cabinet on the first shelf,” Pike said finally, walking over to the kitchen command panel to send a message to Commander Spock. “Put those extra engineering courses to work and see if you can’t get that coffee machine chugging along too. The replicator never gets it right.” 

 “Got it, sir,” Jim said, smoothly reaching for it. 

 Pike had the annoyed thought that this was probably going to be the best cup of coffee he’d had in his life. That was how it went with Jim Kirk, he thought, as he watched the kid deftly inspect his antique coffee machine. He noticed, while watching the kid move around his kitchen, that bruising around Jim’s neck looked like someone had choked him. Pike recognized that sort of handprint when he saw it. Someone had gotten a hand around Jim Kirk’s throat with the sort of force that could easily kill a man. 

 He looked back to the message he was going to send Spock: a simple request that the commander come to his apartment immediately regarding… regarding…. 

 Pike erased “regarding” and ended the sentence there. 

 He was a Starfleet captain. He could end sentences where he liked and send emergency messages that woke people up at four in the fucking morning. Spock could deal with the curiosity long enough to make it here. Especially since Pike didn’t know what this was about besides, potentially, the destruction of the commander’s home planet, and he wasn’t about to put “The Destruction of Vulcan” as the subject line of an emergency message. 

 He sent the message. 

 Looking up, he saw that Jim had somehow unearthed the instruction manual for his coffee machine, several mugs, his good whiskey, and a multi-tool set to screwdriver. Jim had the instruction manual open in hand and, as Pike watched, cracked open the top of the coffee machine to inspect the insides. 

The kitchen command panel then pinged softly. 

 Looking down again, Pike saw a message from Spock. Spock was now was on his way and had estimated an arrival time down to the second. Pike promptly set a timer on the command panel to thirty seconds less than that, because Spock was sure to be annoyingly prompt. 

 Pike had been young once too, but he didn’t remember being young like this. 

 With a sigh, Pike left the kitchen command panel and sat down on a stool at the island. 

 “Talk to me,” he said. 

 Jim looked up and quickly scanned the room, like he thought Spock might have beamed in somehow. “You don’t want to wait for Spock, sir?” 

 “Jim, you just told me that Vulcan is going to be destroyed. I can’t imagine why the hell you of all people would have that information. If you don’t start talking and start making sense, you’re going to be in trouble for a lot more than academic dishonesty,” Pike said flatly. “You’re using up the last scrap of indulgence I have for you bringing Spock here, so use it. Or else we’re going to be talking, the three of us, about your last Kobayashi Maru and whether or not you’re fit to be an officer of Starfleet at all, much less a captain someday.” 

 Jim accepted this with only a brief flash of pain, before he said with inappropriate good humour,. “I think that sort of non-transparent interference is against Starfleet’s academic dishonesty policies, sir, after a hearing has been set.” 

 “Kirk,” Pike said warningly. 

 “Right,” Jim said, and put down the multi-tool. “Sir, what do you know about time travel?” 

 Pike stared at the kid who looked like he’d been spat out of hell. 

 “I think the more important question here is what you know about it,” PIke said finally. 

 “Well-spotted, sir. I’ll start at the beginning: so, 129 years in the future, in the year 2387, an impending supernova threatened to destroy the home system of the Romulan Empire - and, potentially, several surrounding systems as well.” 

 Pike already didn’t like Jim speaking about the future in the past tense. 

 “Go on,” he said. 

 “Ambassador Spock - our Spock, you know how long Vulcans live, sir - promised to save Romulus. The Vulcans created a special ship - their fastest - and stocked it with with this thing called ‘red matter’, which I think is an artificial substance developed to form singularities upon ignition. Unfortunately, the star went supernova before Spock could get there and Romulus was destroyed. Spock launched the red matter to prevent further damage.” 

 “I thought this was about Vulcan,” Pike said. 

 “It is, sir, I’m getting there. See, Spock was then confronted by a surviving Romulan mining vessel, the Narada, captained by a Romulan named Nero, who in his grief wanted revenge against Spock for failing to save his planet. Both ships got captured by the resultant black hole, creating a disturbance in the space-time continuum. The Narada went through first. It ended up in the year 2233, appearing out of a ‘lightning storm’ near Klingon space.” 

 The last sentence of this strange story hit Pike like a phaser blast. Especially when Kirk snapped the top back onto the coffee machine and looked at him with those piercing eyes of his, a grimly determined expression on his face. He didn’t say it, but Pike heard it. 

 “The Kelvin,” Pike said. 

 “Yes, sir.” 

 “You expect me to believe, Kirk, that that was a mining ship?” 

 “From nearly 150 years in the future, yes, sir. I don’t know what the exact political situation of the time was, but I think it’d be a safe bet to say that the Romulan Empire believed it a worthwhile investment to create ships that could protect the valuable resources they mined. You know how much effort, sir, goes into protecting the operations that supply the Federation with the materials to maintain Starfleet.” 

 Pike did know, which stopped him short of continuing to disbelieve Jim Kirk on principle. Many of Pike’s missions over the years had centered around bringing planets into the Federation for their natural resources or technological developments. More missions still had involved the ferrying or escort of valuable resources or researchers. 

 A mining ship from the future. It was disturbingly plausible. 

 Even the time travel. 

 Pike looked at Jim Kirk again, who still looked disturbingly earnest. Pike had no idea how Jim had come into or come up with this story, but he wanted to hear the rest of it. 

 “Where does Vulcan come into this?” 

 “Nero was determined to take revenge on Spock for failing to save Romulus,” Jim explained, clearly enthused to be believed. “So he waited for Spock’s ship to exit here in the past. But what appeared seconds to Spock was 25 years to Nero and the Narada.” 

 Pike did the math. “That’s… now.” 

 “Yes, sir. The day before I retook the Kobayashi Maru, Cadet Uhura - have you met her, sir? You should. She’s incredible. Anyway, Cadet Uhura decoded a Klingon transmission about 47 battle cruisers destroyed near a prison planet. The distress call identified the attackers as Romulan, sir. And during my hearing, the Federation is going to get a distress call from Vulcan, citing seismic disturbances and another ‘lightning storm’ in space.” 

 “Speak it plain, Kirk. Now.” 

 “I think it’s safe to assume that Nero is shortly going to have Ambassador Spock, his ship, and the red matter, and that he’s headed towards Vulcan intending to destroy it. Sir, I know all this because I lived it before. I saw Nero destroy Vulcan. I met Ambassador Spock. The Enterprise barely managed to stop Nero from destroying Earth too. I woke up several days in the past and I’ve got no idea what’s going on, but I’m not about to let Vulcan be destroyed again.” 

 Pike stared at the young man in front of him, trying to understand this. 

 “So, there’s… two kinds of time travel going on here.” 

 Jim nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

 “One which brought this Nero and the Narada and an older Spock here…” 

 “Yes, sir.” 

 “...and one which brought… you here.” 

 “Yes, sir.” 

 Pike straightened in his seat. “Should I expect to see another James Tiberius Kirk running around?” he asked, a serious question, with what little remained of his good humor. “Because I don’t think the universe is ready for there to be two of you.” 

 “I checked, sir, but there’s only me,” Jim said, very seriously. “I’ve retraced all my steps from today as well as I can remember, but it’s like… if there was another me, I think I’ve replaced him. I almost wondered if I’d been caught in some advanced simulation - you know, sir, like that mystery drama show that used to be really popular? ‘Holo’?” 

 Pike rubbed his hand down his face. Unfortunately, he did. “Yes.” 

 “God, that finale was really stupid, wasn’t it?” Jim said sympathetically. “Anyway, I thought there was a chance it was something like that - I had to cover all my bases - but I still have all the injuries I got from fighting with the crew of the Narada.” He tugged down the collar of his shirt to show off those bruises, which looked even worse with a clear front-view. 

 “...Has your doctor friend had a look at those?” 

 “Yes. Well, Bones from my time did. I dodged this Bones, because he’d go berserk on me if he saw these, sir. Speaking of good ol’ Doctor McCoy, I borrowed his tricorder, and confirmed that I have the vaccine for Melvaran mud fleas in my system still. Bones gave me that on the day of my hearing. Long story. You don’t want to hear why.” 

 “I believe that,” Pike agreed. “You don’t have any idea how this happened to you?” 

 “I didn’t run headfirst into any black holes that I noticed,” Jim said, finally putting down the instruction manual and putting on that much-needed cup of coffee. “I was on the Enterprise, headed back to Earth, with you and Spock and Bones and everyone. But you don’t remember anything and Bones doesn’t remember anything. It’s just me. One minute I’m on the bridge of the Enterprise, talking about transferring Vulcan survivors and injured crew members to another ship, and then the next minute… I’m here again.” 

 “And determined to save Vulcan.” 

 “I didn’t do this on purpose, but while I’m here, the time-space continuum can kiss my ass, sir,” Jim agreed. “I checked for the transmission Uhura decoded and sent it to you. It’s the exact same, sir: 47 Klingon warbirds destroyed by a single, massive Romulan ship. I will swear on anything you ask of me, sir, that I’m telling the truth.”  

 Pike looked at the kitchen command panel, where several urgent messages from Cadet James Tiberius Kirk were still unread, and where a certain timer was soon to go off. He looked back at Jim - beaten, bruised, earnest, desperate Jim Kirk, who’d come to him for help after facing down the impossible - and sighed. God help him, he almost believed this kid. Part of him couldn’t help but believe in Jim Kirk despite everything. If this was true, there were billions of lives on the line here, and Pike wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he risked not investigating. 

 “You’ve got my attention, Kirk,” Pike said, getting to his feet. He went over to the kitchen command panel and disabled the timer before it went off, then went to the apartment controls and hit the command to open the front door. “Now let’s see what Spock makes of us.” 

 Jim straightened like someone had put a phaser to his back as the front door swung open. 

 It gave Pike some satisfaction to see Spock standing there with a hand raised to knock on the door. Spock didn’t look surprised, of course, but it was satisfying anyway. Spock lowered his hand and stepped into the apartment. He clearly noted Jim Kirk’s presence - Pike knew Spock probably had a file on the kid now, in preparation for the academic dishonesty hearing - but the commander was too professional to say anything on it as a greeting. 

 “Captain, you sent for me,” Spock said. 

 “I did. Thank you for coming so quickly, Spock, despite it being four in the morning.” 

 Pike sent a look at Jim as he said this, but Jim didn’t look ashamed, too busy looking at Spock like the man was the most important person on the planet. Jim Kirk watched Spock with a curious regard. With a respect that Pike would have said, three years ago upon first meeting him, James Tiberius Kirk might have been incapable of showing anyone. 

 “The interests of Starfleet are hardly limited to one particular time-zone on one particular planet, captain,” Spock answered, looking insultingly put-together despite the hour. It might as well have been four in the afternoon to him. “However, to alleviate any concerns you might feel, I will remind you that Vulcans require less sleep than humans to sufficiently function.” 

 “Yes, you keep saying that,” Pike replied. “Now, come on in and meet Jim Kirk.” 

 Spock came to the kitchen island and, with a tap at the command panel, Pike closed the front door behind him. A person had to be familiar with Vulcans to tell, but it was clear to Pike that Spock did not have the same regard for the cadet standing in Pike’s kitchen. 

 “Your reputation precedes you, Cadet Kirk,” Spock said. 

 Which was extremely polite, given some of Jim Kirk’s unfortunate reputation. Some Vulcans of Pike’s unfortunate acquaintance had chosen to make all their supposedly “neutral” statements insultingly critical. Spock was comparably diplomatic. 

 “It has since the day I was born,” Jim answered, with his usual casual disregard for his infamy, and raised his hand in a surprisingly practiced version of what was colloquially known as ‘the Vulcan salute’. “Hello, Spock. It’s nice to meet you again. Properly, this time.” 

 Spock inclined his head, then looked at Pike. “Captain, if this is in regards to Cadet Kirk’s academic dishonesty hearing, I must remind you that it is against Starfleet policy to-” 

 “It’s not about that,” Pike interrupted. 

 Spock paused. Pike couldn’t imagine how many possibilities were being turned over in that formidable Vulcan brain of his, but it was clear he was stumped. Personally, Pike was stumped over how he was going to break time travel and the potential destruction of Vulcan to the commander, especially when all he had was the convincing yet incredible word of a rather infamous cadet. 

 “I must express confusion then, captain, over what emergency would call myself and Cadet Kirk to your apartment at an hour commonly reserved for rest,” Spock said. 

 “It’s difficult to know where to get started,” Pike said. 

 “Personally, sir, I recommend just starting. There’s no good point to start.” 

 “Thank you, Kirk,” Pike said. “Now shut up until further notice.” 

 “Yes, sir.” 

 Spock watched this exchange blankly, before focusing on Pike once more. 

 “Spock, to your knowledge, has the star of the home system of the Romulan Empire shown any signs of going supernova within the next 200 years?” 

 “The astronomers of the Vulcan Science Academy have observed instability within the star that could potentially threaten Romulus and all other planets within the system within 10,000 years, but the Romulan Empire has, to public knowledge, disregarded the warnings as a Federation plot to undermine the seat of their power,” Spock answered. “If the threat has recently accelerated to the point of an impending supernova, I have not been made aware.” 

 So, Jim’s story was scientifically possible, at least in regards to the Romulan supernova. 

 “Thank you, Spock,” Pike said, feeling a weight settle on his shoulders whether he liked it or not. Jim could have known that, but… there was still no good, obvious reason for Jim to cook up a story like this. There was nothing in it for him to lie. Pike would give him the boot personally if this was a lie. 

 “Is there an impending threat to Romulus, captain?” Spock asked. 

 “Not for 120 years,” Pike murmured. 

 “129,” Jim said. 

 Pike gave Jim Kirk his best “unimpressed commanding officer” look. Jim mimed zipping his lip and throwing away the key. It was mildly amusing and gratifying, though Pike knew it wouldn’t shut the damn kid up for long. 

 “Spock, to your knowledge, does there exist a substance capable of creating singularities? Natural or artificial?” Pike asked. 

 Spock’s eyebrows actually went up at that. Briefly. 

 “No, captain. I have never heard of such a substance: found, created, or theorized.” 

 Pike nodded, glad to hear the Vulcans weren’t already cooking up this damn “red matter”, at least to Spock’s knowledge. One ship of that stuff potentially being out there was already nearly too much for Pike to handle. Something like that made Earth’s long and violent history of “mutually assured destruction” look like a fucking joke. The Federation’s enemies would do anything for a weapon like that and, if Kirk was telling the truth, one of them almost had it. 

 He tried to think of what else he could independently confirm with Spock. 

 “Have there been any sightings of a strange, hostile ship, unexplained disappearances, or unexplained communication failures in or near Vulcan space?” Jim asked. 

 Spock looked at Jim blankly, then turned the look on Pike, who sighed. 

 “Answer the cadet’s question, please,” Pike said. 

 “Communication with a Federation observatory near the edges of Vulcan space failed yesterday at 2243 hours,” Spock answered. “An investigation team was dispatched immediately and as of 0317 this morning reported that the space station had been completely destroyed. Local Federation planets have already been made aware of the security breach and a temporary observational setup is under construction. A message concerning the incident should be in your inbox now, captain.” 

  Shit, Pike thought. 

 Space really never waited for anyone to get some sleep in. 

 “Part of that station’s job would have been to keep track of passing warp particles, wouldn’t it?” Jim asked rhetorically, with new energy. “Sir, I’d bet you anything the Narada destroyed that observatory to prevent Vulcan from getting any advance warning they were coming.” 

 “I’m not taking that bet,” Pike replied. 

 Spock looked between them, then asked, “Captain, who or what is ‘the Narada’?” 

 Now, of all times, Jim looked to Pike to answer. 

 “The Narada is, according to Cadet Kirk here, the Romulan ship that destroyed the U.S.S. Kelvin and now means to destroy Vulcan,” Pike said, because there really was no good place to start. “They’re from 129 years in the future. Kirk here is from next week.” 

 Spock looked between them again, then said, “Captain, as a Vulcan, the purpose of human practical jokes often eludes me. I do not find the destruction of my home planet an appropriate subject for such social rituals-” 

 “It’s not a joke, Spock.” 

 “That’s tasteless by anyone’s standards,” Kirk agreed solemnly. 

 The unimpressed look Spock turned on Jim Kirk would have sent a lesser man running. However, one of the most common and perhaps truest things said about Cadet Jim Kirk was that he was “a lot”. Under Spock’s Vulcan disapproval, despite very much looking like he’d lost a fight with an angry Romulan, Jim Kirk only stood up straighter. Jim was sticking to his guns here. 

 Pike had to give him credit for that. 

Chapter Text

 “I do not know how you have convinced Captain Pike of your story, but I share no such nostalgic fondness for your misbehavior, Cadet Kirk,” Spock said coldly. 

 “Sir, permission to speak freely again,” Jim said. 

 “I don’t know why you’re bothering, but permission granted,” Pike sighed. 

 “You don’t like me right now,” Jim began, meeting Spock’s stare evenly, “and that’s fair. I haven’t exactly shown you anything to make you take my word for what color the sky is right now. But, if you care about your planet, please… just hear me out.” 

 Spock’s expression didn’t change. 

 Jim looked at Pike. “Sir, I asked you to call Spock here because of a few reasons. One: he’s involved already. Two: I’m willing to go through a Vulcan mind-meld to confirm my story, if the commander is also willing. Three: he might just be the one person in all of Starfleet who can actually do something about this and save Vulcan before it’s too late.” 

 There was too much method here to Jim’s madness, if it was madness, and Pike didn’t think it was. 

 “...Let’s hear the full story, before we think about mind-melds. And give me that cup of coffee already, before I have to hear it,” Pike ordered, rubbing at his temple to ward off his own impending headache. 

 Jim glanced at the coffee machine, which was finally finished. “Oh, right.” 

 Spock had frequently used his touch-telepathy in service to Starfleet, but it was strange to hear someone be so blasé about letting someone read their mind. Pike didn’t know much about how Vulcan telepathy worked, but he liked to think he had a working knowledge of the basics. Even knowing that the scenario was unrealistic and irrational, he couldn’t help but contemplate the possibility of Starfleet’s favorite, most famous cadet accidentally breaking one of Starfleet’s favorite, most famous young officers. 

 “Can I get you anything, Spock?” Pike asked, making at least some show of being a host. 

 “No, thank you, captain.” 

 “Do you take anything in your coffee, sir?” Jim asked. 

 “No, just black. And don’t open that whiskey. I’m saving that.” 

 “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” 

 Once Pike had a warm cup of coffee in his hand, which smelled like it was going to be the most annoyingly perfect cup of coffee he’d had in his life, he felt slightly more benevolent to James Tiberius Kirk and his impossible story. Spock, on the other hand, had refused to sit down or change his expression, too polite and too professional to ask what the hell was wrong with the both of them. 

 Even when Jim drank half a cup of steaming coffee in one go. 

 “Oh, ow, that was not a great idea,” Jim said to himself. 

 “From the top, Kirk,” Pike ordered. 

 “Yes, sir,” Jim said, his posture shifting immediately as looked Spock dead in the eye. “129 years from now, an impending supernova will put the Romulan homeworld in danger of being destroyed. You, Spock, promised to save Romulus. The Vulcans outfitted their fastest ship with a substance called ‘red matter’, which when ignited can create singularities, to save the Romulans. Unfortunately, the star went supernova before you could get there and Romulus was destroyed anyway. You launched the red matter into the supernova to prevent further damage.” 

 Spock’s expression still didn’t change at hearing of his future exploits. 

 “You were then confronted by a Romulan mining vessel, the Narada, captained by a Romulan survivor named Nero. He wanted revenge against you - the future you - for failing to save his planet. Both ships got captured by the resultant black hole, which created a disturbance in the space-time continuum. The Narada went through first and came out first: 25 years ago, out of what looked like a ‘lightning storm in space’ near Klingon space. It was met by the U.S.S. Kelvin. Nero wanted revenge against the Federation and the Kelvin was outmatched in every way.” 

 Jim’s eyes had fallen to his hands on the subject of the Kelvin, but then he looked up at Spock with renewed determination and pointed a finger in warning. “Don’t you dare relate this to my personal issues with my dad. I know you want to right now. Don’t. This doesn’t have anything to do with that. And neither does the damn Kobayashi Maru.” 

 Spock looked, as much as a Vulcan could, highly disbelieving of this. 

 Pike decided to intervene. “Kirk. On with the story. Now.” 

 Jim lowered the finger and took a deep breath. “Right. Nero decided to wait for Spock - future Spock - and take revenge on him and the Federation for the destruction of his Romulus. The other Spock entered the black hole only seconds behind Nero, but he exited about twenty-five years later. The day before I last retook your test? Uhura decoded a Klingon distress call that identified a single, massive Romulan ship destroying 47 warbirds near a prison planet. 

 “We can probably assume that Nero is going to beat us to the future you, his ship, and the red matter he needs to destroy Vulcan. And his ship is already capable of drilling into the planet’s core from above atmosphere. 

 “During my hearing, the Federation is going to get a distress call from Vulcan. Since the primary fleet is currently occupied in the Laurentian system, Starfleet had to commission the Academy cadets and dispatch the recently completed ships to investigate seismic activity and if necessary aid in planetary evacuation. No one knew at that point that Vulcan was under attack.” 

 “Do you think it’s possible, Kirk, that this ‘Nero’ could be behind our current trouble in the Laurentian system? That it’s a distraction to clear a path to Vulcan and to Earth?” Pike asked. 

 “It’s possible, sir, but I honestly doubt it. Even now, twenty-five years later, the Narada is simply too technologically advanced for our ships. I don’t know what the Romulan Empire is going to be mining a hundred years from now, but it’s clearly important to them. Eight Starfleet ships were dispatched to to help Vulcan, sir. When the Enterprise got there, at most a few minutes behind everyone else, the seven other ships had already been completely destroyed by the Narada.” 

 Pike couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath. Jim looked completely serious and, against whatever better judgement he had, Pike believed in this kid. If this was real, if Jim was telling the truth, then…. 

 Pike couldn’t begin to conceptualize billions of lives lost… the number was too high to be real… but the deaths of seven starships filled with newly commissioned Academy cadets…. 

 He could begin there. 

 “We lost over half of the current graduating class,” Jim confirmed. “The only reason that the Enterprise wasn’t immediately destroyed too - they could have done it, our shields were no match for their weapons - was that Nero somehow recognized Spock was onboard.” 

 “What happened to this ‘future Spock’?” Pike demanded. 

 “Nero marooned him in the Vulcan system, on Delta Vega, so he could watch Vulcan be consumed from the inside out by the red matter,” Jim answered, with obvious disgust. “That’s why he let the Enterprise go. He wanted both versions of Spock to watch the destruction of the planet and live with the pain of it like he did. He also wanted you alive, sir, because he wanted the Federation planetary defense codes for Earth. He blamed the Federation as a whole for his loss, but Vulcan and Earth in particular, because… well, because they’re Spock’s homeworlds.” 

 Jim looked at Spock with clear empathy. Spock looked back at him with… Pike couldn’t tell. It was easy to forget that Spock was only half Vulcan - the only half-Vulcan and half-human being in existence, completely one of a kind - when Spock acted and referred to himself as purely Vulcan. Pike had only found out himself when he had first met Amanda Grayson. 

 “We tried to save Vulcan, but we didn’t know exactly what he was doing until we… until we saw it happen,” Jim continued. “Nero demanded that you go over to the Narada, sir. You put Spock in charge and made me his first officer, even though… I wasn’t officially supposed to be on the Enterprise. I was supposed to be grounded due to the academic dishonesty hearing.” 

 “Does this have anything to do with the Melvaran mud fleas?” Pike asked. 

 “Yes, but that wasn’t my idea,” Jim said defensively. “Anyway, the Narada was drilling from above atmo into the planet’s surface, which had knocked out communication and transporters. You then volunteered me for an away mission: an orbital skydive to disable the drill, jumping from your shuttle over to the Narada, so Spock could contact Starfleet and Vulcan. Getting communication and transporters back online was our only hope of helping Vulcan. You said I wasn’t supposed to be there anyway, sir.” 

 “Alright… that… sounds like me,” Pike admitted. 

 “Helmsman Sulu and Chief Engineer Olson also volunteered for the away mission. Olson died almost immediately because he wouldn’t pull his damn chute when we told him to. Sulu and I alone couldn’t manage to disable the drill before it was finished. We saw the red matter being launched into the planet’s core and couldn’t stop it.” 

 Jim looked haunted at the memory of failure. His expression was made worse by his injuries and his disheveled appearance. When he finally spoke again, his voice was filled with a sorrow Pike wouldn’t have known him capable of if he didn’t know more about Jim Kirk’s childhood than most, which was precious little still. The death of George Kirk was only one of the ghosts that drove Jim. What little Pike knew of the others was unspeakable. 

 “Chekov - he was our navigator - he beamed us back. Spock, you beamed down to the planet’s surface while it was being destroyed , to save the Vulcan Council. We couldn’t reach them inside that sacred mountain of yours.” 

 “Mount Seleya,” Spock supplied quietly. 

 “Yeah. You saved four of them, including your father. Your mother didn’t make it.” 

 Spock said nothing. 

 Pike had no idea what the man was thinking. 

 “Nero killed six billion people,” Jim said, crossing his arms, so that his fingers clawed into his jacket. “Many of the evacuating ships were caught in the implosion. Spock, you yourself estimated that between the interrupted evacuation, the Vulcan colonies, and the citizens who happened to be offworld, that no more than ten thousand Vulcans survived.” 

 That scale of death was unimaginable. 

 There was nothing in Earth’s history - in the Federation’s history - that reached that sheer scale of deaths in a single day. Pike literally couldn’t imagine it and didn’t want to try. 

 “The psychic shock of six billion telepaths dying briefly took out a couple dozen people on the Enterprise too,” Jim went on, like he couldn’t help but share how it got worse. “Bones supposed it was the people who had latent psychic abilities for the humans. One of the Betazoids on board actually had a heart attack. The other one was wrecked and couldn’t serve for the remainder of the mission. Two of the Vulcan elders were almost completely non-responsive for a while. We thought we might lose them. Bones took over as Chief Medical Officer when the first one was killed in our fight with the Narada, before Nero recognized the Enterprise, and… he was busy. 

 “After we’d managed to stop Nero from doing the same thing to Earth, we learned that the Vulcan survivors who’d managed to evacuate weren’t doing very well either, so the Federation was sending out teams to help them get to safety. Vulcan was evacuating the children first, of course.” 

 “Of course,” Spock echoed. 

 Jim looked at Spock with a depth of sadness that was uncomfortable to see. And Spock looked back… Pike could finally see… with something very like uncertainty. After another second, however, Spock’s posture shifted and the fleeting expression in his eyes was gone. 

 “You and I disagreed on the next course of action after Vulcan was gone,” Jim said to Spock. “You wanted to regroup with the rest of the fleet in the Laurentian system. I wanted to go after Nero, who was headed to Earth, and who still had you as his prisoner, sir.” 

 Pike nodded, still too horrified to risk speaking. 

 “With Earth on the line next, I was… uncooperative,” Jim continued. “I wouldn’t leave the bridge, so you incapacitated me and had me jettisoned from the ship for mutiny.” 

 Spock’s eyes narrowed. “To Delta Vega.” . 

 Jim paused, briefly, before nodding. “Yeah, to Delta Vega. How-?” 

 “Where, I must presume, you encountered my future self, to be so knowledgeable about events that you had no way of witnessing,” Spock continued. 

 Jim looked impressed and even - suddenly, unexpectedly - smiled widely at Spock. “Yeah. He saved my ass, recognized me immediately, and told me that he and his James Kirk had been the dearest of friends. I called bullshit.” 

 Spock raised a single eyebrow. “Indeed.” 

 “He showed me, through a Vulcan mind-meld, his story. When Nero confronted and destroyed the Kelvin, he altered history and created an alternate universe, and changed all our lives.” 

 “Certainly the destruction of the Kelvin had wide-reaching effects through the Federation,” Spock agreed, unnervingly impersonally. “If you had been marooned on Delta Vega as the Enterprise sought to rejoin the primary fleet in the Laurentian system, how was Nero prevented from destroying Earth the same way that he had destroyed Vulcan? You have implied that you were personally involved in preventing the destruction of Earth.” 

 “The other Spock took me to the Starfleet base on Delta Vega, where we met up with an engineer named Montgomery Scott - Scotty. He’s a transporter genius. Assigned to Delta Vega due to a failed experiment in transwarp beaming with Admiral Archer’s prized beagle.” 

 “Oh, God,” Pike said. 

 “You heard about that too, sir?” 

 “Archer made sure everyone heard about that, Kirk.” 

 “Yeah, well, turned out that the other Spock knew Scotty in the other timeline too and that Scotty at some point developed a working formula for transwarp beaming. I’ve got it memorized, sir, and I wrote it down too. I sent it to you in one of my messages, actually? Spock - this Spock - and I were going over the formula just before I ended up back here, with Scotty and Chekov, when we were trying to figure out with Starfleet how we were going to transport the Vulcan elders and our injured back to Earth. We’d… ah… sort of damaged the Enterprise’s warp cores while fighting Nero.” 

 After everything Jim Kirk had said, it shouldn’t have mattered to hear that he’d also damaged Starfleet’s brand new flagship while saving Earth. It didn’t matter, really. It only mattered in that Pike was suddenly overcome with the urge to say, “Why am I not surprised?” 

 “I would like to see this formula,” Spock said. 

 “Ah, sure, one sec,” Jim said, and fished through the pockets of his jacket for his PADD. Pike saw him pull up Starfleet’s messaging system and tap one of the messages, before he stepped forward and handed the device over to Spock. “There we go.” 

 “Thank you,” Spock said, focusing on the screen. 

 Pike stood up and went over the kitchen command panel, pulling up the same message from his end. True to Jim’s word, he’d sent the transwarp beaming formula as an attachment, scribbled through some note-taking application. Pike unfortunately didn’t know enough about transporter formulas to be able to immediately recognize what was revolutionary about this one. 

 Spock, on the other hand, could. 

 The Vulcan commander had raised both his eyebrows. He looked, as much as Vulcans ever allowed themselves to look, stunned. Pike supposed that, to Spock, this was perhaps the first real proof Jim had offered that he wasn’t just some raving lunatic. 

 “Using that, the other Spock beamed me and Scotty back onto the Enterprise mid-warp. He cited- well, he implied to me that he couldn’t come due to time travel paradoxes, which in hindsight obviously wasn’t true if so much had changed already, but he also cited being too emotionally compromised to help us,’” Jim explained, with a new hesitance to his voice. “He also encouraged me to provoke you into resigning your position as captain.” 

 Pike wasn’t following this. “...How?” 

 “Through Starfleet Regulation 619,” Spock answered, always a step ahead. “The commanding officer must relieve themselves of command if their current mission leaves them emotionally compromised and unable to make rational decisions.” 

 “Going after Nero was the only way to save Earth,” Jim said apologetically. 

 “Once I resigned my position as acting captain, given that Captain Pike made you first officer before being taken prisoner by Nero, you would have then taken command of the Enterprise and ordered a pursuit of the Narada,” Spock said knowingly. 

 “I did,” Jim agreed. “Not the way I would’ve liked to make captain.” 

 “I myself do not have aspirations regarding command,” Spock said, offering back Jim’s PADD. “My interests lie primarily in furthering Starfleet’s scientific endeavours. This ‘transwarp beaming’ formula is a fascinating proposal. Current accepted understandings of the field do not conceptualize space as the element in motion.” 

 “That’s what Scotty said,” Jim said, smiling. 

 Something had just happened here that Pike hadn’t followed. At this rate, Jim and Spock were liable to get away from him if he let them. God save him from young geniuses. 

 “The engineering comprehension necessary to artificially create a black hole is far beyond current technological capabilities,” Spock said, like an admission. He looked to Pike. “Such technology could theoretically be manipulated to create a tunnel through space-time.” 

 “You were the first one to figure out that Nero was from the future last time,” Jim said. 

 “That’s a hell of a leap,” Pike commented, impressed. 

 “If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth,” Spock said, before he focused again on Jim. “How was the Enterprise able to overcome the enemy ship’s vastly advanced technological capabilities?” 

 “You returned to the bridge while we were planning how to take on to the Narada and volunteered yourself for an away mission: to beam over to the Narada and steal the ‘black hole device’ from under their noses before Nero could use it on Earth,” Jim explained to Spock. “You told me afterwards that you spoke with your father before returning, but you didn’t elaborate.” 

 Spock nodded. “As Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestry, I would have been the ideal candidate for such a mission. I assume that the fact any such ‘black hole device’ would be programmed specifically to me tipped the case heavily in my favour.” 

 “The ship with the red matter recognized you the second you stepped on board,” Jim confirmed. “I came with you as back-up and to get Captain Pike back.” 

 “Starfleet regulations restrict the captain and first officer going on such a mission.” 

 Jim’s smile widened. “Yeah, you said you would cite those regulations, only you knew I’d just ignore them.” 

 Spock raised a single brow again, but, Pike noticed, he didn’t look disapproving. He didn’t look approving either, but ignoring Starfleet regulations - which Pike didn’t, as a rule, since he was a damn captain - was usually the surest way to earn Spock’s disapproval. The absence of disapproval was notable. Jim Kirk, it seemed, in the space of a horrifying and incredible explanation of the impending future and its extenuating circumstances, had managed to become an exception to the rule. Pike wasn’t surprised. 

 “You and I beamed onto the Narada. You stole the red matter ship - it greeted you, so you figured out the time travel thing right away - and I went for Captain Pike. Ran into Nero on the way. Vulcans and Romulans sharing a common ancestry put me at a bit of a disadvantage,” Jim said, tugging again on the collar of his shirt to show off the ugly bruising around his neck. 

 It was common knowledge humans were physically weaker than most of their notable neighbors: Klingons, Romulans, and Vulcans. As a young man, Pike had quickly learned to do some research instead of accidentally picking new sparring partners who could effortlessly kick his ass. 

 Spock noted the bruising and nodded understandingly. 

“Turns out I’d gone down in history and that he’d heard of me. My reputation from an alternate universe preceded me. Thankfully, your theft of the red matter ship distracted him and he left to go deal with that instead,” Jim said. “I managed to get away from his first officer and find Captain Pike. Sir, you couldn’t walk and you still managed to save my ass at one point.” 

 That was mildly gratifying to hear, Pike found, after his long absence from this story. 

 “Spock led Nero away from Earth in the red matter ship. Nero didn’t seem to care anymore that destroying Spock would ignite the red matter. Once clear of Earth, Spock, you drove the red matter ship into the Narada. Thankfully, Sulu and Chekov swooped the Enterprise in like we planned and Scotty beamed us all out of there in time. Nero and the Narada were caught in the resulting black hole. Scotty had to eject the Enterprise’s warp cores and detonate to get us away from that, but we lived.” 

 “And Nero did not,” Spock said. 

 Jim shrugged. “He said he preferred to die in agony than accept our help.” 

 “Given that he would have been the worst war criminal in Federation history, I’m not too torn up about that,” Pike said mildly. “Especially given that he’s still out there right now and set to become the Federation’s worst war criminal again. Kirk, you think he already has the red matter and is on his way to Vulcan right now?” 

 Jim straightened, deadly serious again. “I think he's on his way to Vulcan space now, sir. And while he shouldn't have the red matter yet, I don't think we'll be able to stop his from getting his hands on it. We don't know where to begin to look and Nero's been preparing for this for twenty-five years.” 

 “Shit. How am I supposed to explain any of this to the Admiralty?” 

 “You believe me then, sir?” 

 “I don’t know if I know up from down anymore,” Pike said tiredly. 

 God help him, he believed this kid. 

 All of this was impossible and way too convincing. 

 “I have yet to understand how you came to return to the past with this information,” Spock said to Jim. “In doing so, would you not create yet another alternate universe?” 

 “You’d think that, but if there’s another Jim Kirk around, I haven’t seen him,” Jim said, clearly frustrated with the situation. “I traced my steps from today and found nothing. I think I replaced him. The last thing I remember is being on the bridge of the Enterprise, with you, trying to get everyone back to Earth in one piece. Then there’s this light and suddenly I’m back here again.” 

 “Then paradoxes may be a concern,” Spock said. 

 “Yeah, but I suddenly stop existing or something, that’s my problem. Look, if you don’t believe me, we can do the mind-meld thing and you can see for yourself.” 

 Spock stared at Jim, then looked at Pike. “Captain?” 

 Pike looked between them and didn’t know whether to wave them onwards or stop this immediately. He had no rational reason to believe Jim might somehow break Spock. Spock was one of the most steadfast, logical people Pike had ever met. If Jim Kirk could convince Spock of all people that there really was a time-travelling Romulan out there hell-bent on destroying Vulcan, then Pike really had no choice but to believe this kid. If Spock believed, then it had to be true. 

 “If you believe it’ll prove something, Spock,” Pike said. 

 “I do,” Spock said. 

 Jim looked triumphant, then immediately uncertain. “I, uh, I’ve only been on the receiving end of one of these. How do I show you what you need to see?” 

 Spock came around the kitchen island to stand in front of Jim, one hand raised. “Focus your thoughts on what you need to share with me and I will do the rest.” 

 “Sure. I’ve gotta warn you though… it’s not pretty.” 

 “I am aware of that.” 

 “No, really, I mean it, Spock. I know you feel emotions - I have literally felt your emotions - so I know emotional transference will be a thing here. You’re probably going to see your planet be destroyed,” Jim said, with growing uncertainty. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever seen and I’ve… I’ve seen things. If we’re going to do this, how do I keep my emotions from falling too heavily on you?” 

 “Control them,” Spock said simply. 

 “Yeah, that’s not… humans as a rule aren’t as good at that as you.” 

 “Kirk,” Pike interrupted. “Focus on the fact that we’re going to stop everything that happened to you from happening again. Vulcan is still there. We’re going to keep it there.” 

 Jim stared back at him, then took a deep breath. “Right, sir. Thank you.” 

 “Are you prepared, Cadet Kirk?” 

 Jim grinned up at Spock. “As I’ll ever be.” 

 Spock clearly wasn’t impressed by this response, but he pressed his fingers against Jim’s temple nevertheless, as Pike had seen him do before. “Focus your thoughts,” he ordered, one last time, and closed his eyes to concentrate. 

 Jim followed suit. 

 Pike could only watch. What passed between them then, only they knew. 

Chapter Text

“-that is where I’m from, Jim-” 

                  “-that is where I’m from, Jim-” 

                                      “-that is where I’m from, Jim-” 

“The future”

“-I promised the Romulans - we outfitted our fastest ship-”

“-using red matter - en route-” 

 “-when-” 

“-when-” 

“ -the unthinkable happened.”

“-intercepted-”

“He called himself-”

“Nero.” 

“Nero.”                

                    “Nero.”

“Last of the Romulan Empire.” 

“-pulled into the black hole - first to arrive-”

“-spent the next-” 

                    “-twenty-five years awaiting my arrival-” 

“-awaiting my arrival-”

“-but what was years for Nero-” 

                                      “-years for Nero-” 

“-only seconds for me-” 

“-only seconds for me-” 

 Focus your thoughts. 

“He held me responsible for the loss of his world.” 

“-loss of his world.” 

“-captured my vessel - spared my life-” 

“-for one reason-”

"-for one reason-"

“So that I would know his pain.” 

“He beamed me here, so that I could observe his vengeance.” 

“As he was helpless to save his planet-”

“-I would be helpless to save mine.” 

“Billions of lives lost… because of me, Jim.” 

“-because of me, Jim.”

“Because I failed.” 

 Vulcan. 

 The other red planet. 

 You guys don’t know how we talk about you in our history classes. I mean you meet tons of xenophobic assholes, but have you ever sat though a post-warp history class on Earth? We met you guys first. You found us first and that mattered to us. I hope you know how fucking much that mattered to us. A great big universe full of people who could’ve come for us and we met you guys first. You’re our oldest friends. We call you that, you know: our oldest friends. Our first friends. You don’t know how alone we thought we were until we met you. We thought we might be the only people in the universe. We didn’t have any proof otherwise. And then we met you and we finally had someone else. 

 And then your entire fucking planet was gone. 

 And it was my fault. I should have done something. I don’t know what, but I should I have done something. I should have been faster. I should have stopped it. If only we’d known what he was doing, maybe we could have done something, but we didn’t know until it was too late. I watched it happen. I saw the red matter fly by us and I couldn’t do a damn thing. 

Don’t think about Tarsus. 

 And then it was gone. 

 It just ate itself. 

 From the inside out. I watched it die. The rock churning in on itself. Mountain ranges falling into an endless hole in the earth. Continents gone in minutes. You wouldn’t think a hemisphere is something that could be swallowed, but I watched it happened. The red matter ignited and started a singularity in the heart of Vulcan. It died from the inside out. 

 And then it was gone. 

 And I swear you could hear the screaming. You couldn’t actually, except maybe if you were psychic. God, some people just dropped and it was terrifying, and no one knew what was going on until one of the Betazoids said the planet died screaming. You couldn’t hear the screaming. Except you could. It went on and on and on and on and on. Even after the planet was gone, you could hear the screaming, and it went on and on and on and on. 

Don’t fucking think about Tarsus. Don’t fucking do it. 

Don’t put that on him. Don’t fucking think about it. 

He doesn’t need your shit on top of everything else. It’s not relevant here. 

 And I’m making it about me and it’s not about me. It’s not about Earth. It’s not about humanity. But I don’t know everything that was lost. I don’t understand. I can’t understand. All I know is what this will mean to the rest of the universe. We lost you, but you lost everything. 

 Cities. Towns. Houses. Homes. Mountains. Deserts. Ecosystems. Plants. Animals. Culture. Mothers. Fathers. Parents. Sons. Daughters. Children. Brothers. Sisters. Families. Love. Friendship. Belonging. Legacy. Tradition. Past. Present. Future. History. Home. 

 Everything. 

 The entire planet. 

 I don’t ever want to see that again. 

 I couldn’t see that again. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t. It would have broken me. 

How much shit is it possible for one person to see? 

How much shit can you see before you’re fucked up beyond ever coming back? 

Because I have seen a lot of shit and I can’t go back. 

 An empty space where a planet used to be. 

I’ve seen a lot of empty spaces. 

Don’t fucking think about it. Move on. 

 Six billion lives. 

MOVE ON. 

 How do you begin to count six billion lives? You can’t. You can’t count six billion lives, so instead I’m just going to think about the wreckage of those seven starships and those cadets floating in space. He just killed everyone. Nero killed everyone because he decided to kill everyone. He decided to kill six billion people and he was going to kill more. 

 Six billion lives. 

God help us. 

Focus your thoughts. 

Sorry. 

 “Forgive me. Emotional transference is an effect of the mind-meld.” 

“So you do feel.”

“Yes.” 

 “Going back in time, you changed all our lives.” 

“Jim, we must go.”

“Wait.”

“Where you come from-” 

“-did I-”

“Yes. You often - proudly lived - see you-”

“-captain of the Enterprise.”

“A ship we must return you to as soon as possible.” 

 Never experienced anything like that before. 

“Our minds. One and together.” 

 Is it possible to say a name like that? 

 To think a name like that? 

 Jim. 

“I have been, and always shall be, your friend.” 

Jim.

“It is remarkably pleasing-”

“-to see you again, old friend.” 

Jim. 

 Like there were a million words in a name. 

 My friend. 

 Jim. 

 Focus your thoughts. 

“Fascinating.” 

“You are Montgomery Scott.”

“You know him?” 

 “The reason you haven’t heard about it, Mister Scott-” 

 “-is because you haven’t discovered it yet.” 

“I’m, ah, uh, what…” 

“Are you from the future?” 

“Yeah. He is. I’m not.”

“Except, the thing is, even if I believed you, right, where you're from, what I've done, I don't, by the way-” 

“You’re coming with us, right?” 

“No, Jim. That is not my destiny.”

“Under no circumstances can he be aware of my existence.” 

“You must promise me this.” 

“ Jim, I just lost my planet.”

“I can tell you, I am emotionally compromised.”

“What you must do is get me to show it.” 

“What is it with you, Spock?”  

“Your planet was just destroyed, your mother murdered, and you’re not even upset!” 

“And yet you were the one who said fear was necessary for command.” 

“Did you see his ship?” 

“Do you see what he did?” 

“So, are you afraid or aren’t you?” 

“What is it like not to feel anger?” 

“Or heartbreak?” 

“Or the need to stop at nothing to avenge the death of the woman who gave birth to you?” 

“You feel nothing!” 

“It must not even compute for you!” 

“YOU NEVER LOVED HER!” 

“Spock!” 

I’m sorry. 

I didn’t mean it. I need you to know I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t let him destroy another planet and you were compromised by your refusal to feel emotions and you told me to do it. But I shouldn’t have said that and I didn’t mean it and I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t need to save Earth. I think you understood that but I wasn’t sure and I need you to know that I’m sorry. 

I know you loved her. 

I felt it. 

I’m sorry. 

I literally felt it. 

Don’t worry about the bruises. I’ve had worse. These aren’t you. 

Nero and his first officer did more damage than you. 

I probably deserve worse anyway. 

I'm sorry. 

I didn’t mean it. I need you to know I didn’t mean it. I couldn’t let him destroy another planet and you were compromised by your refusal to feel emotions and you told me to do it. But I shouldn’t have said that and I didn’t mean it and I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t need to save Earth. I think you understood that but I wasn’t sure and I need you to know that I’m-

Focus your thoughts. 

“Pike made him first officer.” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Thanks for your support.” 

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing-”

“-captain.”

“So do I.” 

“I can beam aboard Nero’s ship.” 

“I’m coming with you.” 

“I would cite regulation-” 

“-but I know you will simply ignore it.” 

“See?” 

“We are getting to know each other.” 

“Whatever happens, Mister Sulu, if you think you have the tactical advantage, you fire on that ship, even if we’re still onboard. That’s an order.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“So her first name’s Nyota?” 

“I have no comment on the matter.” 

“I’ll cover you.” 

“Are you certain?” 

“Yeah, I got you.” 

“Do you know where it is?” 

“The black hole device?”

“It appears you have been keeping important information from me.” 

“You’ll be able to fly this thing, right?” 

“Something tells me I already have.” 

“Good luck.” 

"Jim-" 

“It’ll work.” 

“Spock.” 

“It’ll work.” 

 Do you believe in destiny? 

 He said destiny. 

 It’s funny. 

 I never would have expected a Vulcan to believe in destiny. 

 But he said destiny. 

Focus your thoughts. 

I think he meant it. 

Focus your thoughts. 

“I know your face.” 

                              “I know your face.” 

“James T. Kirk was considered to be a great man.” 

“-a great man.” 

“But that was another life.” 

“-that was another life.” 

 “-another life.” 

 “A life I will deprive you of

“-just like I did your father.” 

“-just like I did your father.” 

“Your species is even weaker than I expected.” 

“You can’t even speak.” 

“What?” 

“I got your gun.” 

“Nice timing, Scotty!” 

“This is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise.” 

“Your ship is compromised.” 

“You’re too close to the singularity to escape without assistance.” 

“Which we will provide.” 

“Captain, what are you doing?” 

“-compassion - peace - it’s logic, Spock.” 

“Thought you’d like that.” 

“No, not really.” 

“Not this time.” 

“I WOULD RATHER SUFFER THE END OF ROMULUS A THOUSAND TIMES...”

“I WOULD RATHER DIE IN AGONY THAN ACCEPT ASSISTANCE FROM YOU.” 

“You got it.” 

 He’s dead. 

 He’s dead and that’s the end of it. 

 Except Vulcan is gone. He took a planet and six billion lives with him. And we can’t ever get them back. Yeah, he’s dead and what does that mean to everyone who’s left? One murderer dead is pretty poor compensation for the loss of six billion lives. Nero is dead and he took so many people with him and we’re left and we have to live with that. He’s dead and it’s not enough. But he’s dead and that’s what we have. He’s dead. 

 And we’re not. 

 Mostly. 

 That’s what we have. 

 It’ll work. 

 It’s what an infinite number of people have worked with before. 

So, you know, I should be able to manage too.  

 Focus your thoughts. 

“So, what now, Spock?” 

“Now, I believe, captain, we go home.” 

“ Spock, I-” 

“I want you to know that-” 

“The things I said to you were… beyond inappropriate…” 

“Jim.” 

“If we had continued with my plan-” 

“-to rejoin the primary fleet in the Laurentian system-” 

“-then at Nero’s hands Earth would have met the same fate as Vulcan.” 

“I would have been responsible for the destruction of the only home I have left.” 

“Spock, no.” 

“You can’t blame yourself.” 

“This is all Nero’s fault. He decided to make everyone else suffer-” 

“-for a tragedy that hasn’t even happened yet.” 

“He could have stopped at any time. He could have stopped after the first life he took. He could have decided to save Romulus a hundred years early. But he didn’t. He chose to rot in grief and waste twenty-five years on revenge against completely innocent people.”  

“What happened here…” 

“What happened to Vulcan…” 

“What happened to the Kelvin…” 

“Blaming yourself for any of Nero’s choices would be…

“...would be…” 

 “...illogical.” 

“Indeed.” 

“ Spock, for the things I said…” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I know, Jim.” 

“Your apology is accepted and appreciated.” 

“Good.” 

“I’m glad.” 

“Now, come on, Spock, let’s get our people home.” 

“We’ve a long way to go with no warp cores.” 

“Perhaps if you had not lingered to offer our assistance…” 

“Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps!” 

“Yeah, I know. Let’s not get stuck on maybes, Spock.” 

“We can’t change things now.” 

“What do you want me to do?

“Pull the warp cores out of the black hole and unexplode them?” 

“Scotty’ll love that one.” 

“I would like to see you try.” 

“Ha!” 

“God, who says Vulcans don’t have a sense of humor?” 

“I am not being humorous, captain.” 

“I have learned not to underestimate your capacity for the improbable.” 

“Improbable? Not impossible?” 

“Impossible is, by definition, beyond anyone.” 

“That sounds like a challenge, Spock.” 

“It was not, I assure you.” 

“Well... we’ll just have to see about that.” 

 I don’t remember what happened. 

 I was on the bridge and you were there and Bones was there. Bones was mad at us because he wanted his patients to get better treatment because Med Bay was half-wrecked from our fight with Nero, except Bones hates transporters so he didn’t want his patients to go through the transporters; you will never find a man who hates transporters like Bones hates transporters. Bones hates space in general. It’s funny. He’s got the worst list of phobias I’ve ever seen for a spaceman, but fuck you if you think you’re leaving him behind. He hates space so much he’s forcing it to put up with him, that’s how much he hates it. 

 He kept jabbing me with his tricorder. Someone should tell him you don’t physically have to smack people with tricorders to make them work, except I have told him and he absolutely knows and doesn’t care. He wasn’t impressed with the bruises around my neck and all down my sides but I’d like to see him come out from a fight with a Vulcan and then a Romulan looking any better. Why the hell are aliens so fucking strong. It’s not fair. 

 Spock, you could have intervened at any time and saved me from him, but I think you thought Bones yelling at me was funny. Sulu thought it was funny; I saw his grin. Asshole’s going to marry his boyfriend when he gets back to Earth and I’m stuck with my good ol’ roommate Bones. Also, Spock, you were busy coordinating our communication with the Federation with Uhura while simultaneously talking with Scotty and Chekov about all the potential consequences in technological development of our new transwarp beaming formula. The three of you could have vouched for its safety until the cows came home and Bones still wouldn’t have believed you. I could have told you that Bones’ logic is different to normal logic, but I didn’t. Now that was funny to watch. 

 What was funny was sitting in the captain’s chair like I belonged there and everyone looked at me like I belonged there. Everyone looked at me to make the decisions. I’m probably going to get court-martialed when we get back to Earth and that’ll be fair. Except they absolutely won’t do that because I’m George Kirk’s son and also I just saved Earth. Isn’t Starfleet publicity just so fun.  

 Didn’t save Vulcan though. God, the Federation is going to be a wreck. Six billion lives lost. An entire planet gone. It doesn’t feel real yet. I don’t know if it’ll ever feel real. 

Sometimes it all just feels like a bad dream. 

Even now. Even years later. 

 It probably already feels real to the Vulcans though. God, all those children. The Vulcan survivors will pick themselves up and keep going - they’re tough, they’re logical, they’re in control of their emotions and all that jazz - but I don’t think there’s any amount of control that’s up to this kind of trauma. This is going to result in centuries of generational trauma. Unprecedented generational trauma. People are going to write papers on this, you know. People are going to teach courses on today. I should know; I’m in enough of them between the Kelvin and Kodos. They’re going to talk about this in Federation lecture halls and hold memorials a year from today and ask for a respectful moment of silence like they’ll ever be able to understand losing everything. 

 Our crew right now is going to be traumatized too. Seven ships of people they knew destroyed in the blink of the eye. Bones brought me the list of our own dead and I thought I was going to throw up. It’s a miracle we’re all alive. This is going to fuck some of the people up here for life. They try to prepare these people for service, but no one really knows what they’re getting into when they’re signing up: space is full of assholes who want to play god and blame the rest of the universe for it. I was already fucked up and I still feel like I’m going to lose it. God, I probably know so many people who were on those other ships. Was Gaila assigned to one of the other ships? Fuck, oh, fuck, I haven’t seen Gary in days. 

 I can’t understand this. An entire planet. How do you begin to understand losing an entire planet? We won but we lost. We won but we lost. I don’t understand how Spock’s walking around right now without breaking into a million goddamn pieces. 

 But he’s right. We can’t break right now. They need us. 

 They need us to bring them home. 

 And if we’re lucky maybe we’ll bring ourselves home with them. 

 Focus your thoughts. 

 Light. 

 That’s all I remember. 

 Light flaring and blinding and then I was here. 

 Focus your thoughts. 

“Spock?” 

“Bones?” 

“BONES!” 

“Uhura?”

“Sulu! Chekov! Scotty!” 

“Anybody?” 

“What the fuck.” 

“What the fuck is going on. Where am I- am I on Earth?” 

“What the fuck.” 

“Transporter malfunction. It’s gotta be. This is a transporter malfunction.” 

“I’m gonna kill Scotty for this.” 

“You don’t test your shitty ideas on the goddamn captain, Scotty.” 

“Wait, was this Spock’s idea? Asshole.” 

“Where the hell is my communicator- ah, here we go-” 

“Wait.” 

“That’s not right.” 

“This isn’t-?” 

“No way. No way. No way.” 

“This can’t be happening to me right now.” 

 I’m in the past. How can I be in the past? I didn’t see a black hole anywhere. I mean, I did see a black hole but we got away from it. I’m on Earth and I’m in the past and this doesn’t make any sense. I was on the bridge of the Enterprise and now I’m here instead and Bones just messaged me back twelve question marks and Uhura declined all of my calls. I don’t even have Sulu or Chekov or Scotty in my contacts list, though I could look them up through the Starfleet network, but I doubt they’ll know me if Bones just messaged me again asking how much I had to drink last night to think I’ve ever been on the Enterprise. 

 Spock. I should message Spock. Except he doesn’t know me right now except as that asshole who cheated on his stupid test. God, I hate that fucking test. I hate that fucking test so fucking much, so he hates me right now. He’s not going to answer my calls either, but he’s a touch-telepath and he can prove I’m not crazy or he can at least prove if I am just crazy and- 

 Oh, no. Vulcan. 

 Vulcan is still there and Nero’s going to destroy it again. 

 Am I in an alternate universe or am I going to cause a paradox? Was this whole thing just a hallucination or a simulation like that stupid drama show? No, it can’t be, I still have the bruises from Spock and Nero and the other Romulan. It happened. It was real. I’ll need proof that Nero exists and is gunning for Vulcan. I’m not going to let Vulcan be destroyed because I’m scared of causing a paradox. The time-space continuum can kiss my ass. Tossing me around like this is asking for whatever I choose to do. 

 I need proof. I need an argument. I need a plan. 

 I need Spock. 

 How can I get Spock? Pike. He’ll have to listen to a captain. I need Pike. I need to convince Pike to listen to me so I can convince Spock to listen to me. Spock’s a tight-ass and he hates me because of the Kobayashi Maru crap, but he’ll listen. His fucking planet’s on the line; he has to listen. If he’s anything like the other Spock and I know he is, he’ll listen to me. Saving Vulcan is worth anything. They can convince the Federation to listen to me and if they can’t, Spock can convince the Vulcan Council to listen to me, and if he can’t, then, well, fuck. I guess I’ll steal a starship and a phaser and run off on my own if I have to. I can do it. I’ve done similar things before. It’s not hard. I can do it. 

I can do it. 

It’ll work. 

It’ll work. 

 “You're coming back in time, changing history…”

 “...it's cheating.” 

It's not cheating. 

Who cares about fair? 

 “A trick I learned from an old friend.” 

 “Live long and prosper.” 

 He gets it. 

 Six billion lives. 

 I don’t know what’s happening to me but I can’t risk it. 

 I can save six billion lives. 

 I can do it. 

 It’ll work. 

 It has to work. 

“I dare you to do better.” 

Chapter Text

 When Jim and Spock finally broke apart, they broke apart like they had burned each other. Pike had seen little more from their mind-meld than strained expressions and occasional shifts in breathing, but Jim and Spock suddenly flew apart like they were on fire, breathing heavily. Spock was controlled about it, using some Vulcan breathing technique to return to equilibrium, his spine as stiff as a steel beam. Jim just held on to the kitchen counter and wheezed. 

 “Do you see?” Jim demanded. 

 He looked at Spock desperately, like the world depended on Spock’s understanding. 

 One world, according to Jim, did. 

  “They don’t get one more life from me,” Jim said hoarsely. “I don’t care if I have to lie, cheat, steal, or beg. They don’t get to take even one life this time. Not if I can do anything about it. Not today. Not any other day so long as I have anything to say about it.” 

 Spock stared at Jim, then looked down at his own hands like he’d never seen them before. 

 “You got that, Spock?” Jim said. 

 Spock looked up again, then carefully inclined his head. 

 Pike had no idea what had happened between them, but he had entertained the fleeting thought while they were occupied that Jim Kirk’s mind would be a strange place to be. Just following him through a conversation could mean bouncing back and forth between a dozen topics, which could range from flippant absurdity to deathly serious anger. Whatever Spock had seen in Jim’s memories, he was now looking at Jim with the same regard that Jim had held for him, when he had first walked into Pike’s apartment. Spock looked at Jim as though he had never seen the young man before now. 

 Spock looked… well… emotionally compromised. As much as a Vulcan could, anyway. 

 Emotions usually ran high during telepathic connections, Pike knew. 

 “I hate your stupid test by the way,” Jim said casually, pushing himself back upright, running a shaking hand through his hair. Then again. Then again. “Don’t bring up my dad. Don’t. I mean, I’d hate it because of that too, but I just hate it because you’re literally asking people to do something it’s not possible to do, then punishing them for failing.” 

 “...Punishment is not the purpose of the Kobayashi Maru,” Spock said slowly. 

 “Isn’t it? You want people to feel fear. Which is really hypocritical for a Vulcan, by the way, although I fully concede your point that some people are complete assholes who need to be taken down a level before you put a ship full of people on their shoulders.” 

 “I do not recall making this point.” 

 Jim made a disbelieving expression, then a vague, dismissive gesture. “You made the point whether you intended it or not. Philosophy. It’s inescapable. But, putting that part of the psychological examination aside, your test isn’t fair. If you’ve set an impossible task, if you’ve set a no-win scenario, the only solution is to break the system that makes it impossible.” 

 “Sometimes there exist scenarios in which it is impossible to win.” 

 “If a no-win scenario exists, then there’s pretty much always someone who made it that way, and if we don’t question who set up the system, then we let them get away with making the rules. Who made the rules? What are they there to prove? It’s hypocritical to deny people the only avenue to the solution you’re demanding of them, which in this case means cracking open the system and changing the rules,” Jim argued, lifting his chin. “I don’t believe in no-win scenarios. So, yeah, I cheated on your stupid test, and I’m not sorry. I’m probably not supposed to be here now and I’m not sorry about that either. I don’t give up because the odds are against me. And I won’t play fair when lives are on the line.” 

 Pike decided that he’d best intervene to calm the conversation down and get it back on track, before it escalated to something all of them would regret. “Is that the speech you’ve prepared for your academic dishonesty hearing that’s supposed to earn you a commendation, Kirk?” 

 The look Jim turned on him was a little wild-eyed, like he’d somehow briefly forgotten Pike was even there. “What? Oh, no. Well, parts of it. Paraphrased. I’ve got the full thing written down somewhere, sir. I’ve been practicing - I was practicing them on Bones, but he just heckles me or walks out of them room now. I’ve been driving him up the wall. I was driving him up the wall.” 

 “I’d like to hear it at some point,” Pike said, smiling. 

 “Well, sir, if that academic dishonesty hearing is still on, I’ll be glad to oblige you.” 

 “I will retract the accusation,” Spock said. 

 Jim and Pike both looked at him. He couldn’t be joking. Spock didn’t joke like this. 

 “Clearly, we have far more important matters to concern ourselves with than academic dishonesty,” Spock said mildly, placing both his hands at the small of his back. “Particularly in a case where the cadet in question makes a compelling argument for the allowance of unconventional methods in extenuating circumstances, in pursuit of proving one’s true character.” 

 ‘Hang on, are you agreeing with me?” Jim said. 

 “It would appear so,” Spock said. 

 Jim frowned at him. “Well.. alright.” 

 “Do you object to my agreeing with you?” Spock asked. 

 “No,” Jim said. Then he said, “Huh.” 

 “Well, I’ll be damned,” Pike murmured. “Like a house on fire.” 

 He couldn’t even bring himself to act surprised. 

 “So, uh, the mind-meld worked, huh?” Jim hedged uncertainly, running a hand through his hair again, at least no longer wild-eyed and wheezing. “I’m not sure how clearly everything came across. I could feel you, but well, I don’t really do organized thoughts by other people’s standards. I tried to keep it chronological. And unemotional, but I don’t really do unemotional either. Are you alright?” 

 Pike looked at Spock with concern as well, especially when the man didn’t immediately answer. 

 “Spock?” 

 “I am well, captain. The visions within the meld were merely… surprising. Mind-melds are by nature intimate experiences. Cadet Kirk, I would be greatly surprised if you were capable of the same mental organization as a Vulcan elder,” Spock answered. “I believe I have understood enough.” 

 “Good,” Jim said, his shoulders dropping in relief. “Good.” 

 Spock turned to Pike next, his expression as solemn as Pike had ever seen him. “Captain. I believe that Cadet Kirk is telling the truth. I do not believe him capable of fabricating such detailed and extensive memories, and there is evidence of a recent mind-meld with a man whom I recognize may very well be a future version of myself. In any case, I dare not risk the potential threat to Vulcan. It is better to act now and potentially be proven wrong.” 

 Pike sat up straight in his seat. Well, this proved it as far as he was concerned. Spock, of all people, was convinced. 

 Time-travelling Romulans. So be it. 

 “Then we need to take this to the Admiralty,” he said. 

 “Ah!” Jim interrupted. “I’m not disagreeing with you here, but I’ve been thinking about this and, no offense, but your main proof here rests on me and I’m on academic probation. There are members of the Admiralty who… well… one or two of them don’t like me very much.” 

 Pike sighed. Jim wasn’t exactly wrong. 

 One or two of the admirals didn’t entirely approve of Captain Christopher Pike either. 

 “What course of action do you suggest?” Spock demanded. 

 “I do think we should go to the Admiralty, but we need to argue our points quickly. It might take time to prove our case and get out there to Vulcan, and Nero’s got our ships outmatched in nearly every way. I think Spock here should reach out to Vulcan High Command now, and give them everything we know about Nero, the Narada, the drill, the red matter, old Spock on Delta Vega, and the transwarp beaming formula. If we somehow get wrapped up in bureaucratic bullshit on our end, Spock doesn’t even have to tell Vulcan High Command where the Federation got this information.” 

 “You want to leave it to the Vulcans,” Pike mused. 

 “Well, no, sir. With a planet on the line, I don’t want to leave this to anyone. Especially not myself. We can’t risk it. But if we tell the Vulcans now and the worst-case scenario happens again , they can start evacuation procedures now and we can save more than just ten thousand Vulcans. They can be ready for Nero as soon as he arrives. If we can’t be there for them, they can beam onboard his ship and steal the red matter. At the very least, they can take out Nero’s drill. Our best chance is giving Vulcan everything they need to save themselves without us.” 

 Pike looked at Jim, who was stepping up, and felt his chest welling with something that it was easy enough to identify as pride. He’d known that Jim Kirk had it in him to be every inch the man his father had been. Over the past three years, he’d come to know that Jim Kirk had it in him to be even more. Pike had been proven wrong more times in his life than he liked to think about - he’d laid his trust with the wrong people in his life before. It felt damn good to be proven so right for once. 

 He looked at Spock. “What do you think, commander?” 

 “The cadet’s logic is sound.” 

 Jim looked at Spock, clearly trying not to grin. “No objections to potentially lying to Vulcan High Command, Spock?” 

 “I have no intention of lying to Vulcan High Command or the Council,” Spock answered. 

 “Sure thing,” Jim said, grinning openly now. “Anyway, I don’t think we should be working at cross-purposes or anything, but it’s pretty obvious to me that Vulcan is more than capable of doing this without Starfleet if necessary. We should still be there, of course, but you guys are better matched for taking on Romulans anyway. The most important thing for a clean victory is being stealthy enough to secure the red matter before Nero realizes we’re on to him.” 

 “If Nero is to be met and confronted at Vulcan, then the red matter may be under observation and difficult to secure,” Spock said. “Any strike upon the Narada must be executed swiftly. Ideally, I would be sent to secure the red matter ship, as it will respond to my commands and evidently I am capable of learning to pilot the vessel very quickly.” 

 “Last time, with Earth, it seemed that Nero left the red matter be until he was done drilling. I don’t think he’ll have any reason to expect forewarning or resistance,” Jim argued. 

 Pike was beginning to feel almost unnecessary... and like they were going in circles. It was time to get moving. 

 Pike stood up, which gratifyingly caused Jim to shut up and stand to attention immediately. Pike pointed at him and said, “You, go clean yourself up. If we’re bringing this to the Admiralty, you can at least do us a favor and look halfway respectable. Spock, go with him, and meet me at my office on campus in thirty minutes or less. Kirk, if you get stopped by your doctor friend, you can bring him too if you need to, but you have to explain everything to him on the way.” 

 “Yes, sir,” Jim said, while Spock nodded. 

 “Now get out of my apartment. If we’re going to save a planet, then I’m going to be dressed for it,” Pike said decisively. “I want a solid plan of action for communicating our problem to Vulcan High Command by the time you get there. Try to come up with something that brings up the time travel as infrequently as possible, but by God, don’t plan to lie to them.” 

 “I was thinking we could imply that this Spock and old Spock share a special mental link, being the same person and all,” Jim said casually, and Pike couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. 

 “You want to suggest that my alternate future self telepathically communicated the threat of Nero to myself on Earth from Delta Vega or farther?” Spock demanded, clearly unimpressed. “The suggestion is too improbable for consideration.” 

 “It’s not like there’s precedent,” Jim said. “It’s not like most of the Federation is educated on the telepathic capabilities of Vulcans. I’ve heard otherwise perfectly scientifically minded people unironically call it ‘magic’. You guys tend to keep the details on the down-low. Who can really say what it does to the rules of the universe to have two Spocks in one reality?” 

 Pike rubbed his forehead. Jim was right. He could name a dozen human officers off the top of his head who were liable to believe absurd things about their fellow Federation members. He could name at least one admiral who in their ignorance would have no choice but to believe whatever strangely compelling story Jim Kirk could spin about alien telepathic communication across lightyears. 

 “Nevertheless,” Spock said, clearly unable to dismiss Jim’s point out of hand. 

 “Get out of my apartment,” Pike said to them both. But mostly Jim. 

 “Yes, sir.” 

 “Thirty minutes! And don’t make any calls, Jim!” 

~ 

 The next few hours were some of the most stressful of Pike’s life so far. He could lay some of the blame for this at the feet of Jim Kirk and Spock, but he also didn’t know what he would have done without them. Pike beat them to his office on campus only barely. Kirk arrived with his hair still wet and with three different proposals for how to approach the Vulcan High Command with the threat of Nero, only one of which was twisty enough for Pike to reject out of hand. 

 Spock had, in the thirty minutes he had been accompanying Jim, already retracted his accusation of academic dishonesty and, in fact, recommended that Cadet James Tiberius Kirk receive a commendation for original thinking. He had also sent the transwarp beaming formula to a senior member of the Engineering Faculty and, by calling in a favor, secured their agreement to test the formula immediately. Upon arrival at Pike’s office, Spock promised results of the test within the next three hours. 

 “You didn’t make Spock promise not to make calls, sir,” Jim said with an aggravating wink. 

 Spock gave Jim a quelling look, before launching into a summarized analysis of the pros and cons of Kirk’s proposals for approaching Vulcan High Command. Spock, thankfully, had struck down Kirk’s joking suggestion they lie to the Vulcan High fucking Command. Jim pretended to be hurt by this. 

 “They’re all telepaths, Kirk,” Pike said flatly. 

 “Touch-telepaths,” Jim protested, with irritating playfulness for the crack of dawn. 

 “They’re also ruthlessly logical and observant. God, I feel like I should have you kicked out of the Academy for even thinking we could successfully lie to Vulcan High Command.” 

 “Hey, I didn’t say we should lie to them. I only suggested that, if necessary, we didn’t have to tell them where we got our information from,” Jim said, grinning stupidly wide. “I was suggesting that, if necessary, we lie to the Admiralty about where we got our information from.” 

 “Don’t make this worse,” Pike said warningly. 

 “I’m joking. Mostly.” 

 “Spock, start talking again so I don’t have to listen to him anymore.” 

 Kirk and Spock had also, in their walk to Pike’s office, begun a file containing all the proof they had of the Narada’s existence, including: the destruction of the U.S.S. Kelvin, the destruction of the 47 Klingon warbirds, and the destruction of the Federation outpost near Vulcan space. Unsurprisingly, Jim Kirk had, sometime in his life, set alerts for mentions of lightning storms in space and for notable encounters with single, massive ships, especially ones that were identified as Romulan. They couldn’t confirm any of these other incidences were Nero, but with Spock’s skill for analysis and presentation, Jim Kirk’s years-long obsession painted a compelling picture of a lurking threat on the edges of Federation space over the past twenty-five years, instead of looking like the part-time project of a conspiracy-theorist. 

 Pike really couldn’t remember being young like this. He was sure he would remember. He’d only managed to get dressed, eat, call his assistant to get them to clear his schedule for today, and finally read through all the latest updates in his inbox while getting to campus. 

 Pike contacted Admiral Richard Barnett first, who wasn’t pleased to be woken up at the crack of dawn, but owed Pike a considerable favor, and was known to be fond of both Cadet James Tiberius Kirk and Commander Spock. He had considerable connections to Vulcan. He was also heavily conscious of Federation politics, Starfleet appearances, and the court of public opinion. If anyone would know how to spin this moving forward, if anyone would support them moving forward, it was Rick Barnett. 

 Barnett was initially disbelieving of Pike’s heavily abridged story, but he was soon listening intently. By the end of it, he was nodding. Any potentially devastating attack on Vulcan was an unthinkable risk for the Federation, Barnett agreed, even if the source of information on the threat was unconventional. 

 “Are you sure, Chris, that this is what you want to spend that favor on?” Barnett asked casually, near the end of their fantastic explanation, after already having agreed to help. It was the closest the man would come to asking if Pike had lost his goddamned mind. 

 Pike looked back at Jim and Spock, who were looking at him like a planet depended on it. Here, Pike realized that if he suddenly decided to stop believing and stop helping, he couldn’t be sure what Jim Kirk would do. After that strange mind-meld, he realized with even greater dread, he couldn’t be sure what Spock would do either. It was an extremely disconcerting feeling. He didn’t want either of them to take matters into their own hands. For one thing, Jim would never trust him again. 

 Spock wouldn’t either.

 If Spock and Jim Kirk believed, then Pike believed them. 

 Pike looked back to Barnett. “I’m sure, Rick.” 

 Barnett sighed. “Here we go, then,” he said. “Never a dull day with you, is there, Cadet Kirk?” 

 “No, sir,” Jim agreed brightly. 

 “I’ll call you back shortly, Chris,” Barnett promised, and signed off. 

 With Barnett on their side, rallying the rest of the Admiralty to the threat to one of the Federation’s oldest and most important pillars, Pike and Spock reached out to the Vulcan High Command and the Vulcan Council. Not for the first time, Pike was thankful that the commander was so well-connected. 

 Contacting Vulcan High Command could be difficult, even for a Starfleet captain, but Commander Spock simply called his father to urgently request an audience. Pike had come up against some formidable Vulcan roadblocks in his time, but at Spock’s name and request, the Vulcan who answered their call practically fell over themselves (in a Vulcan way where they did not actually fall over themselves or concede a damn microexpression) to fetch Ambassador Sarek for his son. Spock’s father listened impassively to Spock’s matter-of-fact description of the impending threat: a rogue, vengeful Romulan with an extremely technologically advanced vessel who had recently secured a device capable of creating black holes. Still unnervingly impassive, Ambassador Sarek then connected them immediately to Vulcan High Command. 

 As often as Pike had complained about the bureaucratic roadblocks that existed within the Federation, which often seemed to do more harm than good, he had forgotten how quickly the Federation was capable of moving when united against an impending threat. Starfleet was capable of being extremely efficient when there were six billion lives on the line. While the Vulcans were dubious of where Starfleet had obtained such information, the backing of Admiral Barnett and Captain Pike seemed to convince them to at least listen. Earth and Vulcan had been allies for a long time. 

 “There’s a long history of goodwill and friendship paying off today,” Pike murmured to Jim. 

 “Oh, they absolutely think we’re crazy, sir,” Jim said, grinning. 

 “But they trust us just enough to stop and listen,” Pike said, smiling back. “Let’s not waste it.” 

 The infamously mysterious destruction of the U.S.S. Kelvin, as well as Kirk and Spock’s fierce dedication to their arguments helped weigh things in their favor. Within Starfleet, Kirk and Spock’s reputations both preceded them and a sudden, unyielding alliance between them was striking and bewildering, which Jim and Spock, each in their own unique ways, both used to shameless, persuasive advantage. Jim quite skillfully implied they already had Vulcan High Command fully behind them, when speaking to people on Pike's behalf, while Spock spoke to Vulcan High Command as though the full weight of Earth and Starfleet was already deeply invested in this mission. They started talking and people had little choice but to be swept along and believe them immediately. 

 "Starfleet won't back out if they think Vulcan is committed," Jim said, in between calls, "and Vulcan won't back out if they think Starfleet is committed."  

 "Indeed," Spock said, in the face of Jim Kirk's terrible influence. 

 "Why do interstellar politics keep coming back to games of chicken?" Pike muttered to himself.

 Unfortunately, he didn't say it quietly enough, both young men heard him. Spock raised his eyebrows in that way of his. Jim burst out laughing. 

 Time and dimensional travel wasn’t entirely unheard of in the Federation’s exploration of the final frontier. Many within the Federation disgustedly dismissed such reports as lies or hallucinations - some form of shared madness that overtook otherwise sane people in the great emptiness of deep-space - but Pike had seen too many strange things out there to dismiss these things out of hand. Even if people weren’t quite so willing to believe in the possibility of time travel, or in the possibility of a substance capable of creating singularities, they were at least willing to believe in the possibility that an angry, rogue Romulan was headed to Vulcan with the intention of doing as much damage to the planet as possible and had the weapons to do it. Pike led all the arguments with the angry Romulan with the advanced weaponry, rather than the time travel. 

 By noon, the brass of Starfleet was in an uproar. Pike career had been threatened at least three times and at least one of those threats had been fully serious, but he’d stuck to his guns, and he’d put in enough service over the years that they had to listen to him. It was as aggravating as it was satisfying. 

 Spock’s Engineering Faculty contact had gotten back to them and confirmed that the transwarp beaming formula worked. Vulcan High Command had also sent the formula Spock had shared with them to the Vulcan Science Academy for testing and, with the usual Vulcan efficiency, already received the same results. Even the most dubious members of Vulcan High Command had been forced to sit up and take notice of such a sudden technological advancement, similarly to the way Spock himself had been persuaded by Kirk’s sharing of Scott’s revolutionary formula earlier. 

 “Give the credit for the transwarp beaming formula to Scotty,” Jim pushed earnestly. “Someone has to take credit for it and it might as well be him, since we’re taking the achievement from Future Montgomery Scott and depriving him of making the discovery himself. Besides, if we don’t give the credit to him, they’ll probably give it to me, and I don’t want it.” 

 “How humble of you,” Pike commented, before going back to holding off the Engineering Faculty demanding to know where this new transwarp beaming formula had come from. Certain members couldn’t seem to believe he had more important things to do. “Where the hell is my assistant? They should be fielding these people.” 

 “Your assistant is currently fielding your original commitments, sir,” Spock said helpfully. 

 “Damn it,” Pike said, stepping out so he could shout properly. 

 “Give Scotty credit! It’ll get him off Delta Vega! I want him for my ship!” Jim called after him. 

 As he left, Pike heard Spock remind Jim, “You are not the captain of the Enterprise yet.” 

  “Yet,” Jim agreed merrily. 

 By the time Pike’s exhaustion caught up with him, sometime in the early afternoon when he allowed himself to finally sit down for five minutes, a preliminary evacuation of Vulcan’s most valued citizens (their children and cultural leaders) was very efficiently underway. Communication of the evacuation was being kept on the next best thing to dead silent. Transmissions out to Vulcan were under the purview of the Admiralty now. Jim had pointed out that, equipped with advanced technology as he was, Nero might be capable of eavesdropping on Federation frequencies. It was too risky to continue broadcasting their forewarning. The Federation also didn’t want to be broadcasting to their enemies or any otherwise neutral opportunists that Vulcan was currently in any way vulnerable. 

 “Escape pods are easy pickings,” Jim said solemnly. 

 Pike nodded. He’d seen that proven too many times. Once had been too many times.  

 Spock came back into the room then, having left briefly to answer a call. “The primary fleet will not be able to return from the Laurentian system in time. It has also been agreed that the fleet abandoning their current mission now would be disastrous for the Federation. The Admiralty has granted permission to commission cadets for our proposed mission to Vulcan.” 

 “Just the Enterprise?” Jim asked. 

 “If my presence will be the only thing to prevent Nero from destroying the Enterprise outright, Barnett has agreed that risking more ships and lives to fight the Narada is illogical. The remaining seven ships will assist in the evacuation of Vulcan, available as support only if the captain deems it necessary. Captain Pike, you will shortly be contacted with your orders to-” 

 Pike’s communicator went off before Spock could finished the sentence. 

 “Congratulations on your new assignment, sir,” Jim said. 

 He sounded almost sincere about it, except he was grinning like a lunatic again. 

 “Spock’s still my first officer,” Pike said. 

 “That’s fair,” Jim agreed quickly. 

 “I ought to leave you behind for the grey hairs you give me,” Pike said, well-aware that he didn’t have a single hair left on his head that wasn’t some shade of grey. “But, if I’ve learned one thing today, it’s that you’re somehow going to turn up on the bridge no matter what I do. You’re Security Chief and second officer. If you have any recommendations for our crew, give them to Spock. Spock, I’ll assume you’re already working with the faculty to choose our crew.” 

 “I am, captain.” 

 Pike opened his latest message, confirming that he was now the captain of the U.S.S. Enterprise. “We leave in two hours, gentlemen,” he said. “Let’s go save Vulcan.” 

Chapter Text

 The launch of a starship was always organized chaos. The premature launch of the Federation’s newest flagship was a hundred times worse. There were a thousand details that required Pike’s attention in every minute to make sure that nothing went wrong, then a thousand more details that required Pike’s attention in the next minute to fix everything that had just gone wrong. People complained stridently about shuttles they didn’t have and supplies they didn’t have and schedules they didn’t have, all so Pike could look at them and say, “Then find some and fix that and make one.” 

 It was even worse still with a crew made of newly commissioned Academy cadets. Only one in a dozen seemed to have the confidence to take five steps without someone’s direct supervision. Even the brand new officers who were supposed to be supervisors were fumbling through ordering their old classmates around, as was only to be expected, suddenly saddled with vital responsibilities that demanded time and experience to grow into. All that Academy training still hadn’t been able to teach some of them was what a problem for the captain and what absolutely wasn’t a problem for the captain. Pike needed them to stop testing the ground and start running. 

 It took time for any crew to settle in. Time wasn’t on their side here. 

 It also felt like, given how the Enterprise had been separated from the other seven ships being sent to Vulcan, the Academy faculty was leaving all business with the flagship to Pike and the Admiralty. And the Admiralty, of course, being admirals, were too busy working with Vulcan High Command to evacuate the planet and track down the Narada to concern themselves with all the little details involved in successfully launching a starship. The Enterprise wasn’t without help getting out of orbit early, of course, but the confidentiality of elements of the Enterprise’s mission had earned them a respectful distance from some of the officers in charge of organizing the premature deployment of their fleet, which was both unnecessary and unhelpful when it came to pulling everything together. 

 The Enterprise had supposedly begun preparing for a potential mission sometime around noon, at the order of Admiral Barnett, but it felt to Pike, in his frustration, as though the people who should have been doing that had only been twiddling their thumbs in the meantime. 

 But for all that Pike was busy as hell, he could have been busier. He didn’t know what he would have done without Spock and Jim Kirk running interference. Spock seemed to be in a dozen places at once, sending out organization updates that cut through large swaths of the bullshit, directing the delegation of duties everyone was so desperate to get. Meanwhile, Jim Kirk would pop up on Pike’s periphery every five minutes or so, having completed some painful task on Pike or Spock’s behalf outrageously quickly, and then he’d take initiative to intercept the next big problem and lead it far, far away from Pike. 

 Pike later figured out that Spock had quickly realized Jim Kirk was very good at inspiring the newly commissioned cadets to step up and make their own choices. Spock would point Kirk at a department and, very shortly, the department would straighten itself out and start chugging along with only a few minor errors. Pike had only noticed this when he noticed Jim going straight to Spock for the next problem and several times after that overheard Spock speaking to Jim on his communicator. 

 Jim boarded a shuttle to get to the Enterprise first, while Spock and Pike stayed to see the last of the shuttles away, promising not to take off without them. 

 “Unless you’re too slow,” Jim said, bright-eyed and grinning. “Then I’m leaving.” 

 “Please stop joking about mutiny,” Pike said. 

 “We will be there as scheduled,” Spock promised, actually looking up from his PADD for this. 

 “You’d better be!” 

 Pike noticed after this that his first officer had essentially left his channel with Jim open, while Jim smoothed out the problems that had already arisen onboard. (Someone had received the wrong orders; someone had placed supplies in the wrong storage room; someone had already managed to trip and injure themselves in Engineering.) Jim would occasionally direct a question to Spock, who would pause in his work directing the last few details to answer. They were essentially keeping Pike out of it completely, which was, Pike would have said, exactly how he liked it. A captain who couldn’t trust his crew to do their jobs wasn’t going to last very long out there. 

 Finally, it was time for Pike and Spock to board the shuttle to the Enterprise. It was absolutely exhausting to think that, after all the work they’d just done here, it was only the beginning of their mission. 

 Pike waited until Spock switched off the channel with Jim, before saying, “So… Jim Kirk.” 

 “What about him, captain?” Spock said, looking determinedly ahead. 

 “You were going to have him hanged, drawn, and quartered for academic dishonesty earlier this morning,” Pike said, leaning back in his seat as the shuttle took off. Going into space was an astounding feat, but it could get a bit repetitive, so neither he nor Spock bothered to gape out the window. 

 “Your hyperbole, captain, is unappreciated.” 

 “What’s your opinion on him now, Spock? Because if I have my way, if we’re not tilting at windmills here, I’ll have you both on the Enterprise for as long as I’m there, and I want you both looking after it after I finally accept that promotion Barnett’s been trying to shove down my throat.” 

 Spock didn’t immediately answer. Whatever responses he was churning over in that formidable brain of his, the man clearly wanted to put them in the right words, and his silence concerned Pike. 

 Spock had thrown himself completely into the endeavor of saving Vulcan, and likely would have done so regardless of who he had to work with to do it. Spock had also clearly recognized that Jim Kirk’s positive qualities were a force to be reckoned with if only they could be pointed with purpose, he had spoken to Jim with what Pike had interpreted as great respect after their strange mind-meld, and they had shown a level of cooperation today that Pike could never have predicted from them. Yet Pike hadn’t been in either of their heads. He couldn’t be completely sure what either of them truly thought of the other. 

 He still hoped for more from them both than a partnership made of temporarily putting their dislike aside. They both deserved better. It was easy enough to tell that Jim Kirk was ready to be a friend to Spock. It was less easy to tell with Spock. Pike knew each man better in different ways, through vastly different experiences, but it was still difficult to fully see past Spock’s Vulcan practicality and politeness. Learning the subtle cues of beings born and raised on other planets was an education that never ended. 

 Though Spock had, whether he’d noticed or not, called the other man Jim earlier. 

 Maybe, Pike could admit to himself, he just wanted to hear Spock admit it. 

 “As I have expressed my lack of interest in serving as the captain of a vessel in the future, I must assume that you intend to see James Kirk installed as the next captain of the Enterprise,” Spock said finally. “I must therefore assume that you wish to see me remain as his first officer aboard the Enterprise.” 

 “If you’re willing,” Pike agreed. 

 “I am willing to do my duty to Starfleet, captain.” 

 “You can do your duty to Starfleet elsewhere and you know it,” Pike said flatly. “We’ve on our way to stop a time-travelling miner from destroying a planet with a device capable of creating black holes. I can’t promise that the Enterprise will see stranger than that, but it will see strange. Our newest flagship will need a captain and a first officer who can together lead a crew to meet any challenges the unknown throws at them, even if that means making up the rulebook as they go along.” 

 “I have only recently met James Kirk. My final opinion of him is currently heavily dependent on what we shall find when we arrive at Vulcan. I will require more evidence before I can deliver an accurate analysis of his character under extreme pressures,” Spock answered. 

 Pike’s gut told him that this was a dodge if he’d ever heard one. It was pretty pathetic, actually, as far as dodges went. Spock knew exactly what he was asking and didn’t want to answer the question. However, out of mercy, Pike decided to let the young man have that defense for now. Spock had a lot on his mind and he was right that Vulcan would prove everything, one way or another. 

 “Think about it, Spock,” Pike said. 

 It was definitely easier for Pike to think about the future, rather than contemplate the fact that they might shortly not have one. If they weren’t tilting at windmills here, then the Enterprise would shortly be called to help Vulcan protect the six billion lives at stake. If everything went wrong, then the entire Federation could feel Nero’s wrath, and dozens of systems would have empty space where worlds used to be. 

 Pike’s communicator whistled. 

  “Hey, Kirk to Pike. I see one more shuttle coming up to meet us and I’m really hoping you’re on it, sir, because the Enterprise is ready for her captain. We’re raring to go up here.” 

 Pike reached for his communicator, smiling, and said, “Don’t take off without us, Kirk.” 

  “‘Us’, sir? Oh, so Spock’s coming too, then?” 

 Pike exchanged a look with Spock. “Can’t imagine why you’d think he wouldn’t.” 

  “I dunno, he seemed the sort to take off work to me.” 

 “Kirk, you better not be making these jokes on the bridge right now.” Pike appreciated most of Jim’s bursts of levity in the face of something that was objectively horrifying, but he didn’t want Jim to dance too far over the line of what was appropriate, especially with a brand new, highly impressionable crew. 

 Jim laughed. “Sir, I’m alone in the turbo-lift right now, coming to meet you guys when you first step onboard. I got Spock’s message that you two were finally on your way up. Spock - I’m assuming he’s right next to you now, sir - we’ve successfully converted two of the emergency medical bay extensions already if this mission turns into an evacuation. We’re working on the third now.” 

  “Thank you, Lieutenant Commander,” Spock said. 

  “Oh, right. Commander Spock. Gotta remember that. Anyway, captain, I’ve been thinking, we should talk about what we’re going to be doing with the enemy crew on our way home.” 

 “How do you mean, Kirk?” 

 “ Well, our best-case scenario here is that we successfully take their ship, right? I’ve never been able to get a full read on their crew, so, for one, I don’t know if the Enterprise brig will handle it. But then, problem two here, unfortunately, then we’ve got a starship full of highly advanced technology, plus data banks and a crew of POWs with potentially very dangerous amounts of knowledge about history for the next 129 years. I’m guessing Vulcan will want to keep future Spock’s ship and the red matter, which is going to be an issue in itself in terms of jumps in technology, but I’m guessing the Romulan Empire won’t be keen on letting us keep the rest of what we catch.” 

 The full implications of that hit Pike like a phaser blast. 

 “Oh, god,” he said. 

 Beside him, Spock had stiffened in his seat. 

  “Something to think about!” Jim said, with almost manic cheer. “Something to think about when our mission’s over, huh? And the news gets around the galaxy? I’ve been very focused on our mission, but this has probably occurred to at least one of the admirals already. You should call Admiral Barnett before you hit the Enterprise, sir.” 

 “I… will be doing that,” Pike agreed painfully. 

 Looking over, he saw that Spock was already drafting a new message to Vulcan High Command, while apparently simultaneously doing some complicated looking mathematics. If they managed to subdue the Narada and take its crew alive, they were going to have… a damn lot of problems, enough that Pike didn’t know whether to take that promotion immediately afterwards or dodge it indefinitely. Major events and political movements of the next 129 years would be a great advantage to the Federation. 

 Or to the Romulan Empire. 

 “I’ll call Barnett. You put your mind to the mission at hand, Kirk,” Pike ordered. “There are six billion lives at stake. We’ll leave the interstellar politics to the admirals today.” 

  “Yes, sir. Oh, and speaking of Medical? Can one of you confirm for Bones here that I’m not on academic probation for the Kobayashi Maru anymore and really am currently the second officer of the Enterprise? I haven’t talked to him yet about the whole… you know... thing, so the overnight shift in status is throwing him for a hell of a loop. See you soon. Kirk out.” 

 Pike’s communicator whistled again as Jim signed off. 

 He leaned his head back against his seat. 

 And he sighed. 

 He was getting too old for any of this. 

 “Sir, are you going to call Admiral Barnett and inform him of Lieutenant Commander Kirk’s p-” 

  “Yes, commander, I am.” 

 “If you would rather that I take on the responsibility...” 

 Pike shook his head and raised his communicator again. “I don’t need you damn kids to do everything for me,” he said, sounding more like a cranky old man than he would have liked to admit. Just yesterday he would have protested that he wasn’t that old, but here he was today. “Computer, call Admiral Barnett. Tell him it’s urgent. Again.” 

~ 

 Kirk was waiting for them, as promised, the second they stepped onto the Enterprise. He was standing at attention and even snapped a perfect salute, looking astonishingly neat in pressed uniform. The Command Gold suited him incredibly well, as did the markings of an officer, and he’d even gone so far as to comb his hair. He’d chosen the tall high-collared shirt, Pike noted, hiding the bruising around his neck. 

 “Welcome aboard, captain,” Kirk said, grinning. “Commander.” 

 “At ease, Lieutenant Commander,” Pike said. “And before you ask, yes, I called Barnett. He’s already working on that potential conflict, provided our mission is a success, and he told us to make damn sure that it is one. Now, take us to the bridge, Kirk. We’re running up against our deadline for takeoff.” 

 “Yes, sir.” 

 Kirk led them through the brand new halls of the U.S.S. Enterprise like he’d spent months on this ship instead of less than an hour. The crewmembers they passed stood to attention for the passing captain and first officer. Pike noted how many of them recognized Kirk, smiled at him, before they recognized Pike and Spock were with him and hurried to appear respectable. Kirk had clearly smoothed their way with flying colors. He even greeted some of the brand new crew by name, pointing out notable officers as they went to Pike and Spock, such as the Chief Medical Officer, Doctor Puri. 

 Many of the crew, recently commissioned cadets as they were, recognized the commander as well. Spock nodded to ones who greeted him. He’d probably taught or spoken in some of their Academy courses. There also weren’t many Vulcans around the Academy campus in general. 

 As a veteran captain, Pike was a far more distant figure to most of these newly commissioned Academy cadets, though he’d done more than his fair share of duty for Academy recruitment, talks, courses, and advisement over the years. Most of them just looked too damn young to him now. He wished briefly for his own seasoned officers, many of whom had now moved on, accepting new assignments. Number One probably could have had them all out of orbit an hour ago, he thought fondly.  

 The three of them stepped into the turbo-lift together to be taken up to the bridge. Pike wasn’t surprised when Jim turned to him as soon as the doors close. 

 “How’s the situation going on Vulcan’s end, sir?” 

 “I believe the evacuation has been proceeding successfully,” Pike answered, “and Vulcan Command has transporter teams ready for the second Nero makes his appearance. We’ll be coordinating with them as soon as we get there. Command wants Spock on the Narada to secure the Vulcan ship.” 

 Jim nodded. “Sir, I’ve been to the Narada before, I’d like to accompany him-” 

 Pike had expected this. He could not have been less surprised. 

 “Captain, I believe I have secured adequate knowledge of the enemy ship’s interior from our meld,” Spock said, from his other side. “It would be more logical, in the case of our failure, for the Chief Security Officer to remain with the Enterprise. He has the most experience with evading the enemy’s attacks and of potentially disabling the drill, which would become vital in the case that my mission fails.” 

 “I did this mission once,” Jim argued. “If I’m with you, I can make sure it succeeds.” 

 “You previously beamed aboard the Narada while it was warping to Earth, when the enemy had no reason to believe you could be in possession of a transwarp beaming formula. The circumstances are entirely different. Nero’s overconfidence when attacking Earth may have been due to not receiving the resistance he initially expected from Vulcan.” 

 Jim opened his mouth to argue this, because that was what he did, but Pike held up a hand before this could go any further. Jim closed his mouth again, looking at Spock mutinously. 

 Oh, fuck. Mutinously. It had just fully struck Pike that he had made a young man who had admitted to committing mutiny his Chief Security Officer. He wasn’t worried about mutiny - there was something to be said about engaging the service of a young man who wouldn’t hesitate to trade his Starfleet career to save a planet - but it was still a jarring thought. It was also a terrible, terrible pun. 

 “Spock’s got a point, Kirk,” Pike said warningly. “If worse comes to worse, I want us fully ready for a fight, even if that just means getting as many of us out of there as possible.” 

 The end of the conversation was further decided by the doors of the turbo-lift opening on the bridge. 

 “Yes, sir,” Jim said, and Pike could see his determination to argue the point again later. 

 Pike stepped out of the turbo-lift, his commanding officers behind him. “Captain on bridge!” someone called, as Pike stepped up beside the captain’s chair. Jim went by the helm first, clapping a hand on the helmsman shoulder and leaning down to say something, before he went to the Chief Security Officer’s station, relieving the ensign there on watch. Spock went to the Science Officer’s station and immediately began checking on whatever had moved in the last five minutes without his knowing about it. 

 They were the only two people on the bridge Pike could say that he knew well enough to want them at his back. He looked around a bridge full of young, eager strangers who had no real idea of what they were getting into here, and wished for their sakes this could have been done differently. Ordinarily on a new assignment, he would have been introduced to the crew, shaken some hands, gotten to learn a few names, and exchanged some niceties over where they’d served before or if this was their first assignment. Today, he knew, this was almost everyone’s first assignment. 

 It was a hell of a beginning. 

 “Engineering reports ready for launch, captain,” Spock said. 

 “The rest of the fleet is separating from spacedock now, sir,” Jim added. “They’re waiting on our signal.” 

 “Thank you, gentlemen,” Pike said. 

 The U.S.S. Enterprise would lead the charge to Vulcan this time. If Nero was already there, he’d face the Enterprise first, instead of tearing through the other Starfleet ships like tissue paper. 

 “Ladies, gentlemen, and esteemed members of this crew,” Pike began, “the maiden voyage of our newest flagship deserves far more pomp and circumstance than we can offer it today. Its final dedication will just have to be our reward for a safe return. Carry on.” 

 Movement on the bridge did not fully resume until Pike finally took the chair. He pressed the communicator embedded in the chair’s arm to make a ship-wide announcement. “All decks, this is Captain Pike. Prepare for immediate departure,” he ordered, before ending the announcement and looking to the helm. “Helm, thrusters. Take us out.” 

 The helmsman nodded and set to work. “Moorings detached, captain,” he said. “Dock control reports ready… thrusters fired… separating from spacedock now, sir.” 

 Pike had managed to take a look at what Spock and Kirk were doing with his crew, just to make sure there wouldn’t be anyone onboard he personally knew wouldn’t a fit for the Enterprise. The helmsmen he was looking at now was a young East Asian man. His name, Pike remembered, was Sulu. Jim had briefly mentioned him and quickly, enthusiastically approved of him as Spock’s choice of helmsman after Helmsmen McKenna had fallen out with lungworm. 

 “We’re clear of spacedock, sir,” Sulu reported finally, with obvious relief that he hadn’t accidentally broken the Enterprise on the way out of the garage. 

 “The rest of the fleet is clear, captain,” said their communications officer, a young African woman. “All ships are reporting ready for warp.” 

 Uhura, Pike thought. Jim had mentioned her too. There had been some brief, damn intriguing argument between Jim and Spock over whether to assign her to the bridge of the Enterprise, when choosing the crew, which Jim had won. Pike now knew that she had been the one to decode the Klingon distress call, spoke Romulan and Vulcan fluently, and would “kill Kirk and Spock both” if she wasn’t assigned to the Enterprise. Unlike the young helmsman, she looked cool as anything on the bridge. 

 “Set a course for Vulcan,” Pike ordered the helm. 

 “Aye, aye, captain. Course laid in.” 

  The whole of the Enterprise seemed to be humming now. It was hard to tell whether it was real or whether it was all in the head, but Pike could swear he could feel the drum of the engines down to his bones. Taking off from a planet might have become old hat, even going into warp had become old hat, but there was something different about that first shot out on a brand new starship. 

 “Maximum warp,” Pike ordered, setting back in his seat. 

 He glanced over his shoulder, where Jim Kirk was grinning like a maniac. Then he looked back out the front window. This had been his favorite part too, the first time he’d taken the chair. 

 “Punch it.” 

 The U.S.S. Enterprise was the smoothest shot to warp Pike had ever experienced - or so it felt. One moment, they were hanging above the Earth, and the next, they were travelling faster than the speed of light. Smooth as butter if not even smoother. It seemed to Pike like the bridge breathed a collective sigh of relief here. They were on their way. A smooth beginning was a good omen, which would hopefully carry them through the mission to come. 

 They went through the usual checks, required after every jump to warp post-maintenance, even more important with a brand-new ship. It also served as opportunity to make sure the crew was running smoothly, as the departments each checked in. The bridge had to make sure the Enterprise wasn't falling to pieces, inside or out. 

 “Russian whiz kid,” Pike said, once everything had been determined to be in place, “Chekov, isn’t it?” 

 Pike had heard about this kid as soon as he’d made the Academy. God, he’d been what? Thirteen? Fourteen? Chekov had been another of Jim Kirk’s enthusiastic recommendations. Apparently Chekov had charted the course that had allowed the Enterprise to sneak up on the Narada in Earth’s system. The kid spun around in his seat and, yep, he looked like a teenager. He had spots and everything. 

 “Ensign Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, sir,” the kid said, with painful earnestness and a Russian accent that almost could’ve used a Universal Translator of its own. 

 “Fine, Chekov, Pavel Andreievich, begin shipwide mission broadcast. Remind our crew what’s happening.” 

 “Yes, sir, happy to.” 

  And we still have to pick up Jim’s Scotsman, Pike remembered tiredly. 

 It took the Russian whiz kid a couple tries to get the announcement started, due to an unfortunate clash between his accent and the authorization codes, but he cleared his throat and was with effort understandable enough. The computer would translate and transcribe as necessary for the crew. 

 “May I have your attention, please,” the kid said. “At twenty-three hundred hours, a Federation outpost on the edge of the neutral zone was destroyed. Shortly after, Starfleet received intel that a rogue Romulan wessel was on its way to the planet Wulcan, armed with advanced weaponry and soon to gain an experimental dewice capable of creating singularities. Our mission is to work with Wulcan High Command to secure the enemy wessel and its technology, and assist in the ongoing ewacuations of the planet if necessary.” 

 For all their plans of the future, if their mission failed, there really wouldn’t be one. Pike glanced over his shoulder while the Russian whiz kid gave their estimated time of arrival. Spock’s expression was perfectly blank, as calm as anything on the outside. Jim Kirk looked almost solemn. 

 “Thank you for your time,” the kid said, with a decisive nod, and signed off. 

Chapter Text

 “Even if we're looking for it, the storm could be anywhere, so we're probably going to get the news too late to prevent Nero from getting his hands on the red matter,” Jim had said, in the privacy of Pike's office, before they'd left to prepare the Enterprise. “I don't even know which direction we should be looking for the exit point. If it's close enough to Vulcan for us to actually intervene, if we don't come up against their shields beaming aboard, we'll probably lose any element of surprise we had.”

“Vulcans and Romulans are similar enough that, were the teams exclusively Vulcan, any automated internal defence system aboard the Narada would likely not be able to be used effectively,” Spock had answered. “The conditions shown in your memories strongly suggest that the enemy vessel was not sufficiently secure, staffed, or maintained.”

“Yeah, makes you wonder what the hell happened, doesn't it? If they've got facial recognition scanning that works without lighting their damn ship, as far as I could see, they're not using it,” Jim had said.

And then the two of them had gone off on a spirited debate for the next ten minutes on the potential paths of action, each pitfall spawning an alternative potential plan, based on Jim's memories of the massive mining ship, before Pike had pushed them out the door to actually get the Enterprise ready for launch instead of just talking about it.

They had striven to be ready for anything.

When the Enterprise finally arrived at Vulcan, ready for the worst regardless of what they knew to realistically expect, there was no sign of the infamous and mysterious Narada arriving unexpectedly early. Pike had seen the blurry captures of the vessel from twenty-five years ago, taken as per protocol from the escape pods of the U.S.S. Kelvin, in the hopes of bringing the rogue Romulans to justice some day. For now, the space above Vulcan was missing that haunting silhouette. There were only Vulcan ships in orbit here, above a planet that still seemed as immovable and everlasting as any planet ever had.

Ensign Chekov loudly confirmed the lack of a hostile ship on their scanners for the bridge. Pike could hear Jim Kirk's relieved exhale, as he looked to Lieutenant Uhura at the communications station.

“Tell Vulcan we're here and that the others are right behind us.”

“Yes, sir.”

Pike allowed himself to let go of the dread that had taken hold of him while coming out of warp, knowing that the wait for the Narada would bring it back, piece by piece, hour by hour, whether he liked it or not. Long watches had never been and never would be his choice of mission. He didn't doubt that the Narada would show itself within the next twelve hours now – though, despite betting his career on its existence, a part of him hoped it wouldn't. He'd take the consequences of unknowingly crying wolf, thanks, rather than risk the wide, irreplaceable world laid out pale and vulnerable below him.

“Captain, we're being greeted by Vulcan High Command,” Lieutenant Uhura reported. “They're ready to beam over a Lieutenant Scott and an Ensign Keenser from Delta Vega, as well as their representative from the Vulcan mission teams.”

“Bring them over.”

“Yes, sir, bringing them onboard now,” Ensign Chekov said.

Pike stood and began making his way to the turbo-lift. “Show them to my conference room. Sulu, you have the con. Uhura, Chekov, I want you and our observational teams working with Vulcan High Command to continue scanning for any sign of the enemy. I want to know the second there are any changes to our situation, am I clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Aye, aye, captain.”

Pike snapped his fingers at his officers. “Spock, Kirk, with me.”

Now, they waited. Now, they prepared. 

~

Jim's transporter genius, Montgomery “Scotty” Scott, was a Western European man with a Scotsman's burr and the wide-eyed confusion of someone who wasn't entirely certain they were supposed to be here. He was accompanied by a short alien of a species Pike didn't recognize – four feet fall, with a green-brown face that resembled coral – who could have been none other than Ensign Keenser. The hard ridges of Ensign Keenser's skin left his expressions almost entirely in his large black eyes, which were currently squinting about the room, as though the light level disagreed with him or perhaps as though he was expecting an ambush.

When Pike arrived, the Vulcan representative was unemotionally commending Scott on the invention of the revolutionary new transwarp beaming formula.

“Er, thank you,” Scott said awkwardly. “Though, to be perfectly honest, I think there may have been a wee bit of confusion here.” He made a pinched hand gesture to emphasize his words.

The Vulcan representative, a Commander Ivai, was a tall, brown Vulcan woman in a smart grey uniform, and she had no apparent reaction to Scott's strange modesty. She looked instead to Pike, as though the conversation was fully finished, and Scott confusedly followed her gaze. Scott's arms snapped to his sides in attention once he noticed the arrival of the Enterprise's captain and officers.

“Greetings, Captain Pike,” Commander Ivai said.

“Commander, thank you for coming. It's good to finally meet in person.”

“Scotty!” Jim cried, stepping smoothly ahead of Pike to slap the man on the shoulder like they were old friends and shake his hand vigorously. “Good to see you again, man!”

“Uh, good to see you too!” Scott said brightly, fumbling through the handshake, smiling back reflexively.

It was obvious, at least to anyone familiar with human expressions, that Montgomery Scott had never seen James T. Kirk before in his life and had no idea who he was. Not a damn clue. Scott looked even more confused and uncomfortable when Jim used the handshake to pull him in, linking their arms together in a grip that would probably prove unshakable if Scott tried to get away. Ensign Keenser squinted up at Jim with great suspicion.

“Captain, if you'll excuse us briefly? There's that quick transporter check that requires input from Mister Scott and Mister Keenser?”

“Be quick about it, Kirk.”

“Five minutes, sir,” Jim promised, already leading Scott to the next room.

The engineers disappeared with Jim and Pike properly introduced Spock, before asking Commander Ivai to be seated. They got down to business immediately.

Commander Ivai informed them that the evacuation of Vulcan was proceeding with far less than projected efficiency, which was completely unsurprising, given that evacuating even an established colony could be a damn nightmare. No one had the resources to fully evacuate a homeworld on short notice. No one ever expected to need to evacuate a homeworld. And no population was that cooperative when asked to abandon their homes without a thorough explanation, much less the homes that had belonged to untold generations of their ancestors. Not even Vulcans were that prepared or accommodating. They still had well, well, well over five billion individuals who would be counting on them to outmanoeuvre the Narada when it arrived.

Commander Ivai also informed them their search thus far for the Narada or the lightning storm that would supposedly announce it had been unsatisfactory. Number One and Spock had both separately warned Pike about attributing human levels of emotional investment to individuals who weren't human, but he interpreted this report as having the Vulcan equivalent of scathing displeasure anyway.

As promised, five minutes later, the engineers returned. Scott looked like Jim had hit him over the head, turned his world upside down, or perhaps simply directly told him about time travellers and alternate universes. Keenser looked disbelieving, though Pike couldn’t really tell (the name of his species was on the tip of Pike's tongue, he could swear). He also couldn't tell if Commander Ivai noticed.

“Captain, the rest of the fleet has arrived and they've begun assisting in the evacuation,” Jim reported, as he sat down next to Spock, with Scott and Keenser warily following.

“Thank you, Kirk.”

Pike then introduced his second officer to Commander Ivai and they began discussing in earnest the role the Enterprise would play in subduing the Narada and securing the black hole device. The current plans outlined by the Vulcan teams were good and logical, but Jim and Spock's insight was invaluable in streamlining what would be a highly sensitive mission. If Commander Ivai noticed – as Scott clearly did by his bewildered expressions – that there was something suspicious about Jim Kirk's knowledge of the Narada's interior, she did not deem it worth acknowledging aloud.

Scott and Keenser, who would be working with the Enterprise's transporter technicians, had been contacted for this mission long before the Enterprise reached Vulcan space. (They had deftly avoided any argument on the part of Admiral Archer by simply not mentioning the reassignment to Admiral Archer.) Jim had set them to studying the transwarp beaming formula and planning with the Vulcan transporter teams. It quickly became clear that, though Scott must have been incredibly confused as to why the Federation was suddenly attributing to him a formula he hadn't invented, he and his companion had still put their time with the Vulcan transporter teams to good use. When duty had come calling and promised to get them off the freezing rock known as Delta Vega, they had answered.

In fact, being true engineers, Scott and Keenser had apparently quickly developed some rather interesting ideas about how to put this new technology to use. (Pike thought immediately of all the experiments he was sure the Academy's Engineering Faculty was already running, which Spock had briefly mentioned before they'd left as though the proposals were fascinating instead of mildly terrifying.) Pike informed the keen young engineers, firmly, that all he wanted was a coordinated plan for beaming in teams to subdue the Narada's crew and secure their weaponry.

Jim certainly had some ideas on that front and, soon, he wanted to bring the Russian whiz kid into it, as well as Helmsman Sulu and the Enterprise's Security teams. With Spock and Commander Ivai to bring the wildest proposals back to reasonable functionality, Pike promptly sent them off to coordinate properly with Commander Ivai's teams.

While Jim led the Vulcan representative back to the Enterprise's transporter room, talking a mile a minute, Lieutenant Scott lingered behind rather obviously.

Ensign Keenser noticed this. He paused in the doorway, grunted, and, in a sign language Pike wasn't familiar with, clearly demanded something of Scott. Introduction to Federation Standard Sign Language was a mandatory course at the Academy nowadays, as the Federation gained members who didn't communicate orally and/or just didn't have ears (not to mention how damn useful it was when audio communication wasn't possible), but this was something else. Not for the first time, Pike felt for the linguists and programmers who dedicated their lives to the ever-evolving fully accessible Universal Translator.

Roylans! Pike thought triumphantly. That was the name of Ensign Keenser's species. 

Scott's answering expression to Keenser's demand was bewildered, and, in the same language, he hastily signed back something that looked dismissive and offended.

Scott's expression only turned more offended at Keenser's short response. (Pike might not have known the language, but he was relatively certain he could identify a rude alien gesture when he saw one. There was something universal about flipping someone off.) Keenser left with that final word, the door gliding shut behind him, finally leaving Scott alone with Pike and Spock. Also, leaving Pike with the mystery of where he'd first heard about the Roylan people, who seemed somehow familiar now. 

“Can I help you, Mister Scott?” Pike asked.

“So, uh,” Scott said awkwardly. “These Romulans... they're really from the future, then?”

“I'm afraid so.”

Scott blinked, like he had hoped Pike would tell him that this whole mess was actually a massive prank, even with the involvement of Vulcan High Command. He recovered admirably quickly, straightening himself, though he did then gesture vaguely at the closed door for a few seconds.

“And your man there, Kirk,” Scott said finally, as though he had tried and failed to come up with words to describe his encounter with Jim Kirk. “He's really from the future too?”

“Only a few days,” Pike said.

“Huh. Fancy that,” Scott said, looking dazed.

The man went for the door with an expression that Pike had become very familiar with today: a determination to get on with the work despite not fully understanding or believing what was happening, in the hope that time would turn it all out. Scott snapped a salute at the last second, on his way out, like he'd only just remembered he ought to show some sort of respect to the captain and first officer of the Enterprise. Pike watched him leave with the unsettling reminder that this bright young man full of promise and potential had, in Jim's terrible future, somehow been involved in damaging the warp cores of the Federation's brand new flagship.

“Keep me updated, Spock,” Pike said.

“Of course, captain.”

Pike then turned his attention back to Ensign Chekov and Lieutenant Uhura's progress in finding the Narada. Since Vulcan High Command was directing the search well-enough, making use of the Enterprise's instruments as they saw fit with the help of Ensign Chekov, Pike's attention quickly turned towards Vulcan's ongoing evacuation and planetary defenses. The seven other Federation ships were filled with newly commissioned Academy cadets, who in Pike's experience had a tendency to be intimidated by Vulcans. Even Vulcans felt some displeasure at their planet being threatened, which made the population on average just uncooperative enough to be problematic.

It was a recipe for disaster when they couldn't afford it.

Ordinarily, this would be where Pike would call in his Vulcan first officer, but Spock was still damn busy. There also turned out to be no need to go crawling to Spock. Lieutenant Uhura immediately stepped up to offer her own assistance in his place. She offered desperately needed translation and cultural information services (the Universal Translators were priceless tools, but they still weren't perfect, most notably when it came to idioms and indicating status). As soon as Pike gave her the go-ahead to take over, she deftly redirected multiple transmissions across ships to personnel who could offer similar or other necessary services, with a kindness and grace he found incredibly impressive.

It was no wonder Jim had fought for her place on the bridge of the Enterprise. She was already a highly competent communications officer and she had the makings of a formidable diplomat. If Pike had been twenty years younger, he'd have taken her on every damn mission.

After it seemed like his presence was no longer crucial, as though there was little more the Enterprise could do in its waiting without more information, and as though they were hammering at the wall blindly out of a fear of stopping, Pike rejoined Jim's team. Spock had dutifully kept Pike aware of all progress; Pike knew that Commander Ivai had beamed away and that Jim had readied the Enterprise's teams for their roles as much as possible. So, Pike took his second officer aside and ordered him to sleep.

Jim couldn't have looked more betrayed if Pike had informed him he was going to be jettisoned from the Enterprise and marooned on Delta Vega. If the whole ship hadn't been on edge, Pike probably would have found Jim Kirk's fish-like gaping hilarious.

“Naptime, Kirk. Come on.”

“Sir, I've got-”

“A team who can handle the rest of the preparations from here,” Pike finished. “You woke us both up at four in the damn morning for this. You and I are not doing this mission relying on stimulants. From all our intel, we're projecting that the Narada won't be here for a few hours yet.”

“Sir, I'm not sure I'll be able to sleep,” Jim admitted finally.

Pike wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep either, but they needed to stop for at least five minutes. “We're both going to try, Kirk. This is what the on-call rooms are for. You know how long a ship can stay on Yellow Alert. Space doesn't have any off-hours; there's no interstellar agreement there.”

“There almost was, sir, back in-”

Pike ignored the beginning of this fun fact, having sat through that part of Federation history lessons as well. “You're going to have to get used to this. Spock'll wake us up as soon as there's a change.”

“You're not making Spock take a nap?” Jim said, reluctantly being led away.

“He's going to meditate for half-an-hour.”

“What?”

“Vulcans apparently need less sleep than we do.”

“Are Vulcans, by any chance, the ones behind those studies, sir? That's not fair.”

“Get used to it.”

“What if-”

“Don't make me bring your doctor friend into this, Kirk.”

“Now that's not fair.”

~

The news of the lightning storm came while Pike was asleep. He was back on bridge within two minutes of the whistle, with Spock and Kirk behind him, but they were too late. Between the time it had taken for evidence of the event to reach Vulcan's sensors, the time it had taken for the overworked astronomers to realize what they were looking at, and the time it had taken to relay the information to Vulcan High Command and the Enterprise, the event was already just over an hour behind them.

“We can only observe as quickly as light travels, captain,” Ensign Chekov said apologetically, as though he would have had light hurry it up if only he'd been put in charge of the universe. “We could not be sure in which direction to point our more adwanced instruments.”

“Nearly every telescope on Vulcan and we're still slow to the party,” Pike said tiredly, before he looked to his Chief Security Officer. “Kirk, what do you think?”

Jim looked solemn. He had mostly managed to flatten his hair on the way back to the bridge. Earlier, while tossing and turning, he had expressed worry that, in actively looking for the black hole's exit point, they would inadvertently miss the event completely.

“I think the enemy vessel probably already has the black hole device, sir,” Kirk said. “We're too close to the deadline to go out looking for them. They're coming to us now.”

“I agree with the lieutenant commander's assessment,” Spock said. “Captain, I would like to rejoin the Vulcan transporter teams on standby now.”

“Go, Spock,” Pike agreed, with a warning look at Jim.

Jim had again brought up the importance of his joining the away mission, and again Pike and Spock had struck the suggestion down. Pike wanted the man from the future directing them here on the Enterprise. Jim was reckless, but he wasn't entirely stupid. He couldn't deny Pike's point that Spock would need his support as Chief Security Officer from this side, nor could he deny Spock's point that, should the Vulcan teams fail, Jim's expertise would be crucial in following their backup plans and, potentially, in the improvisation of new plans should all others fail as well.

Jim's jaw was set with unhappiness now. Nevertheless, he nodded at Spock, as the commander left the bridge. Spock paused briefly for him, a slowdown in his ground-eating stride.

“Good luck,” Jim said.

“To you as well,” Spock answered.

And then Spock stepped into the turbo-lift, with the fate of his planet on his shoulders and no give in his expression as the doors closed. Pike waved as the man went and all he got was an incline of the head in return. They probably wouldn't see him again until this was all over.

“Ready to tell our people where to be, Kirk?” Pike asked.

“Yes, sir.”

~

The Narada finally arrived with no more forewarning than the destroyed Federation outpost and the distant lightning storm in space. Ensign Chekov shouted to the bridge that there was a new, unknown vessel on their scanners and, suddenly, Pike was looking at a nightmare floating above Vulcan, a massive creature with long black tendrils and the glowing promise of a mouth in its centre. Even being vaguely familiar with the silhouette, it didn't register even remotely as a starship.

“Red Alert! That's the Narada!” Jim Kirk yelled, after barely a second's glance. “Uhura, signal-!”

“Signalling the Vulcan teams and the fleet now,” Lieutenant Uhura said, stomping on his line.

“Sulu!” Pike ordered.

“Yes, sir, moving us in closer,” Helmsman Sulu answered.

“Vulcan High Command is redirecting its ships now,” Lieutenant Uhura reported. “They're clearing space for this hemisphere to avoid giving alternative targets.”

“Remind the rest of the fleet to steer clear until further notice,” Pike told her.

“Yes, sir.”

The Enterprise began drifting forward, not so quickly as to be aggressive, not so close as to be unable to manoeuvre if necessary, but enough to bring the attention to them. To tempt their enemy's teeth over the Vulcan mission vessels, which stayed where they were, as though the Enterprise had been dealing with them just now. Pike could make out the lights and metal of a starship in the Narada now, but he still thought it looked nightmarish, with an asymmetry and damage that marked it uniquely.

“Their shields are still not up, captain,” Ensign Chekov said wondrously.

“It must be hell to shield that thing properly,” Jim muttered, grimacing at the screen, before slapping his communicator. “Scotty, we could lose our window any second now! Get moving!”

“ Aye, aye! We're on it!” Lieutenant Scott's voice snapped back.

“Lieutenant Uhura, prepare to hail the enemy vessel,” Pike ordered.

“Yes, sir. Waiting on the transporter teams,” Lieutenant Uhura answered, hands hovering above the controls of her station. On an unseen signal, her hands went decisively down “Hailing the enemy vessel now. On all available frequencies.”

“Remind them who we are and hold them off-screen until we're away.”

“Yes, sir.”

“The Wulcan teams are beaming aboard the enemy wessel,” Ensign Chekov said. “Mister Scott is beaming the commander away n- They are onboard!” Their teenage navigator practically whooped the last words, before he cleared his throat and quickly became serious again. “We have no more contact with the away teams, captain.”

“Let's hope the enemy somehow didn't notice us beaming aboard their ship,” Sulu murmured.

“Be prepared for enemy fire, Sulu.”

“Yes, captain.”

The bridge held its breath. They barely moved. They watched the Narada for some sign of attack – any sign of retaliation – but the dim lights of the ship only glimmered quietly. Jim and Uhura both had a hand to their ear, their eyes on their stations, presumably watching and listening for a message from the Vulcan teams reporting they had been seen. Sulu stopped them a good distance away from the enemy vessel and it still felt too damn close. The Narada loomed over them.

Spock was somewhere in the belly of that beast now, Pike thought, horrified.

“Sir, our hail has been answered,” Lieutenant Uhura said finally.

Pike ignored the dread down his spine, the horror in his chest, and straightened in his seat, preparing himself for the biggest game of chicken he would hopefully ever play in his life. He prepared himself to answer an angry Romulan demanding to know why he had just beamed someone aboard their ship. Around him, the young bridge crew of the U.S.S. Enterprise did the same, putting on brave faces.

“On screen,” Pike ordered.

“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Uhura said quietly.

The front screen was at first overtaken with black, except for the column of informational updates along the left-hand side, before the transmission slowly faded to a chair with nothing behind it but gloom. A man appeared on screen and sat in the chair, the sound crackling slightly as he settled into a casual pose. Through the poor lighting, Pike observed him: a Romulan, neither young nor old, bald, with pale skin, black facial tattoos, and layered black clothing that didn't look like a uniform.

The Romulan did not speak first. He just stared at them. The presentation – the appearance and behaviour – was wholly unlike the Romulan Empire's military personnel Pike was used to dealing with, though Pike didn't dare let himself be taken aback.

Out of the corner of his eye, among the informational updates, Pike caught a message.

It said: Give him hell, sir.

“This is Captain Christopher Pike of the U.S.S. Enterprise,” Pike said, loudly and clearly, in a voice that was neither demanding nor unfriendly. “To whom am I speaking?”

“ Hi, Chris,” said the Romulan. “I'm Nero.”

His tone was almost conversational. He spoke in Federation Standard instead of Romulan. He didn't look a damn bit like a man who meant to murder six billion people today and the rest of the Federation shortly after. He didn't look like a man who was aware that they had just beamed several teams of Vulcans aboard his ship either. He almost seemed as though he was sitting down to an interview, except for the way his eyes scanned the bridge, looking for something. 

"Hello, Nero." 

Pike waited for more and nothing came. 

“The Romulan Empire is not permitted in this part of space,” Pike said slowly, careful not to mention who had forbidden them. “What business do you have here?”

“ My business here is my own,” Nero answered.

“I speak on behalf of this planet. Any business you have here can go through me.”

“... Spock served on a vessel called the U.S.S. Enterprise.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“ You have a Vulcan by the name of Spock aboard your vessel,” Nero said, his gaze finally fixed on Pike in the captain's chair. “Summon him.”

It grated enormously on Pike to be given orders by this man, who knew he was humouring them by answering their hail, who probably hadn't had to answer to anyone in the past twenty-five years. A man who could destroy 47 Klingon warbirds without trying didn't have to answer to a single Federation ship. The Enterprise was horrifyingly outmatched by the Narada in every way.

But, clearly, Pike knew something this man didn't know.

And that was enough.

“I can neither confirm nor deny the presence of any individual aboard this vessel,” Pike said finally.

It was the sort of neutral phrase that sounded like a confirmation.

One side of Nero's mouth curved up.

“ Summon him.”

“I speak on behalf of this vessel and its crew,” Pike reiterated calmly, which also sounded like a confirmation. “I repeat: what business do you have here? Is this why you came to this planet?”

“ My business is with Spock,” Nero said, leaning forward. “Summon him.”

Pike let himself pause.

Among the informational updates on the left-hand side of the screen, which had informed him that the Narada had finally raised its shields, another message popped up. It said: Keep going, sir. Make him gloat. He's waited twenty-five years for this.

“I haven't seen a ship of your vessel's design before,” Pike commented. “Do you speak on behalf of the Romulan Empire? The only report of a ship matching your description was twenty-five years ago, when the Romulan Empire disavowed involvement in the destruction of the U.S.S. Kelvin.”

Nero didn't answer immediately, staring at them in consideration. “So, you recognized me,” he said finally, settling back into his seat, smiling like he had finally seen their game.

Pike let himself appear to be taken aback, somewhat surprised to hear this man so easily admit it. That grated too.

“Are you admitting to being solely responsible for the destruction of the U.S.S. Kelvin?” he asked, letting some hostility slip in his voice.

“ If I was, what are you going to do about it?” Nero asked.

Again, Pike paused. It wasn't just appearances. It was truly daunting – absolutely terrifying – to think that the fate of the Enterprise depended entirely on this man's whims and what he thought he knew. So long as he wanted Spock to witness the destruction of Vulcan and thought that Spock was currently onboard the Enterprise, so long as their allies remained undiscovered, they would live.

“ If you don't summon Spock, I will tear your ship to pieces to find him,” Nero promised.

Pike didn't doubt that he meant it. He considered his options. 

“If I summon Commander Spock to the bridge... will you state your business here?”

“ I will,” Nero agreed generously.

Pike turned slightly away from the screen, before he gave in to the urge to do something inescapably and unforgivably human, looking directly to his Chief Security Officer instead. “Lieutenant Commander Kirk, please summon Commander Spock to the bridge.”

“Yes, sir.”

“ Kirk,” Nero repeated.

Pike looked back to the screen, where Nero was staring at his Chief Security Officer with an uncomfortable level of interest, which didn't help Pike in controlling the urge to do something inescapably and unforgivably human. Nero's voice filled up the entire bridge when he spoke. It was hard to tell if it was the volume or some trick of fear. The realization and subdued delight in his voice now, as he took in Jim's face looking back at him, was nearly unbearable to witness.

“ James Tiberius Kirk,” Nero said. “I know your name.”

Jim slowly got to his feet.

“Jim,” Pike said, standing as well. 

“How do you know my name?” Jim asked. 

“I’ve heard stories,” Nero said simply. “Even now, the Federation loves your name, James Tiberius Kirk, just for surviving while your father died for you.” 

“...You killed my father,” Jim said accusingly, his fists trembling, clearly in view.

“ Jim,” Pike repeated, warningly.

“ George Kirk's final act of bravery damaged my ship,” Nero answered, disdainful, with a warning note of his own. “It was... a privilege to deny him the life he would have lived.”

“Jim, sit down,” Pike snapped.

For several seconds, Pike genuinely couldn't tell what Jim would do next, but then Jim slowly sat back down at his station and bowed his head. The remainder of the bridge crew looked between Jim and the screen with widened eyes. Pike glared at the screen, where yet remained the earlier message that said: Use my name, sir. He knows who I am.

“Are you here to harass my crew, Nero?” Pike demanded.

Nero laughed.

“ I am here to right a terrible wrong,” he said.

“...Maybe I can help with that.”

“ Maybe you can,” Nero said indulgently. “So many of the Federation's greatest heroes here today.”

“If you would state your business, maybe we could come to an agreement.”

"No. I am here to save Romulus.”

“Romulus?” Pike repeated.

Nero's gaze was suddenly condemning, his hands clawing into the arms of his chair, as he continued. It was like a switch had been flipped. “Not even the Federation and all its great heroes could save my planet. They weren't 'fast enough'. It's gone. It was all lies. You would have done the exact same thing, wouldn't you, Kirk? You would have made the same choice Spock did: to be rid of the Romulan Empire at long last.”

“Romulus isn't gone,” Pike said.

“ The only one that matters is gone and you let it die. ”

“The preservation of life is one of the prime values of the Federation. We would-”

“ Some lives are worth more to you than others,” Nero said accusingly.

There was a kernel of truth in that sentence that briefly arrested Pike, too similar to his own late-night spirals, giving him no easy response. His career had been long and difficult. Peacekeeping, as some called it, had made hellish demands. The simple act of weighing lives was one of which he'd never be clean.

“ I am here to save Romulus long before your insidious, cowardly Federation can get its claws into the Empire. No treaties! No alliances! You weaken everything you touch with your false promises!”

“The Federation does not engage in peace for the purpose of duplicity-”

“ What other purpose could you possibly have? You steal away the claws of your enemies. You would bring even the mighty Klingon Empire low. I will destroy your Federation before it can destroy everything. There will be no reliance on the mercy of Vulcans. ”

Pike grappled with the implication that they would be at peace with the Klingons in the future and, completely unable to handle it, dismissed the idea. He'd think about it later. He'd wonder at the concept of real peace with the Klingon and Romulan Empires when he didn't have a mad Romulan promising to destroy dozens of billions of lives in cold blood. He had to think of a way to keep distracting a man who hadn't wavered in his hatred for twenty-five years.

“...The Federation and the Klingons aren't allies,” Pike said slowly, sitting back down in his captain's chair. “Neither are the Federation and the Romulan Empire. Are you claiming to be from a point of time in which this is true? Or an ability to see the future?”

“ I'm not here to hold your hand, Chris,” Nero said coldly.

“I'm not asking you to hold my hand, I'm asking you to meet me as-”

“ We will meet on my terms. Now, where is Spock?”

“He's on his way.”

Nero scowled, his eyes narrowing as he searched the bridge again. “I have on my ship a device capable of destroying his planet,” he said, seething, ignoring the gasp from someone on the Enterprise bridge, “and he still can't HURRY IT UP? HE'S STILL LATE?” 

“He’s-” 

“WHERE IS HE?”

“He's on his way now,” Pike repeated slowly.

Nero stared for a long, dread-filled moment, before he said: 

“ I won't wait for him any longer.”

“He'll be here shortly.”

“ You, Captain Christopher Pike, will take a shuttle over to my ship. Now.”

“I don't think I want to do that,” Pike said.

“ You will unless you want me to destroy every Starfleet vessel cowering on the other side of this planet,” Nero promised lowly. “You will unless you want the Enterprise to be reduced to p-”

Nero was cut off as the transmission display shook violently, a low rumble coming through the transmission, which blurred and fizzled, as though the Narada was taking a devastating blow. Briefly, for just a couple seconds, the transmission flickered out entirely.

In its failure, out the front screen, Pike could see what looked like a shooting star bursting explosively out from within the belly of the beast. But it was curving around, clearly flying under someone's power, twisting with unbelievable speed and ease through the long tendrils of the Narada. 

In front of him, Pike also saw Helmsman Sulu's fists squeeze briefly in victory at the sight of it. Ensign Chekov was practically vibrating on the edge of his seat, his toes tapping with restrained excitement.

Another message had popped up on the left-hand side of the screen. 

It said: Spock's got it, sir.

The transmission's audio fizzled back in first, indistinct shouting that didn't sound like Standard anymore, followed by a flickering visual. When the transmission settled again, the display was tilted slightly, as though the camera had been shaken loose, before the Enterprise computer automatically rotated to adjust. Nero was standing, scowling, and shouting at someone off-screen. It took another second for the Universal Translator to kick in properly, filtering through the noise, the computer's voice several beats behind the panicked Romulan.

“ -our shields are broken!” someone cried.

“ We have lost mining capabilities! The drill procedures have stopped!”

“ The ship will not move!”

“ We cannot also go into warp! We have lost warp!”

“ SHUT UP!” Nero yelled. “WHAT WAS THAT? WHAT ATTACKED MY SHIP?!”

“ It was not an attack! The Vulcan ship is gone!”

Nero stilled immediately. “Where is the prisoner? Ayel, where is the prisoner?!”

“ The prisoner is- the prisoner is gone! There are Vulcans on our ship! There are many Vulcans on our ship! They are in our engines! They have broken our weapons! It is a Federation trick!”

Nero screamed. His head snapped towards the screen again, looking at the watching bridge of the Enterprise with new, hateful understanding, and he lunged towards the screen. The screen went black, but sound stayed with them and there was a hideous crack. It was followed by something mechanical being violently torn apart, something shattering, and then a loud crash. Then, through the noise, heavy breathing.

And then Nero screamed again, the rage and volume building too quickly for the computer to comfortably adjust for. It took Pike several seconds of fighting not to cover his ears to realize that Nero was bellowing Spock's name. Pike had never heard anyone say a name like that.

Audio cut out in the middle of the scream and Pike was thankful for it.

“Transmission ended, captain,” Lieutenant Uhura reported.

“Thank you, Uhura. Kirk, how are we doing?” Pike asked, as though his heart wasn't hammering. As though he hadn't just been holding conversation with a man who would have killed a planet today.

He felt filthy by association.

“We're beaming the Narada's crew members already subdued by the mission teams aboard and are transferring them to containment now, sir,” Jim reported. “The Vulcan prisoner secured by Commander Ivai has just been beamed over to their ship for medical treatment. Spock is standing by with the Vulcan ship to intervene in the case that the Narada regains any capabilities.”

“Sulu, continue standing ready in that event.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Kirk, ask Commander Ivai if we can offer any further assistance in securing the Narada.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Jim said.

Pike could hear the grin in Jim's voice even before he looked over his shoulder to smile back. They weren't done yet, but he allowed himself that much. Jim's grin widened, his eyes shining, before he had to look down at his station to manage the transfer of prisoners. Pike then looked to his communications officer, Lieutenant Uhura, who had a hand to her ear and was also smiling with relief.

“Uhura, hail Commander Spock,” Pike ordered.

“He's already hailing us, sir,” she answered.

“Always one step ahead,” Pike sighed, unable to sound truly mad about it. Hell, he couldn’t even keep from smiling with the rest of them. “On screen, lieutenant.” 

Chapter Text

 The defeat of the Narada continued over the next couple hours and it was surprisingly smooth. Though in hindsight, Pike thought, perhaps that wasn’t very surprising at all. Beaming onboard had been their greatest hurdle, followed by the theft of the red matter ship, then the disabling of warp and weapons capabilities. As soon as the decisively ruthless Vulcan mission teams had beamed successfully aboard the Narada, before shields had been raised, all the rest had been almost assured. 

 Pike could almost pity the Romulans who had been standing between a team of forewarned, forearmed Vulcans and the fate of their planet. What held back his pity was the fact that the fate of a planet had been in the balance due to those Romulans. 

 The Vulcan mission teams had reported some injuries in subduing the bridge crew of the enemy vessel, but no deaths on either side. The crew of the Narada had been surprisingly small, even smaller than they had been expecting, with less than three dozen Romulans aboard the entire massive starship. While most any ship could be piloted by a skeleton crew, if not even just one person, if not by automated systems alone, Pike’s instincts said this was far too small a crew for that monstrous vessel. 

 Commander Ivai and her fellow Vulcan officers seemed to agree. A full search of the enemy vessel was now underway, looking for stowaways, stragglers, and potentially more prisoners than the one already safely onboard the Vulcan ships. The Narada had to be made safe and inventory of its dangerous contents had to be taken. Unfortunately, by the sheer size of the enemy vessel, with boarding teams now proceeding safely and securely, instead of with all due urgency, a thorough search might take days, even though Vulcans were known for their efficiency. 

 Jim and Spock had been right, Pike mused: 25 years wait had taken a heavy toll on the Narada. The initial observations from the Vulcan search teams suggested that the Narada had been missing crew and vital maintenance. Lieutenant Scott’s analysis of the enemy’s belated shields had been “very impressive, but not exactly very pretty, sir, if you know what I mean”. (Pike did not know.) 

 Pike had read between the lines of these reports to understand that the Narada was a pile of horrifyingly advanced weaponry and heavy mining technology, held together perhaps by desperation and unsustainable determination. He was damn curious now to know what Vulcan High Command’s Starfleet-approved archivists would pull from the Narada’s logs. It was temping, of course, to learn about the great events of an alternate timeline, but Pike also wanted to know what such a ship had been doing for the past 25 years on the edges of space, trapped 154 years in the past in an alternate universe. 

 What had happened to the rest of the crew? The technicians? The engineers? How had they been able to keep such a massive, absurd ship flying? Had these time-travellers somehow not stopped to resupply or for maintenance in over two decades, or were there people out there on the edges of the Federation who had briefly known the Narada? What other spiralling changes had been made to their universe’s original destiny? 

 It was slightly daunting, at least in Pike’s opinion, to think Starfleet might reveal over a century of future events that might never come to pass. Whereas it seemed only right they ought to know what the Narada had been up to all this time. 

 With no need to subdue or bait the Narada, now that its captain and crew had been neutralized, and with gladly granted permission from Pike and Commander Ivai, Commander Spock had finally landed the Vulcan ship in a local spacedock. The vessel and the red matter had been left under the vigilant protection of Vulcan High Command, who would hold it until the Federation decided what to do with the technology. Or until the Vulcan Science Academy, who were already making unsubtle noises about how the advanced vessel and all its technology technically belonged to them, made off with the ship and the red matter for thorough study. 

 Jim had said earlier that the whole damn lot of red matter had been set off in the heart of the Narada before, in his own brief, terrible future. In Jim’s other future, Spock had smashed this ship into the Narada a safe distance from Earth. No more Vulcan ship. No more Narada. No more red matter. Pike was tempted to tell the Federation to find an empty bit of space and blow the whole thing up again. 

 Except it was looking like Vulcan High Command didn’t want to do that - the Vulcan Science Academy definitely didn’t want to do that - and the rest of the Federation would listen to them. The Romulan and Klingon Empires tested the neutral zone relentlessly; there were members of the Admiralty who would rather like to have a black hole device to wave in the faces of their enemies. Because apparently Earth’s horrifying history of arms races and doomsday weapons didn’t mean anything to some people. 

 And, no matter what they did now, in about a hundred years or so, someone would cook up red matter again. Or some new and even more powerful variant of it, now that they were probably scanning the stuff right this minute. And then it would be a massive problem all over again. 

 Pike tried to tell himself that at least it wasn’t his problem. Unfortunately, future technology was clearly the sort of issue that was going to not be his problem only right up until it suddenly very much was his problem. So, Pike instead told himself that at least it wasn’t his problem yet. 

 “Captain, the commander has been beamed back aboard the Enterprise,” reported the new navigator, interrupting Pike’s thoughts. The new navigator was a young South Asian woman named Ensign Baluch, who thankfully didn’t look like a teenager and hopefully wasn’t one. (Pike hadn’t asked.)  

 “Thank you, ensign.” 

 Ensign Chekov and the rest of the alpha shift bridge crew, who had performed as admirably as Pike ever could have asked of them, had finally been relieved by the next shift. Jim Kirk was still present, of course, back from a brief issue in the brig, though no longer chained to his station, currently speaking on and off with one of Commander Ivai’s lieutenants over security concerns with the Romulans prisoners. 

 Pike also knew that Lieutenant Uhura was somewhere still working with the remainder of the fleet in reversing the evacuation of Vulcan as smoothly as possible. Returning the upset citizens to their homes was a duty Pike definitely didn’t envy his fellow Starfleet captains. 

 “Did the commander provide us with an estimated time of arrival?” Pike asked. 

 “Not this time, sir,” Jim answered, not looking up from his PADD. “He’s been stopped by Scotty and one of the attending medical officers due to boarding procedures.” 

 “Hm. Hopefully he didn’t pick anything up from that ship.” 

 “Hopefully not, sir.” 

 “Captain, we’re receiving a message from one of the Vulcan ships,” said the new communications officer, a ginger part-Betazoid man whose name had slipped Pike’s mind. (Pike hoped he hadn’t just accidentally projected this thought for the man to equally accidentally pick up.) “It’s a message for James Tiberius Kirk.” 

 “Is it marked private?” Jim asked curiously. 

 “No, sir.” 

 “Let’s hear it, then.” 

 “In Standard: ‘The Vulcan pilot looks forward to speaking with his friend James Tiberius Kirk at his earliest convenience’,” the communications officer relayed. 

 Pike was watching Jim’s face, so he noticed the young man’s eyes widen slightly. 

 “Shall I respond, sir?” 

 Jim recovered from his surprise quickly. “Of course. Tell him I’d- oh. Sir?” 

 Pike nodded immediately. “Permission granted, Kirk. I’d like to speak with him too.” 

 “Right. Tell him that I’d be glad to meet with him anywhere that isn’t Delta Vega - wherever Medical will let him go - and that Captain Christopher Pike would also like to speak with him,” Jim told the communications officer. “And ask him if he’d like us to bring Commander Spock along too.” 

 “Yes, sir.” 

 Before they had even arrived at Vulcan, Jim had informed the Vulcan mission teams that the Narada might hold a prisoner, if the Romulans didn’t immediately beam or jettison the Vulcan pilot to Delta Vega. Jim had warned Commander Ivai and Captain Pike that Nero might kill or take the man as hostage when he realized the Federation was inside his ship. It had been a relief to hear that the Narada’s prisoner had been secured. Jim had looked like he could have collapsed from relief when they had been informed that the Vulcan pilot had only a few injuries that would in time be fully healed. 

 Nero had never so much as gotten near either Spock after they had disabled his ship. 

 Pike had been wondering what to do about the other Spock, if he ought to personally do anything. Barnett had made several statements since the taking of the Narada suggesting that he had spoken with the invaluable Vulcan pilot. Commander Ivai had referred to him only once, but done so as though the man was one of their most honored elders. It had made Pike even more deeply curious to meet the man his first officer might be with another century of experience. 

 A century of experience in which they had made peace with the Klingon and Romulan Empires, Pike had thought wondrously. A part of him had wanted to go up to the other Spock and demand to know how the hell they’d done it. 

 Now, it looked like the man would come to them. By the wording of Jim’s answer, Pike thought, it even sounded like Jim believed the man knew about the unthinkable future they’d just avoided - which was, to borrow one of his first officer’s favorite terms, fascinating. It was possible, of course, that the other Spock was just so formidably clever he had somehow surmised the incredible truth, but… Pike wondered… 

 “Response: ‘The captain and commander would both be welcome’,” the communications officer reported. “‘If duties dictate that they remain on the Enterprise, the Vulcan pilot and his attending medical officer are able to beam aboard, though he and the attending medical officer would prefer to remain onboard their current vessel.’” 

 “We’ll fit it into our schedules somehow,” Pike promised Jim. “Let me figure out with High Command and the Admiralty what we’re doing with all these Romulans first - if we’re doing something new after all or if we’re just holding on to them for now. I’m not waiting around forever here.” 

 Like hell was Pike missing the opportunity to a) sleep properly at some point, and b) meet a version of Spock from 129 years in the future, especially one who might also remember Jim’s horrible future. Also, like hell was Pike missing the opportunity to watch his own first officer meet a future version of himself. As soon as Pike could get various higher-ups of the Federation to stop thanking him - even Vulcan High Command kept expressing their gratitude with illogical redundancy, now that they knew Starfleet hadn’t been making the whole damn thing up - and start making up their damn minds, Pike was going to meet a Vulcan from the future and then he was going to bed. 

 The inevitable endless commendation ceremonies could wait. 

 Frankly, Pike didn’t yet have the energy to think about how, if he’d chosen not to believe Jim Kirk, the planet below them now would have been destroyed. He didn’t have the energy to think about how, if he’d faltered at any point along this line, six billion people could have died. He didn’t mean to devalue the Federation’s gratitude in any way, but he just couldn’t bring himself to think about it, and hearing sentences revolving around the phrase “if you hadn’t been there” didn’t help him not think about it. 

 “Tell the Vulcan pilot that we’re waiting on a decision from the people in charge,” Jim told the communications officer, clearly following Pike’s line of thought. 

 “Another half-hour at most, then I’m putting them all on hold,” Pike said. 

 He had just helped save Vulcan from a time-travelling Romulan with a black hole device, he rather thought he had enough leeway now to put admirals on hold for twenty minutes if he liked. Especially if he was dealing with their esteemed time-travelling Vulcan. 

 The communications officer relayed this message to the Vulcans and received a positive acknowledgement, and Pike and Jim went back to work. 

 Even when the Narada was secured and docked somewhere (Pike didn’t know if they even had a spacedock large enough), the Federation was going to tear it apart and the Romulan Empire was going to have something to say about that. Even when all their Romulan prisoners were secured in long-term holding, the Federation was going to want answers and the Romulan Empire was going to have something to say about that too. And even when all the evacuated Vulcans had been returned to their homes, they were going to want real answers, and they were always going to remember how close one half-broken, horrifying advanced ship had come to destroying their home planet. 

 And the news would spread across the Federation and to all their allies, and inevitably to all their enemies and all the people who wanted none of the Federation’s problems as well. It would also spread to all the people who hadn’t decided what they thought of the Federation one way or the other. Then, Pike thought with exhausted horror, this whole nightmare probably would decide some people one way or the other on the Federation, and Starfleet would have to deal with that too. 

 “Spock’s on his way up to the bridge, sir,” Jim reported. 

 “Finally,” Pike said, more than ready to make this whole damn mess Jim and Spock’s problem. 

 They were young, he thought. They could handle it. They even had the wonderful Lieutenant Uhura and the brave Helmsman Sulu and the Russian whiz kid and Jim’s mad Scotsman to help them. Not to mention Jim’s odd doctor friend, who, according to Chief Medical Officer Puri, was currently down in the brig treating the Romulan prisoners and ranting about extended radiation exposure. 

 Pike could tell Barnett to shove that promotion and retire to a planet renowned for its tropical beaches. He admittedly probably wasn’t going to do this, of course, but it was nice to think that he could if he wanted to do so. 

 Spock made his appearance within the next two minutes, stepping out of the turbo-lift looking completely unruffled, as though he’d done nothing more dangerous than go for a planet-side stroll. Pike stood to greet him; Jim was already standing and grinning; and, without any prompting, the rest of the bridge followed their example. Ensign Baluch at the navigator’s station even began to applaud, which was taken up with great enthusiasm around the bridge, and Pike and Jim had no choice but to follow this example and join in. 

 The man had just saved a planet. It was worth a little applause. 

 “Alright, alright, sit down before we crash the ship,” Pike said, and the bridge did so. He then smiled warmly at his first officer, who’d withstood the applause with no more expression than raised eyebrows. “Well done, Spock.” 

 Spock inclined his head. “Thank you, captain.” 

 There was no way Spock was going to get out of the inevitable commendation ceremonies from Starfleet, which he’d stand through dutifully and likely largely dismiss as unnecessary, extravagant displays. If Spock had possessed any kind of ambition, after today, all he would have to do was snap his fingers, and Starfleet would probably make him a captain on the spot and give him any ship he wanted. 

 There was, however, no way Spock was going to do that, Pike thought. Though Ambassador Sarek and Doctor Grayson were likely to be extremely busy dealing with the consequences of Vulcan’s brief incomplete evacuation and near-destruction, as a reward and a kindness, Pike made a note to try and allow Spock to see his parents while the Enterprise was here. He’d shove the man off the ship himself if need be, because he still remembered, back in his apartment so long ago now, Jim telling Spock that his mother hadn’t made it. He still remembered Spock’s trembling and harsh breathing after the mind meld, as though Jim Kirk’s memories had burned him. 

 If the survival of Vulcan was reward enough, as Spock would likely insist, then Pike would see to it that Spock at least had the opportunity to enjoy it. 

 Jim came up beside Pike, still smiling widely. “Nicely done, Commander Spock.” 

 “Thank you, Lieutenant,” Spock replied. 

 It was unmistakable now, the new regard Pike’s first officer held for his second. Pike knew his first officer well enough by now to see a notable warmth. In Spock’s gaze, in those three simple words, was a respect and gratefulness that he either could not hide or did not care to hide from Jim Kirk. 

 “Vulcan is safe, captain,” Spock said to Pike. “I have been asked once again to convey Vulcan High Command’s gratitude - and, through them, the gratitude of the Vulcan Council of Elders - for the Federation’s invaluable assistance in protecting our home planet.” 

 “Then once again I’ll have to tell them that we were happy to help,” Pike said, allowing himself a little sigh. He really was too tired to do these things properly. 

 Today had been so very much to process. 

 “There was never any other option,” Jim assured Spock, and Pike nodded. 

 Though, there had been other options, as unthinkable as they now were. Pike didn’t doubt now, that if he’d made different choices, Jim Kirk would’ve ended up out here anyway. 

 “Kirk’s been invited to one of the Vulcan ships to meet the Vulcan pilot, by name,” Pike said. “You and I are welcome to join him. We’ll be beaming over in twenty minutes or less, depending on how quickly the Admiralty gets back to me on our next destination.” 

 Spock looked between Jim and Pike, his assumptions known only to him, then he nodded. 

 “I would be honored. I must speak briefly with Lieutenant Uhura on Starfleet’s involvement in the return of the evacuated citizens. I understand that there has been some confusion on one of our ships due to- Lieutenant Commander Kirk, you are glowing.” 

 “What?” 

 Pike’s head snapped to look beside him, where his second officer was dissolving into light. It didn’t have the same spin and the same sound as beaming, but it looked very much like it, like some blinding energy was pulling James Tiberius Kirk away piece by piece, at an accelerating rate. Jim looked at his disintegrating body in horror, stumbling away from Pike and Spock as though he might be infected. 

 “Lieutenant Kirk!!” 

 “Jim!” 

 When Jim looked up at them again, his head and eyes moved unseeingly, as though he had been blinded by his own hands. His body was disappearing very rapidly. 

 “Ensign, what’s happening here?!” Pike shouted at the helm. 

 “I don’t know, sir!” 

 “Our shields are up, sir! This shouldn’t be possible!” 

 “Track whoever’s doing this now!” Pike ordered. “Kirk! Jim! Look at me!” 

 Jim couldn’t seem to hear him. When Jim looked up again, when Jim raised his hand and reached out, it was in the wrong direction and Pike couldn’t make out his face anymore; he was little more than light in the shape of a man. No one dared to touch him, the bridge crew watching helplessly, not knowing what this was or what effect it might have if they reached back. It hurt just to look directly at him. Pike doubted that what was left of Jim could see anything in the centre of that strange energy either, the shape of his head still turning blindly, before the light faded away and took the remaining outline of Jim Kirk with it. 

 In only ten seconds, there was an empty space where the young man had been. 

 Pike could barely believe it. 

 Except this wasn’t his first rodeo and Jim Kirk’s life might depend on his believing it. 

 “Kirk still had his communicator on him! I want him traced now,” Pike yelled at the helm, which leaped to obey, before he turned on the communications officer. “Warn Commander Ivai immediately! Demand to know if anyone so much as tripped over something on the Narada! Contact all Starfleet and Vulcan ships and ask them if they know what the hell that technology was. Check if we lost anyone else! ” 

 “Yes, sir!” 

 Pike slapped his communicator next. “Lieutenant Scott!” 

 After a second, Scott’s friendly voice responded: “Aye, captain! What can I do for you?” 

 “Unknown technology just beamed Lieutenant Commander Kirk off the bridge. If that wasn’t you, I want to know what the hell it was and where he is now.” 

  “What? Kirk’s what?” Scott’s voice became urgent; Pike could hear him fumbling and then rapid footsteps. “Coming through, doctor! S’cuse me! Keenser! No, captain, that wasn’t us! KEENSER! WHERE ARE YOU-?!” 

 “Find him, Mister Scott,” Pike ordered, signing off. 

 “This wasn’t anyone in our fleet, sir,” the communications officer reported. 

 “No one else on the Enterprise has been reported missing.” 

 “Start a headcount!” Pike snapped. 

 “The search teams are not aware of the activation of any technology aboard the Narada,” Spock said, having moved to join the ensign currently at the security officer’s station, scanning rapidly through screens of information. “They have been scanning the ship at regular intervals for signs of life.” 

 “This could have been automated,” Pike answered. “What about-?” 

 “Sir, the Vulcan ship- sorry for interrupting-.” 

 “Don’t apologize, just tell me.” 

 “One of their medical officers wants to know if we just beamed the Vulcan pilot to the Enterprise,” the communications officer reported quickly. “The Vulcan pilot was just beamed without warning off their ship by some unknown technology matching the description of the lieutenant commander’s disappearance.” 

 Pike wanted to curse. The other Spock was gone too. That couldn’t be good. 

 There was no way that could be good. 

 “All the Romulan prisoners are still secure,” Spock reported. “Nero and his first officer Ayel are still secured aboard one of the Vulcan ships, still sedated, under the direct supervision of Commander Ivai.” 

 “What about the Vulcan pilot’s ship?” Pike demanded. 

 “Still secure,” Spock said. “No one has boarded the vessel since my departure, by order of the Federation and Vulcan High Command. All scans of the ship have been external.” 

 “There aren’t any other new ships out there?” 

 “No, sir,” Ensign Baluch answered. “Just the returning evacuees.”  

 “This was unknown technology, and the Vulcan pilot and Lieutenant Commander Kirk are considered targets by Nero and his crew. Spock, I want another inspection of the Romulan prisoners and their confiscated belongings,” Pike decided. 

 “Yes, captain.” 

 “Warn the evacuees as well! Order them to steer clear! I want to know everything that’s been touched on the Narada since the mission teams first beamed aboard. Ensign, get Commander Ivai back on the line and work with her. We’re inside their systems now, aren’t we? Let’s make sure their computers haven’t been running any back-up protocols without our noticing!” 

 “Yes, sir!” 

 The bridge of the Enterprise exploded into motion and it stayed in motion, no one daring to stop, but no one could seem to come up with a satisfying answer as to what had become of Jim Kirk or the other Spock. Their headcount finished and determined that no one else was missing; it was just those two. Pike spoke personally with Commander Ivai, who was as irritated as a traditional Vulcan would ever allow themselves to appear, and she reported that nothing aboard the Narada was apparently running except life support, though admittedly they had much ship left to fully search. 

 “Talk to me, Spock,” Pike said, when she signed off. 

 “Thus far, Chief Medical Officer Puri reports there is nothing to indicate any of the Romulan prisoners are carrying any technology on their persons that was originally missed,” Spock reported. “Lieutenant Scott is still studying the energy signatures of the lieutenant commander’s disappearance, but is still having difficulties isolating the incident.” 

 “Get him help; I want to be able to properly trace whatever that was. We are scanning for Kirk’s communicator in the meantime, aren’t we? He should be broadcasting a distress frequency by now, if able. Tell Scott to crank our scanners up to maximum.” 

 “Captain!” 

 Pike turned and nearly startled to come face to face with the Russian whiz kid, whose earnest face seemed to have popped up from goddamn nowhere, then he forced himself to relax. “What are you doing here, ensign?” 

 “Mister Scott called me to assist in the search for Lieutenant Commander Kirk, captain! I am here to help!” Ensign Chekov insisted, before his expression turned apologetic again. “Our scanners are already at their strongest; we have found every member of Starfleet currently on Wulcan. If Kirk and the Wulcan pilot are in range of our sensors, the energy of this unknown method of transportation may have neutralized all the technology they were carrying.” 

 That was unwelcome news. Pike was hoping that the Admiralty didn’t get back to him anytime soon now, because he damn sure didn’t want to tell him that he’d lost their time-travelling star legacy kid and their time-travelling Vulcan. 

 “Captain,” Spock murmured, “I must remind you that this incident bears great resemblance to Kirk’s description of his return to Earth.” 

 Pike had already thought of that, how Kirk had been dropped in the past by mysterious means once already, and didn’t enjoy hearing Spock second the thought. Had Kirk been sent to the past again? Or somewhere else? Was it a loop? Pike doubted this has anything to do with paradoxes - or maybe he just hoped to hell that it didn’t, because he’d never truly understood how they were supposed to work. They hadn’t wanted to look their gift horse in the mouth and now they’d lost the goddamn thing. Pike could only hope it wasn’t for good. 

 “Ensign, go help Scott trace the energy signature of whatever that was.” 

 “Aye, captain!” 

 Pike glanced at the spot Jim Kirk had disappeared from. No one had gone near it since he’d vanished. There was nothing to indicate they should leave the bridge for their own safety and no solid trail to follow. The Vulcan ship was reporting the same thing. Jim Kirk and the other Spock were both gone as though they simply didn’t exist anymore. 

 The turbo-lift opened before Ensign Chekov could even call for it and the Russian whiz kid had to jump aside for the scowling man who walked out. He was tall, pale, dark-haired, dressed in Science Blue, and holding a tricorder like it was a blunt weapon. 

 “With all due respect,” the man said tersely, in a slight Southern North-American twang, “has anyone tried looking out the goddamned window?” 

 Pike exchanged a look with his first officer, before looking back at the man. 

 “Clarify, doctor,” said Spock. 

 “One planet over,” the man said, jerking his head away from the main screen. “There’s an aurora of some kind that sure as hell doesn’t look normal to me. Looks like the tail-end of that recording you caught of Kirk’s disappearance. You can see it out the window.” 

 Pike snapped his fingers at the navigator. “Ensign, on screen!” 

 “Yes, sir!” 

 The turbo-lift closed, forgotten, and Ensign Chekov stepped forward to join the rest of them in staring at the main screen as Ensign Baluch pulled up an enhanced view of Delta Vega. Pike inhaled sharply at the sight of it. The small snowy planet was glowing. Magnetic lights, shaped like a storm and spanning half the planet, danced over its atmosphere, in a color pattern that matched the light of Jim Kirk’s disappearance almost exactly. They really should have just looked out the window. 

 “Lieutenant Scott,” Spock said into his communicator. “Please turn your attention in the direction of Delta Vega in your efforts to track our elusive energy signature.” 

  “Delta Vega?” Scott answered disbelievingly. “There’s nothing on that frigid pile of- oh.” 

 “Indeed,” Spock said. 

 “Put us in orbit, helmswoman, slowly,” Pike ordered, eyes still on the screen. “Approach this as an unidentified anomaly. Alert Commander Ivai and Vulcan High Command, if they haven’t already noticed what’s happening next door. Ensign Chekov, go assist Mister Scott. Let’s see if we can’t find our missing people in the eye of that thing.” 

 “Aye, captain!” 

 Pike looked to the communications officer. “Get in contact with the Starfleet outpost on that planet now, if you can. If we can’t, we’ll know why we can’t hear Kirk’s distress signal. Spock, who replaced Scott and Keenser in manning the station there?” 

 “A pair of Starfleet scientists previously assigned to Vulcan,” Spock reported. 

 “Get Scott to prepare the usual tests to see if it’s safe to beam down into that thing, then send down a drone to test for shuttle safety. Prepare an away team in the case we have to go get them and hopefully our missing people,” Pike ordered. Then he glanced at the uninvited man standing on his bridge and made an educated guess on his identity. “Take Doctor McCoy in case of a medical emergency. Doctor, prepare the appropriate equipment for an away mission.” 

 “Yes, captain,” Spock said. 

 The man, Doctor McCoy, Jim’s doctor friend, straightened and nodded. “Yes, sir.” 

 Pike rounded on the helm again. “Scan every inch of what’s happening on that planet and send it to our science officers specializing in meteorology and astronomy and whatever else that thing might be. I want to know what’s causing it. I want to know who’s causing it. I want to know who beamed those two off our ships, because if we can assume anything it’s that they were targeted.” 

 “Aye, captain!” 

 “It’s either someone who thinks causing storms is a good idea or it’s a storm that can think,” Doctor McCoy said, just above a mutter, as he stepped onto the turbo-lift with Commander Spock and Ensign Chekov. “Those are both bad options.” 

 Ensign Chekov looked at the good doctor in mild alarm. 

 Spock just raised an eyebrow as the doors closed. 

 Pike looked at the main screen again, where the strange lights swirled above Delta Vega. He’d heard about non-corporeal lifeforms before, but this covered wide swaths of the planet and looked like someone had turned Earth’s polar lights into a hurricane. His immediate assumption had been that the lights were a result of the unknown technology and that there was a humanoid being behind the curtain here, not that a storm might be able to think. He didn’t know which thought he liked less. 

 Those were both bad options. 

Chapter Text

 The first thing Jim noticed was the freezing cold. Wind needled at his face and then, when he raised a protective hand, gnawed at his fingers. The next thing he noticed, as he tried to blink the white light out of his eyes, was that he could already see. He was standing in the middle of an icy plain. Slowly, the ice stretching on as far as the eye could see developed into a real landscape, the endless light faded into snowy hills and bluish-white slopes, barely distinct from the bright horizon. 

 Jim blinked, but it was real. The cold wind snapping at the end of his fingers and the insides of his lungs was real. The soft crunch of snow under his boots was real too. 

 “You’ve got to be fucking with me,” he said to no one. 

 It was almost exactly like the last damn time this had happened to him! He’d been on the bridge of the Enterprise, he’d finally convinced himself that this nightmare scenario might all be over soon, and then the blinding light had swallowed him without warning. This time, however, whatever had whisked him off didn’t seem to have had the decency to spit him out back on Earth again, unless he was unwillingly visiting Antarctica for what would be the first and the last time in his life. 

 Jim went for his communicator first, before looking up at the sky to determine what miserable planet he’d been stranded on this time. “If I’m in the past again, I swear to... god...” 

 Words fell back down his throat. He could see the planet Vulcan up there, hanging in the day sky, looking enormous and pale and beautifully whole, which meant that he was back on Delta Vega, as he’d suspected, which was… not what had made his eyes go wide. It was what was in front of Vulcan that was different and breathtaking. 

 Above him was an atmospheric light display that put Earth’s polar lights to shame - at least, so Jim thought, never having actually seen Earth’s polar lights planet-side and in-person. These were beautiful, brilliant, cloud-like ribbons of light, billowing miles-long across the sky, white at first glance, but rippling with every color the human eye could see. On and over the wind, now that he was paying attention, Jim could hear layers of deep humming and high-pitched whistling intertwined. When the massive ribbons of light connected with each other, they flashed like lightning and gave off great booms which rumbled through the chest like thunder. The clashing lights split into new dancing strings of light before sprawling outwards to meet others. It was spectacular even in the bright light of day. 

 “Well…” Jim managed. “That’s… different.” 

 He wasn’t aware of Delta Vega being known displays like this, but admittedly he’d barely been aware of Delta Vega before being marooned here. His gut told him that this wasn’t normal. For one thing, it looked too much like the light that had beamed him off the bridge of the Enterprise twice now. 

 The first thing he did (and frankly, Jim hated that this was the first thing he had to do) was check the time and date. It was almost staggering how relieving it was to see that he’d only been displaced in space this time, instead of being displaced in time again. At least, so he assumed, based on his previous experience, in which he’d suddenly been wearing different clothes and been carrying different things after he’d been returned to Earth several days in the past. This time, he still had all his things - his PADD, his communicator, his phaser - and he was still wearing his Starfleet uniform. 

 Unfortunately, Command Gold didn’t offer much protection against the weather. 

 “I am not dying like this,” Jim mutered, fiddling desperately with his communicator. “I did not beam onto a ship in warp, barely avoid being pulled into a black hole, and travel through time all in the past week, only to freeze to death on Delta fucking Vega. I refuse to die like this.” 

 He activated his distress call and raised his communicator to his lips, keeping one eye on the spectacular, storm-like light display above him. 

 “Enterprise? This is Lieutenant Commander James T. Kirk, do you read me? Enterprise, this is Lieutenant Commander James T. Kirk, are you receiving? I have been stranded on Delta Vega. Again. I am stranded on Delta Vega again. Enterprise, this is Lieutenant Commander James T. Kirk, your Chief Security Officer. Please respond.” 

 But there was no answer. 

 Jim lifted his communicator higher, looking at the light display suspiciously. “I bet you’re interfering somehow, aren’t you? It’s always some disturbance in the atmosphere. Well… hopefully the Starfleet outpost on this rock picks up my signal. Maybe if I boost it… and… hm. At least the last time I was unwillingly moved off the Enterprise, it was in a cozy escape pod, which came with a coat.” 

 Starfleet regulations kept all pods equipped with basic survival equipment and supplies. This time, Jim didn’t have anything more than the clothes on his back and the technology in his hand. 

 “On to the nearest outpost,” he sighed, looking down at his PADD. 

 Whatever was interfering with his distress call was also interfering with his technology’s ability to accurately locate itself. Jim had enough to estimate a direction and the position of Vulcan in the sky gave him some confidence, but the potential consequences were deadlier than he would have liked. He looked despairingly at the snowy horizon around him, unable to pick out vaguely familiar-looking hills. What was the likelihood that he’d been placed on Delta Vega in the same relative location, anyway? 

 Someone walked past Jim while he was contemplating this and it felt like leaped out of his skin. He drew his phaser reflexively, only to stare in disbelief. It was a person who appeared to be made of light - the same light as the atmospheric display above them - trudging through the snow without leaving footprints. 

 “Hello?” Jim called after them. 

 They didn’t appear to hear him. The person’s boots crunched against the snow, but the sound crackled unnaturally, and all the unmoved snow reflected from their presence was the light. They were wearing a thick coat, but their arms were raised against a wind that didn’t exist. It looked like a malfunctioning hologram - or a ghost, if you wanted to get poetic about it - and Jim chased after it. 

 “Hello? Can you-?” Jim put himself in front of the projection and they immediately walked through him; it didn’t really feel like anything. “Alright, that… wasn’t surprising,” he said, before he gave chase again, trying to keep a few steps ahead. “Hello? Excuse me? You definitely can’t hear me. What are you?” 

 Jim couldn’t see an obvious projector. When he raised his PADD to scan the projection, his instruments were still on the fritz, even his PADD’s camera, which hadn’t been intended for the cold or for a glowing hologram-ghost stumbling through an endless plain of ice and snow. Jim felt like he’d do just about anything for an actual tricorder to scan this thing right now. 

 “I think being close to you is making my tech worse. Will following you get me where I need to go or are you going to take me to a nice glacier to die on?”  

 The only answer he got was the projection suddenly heaving - no, they were coughing, making an awful hacking, wheezing sound - and fumbling through the depths of their coat. Jim watched curiously as they drew out what looked like a Starfleet communicator, threw back the hood of their coat, and raised the device ahead of them as though to orient themselves. Looking directly at them hurt his eyes, but Jim thought he saw some of their blurred details becoming clearer, especially the slopes of their face. The projection stood tall and they were Jim’s height exactly. 

 “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking with me,” Jim said disbelievingly. “Is that me?” 

 It was him. Jim became increasingly certain of it the longer he looked, as the projection broke down coughing again, and he could feel a sympathetic tickle in his own throat. The projection was him as he had been: it was him from the last time he’d been on Delta Vega. 

 Jim looked up at the sky full of crashing light in disbelief. “No one else in this go at the universe remembers Vulcan being destroyed, except maybe the other Spock, but…” He looked back down at the projection of himself, which had shuffled forward again, its course slightly adjusted. “Whoever… whatever… is doing this remembers that version of the universe.” He looked up again and said, “So this really is where time paradoxes come back to bite me in the ass, huh?” 

 Predictably, he didn’t get an answer. 

 His gaze moved to the planet hanging behind the light display and he sighed. “Well, at least leave Vulcan out of it. Whatever this is,” he said helplessly, before he hurried to keep pace with the projection of himself. 

 The Enterprise had to be looking for him by now. Jim had vanished from the middle of the bridge, Spock had noticed the light first, and Jim had caught Pike’s horrified expression before the light had blinded him completely. But Jim couldn’t just wait around for the Enterprise to find him in these conditions. The cold cut into the tips of his fingers and all the edges of his face, and he knew from experience that the weather wasn’t the only monster out here, though it was probably the deadliest. 

 The projection was moving at a faster pace now, with renewed determination to make it to the Starfleet outpost, if Jim remembered his trudge through the icy plains of Delta Vega correctly. It was moving roughly in the direction Jim would have gone regardless. That seemed like a good sign, given that the projection was from a time when his technology had actually been able to tell up from down. But a reflection from an unknown source could still be leading him into danger. 

 At least if Jim made sure his distress call was signalling on all potential channels, if whoever had taken over the outpost in Scotty and Keenser’s place was listening, maybe he wouldn’t die out here following a hologram. “Starfleet Outpost, this is Lieutenant Commander James T. Kirk, please respond. I am on Delta Vega - I repeat: I am on Delta Vega - and at risk of dying of exposure without your assistance.” 

 No answer, of course. 

  “Fuck,” Jim breathed, unsurprised and yet still disappointed. 

 Bones would kill him if he died like this. 

 Bones would kill him if he so much as lost a finger, which was feeling increasingly likely. 

 Jim considered leaving the projection of his past self behind and going ahead - he’d lived this once before and he didn’t need to listen to his own wheezing and occasional curses - and it was because he was scanning his surroundings for danger, considering his chances forging ahead, that he spotted another person made of light stumbling through the snow. Another projection was trudging along parallel to them, only a couple dozen feet away. 

 “What now?” Jim murmured, overcome with curiosity. 

 He decided to investigate, hoping that the first projection wouldn’t disappear without his watching it, and carefully walked over. This second projection was identically shaped and, squinting into the light underneath the hood, Jim saw the blurred planes of an identical face. It was him again. 

 “Why am I not surprised?” 

 He looked back at the first projection, which hadn’t vanished, and which also wasn’t moving in synchronization with this second projection. Were they at different points of his journey? If so, that meant one of them would have to stop before the other one. Which suggested these light projections might not be linked to the original location at all, Jim thought, maybe they were centered around him.  

 “God, I hope this isn’t a case of me having to figure out which one is the real one.” 

 Jim said this and the projection he was walking alongside, the second one, tripped. The person made of light was overcome by a miserable cough in the middle of a stumble, lost its balance, and promptly landed facedown in the snow. Jim winced in sympathy. 

 And yet… 

 “I don’t remember that,” he mused. 

 He watched the projection pick itself up off the ground, brushing off invisible snow, still coughing. Jim had landed on his face more than once in his life, it was true, but he didn’t remember this particular incident. Could he have forgotten? Much of his previous hike through Delta Vega’s scenic misery had been a blur of anger, fear, and vigilance, followed by terror, followed by the myriad of emotions involved in meeting the other Spock. He definitely could have tripped. 

 Except he hadn’t. Not here. Jim liked to think he had quite the memory and, frankly, he did. 

  “-DAmN i-i-i-t,” said the projection. 

 The sound from the projections was slightly garbled, muffled, as though it was coming through a thick wall and a bad signal, but Jim had heard enough logs and other recordings of his own voice to recognize himself. That definitely sounded like him. 

 The second projection finished dusting itself off and pulled out a communicator, before starting to walk forward again. Jim glanced over at the first projection, several dozen feet away, slightly ahead of them now, also speaking into a communicator. He was too far away to make out the words of the first projection, but the second’s speech was clear enough. 

   “...sTARd-d-date Twenty-two FIFty-ty-eight poINT four two… or four three, I DO-don’t know how long it’s been since we left EARth n-n-ow. I have been MARooned on D-Delta Vega by the acting captain, Spock, in what I believe to be a v-v-violation of security protocol forty-nine point oh nine, covering the treatment of prisoners ab-aboard a starship. SP-Spock has made the BRIlliant decis-sion to let Nero-o-o go-o o-on to Earth unche-ecked and go to the Laurentian SYS-system to get a fleet that w-won’t be a-ab-able to do anyTHING more than we c-can.” 

 Jim frowned. Those words sounded familiar, very familiar, but the log didn’t sound right. 

 He didn’t remember saying that. 

 The first projection, several dozen feet away from them, broke suddenly into a dead, panicked run. Jim raised his phaser immediately. He found the threat in a third light projection behind them, one that was definitely not him again, because it was definitely not human or even humanoid. It was a four-legged beast, bigger than an elephant, with a face full of teeth, which let out a garbled, crackling roar. It was eating up the icy ground quickly, coming for them.  

  “-I want it STated for the rec-c-cord that I DISagreed with h-him be-because t-time is of the esse-ssence-” 

 Jim kept his phaser trained on the beast, but the beastly projection went right past Jim and the second projection without pause. It only had eyes - if it had eyes - for the first projection. The first projection and the enormous beast disappeared behind an outcropping of ice. 

  “-and CLearly-ly Nero WIll not hesitate to follow through on his threats.” 

 “Well, I definitely remember that,” Jim said unsteadily. 

 He remembered that beast. He remembered how, just before the beast had gotten him, another creature had burst from the ice and tossed the beast about with ease. This second creature had been red, with even more legs and even more teeth. It had chased him down a steep hill (Jim remembered tripping several times there) and into a cave, even though the first beast had seemed to Jim liked it would have made a much better meal, and Jim had been saved by the miraculous appearance of the other Spock. 

 Of all the caves on Delta Vega, Jim had run headlong into that one. 

 Looking about, Jim couldn’t see the real beast running at him from any direction. The weather was relatively clear now and it had been snowing heavily the last time Jim had been on Delta Vega. The real beast was hopefully in a different place in this different time. Maybe the thunderous light show above had scared it into hiding. 

  “Earth i-i-is on the LIne here,” continued the second projection, as though another James T. Kirk hadn’t just exited stage right, pursued by an alien monster. “In FAct, by the ti-time this LOg reaches anyOne, Earth may-may already have been destroyed. I’m going to-to-to try and send a wa-WARning to Earth via emer-mergency subspace transmission when I reach the StarFLeet-eet outpost on this planet. I can… I can only h-ho-hope that it won’t be too late.”  

 Jim winced at the garbled roars coming from the direction the first projection had run. The first projection was the one that he actually recognized, but there seemed to be a good chance of running into the real version of the second ice creature if he followed it, if the creature spent all its time sleeping under the snow. Meanwhile, this second projection logged off and put away the communicator, having said things Jim only remembered thinking. 

 All this on top of the fact that his extremities were becoming endless sources of pain. 

 A whistle at his hip sent a staggering relief through him. Jim fumbled to bring his own communicator in front of him, only to be informed that it was receiving an incomplete response to his distress signal. It was disappointing for only a moment. It meant that someone was looking for him now and looking in the right direction. 

 “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” Jim cried, and immediately began attempting to boost his signal again. It wasn’t easy with his fingers turning numb. 

 He was soon rewarded several whistles later by the sight of a vehicle skimming over the icy plains towards him at speed. Jim waved them down desperately and gladly. 

 The vehicle that came to a smooth stop beside him was Starfleet - it said so, stamped neatly on the side - and it was clearly meant for work around an outpost on a hostile planet. It hovered, but it had all-terrain tires ready to touch ground if necessary; it looked like it would seat two people with a practical amount of storage space in the rear; and it had weapons and at least one claw easily visible. Jim wouldn’t have been surprised if the rover had remote-control capabilities. 

 But when the passenger door flipped open, someone inside shouted, “GET IN!” 

 Jim jumped inside eagerly, the door closing automatically behind him, and the only part of the rover’s specs he cared about then was its heating capabilities. After enough time in the cold, heated seats felt like a strong competitor for humanity’s greatest invention, even above warp technology, replicators, and the Universal Translator. The warmth was such a relief that it was painful. 

 “Thank you,” Jim said to the driver. “I think you just saved my life.” 

 The driver looked back at him from behind a pair of reflective goggles; they were wearing the full Starfleet regulation snow-suit with the face mask done up, which completely hid the remaining two-thirds of their face. Jim couldn’t even tell his rescuer’s species. They said something. 

 “Sorry, what?” 

 The driver reached up with a thick glove and undid the face mask of the snow-suit, and said, “Don’t take a position on Vulcan, they said. It’s unbearably hot there, they said.” The driver pushed up their goggles and pushed back their hood. “Good, I said. I won’t have to see snow ever again, I said.”  

 “That’s… one reason to move to Vulcan, I suppose. Sorry, you are…?” 

 “Doctor Francisca De Oliveira.” Jim’s rescuer was a dark-skinned, black human woman with big, curly hair, laugh-lines around her eyes, and an accent Jim placed alongside her name as South American. 

 “James T. Kirk. Thank you for saving my life.” 

 “You are welcome, Mister Kirk,” Doctor De Oliveira said, as she deftly turned the rover around to take him back the way she’d came. “It is because of you that I am here on this planet in the first place. You are one of the officers who had me urgently plucked from my lab on Vulcan and sent me out here to look after this frozen hell.” 

 “Ah. Sorry.”  

 “Which is also apparently haunted!” 

 “Sorry,” Jim said again. “It was important.” 

 “I know.” 

 “Wait a minute. Can you see that?” Jim pointed at the second light projection of himself, which was stumbling along ahead of them now. “If you could confirm that again for me: can you see that projection of a person there?” 

 “Yes, I can. I had to ask myself if I was hallucinating due to the unbearable cold here, but my colleague at the outpost can see them too. So can the Vulcan who managed to beam down like you did,” Doctor De Oliveira answered, pulling her goggles down again. “These strange holograms have been appearing since the atmospheric light display started.” 

 “A Vulcan? Who?” 

 “He said his name was Spock. He was the one who urged us to investigate your signal. He also said to tell you that he did not choose Delta Vega for your reunion.” 

 Jim nodded, mulling this over. “Alright. Thank you.” 

 “We must return to the outpost, where you can speak with him, help us get communication back with Vulcan and Starfleet, and not freeze to death. Was there anything else, Kirk? Or may we return to the outpost, where it is at least slightly less cold? It is dangerous to linger here when our scanners are not working well.” 

 “No, no, that was all. That sounds like the best course of action,” Jim agreed, with one last look at the projection ahead. If the other Spock was here, if he remembered everything, Jim wanted to speak with him as soon as possible too. He had questions. 

 Doctor De Oliveira didn’t take off immediately. 

 “...What are we waiting for?” Jim asked.  

 “Your safety restraints?”  

 “Oh, right. Sorry.” 

  Jim buckled up and Doctor De Oliveira finally took off, speeding over the Delta Vegan landscape. He could see what she meant about the vehicle’s instruments not working properly: the scans for lifeforms were coming back distorted, with red messages on the dashboard warning her that the risk of error was dangerously high. While the lights above continued their hypnotic movements, prompting several yellow warning messages about extreme conditions, they flew past several more projections. 

 “Have you been able to figure out what the projections are?” Jim asked. 

 “Light and sound,” Doctor De Oliveira answered. “A product of the anomalous energy over us now. They are much more concentrated at the outpost. You will see.” 

 At first, they passed the same, familiar lone figure again and again. It was as though the second projection of Jim was jumping ahead of them, like someone was trying to show the real Jim something important. As they neared the Starfleet outpost, Jim spotted two more humanoid projections, which weren’t identical but rather different in shape and stride, walking side by side towards their destination. In a blink-and-miss-it second, he spotted another humanoid projection, a different one, walking alone, coming from a different direction entirely. 

 Their journey wasn’t a long one. When they reached the outpost, Jim saw what the good doctor had meant: even more light projections were scattered around. All humanoid. All varying degrees of familiar. Doctor De Oliveira had to drive through one to get into the Starfleet outpost’s garage. 

 “I thought this posting was bad before the holograms,” she said as she parked. 

 “At least it makes things interesting around here,” Jim answered offhandedly, hastily undoing his restraints and hopping out of the rover before it could settle fully in its station. He winced at the renewed burst of cold air, then looked back to the doctor, who was fumbling with the restraints due to her thick gloves. “I’m going to have a quick look outside.” 

 “What? Wait!” 

 “I need to see something!” Jim called back, ducking under the closing garage door. He braced himself for the wind and squinted into the light, searching for the projections that had been chasing them. 

 He saw the lonely projection of himself first, the second projection, hurrying towards the outpost while clearly exhausted from the long hike. 

 A few steps farther out and Jim saw the pair of projections whose path had come to parallel their vehicle and whose journey Jim actually remembered. It was the first projection of himself, which had been chased off by the ice creatures, now accompanied by a projection of the other Spock. 

 He saw multiple projections that looked like Scotty and Keenser performing their duties around the Starfleet outpost. There were more projections of unfamiliar people, some of whom looked like Starfleet and Vulcan visitors to the outpost, but there were others who weren’t dressed for the weather at all. Their garbled conversations of general Starfleet chatter were mostly lost to him, between the wind and the clunk-whirr of the garage door opening again. 

 Unsatisfied, Jim took another dozen farther out, moving around the outpost. 

 “Lieutenant!” Doctor De Oliveira shouted after him. “What are you looking for?” 

 “The other traveller!” Jim called back. 

 “What?” 

 Jim didn’t answer her, having spotted what he’d wanted to see. It was the other lonely traveller, the projection he’d seen on the way here in a blink-and-miss-it second, travelling alone and coming from a different direction. He sprinted out towards them, stopping a dozen feet away. It was the other Spock, just as he’d suspected. It was the second projection of the elderly Spock he’d seen, this one unaccompanied by a projection of Jim Kirk, breathing heavily and limping. 

 “MISTER KIRK! COME BACK!” 

 The projection of the other Spock looked up from the ground. It hurt to look directly at the brilliant, concentrated light of his features, but… Jim could see a pained expression. The other Spock moved like he was in no small amount of agony. 

 “KIRK!” 

 Reluctantly, Jim turned away from the projection and rejoined the doctor. 

 It wasn’t real, after all. 

 “Sorry, I needed to check something.” 

 “No, no, please, Mister Kirk,” Doctor De Oliveira said pointedly, scowling, her arms crossed. “If you have changed your mind and decided to go out and die in this frozen wasteland after all, go ahead. I will tell my colleague and Mister Spock that I tried my best to bring your back alive but could not manage the task.” 

 “No, I’d like to go inside,” Jim answered, busy thinking, definitely having had enough of this cold. He didn’t look back at the projection of the other Spock. “After you, doctor.” 

 “Hm,” Doctor De Oliveira said, but led him inside regardless. 

 The first hallway inside the outpost was, like the garage, warm only by comparison. It was warm as in “warm enough to not die”. It was more striking now than last time, since Jim didn’t have a coat of his own to keep him comfortable, at least until Doctor De Oliveira offered him one from a closet full of them. She removed none of her own gear, leading him straight to the control room and lounge where Scotty and Keenser had been nested up in before. 

 There were projections on the inside too, although not as many, and they flickered and faded wildly. Their words fizzled in late and sputtered out early. They appeared to be part of an incomplete signal, even more so than the light projections outside. 

 It was actually warmer inside the control room, where two people were again nested inside: this time, a short, balding East Asian man who must have been the doctor’s colleague and a familiar elderly Vulcan. The other Spock looked up from the screen they were huddled around and smiled freely at Jim. It wasn’t a wide smile. Nothing so human as that. It was a simple softening of the eyes and an upturn of the lips, and yet in his welcoming look, Jim saw a million words that couldn’t be said. 

 “Jim,” the other Spock said, pushing to his feet. 

 “Spock,” Jim answered gladly. 

 He went to meet the other man in the middle, noticing how much weight Spock put on his arms as he stood and the stiff care in his walk. Spock wasn’t a short man and he was wrapped in a Starfleet regulation coat as well, but he seemed frailer than the last time Jim had seen him. Jim knew how Vulcans didn’t shake hands, but he couldn’t help the way he reached out to grip the other Spock’s arm anyway, a steadying gesture for them both. It helped him to feel that the man was real. They were both here. They were both alive. They both remembered. 

 “It is remarkably pleasing to see you again,” the other Spock said gently, with good humor. 

 “Again,” Jim repeated, grinning so wide that it hurt his face. “Pleasing? I can’t tell you how relieved I was when Commander Ivai told us you were alright. We couldn’t know what Nero might do to you when he realized we were on his ship. You are alright… aren’t you?” 

 Old Spock’s smile stayed with him and he grasped Jim’s arm with his own hand, tight and surprisingly strong. “Jim,” he said sincerely, “My home has been saved. I promise you that I am more than alright.” 

 Jim sighed. “Good.” 

 “Nero lost most of his interest in me when I made it apparent I would not humor the narrative he had constructed over the past 25 years,” Old Spock assured him. “He did not appreciate my assertion than his revenge was not justice, nor my warnings that it would not heal the wrong he perceived I had committed against him.” 

 “I bet he didn’t,” Jim agreed knowingly. 

 They drew apart then. Jim glanced at Doctor De Oliveira and her colleague; the doctor had been beckoned to look at something on the other side of the room, and was pointing at a screen and speaking quietly with her colleague. They weren’t obviously paying attention to Jim and the other Spock. In fact, it looked to Jim like the doctor and her colleague were attempting to give them some brief measure of privacy, so he turned back to the other Spock and asked quietly: 

 “Why didn’t you tell me you were injured last time?” 

 The other Spock’s smile slipped away and he sighed. “It did not seem relevant.”’ 

 “Is that why you really didn’t come with me?” 

 The other Spock reached for the nearest chair and took a seat again, trembling slightly with the effort. He had hidden these injuries so well the last time they had been here on Delta Vega. Any physical faltering could have been blamed on the hazardous environment; any expression of agony could have been attributed to emotional devastation. Even now, though his body betrayed him, his face didn’t show any signs of pain. It was unsettling. 

 “It is a part of it,” Old Spock admitted, once he was settled in his chair. “I am old and I am exhausted, Jim; I would have been no help to you aboard the Enterprise. I would have likely been a liability, as my presence would have only incensed Nero further.” 

 “...It was Nero who injured you, wasn’t it?” 

 “It was,” Old Spock agreed. 

 “And you had to suffer that again for us to be here now,” Jim said quietly. 

 Old Spock tilted his head slightly in consideration. “A small price to pay,” he pronounced gently, “for my planet to be saved.” He paused. “...Another part of why I could not go with you, Jim, I must admit, is that I was a coward. Physically and emotionally, I was not prepared to face what I sent you to fight, and I must ask your forgiveness for setting so very much on your shoulders.” 

 Jim knelt in front of the man, who had bowed his head during this speech, and briefly placed his hand on the other Spock’s arm again. He was alive and well, if a little bruised, if a little lost, and that was more than enough for him. 

 “A small price to pay,” he insisted, smiling. 

Old Spock touched Jim’s arm briefly, before Jim drew his hand back again and forced himself to be serious.

For they were still lost here, even if they were alive and well for now. 

 “...May I ask you something?” Jim said quietly. 

 “You may always ask me anything,” Old Spock answered. 

 “...How many times have we been here? How many times has this happened?” Jim asked, before he realized how vague those questions were. He needed to make his exact question as clear as possible here. “How many times was Vulcan destroyed before it was saved?” 

Chapter Text

 Spock said nothing for too long and that was an answer in itself. Watching the elderly Vulcan’s complete non-expression hold for several seconds too many, Jim knew that he’d guessed correctly: this wasn’t the first or the second time they’d been on Delta Vega. It was the second time that Jim remembered, but the other Spock clearly remembered differently. 

 There was an entire universe of untold exhaustion in Old Spock’s sigh as he broke their stare first, looking off into nothing. 

 “As I remember events, this is the third occasion that you and I have found ourselves stranded here on Delta Vega,” Old Spock answered finally. “I recall watching my home planet be destroyed at Nero’s hand twice, due to my failures.” He brought his gaze back to Jim’s eyes and said, “Jim… I truly cannot convey my gratitude for what you have done.” 

 Jim stared back, speechless despite having suspected exactly what the older Spock had just confirmed. Three tries was far less than he had feared on the way here and far more than anyone should have had to live through. He remembered an earlier thought that should have been fleeting, but still echoed in his head now due to the reinforcement of the mind-meld he had shared with the younger Spock: I couldn’t see that again. I’m sorry, but I couldn’t. It would have broken me: an empty space where a planet used to be. 

 And that thought’s heel, looking at the lines of grief carved deeply into the other man’s face, along the same thread, came another thought: I’ve seen a lot of empty spaces. Jim couldn’t imagine all the empty spaces that the other Spock had seen. 

 He reached for the other Spock’s arm, again, a third time in not nearly as many minutes, determined this time not to draw back too early.

 “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. 

 Neither action he took now felt like enough, but the elderly Vulcan placed his own hand on Jim’s arm, again, and held on to it like it was a port in a storm. It was just as - it was even more - steadying than it had been before. However, Jim couldn’t help the feeling that he was presuming too much whenever he reached out to offer and accept comfort. He felt like an interloper - a placeholder at best. The thin, newborn thread of unlikely, intimate friendship between them, after all, was built on the actions of a man who wasn’t here... on the experiences an entirely different universe... on a lifetime Jim would never live. 

 “Thank you,” Old Spock said softly. 

 “...Do you know how this happened?” Jim asked. “Why it’s happening? The lights outside? The projections? Why you? Why me? ” 

 “I have formulated a hypothesis as to the how of what has happened to us, based on a previous encounter of a similar nature. As to the why, however… there, I can only guess,” Old Spock said, gently giving Jim’s arm back to himself. “It is a long story, Jim, too long for you to continue kneeling as you are. Please, stand, and we will speak more privately.” 

 “...Alright.” 

 Jim stood, forcing himself to pull away, and went to introduce himself to Doctor De Olivera’s colleague and make their excuses. De Oliveira’s colleague, a fellow scientist named Doctor Zhang Wei, was a short, balding, silver-haired fellow, who also wasn’t enthused about being temporarily shifted to Delta Vega from his work on Vulcan, but freely expressed how glad he was to have caught Jim’s distress signal. 

 “I’m very grateful too,” Jim assured him. “I didn’t know if anyone was listening.” 

 “We’re still trying to regain contact with Vulcan, but the storm interferes with all our transmissions. We sent a drone up to study the storm, but it interfered with that too. Now we are attempting to regain contact with the drone,” Doctor Zhang told him, chuckling nervously. 

 “It looks like no one is getting off this rock,” Doctor De Oliveira said unhappily. 

 “Will anyone else be beaming down?” Doctor Zhang asked. 

 “It wasn’t intentional on our parts,” Jim reminded him, “and I think it’s just us two. I hope it’s just us two, anyway. All the more reason to focus on our communication capabilities. In the meanwhile, Mister Spock and I need to debrief privately about the mission we were both in the middle of before we came here. Is there a good place here for that?” 

 “We haven’t been here very long,” Doctor De Oliveira said. “Maybe the sleeping quarters? We haven’t used them yet and personally I still hope to be leaving this planet sooner than that.” 

 “You can use mine,” Doctor Zhang offered. “Let me show you.” 

 Jim offered the other Spock an arm as he stood, but the man gently refused him and followed the doctor under his own power as smoothly as though he wasn’t injured.

 “Are you certain, Jim, that no one else will be joining us?” he asked, and Jim heard the question within that question. 

 “Pretty certain,” Jim answered, because if there were any time-travellers walking around, they hadn’t come up and introduced themselves to him. He couldn’t remember anyone else aboard the Enterprise acting remarkably peculiar. 

 The sleeping quarters Doctor Zhang showed them to seemed to be the one place on Delta Vega that was actually warm, possibly because  people hadn’t been frequently trooping back and forth from here to investigate strange atmospheric displays and stranger holograms. These particular quarters had the standard Starfleet layout and set-up: a bed, a dresser, a desk, a table with a couple chairs, and an attached bathroom. Jim didn’t know how cleanly Scotty or Keenser lived, but he assumed they must have taken different rooms, because this one looked like it hadn’t been lived-in in a long time. There weren’t even any flickers of projections to break their privacy. 

 Jim removed his unzipped coat and dropped it over the back of a chair, while the other Spock sat carefully on the edge of the bed, without fully removing his own coat. He was wearing a grey, long-sleeved robe that looked Vulcan and unfamiliar. Jim wondered if he’d gotten it from the medical staff aboard Commander Ivai’s vessel. 

 “So,” Jim said finally, taking a seat in the chair. “Time travel, huh?” 

 “So it appears,” Old Spock said. 

 “That makes it harder than usual to know where to begin.” 

 “Indeed.” 

 “...What happened in the timeline I don’t remember?” 

 “I am not often one to champion the benefits of ignorance, Jim; however, I believe there is very little gain to be found in contemplating a future that will never be and the actions therein which we have not taken. Let it suffice to say that the answer as to what is happening now will not be found there,” Old Spock urged gently. “...However, I can see by your expression, that you do not find this satisfying. Very well.  

 “The first potential future, the one which you do not remember, was very similar to the one which you do. I was captured by Nero and stranded here on Delta Vega to witness the destruction of my home planet. It was important to Nero that I live on to suffer the loss of my world and, from there, the destruction of every planet belonging to the Federation to which I had dedicated so much of my life, and so I was purposefully beamed down not far from this Starfleet outpost. In that potential future, I did not know to look for your arrival.” 

 “We arrived at the outpost separately,” Jim said, thinking back to the projections. “What then?” 

 “It took some time to convince you of my identity and where I had come from - we did not touch minds - though you agreed immediately to my offer of help. During this time, we attempted to contact Earth via subspace transmission and warn them of Nero’s impending arrival. However, it was taking too long to reach anyone of importance, and you stated that it would take Starfleet too long to reach Earth regardless. Eventually, I proposed to beam yourself and Mister Scott back to the Enterprise, in the hope that you would be able to stop Nero.” 

 “I agreed to this,” Jim guessed, because he knew himself well enough.  

 “Immediately,” Old Spock agreed. 

 But there was something in the way Old Spock said this. Jim didn’t know if it was something in the old Vulcan’s face or something in his voice, but suddenly he knew exactly why the other Spock hadn’t wanted to tell him what had happened in the first timeline. 

 “I failed,” Jim realized. “We were too late. Earth was destroyed too.” 

 “Yes,” Old Spock admitted. “We, myself and Mister Keenser, did not learn of this until the next day, when the transmissions came through from remaining Starfleet vessels to all Federation outposts, containing the news that Vulcan and Earth had been destroyed. It was not stated what had become of the U.S.S. Enterprise, simply that the Romulan vessel responsible for the attack was suspected to be headed to the Andorian system next.” 

 “The Federation founders,” Jim breathed. “He was going to take out Andoria and Tellar too?” 

 “Presumably to be followed by Benzar… Betazed… Coridan… perhaps even Q'onoS… until he was stopped or finally realized that even the destruction of the seat of the Klingon Empire could not bring back the Romulus of his universe,” Old Spock said, his expression full of unthinkable grief again. “In that first potential future, my failure would have been absolute, Jim.” 

 Jim shook his head. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s his fault.” 

 Though, in this moment, it felt like it had somehow been Jim’s own fault. What had been the difference that had destroyed Earth? Had he failed to make Spock step down or convince Spock to go after Nero? Had the Enterprise continued to the Laurentian system? Had they failed to hide their approach from Nero? Had they beamed aboard the Narada only to fail to take the red matter? 

 “Jim,” Old Spock said softly. “The potential future in which Earth and Vulcan were destroyed has passed us. It does us no good to dwell on it. If I alone must bear the memory of what has not happened, for it not to come to pass, then that it is a price I pay willingly.” 

 That was no small price to pay, though Jim would have also paid it without hesitation. 

 He couldn’t wrap his head around it: the destruction of the entire United Federation of Planets. The culmination of billions of years of evolution, countless species, and thousands of years of progress across dozens of planets, each world coming together across light-years of space and together establishing friendships against all the odds… it all would have wiped out for nothing more than one man’s revenge. Jim could not imagine a future in which the destruction of Vulcan was only the beginning. It probably would have killed him. 

 “...You hid those memories well,” Jim said hoarsely, “during the mind-meld.” 

 “I am nearly two centuries old, Jim,” Old Spock replied simply, his hands folded in his lap. “You saw only what I wished you to see of where I had come from and what we were striving to prevent, though I could not entirely prevent my burdening you with some minor emotional transference. Again, for that, I must ask your forgiveness.” 

  “Minor emotional transference,” Jim repeated, sputtering with nervous laughter. 

 In the first few moments after the mind-meld, his head whirling with horrifying sights and unthinkable grief, it had felt like he was going to die. The experience hadn’t lasted long, but Jim remembered it vividly. His heart quickened again just thinking about it. 

 “So, the second time around, you came looking for me on Delta Vega… and you used the mind-meld to convince me… and you sent me off to the Enterprise as soon as possible,” Jim summarized, moving determinedly onward. 

 “When I realized that I had been given a second chance to save my home planet, I did my utmost to prevent my capture at Nero’s hand, then to convince him to take his revenge on myself alone and to spare Vulcan, but it was not enough to prevent the catastrophe,” Old Spock admitted. “My best efforts did nothing more than buy time, in which I can only hope perhaps more Vulcan citizens would have managed to evacuate, and again I watched my planet die at Nero’s hand, using the same technology with which I had failed to save Romulus. I could not allow Earth to again suffer the same fate. I could not fail again, Jim.” 

 “You didn’t,” Jim assured him. “We stopped him.” 

 Old Spock smiled weakly, but he couldn’t keep it up for long. He looked far too tired. 

 “I must confess, Jim, when I found myself in Nero’s hands with the memories and injuries of two futures in which I had failed to save my planet, I was nearly overcome with despair. I did not know what else could be done. You cannot imagine my joy and my gratitude when I was rescued and realized that someone else had taken action. When I spoke with Commander Ivai, it became clear that it must have been you, though I was not certain if my younger self also remembered a future in which Nero was not so easily stopped.” 

 “He doesn’t,” Jim said. “Well, he has some of my memories now. I had to go to Captain Pike to get him to talk to me, since he still didn’t like me because I broke his test, then I had to talk him into a mind-meld to get him to believe me.” 

 “I see.” 

 “It was more efficient,” Jim pointed out. 

 “It is remarkably efficient,” Old Spock agreed. “I have no criticisms, Jim, of how you have helped save my planet. In fact, I find it admirable that you would readily make yourself so vulnerable for the sake of the lives at stake. That Vulcan and the six billion lives who call it home yet live is no less than a man-made miracle.” 

 Jim couldn’t bring himself to thank the other Spock for the compliment, at least not aloud. He just nodded. It felt to him as though anyone would have done the same - as though any reasonable, compassionate person should have done the same. He would have gone to far greater lengths if Pike and Spock had chosen not to believe him, he’d been thinking about those lengths from the moment he’d knocked on Pike’s door, just in case, and he was unspeakably grateful that he hadn’t been forced to go out and take these greater lengths alone. 

 “If something didn’t happen in the first timeline to start all this, what did?” Jim asked. 

 The other Spock considered the question carefully, then said, “First, allow me to tell you about a mission undertaken by the U.S.S. Enterprise when I served upon it, over one hundred years ago in the universe I come from, which offered a similar experience.” 

 He looked at Jim expectantly and Jim nodded. “Please.” 

 “We had been sent on a diplomatic mission to meet with an independent system interested in joining the United Federation of Planets. Unfortunately, when we arrived, we discovered that the planet’s capital was suffering from an intense atmospheric disturbance, one which prevented us from beaming safely to the surface.” 

 “Like the one happening now?” 

 The other Spock nodded. “On a far smaller scale. When it appeared the disturbance would continue for some time, myself, my captain, and a small selection of the crew boarded a shuttle with the intention of landing outside the atmospheric disturbance and then travelling inwards to the planet’s capital to meet with local officials.” 

 “But something went wrong,” Jim guessed. “Something always goes wrong.” 

 “There were many missions in which this seemed to be the case,” the other Spock agreed. “As we were travelling to the planet’s surface, the atmospheric disturbance expanded without warning, causing our shuttle to malfunction and forcing us to make an emergency landing. Fortunately, no one was injured and we persisted onward in our mission to reach the planet’s capital. One of our crewmembers had been touched by the strange energy, but she appeared uninjured and insisted that she was well. 

 “When we reached the planet’s capital and met with the local officials, we were greeted warmly and treated with their finest hospitality in apology for the atmospheric disturbance. Of course, we immediately suspected, as it was put at the time, that ‘unethical endeavors were afoot’.” 

 Jim snorted. “Of course.” 

  “Our captain ordered us to stay vigilant until we could safely return to the Enterprise. Shortly after, the crewmember who had been touched by the strange energy prevented the murder of another crewmember, who had just uncovered a conspiracy to hide the cause of the atmospheric disturbance. Our captain refused to allow us to remain in a hostile environment and attempted to make our excuses, so that we might return to our shuttle. 

 “Our hosts caught us leaving our residence and begged us to stay, claiming that the now deceased attempted-murderer had acted alone in the name of planetary independence, as we had not revealed to them our discovery of their conspiracy. During this argument, the atmospheric disturbance reached down and our crew was again touched by the strange energy, which immediately prompted our gracious hosts to attempt to kill us all, stating they would stage a crash-landing of our shuttle for the Federation until they could regain control.” 

 “Control of what?” Jim asked. 

 “The atmospheric disturbance,” Old Spock answered. “When we were each touched by the strange energy, we were each given the memories of a potential future and were therefore able to successfully fight off our attackers and flee. We each also retained the injuries of these potential futures. Our hosts were overcome with the fear of what memories we might have been given.” 

 “Given the memories?” Jim repeated. “Then-” 

 “To think of the incomplete futures which we alone remember as separate timelines is not correct, Jim, although neither is it entirely incorrect. What we have experienced is something of a vastly different nature to how Nero and I were brought to your universe, such that I would not term it ‘time travel’ in the traditional sense. Simply put, the events that you and I remember experiencing never happened in this universe.” 

 “...They felt pretty damn real to me,” Jim said disbelievingly. 

 “The memories felt real to us as well. Each of us was firmly convinced that we had lived at least one future with a grim end and been cast backwards through time to live it again. Though many members of our party initially remained secretive, we soon discovered that some of us recalled multiple attempts to uncover the local conspiracy and return to the Enterprise. I personally recalled five potential futures in which we had failed to escape the planet: one in which I alone had remembered a past attempt, one in which myself and my captain both remembered the previous future, one in which myself and my captain remembered the previous two futures and another crewmember also recalled the previous future, and so on.” 

 Jim’s mind was reeling, but he didn’t let himself show it. If Spock was telling the truth (and despite how badly Jim wanted to call bullshit and how Old Spock had hidden the truth from him so far, he didn’t doubt the man now), then Vulcan had never been destroyed. Jim had undergone a physical change, down to the Melvaran mud fleas vaccine, to remember experiences he had never actually gone through. 

 “What is this atmospheric disturbance?” Jim demanded. 

 “A living, highly intelligent being,” Old Spock answered, “though it is not alive by any definition that you or I might traditionally offer, and its thought process must be as different from our own as ours is from that of a non-organic being. Through some difficulty, we eventually discovered that the local government had long ago discovered the being in the early stages of its life, and subsequently discovered methods of trapping it on their planet and utilizing its remarkable abilities for their own advancement.” 

 “Such as predicting the future?” Jim asked, trying not to sound disbelieving again. 

 Old Spock inclined his head. “The being possessed sufficient omniscience to calculate the most probable future and, as time passed, it had also developed the power to bestow these memories upon an individual by transforming that individual into their potential future self. It had recently developed enough power to regain limited freedom. It gifted me with the memories of the potential future, before instantaneously calculating a new future based on my new memories, then gifting memories of this new future to myself and my captain, and so on. What appeared to me to be my sixth ‘loop’ - as my captain put it at the time - was not time travel after all, which was greatly reassuring, as we had been deeply concerned about the possibility of paradoxes and the creation of several alternative timelines.” 

 Jim had been worried about paradoxes too, but now he felt more unsettled than reassured. 

 “The remaining local officials begged our assistance in subduing their ‘supercomputer’, as they had nearly finished developing the latest technological advancement which would allow them to restrain it and regain control of its abilities, but my captain would have none of it and neither would I. I destroyed the technology restraining the being, despite the local officials’ fearful insistence that, once freed, the ‘supercomputer’ would surely destroy their entire planet for how their ancestors had imprisoned it.” 

 Jim frowned. “That doesn’t make any sense. If the being had the ability to physically transform people, it could have easily killed any of them at any time.” 

 Old Spock smiled at him again, that small, not-quite-human smile, his exhaustion briefly disappearing from his face. “That is precisely the same argument that our captain made,” he said, with no small degree of warmth. “Clearly, our captain said, all the being desired was freedom, a right which none of us could deny it. Once I had destroyed the technology restraining it, as we predicted, the being did not take revenge; it simply left the planet. The local officials attempted to track it, but it appeared as though the being had simply vanished from our universe entirely.” 

 “And, what, it came here?” Jim demanded. 

 “It would appear so.” 

 Old Spock left it there, allowing his long story to fully sink in, and Jim sat back in his chair, trying to do the same thing. There had never been any time travel. Well, Old Spock and Nero had traveled through time, coming from an alternate universe, but Jim had simply spontaneously received the memories of a future which had never happened. Specifically, he had experienced a simulation of the future in which the other Spock had experienced a simulation of the future first. It was almost enough to make his head hurt. 

 “Alright,” Jim said, even though he didn’t really feel alright yet. He sat forward again, rubbing the side of his head. “Alright, so the atmospheric display up there is actually an old friend of yours. So, what does this omniscient being want now? Why are we here on Delta Vega?” 

 The other Spock visibly considered the question, before he simply said, “I do not know, Jim.” 

 Jim stared at him. 

 “As I stated earlier, there, I can only guess,” Old Spock said, with the closest thing Jim had ever heard to a vocal shrug. “I am not privy to the thoughts of interdimensional, semi-omniscient beings.” 

 Jim stared at him some more, then gave in to the urge to drag his hand down his face. 

 “Sorry,” he said, afterwards. “Thank you for telling me all that. I really appreciate it. It’s just… I was really, really hoping that this would all be over soon. I haven’t really slept in… well… my body now thinks I’ve spent the past few days with barely any sleep.” 

 “I greatly aggravated the attending medical officer aboard the Vulcan vessel by my refusal to enter a healing trance until I had spoken to you,” Old Spock offered sympathetically. 

 Jim chuckled. “Bones is going to kill me the second I step back on the Enterprise.” 

 “Doctor Leonard McCoy?” Old Spock asked, with interest. 

 “Yeah. You know him?” 

 “Quite well, in another universe. He was a dear friend.” 

 Jim looked up again, surprised, but Vulcans had pretty good poker faces and the other Spock looked entirely sincere in his statement. Bones and Spock? Spock and Bones? Jim cleared his throat and determinedly left his surprise behind. Huh. “Well, Bones is pretty good at making himself known, isn’t he? I’ve been dodging him all day so I don’t have to explain why I spontaneously developed a ring of bruises around my neck.” 

 Old Spock tilted his head curiously at that and Jim waved him off. 

 “Long story. So, this ‘supercomputer’ being is either trapped on Delta Vega or it wants something else from us. Alright. What about these... projections of... simulated timelines? Have you seen those before?” 

 “Yes. We assumed the projections to be the being’s primary method of directly communicating, the least damaging manner it knew how to interact with us. We saw them with increasing frequency once we reached the station which kept the being prisoner.” 

 “So, we should go outside and figure out what it wants.” 

 “That appears to be the most logical course of action,” Old Spock agreed. “I intended to do so earlier, but I arrived in no state to withstand the cold and, once we received your distress signal, it was my priority to see you safely here to the Starfleet outpost.” 

 “I’m not complaining,” Jim said, standing. “I wouldn’t have made it out there if you hadn’t sent Doctor De Oliveira to come get me.” 

 “Jim.” 

 “Yes?” Jim turned from where he’d been collecting his coat. 

 Old Spock’s expression was solemn again as he said, “It weighed heavily on some of our crewmembers to know that their memories of the future - many of which were traumatizing to them - had never happened. Some of them felt it was a reflection on their sanity. For all intents and purposes, you and I have experienced potential futures - we possess the memories and the physical injuries of them - and that no one else has experienced them is for the better.” 

 Jim could only nod. It was affirming to have his memories shared by someone, after just having been told that some nearly omniscient being made of light had manipulated him into believing something that hadn’t actually happened. Jim was… glad… deeply, fiercely glad that billions of people had never died, that time paradoxes weren’t about to destroy everything, but… this was probably going to unsettle him for a long, long time. 

 “Well, let’s go find out what this ‘supercomputer’ wants from us. I disappeared from the bridge of the Enterprise, right in front of the younger you and Captain Pike, so the sooner I can tell them where we are, the better,” Jim said, throwing his coat over his arm. “Captain Pike was really looking forward to taking a nap after all this.” 

 “A sentiment that I share,” Old Spock said, carefully getting to his feet, and Jim barely resisted the urge to help the elderly Vulcan walk again as they left the room. 

 The futures they remembered had never happened, but that didn’t stop them from feeling real. He knew intimately now that Spock did feel, twice over. The grief carved into Old Spock face was real. The guilt in his voice as he blamed himself for Nero’s revenge was real. The pain was real. If this was the cost of saving six billion lives, Jim had thought earlier, so be it, but… the old man walking beside him looked so tired and sounded so lost. It wasn’t a small price to pay. 

 It wasn’t a small price to pay at all. 

 It was just that the reality would have been so much worse. 

Chapter Text

 Jim wasn’t exactly happy to be headed back outside, but he would have willingly endured worse in pursuit of answers and peace. At least he and the other Spock had all the appropriate, heated gear to face the Delta-Vegan snow this time. It made a world of difference. 

 Doctors De Oliveira and Zhang weren’t happy to be letting them head back outside either, but they begrudgingly and disappointedly understood the words “potentially classified” and Jim’s rank. The other Spock was also amazingly persuasive. Old Spock had a way with implication and omittance that Jim found unsettlingly impressive, a way which gently led the other half of the conversation to make certain assumptions. He didn’t lie, technically, but it was still, functionally, lying. 

 “There are a great many wonders throughout every universe,” Old Spock answered, when Jim pointed this out to him, as they stepped out into the cold hallway that would lead them outside. “Unfortunately, with these wonders often comes the responsibility to treat them with the respect that they deserve, a task for which some are... not prepared.” 

 “Ouch,” Jim commented. 

 “I do not mean to cast aspersions on the characters of our hosts,” Old Spock said. “However, I do not know either of them well enough to judge how they might react to such an unusual being.” 

 “I understand that,” Jim agreed, and opened the last door. 

 His odd delight at having watched Spock lie dropped back into the odd dread. The Delta-Vegan cold diving down his lungs again didn’t help, even if the heated coat kept the worst of it back. 

  But you know me well enough? Jim wondered, equally flattered by and uneasy at the unconditional trust. The simulated mind-meld argued that Old Spock could very know him, not to mention the memories of the simulated timeline Jim didn’t remember, which when combined were reasonably more than enough for someone as sharp as Spock (any Spock, either Spock) to make accurate judgements about Jim’s moral character. 

 And yet… Jim thought. 

 Outside the Starfleet outpost, the sky above them was even brighter, the wind tossed the snow around, and the world around them was both more and less crowded. Projections flickered in and out of being, summoned out of thin air and dismissed again in seconds, and Jim didn’t know what he was meant to look for in any of the rapidly passing scenes. What in them was he supposed to be seeing? 

 He looked up at the atmospheric display overhead, still swirling and smashing like a storm, thick enough with marvelous colour now that he could barely see the planet Vulcan through the brilliance. It wasn’t hard to believe the lights were a single, massive lifeform. It wasn’t difficult to imagine countless thought processes in the dozens of lightning-like flashings and crashing thunder - to suppose that what he’d thought a natural, chaotic phenomenon was the inner workings of a near-omniscient being, stretching on for miles across the sky. He fully believed it was a living, thinking being. 

 However, looking up at it did make Jim feel about as small, as fragile, and as unimportant as an insect. What was a single human being to a storm, anyway? If anything? 

 “...Are we supposed to talk at the sky?” Jim asked. 

 “I do not know, Jim,” Old Spock answered. 

 “Right, you never actually directly communicated with this being the last time this happened, did you?” Jim said, glancing around at the flickering projections of failed timelines around them. 

 “No,” Old Spock agreed. 

 They stood there awkwardly, outside the outpost, underneath a miracle, and Jim had no idea how to speak to something so far above him. It made him wonder if the being above felt the same way about speaking to something so far below it. A being capable of calculating the future in seconds couldn’t possibly experience time as they did, likely having more than trillions of thoughts in the time it took them to blink. Jim and Spock must have seemed agonizingly slow in comparison. 

 “You have interesting friends,” Jim commented. 

 “I have been so fortunate,” Old Spock agreed, before he raised his voice and spoke to the sky with all apparent confidence. “By the projections around us, I must assume that you are the omniscient being I once met nearly one hundred years ago in another universe, unjustly imprisoned and used by the people of the planet Tsicom III. Greetings, old friend.” 

 Jim held his breath as a projection shortly flickered into being directly in front of them and stayed. It was a humanoid being Jim didn’t recognize, even after squinting into the planes of light making up the plain face, a broad-shouldered, bipedal person in long robes with large shoulder-pads. The projection spread his long-sleeved arms wide in front of them, his head tilted up with self-importance. Though, depending on cultural differences, Jim supposed the projection could also be puffing itself up out of fear or even happiness. You could never really know. 

 The projection spoke then, quite loudly, but Jim didn’t understand a word of it at first. He didn’t even realize it was another language entirely, rather than the unintelligibility being due to sound quality, until a Universal Translator belatedly clicked in a beat behind as sentences were completed. 

  “Greetings, Cap-captain! Welcome finally to our capital city-ty of Deetho! 

 It was a projection from a failed timeline in another universe, Jim assumed. He turned his head to ask Spock if this projection was someone from the original mission, but his intentions were interrupted by a new voice speaking directly behind him, loud and clear, in Federation Standard. 

  “The pleasure is-is ours, Prime Minister.” 

 Jim spun around to come face to face with another light projection, a man with clothes in the shape of a Starfleet uniform. They were exactly the same height, Jim and this man, and the man looked right through him. Jim knew the slopes of those features better than he knew the back of his hand. However, this man was a little heavier and he stood differently, and in doing so gave himself an entirely new shape though posture alone. Staring at the uncanny face in front of him, Jim barely registered the Universal Translator echoing the man’s words in turn. 

  “My apologies for the atmospheric disturba-bance,” said the Prime Minister, now behind Jim. “I hope that your vessel landed successfully and that your journey was uneventful.” 

  “Nothing we couldn’t handle,” the man in front of Jim answered. 

  “How long has your planet been suffering this atmospheric disturbance?” asked a third voice, which was too familiar to be called new. Jim looked to his left, where stood another projection with a familiar shape, this one with pointy ears and a tall posture. 

  “Prime Minister Crey, may I introduce my esteemed first officer, Mister Spock?” said the man in front of Jim. 

 The projection of Spock inclined his head in that increasingly familiar way of his. He stood taller than the real Spock beside Jim now, not yet weighed down by another century of experience, but he didn’t exactly resemble the young Spock whom Jim knew either. He was slightly broader, maybe. At least a decade older, probably. 

  “I am uncertain of the exact dates,” hedged the Prime Minister. “Be assured that the best scientists of Deetho will soon have the situation under their control.”  

 “Control an atmospheric disturbance?” said the man in front of Jim, with interest. 

  “Yes. We Tsicomnians are develop-veloping technology that will soon return our planet to normal.” 

 “A fascinating prospect,” commented the projection of Spock. 

 “We’d be very interested in seeing that technology, Prime Minister,” agreed the man in front of Jim. “Mister Spock is a science officer aboard the Enterprise. The Feder-deration is dedicated to the sharing of and access to-to scientific knowledge across all its planets.” 

 “Very admirable, but this technology is very sensitive,” the Prime Minister said. “For now, allow my staff to show you and your crew to your rooms, cap-captain.” 

  “Of course, thank you.” 

  The man in front of Jim walked through him. It didn’t physically feel like anything. He was only a projection, after all. Jim turned and watched the projections walk away from them, and was surprised when several other light projections in Starfleet uniform passed him, following their captain. The conversation between the projections continued, but the wind stole most of their words away, and all the projections flickered out after they’d gotten two dozen steps away from Jim and Old Spock. 

 Jim looked beside him. “Was that…?” 

 He trailed off, unable to bring himself to say “me” when it so clearly wasn’t him. Saying “the man I was supposed to be” sounded pathetic, even if it was true. 

 “Yes,” Old Spock said. “That was myself and my captain as we once were, and the crewmembers of the Enterprise who accompanied us on the original mission.” 

 The old Vulcan looked and sounded even older, admitting this, as though the memory of the past - a past, or perhaps a past future - had taken another ten years off his life. He didn’t meet Jim’s eyes, staring instead at the space where the projections had vanished into thin air. Most of those projections were probably on average half a century dead to the other Spock, Jim realized. They really were as good as ghosts to him.  

 “Well, that answers that, I suppose,” Jim said. “It’s the same being.” 

 “It would seem so,” Old Spock agreed. 

 Jim took it upon himself to speak to the storm next, though he felt small and absurd. “Thank you!” he called. “Thank you for helping us prevent a terrible future!” 

 The memories of all that pain and suffering, down to the bruises from a future that had never actually happened, were a million times better than actually seeing dozens of worlds and billions upon billions of lives actually destroyed at Nero’s hand. Jim refused to be bitter about the methods. He was grateful. He was exhausted, but he couldn’t forget to be grateful that Vulcan was whole and well above them now because of this being. That was what was important here. 

 “You’ve saved countless lives,” Jim called up. “So, thank you!” 

 Old Spock looked approving beside him. 

 “What do you want from us now? Why did you bring us here?” Jim continued. 

 The projections flickered around them even faster now, though not so close, less solid than the gusts of snow off of which they gleamed. Jim assumed the being above was searching for another scene to show them. Finally, a man stepped out of thin air, a projection of the Prime Minister from earlier, pointing a phaser at Jim’s forehead. Jim automatically stepped aside, even if it was just a projection and couldn’t do him any harm, and found the other Kirk had been standing behind him again. 

  “Prime Minister Crey,” greeted the other Kirk. 

  “Captain Kirk,” answered the Prime Minister, his voice and hands shaking like he was the one on the wrong end of the gun. His robes looked slightly disheveled. “All this effort over a machine? Your Federation cannot-not poss-possibly approve.” 

 Jim and Old Spock backed away, stepping out from the middle of the scene. Jim noticed that the other Kirk and Prime Minister Crey weren’t alone. They were surrounded by other projections. Behind Prime Minister Crey was a pair of guards or soldiers, each also holding weapons. Behind the other Kirk stood the rest of his away team, including a projection of Spock. Spock seemed to be in the middle of something, but the other crewmembers were all holding their phasers ready, trained on Crey. 

  “Your so-called supercomputer saved my life and the lives of my crew!” announced the other Kirk. They may have looked almost identical, but the way he spoke was completely different, at least to Jim’s ears. “If I didn’t already owe-owe it the ch-chance to plead its case, as should be the right of all sapient-nt beings, I’d be damn well more inclined to listen to it over a man who was pointing a phaser at my head.” 

  “That is not very wise of you,” said Crey. 

  “Neither is pointing a phaser at my head, Prime Minister,” answered the other Kirk. 

 What happened next was as surprising as it was, perhaps, predictable. The projection of Prime Minister Crey shot the other Kirk, who dropped to the ground, apparently dead. However, before the projection of the other Kirk hit the ground, one of the Starfleet crewmembers shot Crey. The scene dissolved into chaos from there, until the firefight itself dissolved into thin air. 

 Jim swore, watching his own dead body flicker away. 

 “That was one of the simulated timelines,” Old Spock said. 

 “...Yeah,” Jim said hoarsely. “Figured.” 

 A new scene reassembled itself out of the pieces of the last one. The other Kirk and his crew ran up to them, many of them leaning back against his invisible wall, breathing heavily. 

  “Captain, are you well?” the projection of Spock asked. 

 The other Kirk waved dismissively. “I’m fine, Spock. Is everyone alright?” 

  The crew around them spoke up in the affirmative. 

  “...You do not remember,” the projection of Spock realized. 

  “Remember what, Spock?” 

 “Our captain did not remember that potential future in which he died,” Old Spock said, and Jim gladly turned his attention away from the projections. “None of our crew remembered the potential futures in which they were killed, even if they remembered the simulated futures before that. The process of gaining these memories is a physical transformation.” 

 “So... I probably really did die, in the future where Earth was destroyed,” Jim said. Those memories probably would have come with fatal injuries.  

 “It is likely,” Old Spock agreed. 

 Jim turned his attention back to the conversation between the projections, just in time to hear the other Kirk say, “You know, Mister Spock, I think I’m running out of patience for this bizarre situation. Let’s free this supercomputer of theirs before our debt gets any deeper.” 

 “After all this, sir, I’m thinking more that it owes us,” said one of the crewmembers, sitting in the snow with their head between their knees. They looked young and exhausted. 

 The other Kirk strode over to help them up. “On your feet, Ensign.” 

 The projections walked off again, cautiously, weapons ready, until they got far enough away that the projections vanished again. 

 “Hell of a way to answer a thank-you,” Jim said, his heart still hammering. 

 “It is important to remember that this being is not human, Jim,” Old Spock said. “We cannot be certain that it fully understands the toll of the memories it shares upon beings like ourselves. It does not think or feel as we do. I am certain that sharing a scene of my captain’s death was not a hostile gesture on its part. I apologize. You should not have had to see that.” 

 “You shouldn’t have had to see it either, especially not again,” Jim replied, thinking quickly. “They talked about debts. Is this being trying to communicate that it’s in your debt or that you’re in its debt for what happened on that original mission?” 

 “I do not know, Jim.” 

 “...Do you want to try? I can’t exactly forgive a debt it doesn’t even owe to me.” 

 Old Spock nodded and said to the sky, “I would have all debts between us forgiven, old friend. Thank you for what you have done for the Federation. Thank you for what you have done for my planet. If you have brought us here to make certain that we are well and content with the state of the universe, let me assure you that we are satisfied.” 

 “Could it be trapped again? In this universe?” Jim asked. “Does it need our help?” 

 “An unfortunate possibility,” Old Spock allowed. 

 “Do you need our help?” Jim called up. 

 He didn’t see how he was supposed to help something that looked like a massive storm, capable of miracles, when he was so very human. However, this interdimensional, near-omniscient being was apparently some sort of pacifist. Maybe it needed help to peaceably free an alternate version of itself in this universe. If so, they could hardly deny the being their assistance. 

 “What do you need?” Jim shouted. “How can we help you?” 

 In front of them, again, another projection flickered into being. 

  “-you w-will bring ruin-in down on our planet, Kirk!” cried Prime Minister Crey, this time unarmed and looking even more desperate. “It will be the end of our way of life if you set the supercomputer free!” 

  A projection of the other Kirk stepped out of the air, also unarmed, and he said angrily, “If your way of life can be destroy-stroyed by granting the rightful freedom of a sapient being, Prime Minister, perhaps it deserves to be destroyed. You won’t do the right thing because you’re so afraid that once freed, it will do unto you that which you have done unto it for thousands of years!” 

 “Our people are innocent! They did not do this! They do not deserve to suffer for the choices of our ancestors!” 

 “If revenge was all your so-called supercomputer wanted, it would have had it!” the other Kirk proclaimed. “It could have killed any of us at any moment! But it, at least, had mercy! Mister Spock, how soon until the technology has been fully deactivated?” 

 “Forty-three seconds, captain.” 

 Jim looked behind him, where stood the projection of Spock, who held a phaser at his side and had his other hand on something unseen. The projection of Crey looked pleadingly in their direction, while the projection of the other Kirk looked at the prime minister with fury. 

  “Mister Spock,” Crey begged, “are your people not known for their logic? There is still time to do the correct thing and keep the supercomputer contained. Imagine what your Federation will be able to do with the computation abilities my planet will be able to offer. When our new technology is complete, we will be able to uncover the code of the universe itself!” 

  “It is a common failing among other cultures to assume the logic of my people is not based in compassion,” the projection of Spock answered coolly. “The concepts are not mutually exclusive. Twenty-six seconds remaining, captain.” 

 “Very good, Mister Spock.” 

  “You will gain nothing for this, Mister Spock!” Crey shouted. “You stand to lose everything!” 

  “Only at the cost of our own morality!” the other Kirk snapped. 

  “It is a natural machine! It is not even truly alive! Do not trust the fate of this planet to the word of this one man, Spock!” 

 The projection of Spock looked at the projection of the prime minister with no expression, before he said, “I would trust James Kirk with the fate of the universe.” 

 The world of the projections shook, while the ground beneath Jim’s feet stayed still. All three projections stumbled like they’d been caught in an earthquake, presumably as time ran out and the supercomputer being was finally freed. Spock was the only one who managed to stay on his feet. The other Kirk leaped to his feet again quickly and took several steps away, peering out into something unseen. Prime Minister Crey stayed crumpled on the ground. 

  “It’s leaving,” the other Kirk announced, triumphantly. “The being is leaving! So much for its revenge!” 

  “You have ruined us, Kirk,” Crey insisted. “You have been the end of us, you both.” 

  “On the contrary,” the projection of Spock replied, stepping forward, through Old Spock, to stand in front of Crey. “This is a new beginning for your people: an opportunity to build yourselves anew, unreliant on the imprisonment of a sapient being.” 

 Crey shook his head. “You have blinded us.” 

  “You are not blind,” the other Kirk countered, turning away from his lookout point. “If your ancestors had managed to persuade that being to stay of its own free will, perhaps it would have shared its gifts with you, but now the being has left you to fend for yourselves. You must now forge ahead to meet the future like the rest of us, armed only with the best of intentions and your own good judgement, prepared sometimes to fail. The full extent of the future is unknowable. You must make mistakes and live with them.” 

 “Some mistakes are too great to live with,” Crey said. 

  “And yet, despite all the great regrets of history, life goes on,” the other Kirk said, without sympathy. “Someone of your planet will have to answer to the Federation for your attempts on my life and on the lives of my crewmembers, but life here will continue. It always does.” 

 The rumbling overhead took Jim’s attention away from the scene in front of him. The lights of the atmospheric display overhead, in all their colors, were fading away. The miles-long, ribbon-like clouds collided in their brilliant flashes and then slowly disappeared. Vulcan was becoming clearer above them as the storm slowly lifted away. The being was leaving. 

 Jim glanced back towards Old Spock, but the other man was still watching the scene in front of them. The projection of Crey had gotten to his feet and was stumbling away, flickering out, leaving the projection of the other Kirk and the projection of Spock alone. The pair of projections stood looking away from them and up, presumably at an unseen sky, where another storm, in another universe, was at the same time lifting away. 

  “We’re certain that it just left, Spock? We didn’t accidentally somehow harm it?” the other Kirk said. “We complied with its wishes as best we were able, I think, and yet… I worry. It has spent perhaps its whole life, at least this phase of it, chained to this planet. I don’t need gratitude, only…” 

 “Reassurance,” the projection of Spock supplied. 

 “Yes. If only we’d been able to properly speak to it. Say goodbye. Say thank you.” 

  “It would have been a fascinating discussion.” 

  “Where do you think it’s gone? Besides far, far away from here?” 

 “I cannot speculate.” 

 “Sometimes I think there’s astonishingly little romance in your soul, Mister Spock,” the other Kirk said, but it sounded more like a teasing observation than an insult. “Personally, I hope that wherever it goes, it finds whatever help it needs to live a free life. Perhaps it’s returned to wherever it originally came from… or perhaps it’s gone on to explore the universe it’s been missing.” 

  “Perhaps,” the projection of Spock agreed. 

 The last of the storm above Delta Vega had faded away to clear, silent skies, Jim saw, as though the atmospheric disturbance had never happened.  As though nothing like a miracle had ever touched this cold little planet. Only the pair of flickering projections in front of them remained of the being and they too were quickly fading. 

  “Well, the best of luck to it, regardless,” said the other Kirk. He turned away from the lookout point, back towards Jim and Old Spock. “Back to the Enterprise, Mister Spock. I think we’ve kept them waiting-ting l-lo-long-ng e-enough-gh…” 

 He flickered out before he’d finished taking his first step. The projection of Spock vanished into thin air just a beat behind him. They didn’t even leave any footprints. 

 “...That’s it?” said Jim. 

 “It would appear so,” Old Spock answered. 

 “What was that?” Jim demanded. “A goodbye? A thank you? Making sure that we were alright?” 

 “A gesture of friendship,” Old Spock said. 

 There was an odd, faltering note to the old Vulcan’s voice. Jim turned and spotted a gleam of wetness in the other man’s eyes. It made him want to turn away and pretend that he’d never seen it, or maybe take Old Spock’s arm again and never let go. In the end, he just stood there, keeping the man company. Eventually, he looked at the place where the other Kirk had vanished, the man who had been this Spock’s friend, the man for whom he was standing in now. 

 The man who had asked for a goodbye that Jim had received in another universe entirely. 

  The man I was supposed to be, Jim thought again. 

The other James Tiberius Kirk had moved differently and spoken differently, with a self-assurance and eloquence Jim didn’t recognize in himself, which left Jim feeling comparably hollow. Whatever deeply inscribed, ineffable quality it was that defined each person in the universe as a unique individual, after watching those scenes, Jim was sure he and the other Kirk didn’t share it. They were strangers to each other. They were, at best, completely different souls in the same shell. 

 “Forgive me, Jim,” Old Spock said finally. “It has been more taxing than I realized to recall that particular mission and come face-to-face with old friends.” 

 “I, ah, don’t know how you’re still standing,” Jim said honestly.  

 “The few other options available are unappealing,” Old Spock replied, before he finally turned to look directly at Jim. “Jim, I must beg of you a promise. It is one I will beg of my younger self as well.” 

 “...Alright,” Jim said slowly, turning to look at Spock properly. 

 “You must promise me that you will not idealize the man you saw today, nor the path for the universe that was altered when Nero took it upon himself to change the future.” 

 “You mean… the other me?” Jim asked, to clarify. “Believe me, I know I can’t be him.” 

 Old Spock’s gaze felt piercing as he said, “I believe that he would be the first to say that this is for the better. For all the good he did and the lives he saved, the man I was privileged to call my best friend also made a great many grave mistakes, Jim, some of which cost the lives of innocent people. He reaped the consequences of his actions sown with the best and the worst of intentions. He had many failings and carried with him a great deal of regret.” 

 “That’s… encouraging,” Jim said uncertainly. 

 “What I mean to say, Jim, is that you are different people. When I sent you to the Enterprise, it was because I saw in you a similar determination to fight for every life it was within your power to save-” 

 “You didn’t have many other options,” Jim said. 

 “If I had, I would have chosen no differently,” Old Spock said, as though it was as simple as that. “Being the only person who has had the privilege of knowing you both, I can say with certainty that you are not the same person. I see in you now the potential to succeed where my friend failed and, conversely, the potential to fail where he succeeded. Some of our successes, as you have just seen, were won only through what many would call luck and miracles. We were - as I remain - nothing if not fallible. He was an extraordinary man, my friend, but still… only a man.” 

 Old Spock reached out then and, in a turn of events, took Jim by the arm. “Do not deny my friend his humanity,” Old Spock said gently. “It was one of the qualities of which he was most proud, though he was often his own cruelest judge. Do not deny it to yourself either. Promise me this, Jim, though I wish you nothing but success in your endeavors, as he said: make your own mistakes… and live with them.” 

 “...I will,” Jim promised quietly. 

 The other options, as Old Spock had just said, were unappealing. What else was there to do but live? And then live with it all? He wasn’t the other Kirk and would never be. But… he was the only James Tiberius Kirk this universe had… and it was beginning to look to him like it needed one. 

 “Will you tell me about him?” Jim asked. “Not now, but someday?” 

 Old Spock considered it. “It would be my pleasure,” he said finally. “I have found myself in a bold new universe, Jim, when I had begun to think I was becoming too old for new adventures. In the days ahead, it will be nice to have a conversation with a new friend to which to look forward.” 

 Jim smiled. A new friend. He liked the sound of that. 

 He heard the sound of the Starfleet outpost door opening then and turned to see Doctor De Oliveira step outside, waving frantically at them. “We have communications again with Starfleet and Vulcan!” she shouted. “The U.S.S. Enterprise has a shuttle on its way here now for you!” 

 Jim waved back in acknowledgement. “We should probably get inside,” he said to Old Spock. 

 Old Spock nodded, but didn’t immediately move. “Though a great many people are likely anxiously awaiting us, Jim, allow me to impart one final piece of advice, in the face of a future which will seem to be partially revealed to you as the Narada is fully searched and Nero’s crew is interrogated. As a good friend of mine was known to be fond of saying, ‘It is possible to commit no mistakes and still lose. That is not weakness. That is life.’” 

 “...Who said that?” Jim asked curiously. 

 “A man by the name of Jean-Luc,” Old Spock answered, and finally released Jim’s arm to return to the Starfleet outpost. “He has not yet been born. It is possible that in this universe he may never be born. The lives already taken by Nero have, for better or worse, cast your universe on an irreparably different path to my own. The future is still unknown, Jim, to all of us.” 

 Jim walked beside him and nodded, then smiled again. He ached with exhaustion and his head was reeling from everything he’d seen, but he smiled for the man beside him, thrilled despite everything with the possibility ahead of them. The possibility to succeed… to fail… to live. Miracles were waiting out there in space, alongside wonders no one had ever seen before in any universe.  

 “It wouldn’t be nearly so exciting if it wasn’t,” Jim said. 

 Old Spock smiled back, and if Jim had seen that expression on anyone else, he would have probably called it fond. “No,” Old Spock agreed. “It would not.” 

Chapter Text

 Doctors Zhang and De Oliveira had not only gotten communications back online in the absence of their departed storm-shaped friend, they had an open channel with the approaching Starfleet shuttle. The first voice Jim heard from that channel, offering nothing more than updated coordinates and estimated times of arrival, knocked a weight off his shoulders that had been there for days. He gestured for permission to take over the channel and Zhang welcomed him forward with a wave. 

 Jim adjusted the settings, leaned on the console, and, with far more relief than he meant to let into just those two words, said, “Hiya, Bones.” 

 There was silence for a few seconds, before Bones answered, “Jim Kirk, you’d better all be in one piece down there, because I’m fit to bury you right now and I’m not digging more than one hole. Disappearing off the middle of the goddamn bridge? Can’t take you anywhere.” 

 Jim chuckled tiredly. “Can’t leave me anywhere either.” 

  “Believe me, I’ve tried.” 

 Jim’s smile widened. He hadn’t gotten to talk to Bones much since a sentient storm had given him the memories of a future that had never happened and convinced him he’d time-travelled. He’d assumed that Leonard McCoy would have made him stop and breathe, would have made him explain things from beginning to end, and would have insisted on checking him over from top to bottom - and no part of Jim had been willing to stop for even a moment with Nero bearing down on Vulcan. 

 He’d seen Bones in passing, of course, while preparing the Enterprise for her emergency mission. He’d sent a few quick, admittedly dubiously reassuring messages back and forth, offhandedly assuring a not-unreasonably skeptical Bones that the Kobayashi Maru hearing really had been legitimately cancelled, before they’d both gotten distracted by “doing their damn jobs”. He’d even run directly into Bones onboard the Enterprise once, before they’d left for Vulcan, and, as he’d assumed from the get-go, Bones had stopped him right there and asked him point-blank what the hell was going on. 

 Jim had pretty much just slapped him on the arm and said, “Trust me.” 

 That had gotten him a long, piercing look, before Bones had finally said, “God help me.” Bones had let him go, though not without saying: “We’re talking about this later, Jim!” 

 It was later now. 

 Stopping sounded pretty nice. 

  “We’ll be there quick as we can,” Bones promised now, in his “soothing” voice. “Had to come down the long way round with that storm that’s just up and vanished on us now. They told us you and the missing Vulcan are both altogether, no apparent side effects from your vanishing acts or the fresh air. You feeling altogether there, Jim?” 

 “As much as I’ve ever been.” 

  “Well, that’s something in all this.” 

 There wasn’t much else to be said, especially when they were going to see each other shortly, so Jim excused himself to prepare to leave Delta Vega behind immediately (and hopefully permanently). He noticed Old Spock openly staring at him and the console, with another almost fond expression. Old Spock met Jim’s eyes easily, looking even fonder, which was still something else as an experience. 

 “I don’t suppose Bones got any less crotchety with age?” Jim said jokingly. 

 Old Spock looked thoughtful, before he said, “No. Unfortunately not.” 

 Jim laughed at the man’s unexpectedly comedic timing and suggested, “A universal constant?” 

 “Perhaps,” Old Spock agreed. 

 With Jim and De Oliveira signaling them down, the Enterprise shuttle landed outside the outpost without issue, despite Jim’s vague concern that anything that could go wrong might still go wrong. It was a perfect landing by all technical standards, so Jim probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as he was when Bones and the younger Spock stepped off the ship. 

 Spock gave him a once-over, nodded in greeting (“Lieutenant Commander,” he said), and then walked past him like Jim hadn’t just vanished off the bridge in front of him. That probably shouldn’t have been too surprising either. Spock went to speak with De Oliveira, followed by members of the disembarking away team, none of whom Jim yet knew. Two others had one of the larger, heavy-duty Starfleet scanners floating between them (the really new, really expensive kind) and one of them had the determined expression of someone who probably had a speciality in meteorology - or something else that would garner professional objection to the disappearance of the near-omniscient alien energy-being. 

 “One of you could’ve said something about both of you coming down,” Jim said to Bones, who was already scanning Jim for ill effects with a tricorder. 

 “Didn’t think it was relevant,” Bones answered casually, giving him a very particular sort of look. “Didn’t know you’d been hanging out and making friends with Starfleet’s favorite Vulcan, either,” he added, more accusingly, before the tricorder trilled positively and he swept Jim up in a tight hug. “Don’t think you’re getting out of a long talk about all of this nonsense later.” 

 Jim fell into the hug like his life depended on it, clapping Bones on the back. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promised. “You’re probably not going to like it, though.” 

 “Tell me something I don’t know,” Bones muttered, before he finally let go. 

 “Hey, Spock,” Jim said to the younger Spock, who had come back from his brief conversation with De Oliveira. “Thanks for coming. I see you and Bones have become fast friends while I’ve been gone!” 

 Bones and Spock exchanged a look that was the funniest fucking thing Jim had seen in days, a look which said way too much to keep up with for two almost non-expressions. Jim remembered Old Spock’s open statement that Leonard McCoy had been “a dear friend” and, looking at the arched eyebrows and depth of judgement between strangers in front of him now, just barely avoided bursting into laughter. If he honestly had anything resembling a destiny, he thought, then the least he could ask for was good company. 

 “Let me introduce you both to our Vulcan pilot,” Jim said instead. 

 Jim introduced Doctor Leonard McCoy and Commander Spock to “the Ambassador”, when Old Spock came out to join them, which was at once anticlimactic and mildly delightful. It would have been hilarious to watch Bones react to the fact that this was Spock from an alternate future, but it was also pretty entertaining to watch Bones be perfectly respectful to his elders without any idea of the old Vulcan’s true identity.  

 Young Spock, despite knowing exactly who this was, might as well have been meeting a complete stranger with no relation to him whatsoever. 

 Old Spock greeted both of them warmly, apparently as glad to meet them as he said he was, which seemed to confuse both of them at least slightly - presumably for very different reasons, which were entertaining to contemplate. After all, Vulcans were not, typically, known for their emotive facial expressions. 

 “Well, sir, let’s get you back to Medical and looked after,” Bones said finally, and stepped forward to escort Old Spock to the shuttle with the sort of gentle courtesy he’d never show to friends if he could help it, which Old Spock seemed to accept amusedly. Especially when Bones added sharply over his shoulder, “Come on, Jim, I didn’t come down here to catch my death of cold by just standing around in alien snow. Commander, rally the troops who aren’t sticking around before I leave them here and you with them.” 

  Spock, the young one, raised his eyebrows at Jim. Maybe it was a silent questioning of Jim’s poor choice of best friend and roommate. It could have been a silent demand to know why Doctor Leonard McCoy’s file didn’t have EXPECT INSUBORDINATION stamped across the front of it to warn people. 

 They left Delta Vega very efficiently after that and Jim was glad to go. He’d had more than enough of wallowing in a past that had never happened. More of than enough to squinting towards a past future he couldn’t possibly own. If they’d made a brave new universe today, unpredictable and irreparably changed, he was more than ready to be a part of it. 

 After a nap, of course. 

~ 

 Christopher Pike was not upset that he’d apparently missed the first face-to-face meeting of their own Commander Spock of the present and Ambassador Spock of the alternate future universe, but he was… mildly disappointed. He’d been looking forward to it, was all. 

 He would readily admit to being relieved that Jim Kirk and the Future Spock were alive and well. It wouldn’t have been a loss even remotely comparable to the six billion lives they’d saved today on this impossible mission, but it would have been a significant loss nevertheless. What he wouldn’t admit was that the disappearances had felt, unreasonably, like a punishment for daring to think that just this once, everything might go right, and everyone might live. 

 Of course, of course, their disappearance had said mockingly, there would be a sacrifice. Did you really think there wouldn’t be a trade? 

 But there was no sacrifice. No trade. No lives lost. 

 Not today. 

 It was also a relief to hear that the mission to bring them home was not going to be very long after all. Pike was very tired. He’d had his fill of adventures for a good long while today and their mission wasn’t even over yet. 

 Pike met the shuttle as it returned to the Enterprise. Jim Kirk didn’t look to be in any worse state than when he’d left, beyond looking as tired as Pike felt. He grinned at Pike as he disembarked, but it didn’t really reach his eyes. Commander Spock disembarked alongside him, looking unfairly unruffled. You’d never know to look at Pike’s first office that he’d just met another version of himself. 

 “Permission to come aboard, captain?” Jim said, with good humor Pike hoped the young man would never lose. He hadn’t yet, despite everything, which gave Pike hope.  

 “Permission granted,” Pike replied, smiling back. “Welcome back, Kirk.” 

 Pike’s attention turned to the rest of the away team disembarking, specifically to the old Vulcan walking towards them with Doctor McCoy hovering at the man’s elbow, like the good doctor was concerned the old Vulcan would somehow accidentally break himself. Understandable, if a little unreasonable. For one thing, Pike certainly did not want to be held accountable if the Vulcan High Command and the Vulcan Council didn’t get their ambassador and elder from the future back. 

 That was the title most people seemed to be settling on now: the Ambassador. They certainly couldn’t go around calling him “Future Spock” without having to explain a truly strange story which would probably continue to be kept strictly confidential, and “the Vulcan Pilot” didn’t get across the same respect. 

 Pike’s first observance was that the resemblance to Ambassador Sarek was uncanny, possibly even more pronounced than Future Spock’s resemblance to their own Commander Spock. The resemblance was there, of course, as Pike’s gaze flicked between them, but the 129 year age difference was a not insignificant hurdle. The old man walked with sedate dignity, but there was a certain frailness about him which belied exhaustion - or so Pike was projecting, probably, knowing at least some of the devastating events the man had been through to get here. He also, Pike noted, did not look as though he’d just met his past self. 

 “Captain Pike,” Future Spock said, in a pleasant voice, with bright, familiar eyes which almost took Pike aback with their comparable warmth. “It is a great pleasure to see you again.” 

 Pike smiled at the man. “Ambassador. The pleasure’s all mine. I never thought I’d have the opportunity to meet with you at this stage in our lives.” 

 He’d always known, with Vulcan lifespans, that he’d probably be long dead before their own Spock began to look old. Pike wondered how strange it was for the future, alternate Spock to be meeting people who might have been fifty years dead for him. If it bothered the man to be seeing ghosts, he wasn’t showing it. 

 “Indeed,” Future Spock said. “We are very fortunate.” 

 They had to hand Future Spock back to the Vulcans then. Commander Ivai’s team had been hovering not far behind Pike, one of them already with a tricorder in hand, to care for their new ambassador and whisk him back to their own ships. Future Spock bid them all a polite farewell, thanking them for the opportunity to be aboard the Enterprise again, and McCoy escorted Future Spock to his fellow medical professionals. 

 “I hear there’s another remarkable explanation for this,” Pike commented. 

 Jim laughed tiredly. “It’s a long story, sir.” 

 “I’ll grab a drink for when it’s time to hear it,” Pike replied, already having been alerted to the fact that it was also going to be a complicated long story that would probably come with significant consequences and dangerous implications. “In the meantime: Medical, just to be certain. Prepare your reports. Then rest. Both of you. No arguments.” 

 Jim looked like he might argue anyway, but Pike held up a hand to cut him off. 

 “Humor me,” Pike demanded of them, feeling too damn much like a parent begging their children to go to sleep. “Vulcan is safe. The evacuation of the planet is slowly being reversed. The Narada is secure. Its crew is in our custody. Vulcan High Command has the red matter ship under lock and key. The Federation is still arguing over what exactly they want done now.” 

 Jim rocked on his heels. “I’m sure the Admirals are having a nice, calm discussion about all this, sir,” he said, grinning, probably because he knew the Admirals were not, really, having a nice or calm discussion about all this. 

 Pike barely managed not to roll his eyes or press his hand to his budding headache, wishing the Admirals had nothing better to do than pick out what medals they were probably all going to be getting for this. “At the moment, there’s nothing that the Enterprise can’t handle without us hovering over their shoulders and holding their hands, and we’re all going to take very grateful advantage of that. We did it, gentlemen. Let’s get our beauty sleep for when the press gets here.” 

 Jim winced. “We’re going to need it.”  

 Doctor McCoy rejoined them, the Ambassador safely delivered to the Vulcans, and Pike ordered the man to see to it that his officers obeyed their orders. Spock shot Pike a look that suggested he found this insulting and unnecessary. Jim just sighed. 

 “Gladly,” McCoy said, with a sort of vicious delight in his voice that made Pike want to visit Medical absolutely never. Pike had no idea if Doctor Puri had made any noises about retirement or reassignment, both of which would leave McCoy as the foremost candidate for the Enterprise’s CMO, but he thought it would be a good thing to look into it so that he could follow the man out when he went. 

 Pike felt extremely validated when McCoy, as he ushered Jim towards Medical, suddenly froze and yanked down Jim’s high shirt collar. The collar didn’t go down very far, but it didn’t have to go down very far to reveal some of the ugly bruising around Jim’s neck. Jim just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed again. 

 “What the hell is this?” McCoy hissed. “Where did these come from?” 

 “It’s a really funny story,” Jim promised him. 

 McCoy looked like he wanted to wring Jim’s neck himself. “Oh, really? I can’t wait to not laugh at it,” he said, furious, and physically dragged Jim Kirk off to be treated. “Come on, Jim, before you spontaneously give yourself more miracle injuries.” 

 Jim, acting like this was perfectly normal behavior, saluted Pike with his free hand as they left. 

 Pike looked at Spock, who had a faint furrow to his brow that could have meant anything from bafflement to disapproval. “Better catch up, Spock,” he said. “You just saved the world. Go get some sleep.” 

~ 

 The latter half of the mission stretched on exhaustingly. Pike managed to get his sleep, mostly, but even in space, where the days were of their own making, there weren’t enough hours for everything that needed to be done. 

 Vulcan was safe, but the incomplete evacuation of the planet slowly continued being reversed, with the usual apparently never-ending stream of issues that came from large numbers of people suddenly being displaced, temporarily held somewhere, and then returned to their homes. The Enterprise, responsible for the crew of the Narada, remained largely uninvolved from dealing with the evacuated Vulcan citizens, but the seven other Federation ships were kept very busy. 

 The process of fully securing the Narada, now taken a slightly safer distance away from the planet Vulcan, was taking longer than any other securement with which Pike had been involved. The ship was truly and ridiculously massive. It would take months to go over every inch of the thing; it was a slow-going process for the safety of the teams securing it, then further limited by the security involved in handling such extremely advanced technology. Thankfully, that was mostly in the hands of the Vulcans, but Pike still had to fend off several startlingly xenophobic members of Starfleet brass and Federation officials, who all apparently felt the need to inform him they would prefer it if the rogue Romulan ship be put in hands of so-and-so department or a specially formed emergency committee for the “safety and future of the Federation” instead. As though the Vulcans weren’t founding Federation members as well, as though Vulcan High Command wasn’t a vital part of Federation operations, and as though Starfleet wasn’t both present and still actively involved. 

 “It’s politics,” Rick Barnett had said, on one of the many calls Pike had with him. 

 Pike had squinted at the man who’d been trying to convince him to accept a promotion for some time now. “You just want me to suffer this nonstop jockeying beside you,” he’d accused, and he’d only gotten laughter and a grin with a little too much teeth in response. 

 As for the red matter ship, well, Pike consoled himself with the knowledge that the Vulcan Science Academy had a very reasonable claim to ownership of the ship and all its contents, and that they did not seem to be planning on letting anyone see it anytime soon. He’d had to suffer through a number of calls from Starfleet brass and Federation officials who were extremely disappointed that Pike had “let” the Vulcans have their own black hole device on their own damn ship, like the talking heads expected Pike to go fight Vulcan High Command right now, right this second, for what could be turned into a planet-killing weapon. 

 One of Pike’s fellow captains, of the eight Starfleet ships that had come to secure Vulcan, had mentioned she’d gotten the exact same implied demands. “Unfortunately for them, I have a personal policy never to get involved in a legal dispute with Vulcans if I can help it,” she’d said exhaustedly, in a tone of joking-but-not-joking. “It’s one of the classic blunders. Like going up against a Klingon when death is on the line.” 

 With most else handled, Pike and the Enterprise were left to deal with Nero and the crew of the Narada. Unfortunately, the Federation still wasn’t entirely sure what they wanted to do with them - they kept coming up with options and then deciding those options were woefully insufficient for such unprecedented crimes - so the Enterprise just had to hold on to about three dozen indescribably angry and unhappy Romulans and wait. 

 “Sir, how long do you think this is going to go on for?” asked the young helmsman, Sulu, after several days of this nonsense, when they were both in the turbo-lift for yet another shift on the bridge.

 “At least until someone organizes an award-ceremony,” Pike replied absentmindedly.  He was still thinking about his coming shift, which would probably again consist of him barely managing to not tell Admiral Marcus to shove his ambitions and “best intentions” where the sun didn’t shine. 

 “Oh.” 

 “Mmhm.” 

 “...I’m going to miss my own wedding at this rate,” the young man announced despondently. 

 “My condolences,” Pike offered. This shouldn’t have lightened his mood at all, as that was a serious stroke of bad luck for the fellow, but it was good to be reminded in the midst of this horrible, horrifying mess that ordinary life and love went on. So he added, “Congratulations, by the way.” 

 “Thank you, sir.” 

 If anything, however, remained Pike’s shining star of grace through the latter half of this mission, it was that Jim Kirk’s own “time travel” seemed to have been sufficiently downplayed to be considered unimportant. Nero and Vulcan’s newest Ambassador had already time-travelled, so what was a little more time travel if it was already going around? Anyone who had access to the relatively confidential time travel information seemed to take one look at Jim Kirk’s relatively vague description how “a psychic pacifist alien” had warned him for the Vulcan Pilot’s sake and throw that development out the window, as though that particular how-detail would distract from sending Pike more passive-aggressive or just-aggressive messages about the importance of securing the Narada’s weaponry and archives for further research and development as soon as possible. 

 Another five years, it seemed, and the Federation would have a new flagship that would leave their current model in the dust. The Federation was currently poised to leap a solid century ahead of their enemies, every other admiral and their dog was crowing! Most notably ahead of the Klingon and Romulan Empires. So long as they could keep the Romulans from laying claim to the Narada. 

 After that shift on the bridge, which was indeed exhausting, Pike’s next stop was a scheduled private meeting with his Chief Security Officer, and Jim Kirk was already waiting for him in the conference room reserved for the report. He looked tense, but not exhausted. He seemed to have recovered himself in the days since their conversation about what exactly had happened on Delta Vega - an explanation which, Pike knew by the clearly intimate nature of the event alone, had been greatly abbreviated for his and everyone’s sake. They had yet to fully discuss Jim’s essentially being confronted by his deeds from another life and Pike didn’t know if they ever would. 

 Pike dropped into his chair. “Alright, Jim, talk me through how our ‘guests’ are doing.” 

 Jim grimaced, which summed up most of Pike’s feelings on the current situation, and said, “Still not great.” He handed over a PADD and walked Pike through the latest updates, none of which held good news. 

 All of the Narada crewmembers in their custody remained at high risk of self-harm, if not suicide; some of them had already made multiple attempts on their own lives, some of which had come uncomfortably close to success. It was unfortunately unsurprising, giving the depth of their own traumatic experiences. Most of them were also risks to the Enterprise’s crew and a significant number were extremely physically violent. There had been a close call yesterday with a newly commissioned ensign who’d forgotten the proper security procedures. Thankfully, Jim had been present, recognized the potentially fatal mistake at the same time their Romulan guest had seen the opportunity, and the ensign was still alive, though currently suffering the tender mercies of Doctor McCoy.  

“It looks like some of them are trying to starve themselves,” Jim added grimly. “We’re following the standard Starfleet procedures to keep them alive, in all the various cases of self-harm, but… sir, we’re composed almost entirely of newly commissioned cadets. Most of them aren’t really mentally or emotionally equipped to handle this yet. Not for any extended period of time.” 

 Pike rubbed his eyes and sighed. “I think I have a report waiting for me from the ship’s Chief Counsellor saying exactly that. Are they still making-?” 

 “Violent threats and spewing vitriol about the future? Yeah, a few of them.” 

 “And Nero?” 

 “Seething in silence again, when I left, which is better than trying to break all the bones in his hands trying to tear apart the walls and ceiling. Sir, I understand that the Vulcans don’t want them on their planet, which is more than fair, but if we’re expected to just hang around here, we’re going to need help - someone who specializes in handling hostile, self-destructive prisoners of war, ideally - before someone dies in our custody or a crewmember is killed.” 

 “...Unfortunately, I don’t know if we have rehabilitation professionals up to it, Kirk,” Pike informed him. “We’ve had rogue Romulans and exiled Klingons before, but the time travel aspect of it is making the Admiralty…”  

 “Jumpy as hell?” Kirk offered. 

 “Something like that. Not to mention those individuals were ‘problems’ the Romulan Empire had of whom happily and officially washed their hands, more or less.” 

 “I thought the Romulan Empire couldn’t claim the Narada without claiming its crimes? That could bring more than just us and the Klingons down on them. There’s been more encounters than the Kelvin and those warbirds.”  

 “It’s still making the Admirals jumpy.” 

 The rest of the report was about as miserable as to be expected - as miserable as all the others had been - and Pike expected the next report to be equally miserable. At least today he wasn’t going to have to discipline another officer for suggesting that they forgo Starfleet’s policies on the treatment of prisoners and deny the Narada’s crew the basic rights the Federation had declared owed to all sapient beings. If someone made a firing squad joke, Christopher Pike felt like he wasn’t going to have the patience not to end their career on the spot. 

 “...How are you, Jim?” Pike asked, as they came to the end of things. 

 Jim shrugged. “I’ll be glad when this is over,” he said, which wasn’t really an answer. Then he admitted, “It’s difficult... essentially being in control of the man who killed my father and would have killed the entire Federation.” 

 “I can’t see how it wouldn’t be,” Pike agreed.  

 “It’s hard not to confront him.” 

 “I wouldn’t recommend that, Jim.” 

  “I wouldn’t recommend it,” Jim said knowingly, “but that doesn’t make it any easier. ...It’s sort of the prerogative of being human, isn’t it, to do things you know are bad for you?” 

 “I don’t think that’s exclusive to humans,” Pike replied amusedly. 

 Jim snorted. “Yeah, probably not. I’m not going to talk to him, though. I don’t need to hear anything he has to say for himself; I have simulated memories of a confrontation already, for one thing. I don’t have anything to say to him now that’s not just indulging all my worst impulses.” 

 “The interrogations will come later,” Pike reminded him. 

 “And it’s for the best if they’re not done by me. I’ve seen the Chief Counsellor about this, by the way, under orders,” Jim added, “so I’ve already been given the professional recommendation to avoid him.” 

 “Good,” Pike said. The current security procedures in use wouldn’t allow for a private conversation between Jim Kirk and the Romulan known as Nero anyway. “If that’s everything, I’m unfortunately overdue for-” 

 His conference room console whistled, alerting them there was someone outside urgently requesting entry. Pike frowned at the notification and granted it. The door whisked open, revealing the Enterprise’s first officer waiting patiently, his PADD in hand, and there was of course no way to tell what urgent news he was carrying by his expression. 

 “Captain. Lieutenant Commander." 

 “Spock!” Jim answered. “What’s the bad news?” 

 Spock closed and secured the door behind him, then, at Pike’s go-ahead nod, reported, “The archivists aboard the Narada believe they have discovered what happened to the unaccounted-for members of Nero’s original crew.” 

 “And? How did they die?” Pike asked. 

 The Narada was a truly massive ship and, while many of its processes were apparently sufficiently automatic to allow for a skeleton crew for most operations, it had clearly been built to support at least hundreds more than the three dozen Romulans currently aboard the Enterprise. There were a great many terrible things that could have befallen the Narada in the past twenty-five years. 

 “The final report has not yet been completed,” Spock replied, “as the ship’s official logs fell out of standard form. They are being supplemented by cross-referencing the personal logs of the crewmembers, which were also irregularly kept-” 

 “And doing a fully manual check of twenty-five years of an entire crew’s logs will take a while,” Pike said. “What do the current scans suggest?”  

 Spock told them. Some Narada crewmembers had died during the initial confrontation with the U.S.S. Kelvin, but the vast majority of the deaths appeared to be attributed to: suicide, infighting (including a few failed mutinities against Nero), many incidents that basically amounted to executions at Nero’s whim, illness and untreated injuries (due to lack of resources and the slow loss of medical personnel), accidents (mostly due to accumulated damage to the ship, but there were incidents which could be filed under “infighting made to look like accidents”), and various away missions to secure supplies, all drawn-out over the next two and a half decades. The Narada’s medical bay logs alone confirmed over a hundred deaths of various causes before Nero had apparently killed the equivalent of his Chief Medical Officer for disagreeing with him. The logs after that were inconsistent. 

 Which was all depressing, Pike thought, but unsurprising. He would have found it a little unbelievable if all of the Narada’s crew had been perfectly content to wait potentially indefinitely to enact Nero’s revenge on the Federation. 

 Spock then told them that the other missing Narada crewmembers might not be dead. 

 “Deserters,” Jim said, unsurprised. “Nero couldn’t catch all of them.” 

 “Runaways would be inevitable, especially if they had some away missions, especially if those away missions ever stopped anywhere populated,” Pike agreed. There were various shady trading hubs far outside Federation space which wouldn’t have looked twice at a party of rogue Romulans, much less a lone one. “I wouldn’t be surprised if some escape pods were missing too.” 

 Spock nodded. “That appears to be the case.” 

 “Well…” Pike took a deep breath and sighed. “Great. Does Barnett know yet?” 

 “Admiral Barnett was contacted immediately and you may expect to be contacted on the subject shortly, captain,” Spock answered. “As the Admiralty thus far has been greatly alarmed not only by the proof that there are Narada deserters, but by their most common apparent destination.” 

 Jim sucked in a sharp breath. “Romulus,” he said. 

 Spock nodded again. “The most notable case is a defection of fifteen individuals organized by a Romulan named Duhan, who was the Narada’s last official Acting Chief Engineer, which appears to have been successful. The archivists retrieved and translated a final video message to Nero’s first mate, Ayel, from the man’s personal quarters, which has alarming implications.” 

 “Do you have it?” Jim asked. 

 “Play it, if you would, Commander,” Pike ordered, when Spock nodded, because he didn’t want to be caught flat-footed when the Starfleet brass and Federation officials came crying to him about the Romulans who went home. 

 The video that came up on the conference room wide-screen had a Romulan sitting in darkened personal quarters, likely in front of a personal console. The engineer, Duhan, had dark skin and black hair tied back from his face, black tattoos around his neck which curved up around his jaw, and he appeared to be wearing a stained brown jumpsuit. Overall, his appearance was far less intimidating than the mass-murderer Pike had distracted from destroying Vulcan, but he looked… hollow. There was a certain intense emptiness in his eyes which captured the gaze, especially because it took the man nearly a minute to speak. 

 He was speaking in a form of Romulan, of course, but the video had already been through the Universal Translator. There were subtitles in both Federation Standard and Vulcan Standard. Spock also said the video had also been manually translated by one of the archivists’ linguists, so as not to lose any potential nuance, and Pike was sure this video would at some point be analyzed down to the blink. 

 A quick glance at the time-stamps in the corner of the screen dated this message to approximately five years after the Narada had arrived in their universe. 

  “I wish it had not come to this, Ayel,” the Romulan said. “I would prefer not to sneak away in silence, like a coward, but reason among us died with Romulus. If these current projections are correct, it may be decades before the Vulcan arrives in this universe, if he arrives at all. I will not waste my life waiting to satisfy Nero’s madness. 

 “There is no apparent way to return to our own universe and, if it were possible, Romulus is gone. Our surviving colonies and stray vessels must fend for themselves, without an empire. I do not know if this is a struggle to which I wish to return. It is cruel to pull along the grieving crew with the false promise of returning to the Romulus that has been lost to them, once sufficient vengeance has been taken and the Vulcan red matter obtained, Ayel. We will only again be intruders on a new universe if we should seek to save our homeworld in that way. Will Nero have us fight our alternate selves for a place in a new imitation of our own lost universe? Have not enough of our comrades been killed already out of this madness? 

 “You will call me disloyal to my commander and to my comrades, Ayel. You will call me dishonorable to abandon what has been termed the only true path of justice, but to me it has become a shame that I have stayed as long as I have. I cannot let my subordinates - my comrades, my siblings - be taken in further by Nero’s madness. I cannot protect them here from that madness. We are leaving. I have prepared one of our shuttles. The temporary sabotage you will have experienced before this message is delivered was my doing. I learned well from Galo’s mistakes. 

 “We are returning to Romulus,” the Romulan confessed, then promised with a particularly intense look, “and we will save our homeworld from the star’s destruction. We will warn the Empire 150 years ahead of disaster. We will prepare our planet to face this threat alone by giving the Empire everything it needs to save itself without the Federation.”  

 The Romulan’s intensity faded, replaced by exhaustion once more. “We have been given a chance to choose a new history for this universe, Ayel. I would see my grandmother again as a young woman. I would give my grandmother a better life - my father a better childhood. I would repay them a hundredfold for the hardships they suffered for my sake. 

 “We who were but humble servants of the Empire could bring home no greater glory than the Narada itself, but I will not attempt to persuade you again, Ayel. We have agreed to use our new wealth with caution once we return to Romulus. We will use our knowledge of the future wisely. As a final act of loyalty to our universe, we who only wish to return to our families, to our ancestors, and stand on our own planet once more... have agreed not to deliver the Narada back into the hands of the Empire. We will leave you to your revenge. Leave us to return to our homes and I will not warn the Empire of Nero’s plans. 

 “I will not interfere with Nero’s justice. I will not warn the Federation. I will not help them. When the star within the Narada ignites to bring ruin to all planets the Vulcan might call home, let them save themselves, if they are worthy, as they left Romulus to save itself. 

 “But if Nero’s madness turns on Romulus, as it has turned on the grieving and fearful of the Narada, I will stop him,” the Romulan promised. “If he returns to this Romulus of the past, which he has abandoned for the sake of his vengeance, I will be waiting. He may tear down the Federation of the past, but with this opportunity, I will raise a greater Romulus than history knew possible. We will not fall again to our own dying star. 

 “We will not see each other again, Ayel. I am not friends with the man who stays at Nero’s side to dream of untold death like an exile in the darkness.” 

 And with that, the Romulan, Duhan, reached forward and ended the message. 

 The lights automatically adjusted, brightening, and silence lingered in the conference room in the wake of this revelation. Spock was still standing just off to the side of the screen, not having moved for the duration of the message, his expression completely impassive. Jim Kirk was staring at the blank screen like he was seeing the video play again in his head. 

 “Well, fuck,” Pike said finally. 

 It said something that Jim Kirk didn’t laugh at his outburst. Instead, the young man leaned forward onto the conference table and said, apparently to himself, “The Romulans have the Narada’s Chief Engineer. They probably have most of the Narada’s deserters by now. And whatever advanced technology and archives they could carry, probably, and whatever shuttles and escape pods carried them there.” 

 Pike thought back to all the Starfleet brass and Federation officials ecstatic at the idea that the Federation would technologically dominate all their enemies potentially for the next century. Now they’d all learned that the Romulan Empire wouldn’t need to fight them for the Narada after all. 

 Oh, this was going to be a mess. 

 At least, he presumed, Romulus didn’t have any red matter. 

 “They’ve been there for twenty years already, sounds like,” Pike said. He didn’t have it in him to panic. He just didn’t have it anymore. 

  “Fuck,” Jim reiterated, “Spock, does the Ambassador know?” 

 “He did not, but he was not surprised,” Spock replied. “Though some individuals may not have accounted for the possibility of deserters from the Narada, this was not an unlikely possible consequence of a fully staffed Romulan Imperial mining vessel travelling 154 years into the past and creating an alternate timeline.” 

 Pike rubbed at his eyes again. “Some people have been fielding other political bullshit for the past week,” he complained, though later Spock’s indirect insult towards Starfleet’s Admiralty would probably amuse him. 

 Finally, Jim laughed, putting his chin in his hand, and said, “It really is a brand new universe, huh?” 

Chapter Text

 The U.S.S. Enterprise and the seven other Starfleet vessels sent to assist Vulcan in their hour of need returned to Earth after several weeks. 

 Nero and the remaining Narada crewmembers who had joined his revenge mission had eventually been relocated to the most appropriate Federation prison the talking heads could agree upon, until the Federation had finished building up their case and the official trials were held. Pike presumed the trials would end in life sentences of some kind or another, given the outrageous scale of the crimes and attempted crimes involved, and he did not have especially high hopes for their rehabilitation. It seemed a small miracle no one had died in the transfer. 

  The Narada Trials… god, they hadn’t even happened yet and Pike could hear the capital letters there. He could already imagine the guest lectures he’d inevitably be offered to give by the Academy - the polite requests to speak at every Modern History and Current Events course for which he was on-planet. 

 The Starfleet and Federation higher-ups still had to figure out how or if the Romulan Empire should be involved. If they were going to reach out, to offer some kind of olive branch, then how exactly would it be done? No one could agree on an approach. The newly revealed apparent case of equal technological dominance, as Engineer Duhan’s parting message suggested, had made various members of the Starfleet brass and Federation officials… both a little more cautious and a little more reckless. 

 The Narada was still being secured and analyzed by the Federation’s best, but it had since been moved even farther away from Vulcan, escorted to a more secure part of Federation space by some of the ships that had originally been sent out to Vulcan and several ships from Starfleet’s primary fleet. The primary fleet ships, recently returned from their vital mission in the Laurentian system, had remained with the Narada and would stand guard for the foreseeable future. 

Opinions varied on the Narada’s fate. Many wished to dismantle the ship for study immediately, others had suggested using the ship to a limited degree to learn its capabilities, and some rare few even wanted to destroy it. 

 Christopher Pike’s figurative money was on a controlled dismantling of the Narada without asking for the Romulan Empire’s forgiveness or permission. The various technologies, weapons, and archived information (on future history, advancements in science, and so on) would be stripped from the Narada to be scattered across the Federation for further research and development. 

 As for the “Ambassador’s” ship, apparently nicknamed “The Jellyfish”... 

 The Enterprise had left Vulcan to deliver the Narada’s crew to the appropriate prison just as a team of Federation bureaucrats had arrived to “discuss” the matter of the red matter ship and the red matter. They were likely hoping to argue Vulcan High Command the Vulcan Science Academy down to at least granting the rest of the Federation access to their findings. Pike hadn’t wished them any luck. 

 Pike could admit that, with both the matter of the Narada and the Jellyfish, a number of the Vulcan representatives involved had also been startlingly xenophobic about letting other members of the Federation in the door. Though Pike was willing to grant them a significant amount of grace, given that their planet had very nearly been destroyed, which would not make anyone feel friendly towards outsiders. Pike definitely couldn’t deny that, in his greater career, he had met Vulcans equally capable of being hostile, prejudiced, and condescending, often under the guise of “logic”, apparently under the impression that every other species out there consisted of unreasonable and self-destructive fools incapable of critical thinking or even consistent object permanence. Everyone had their arrogant elitists. 

 Christopher Pike had, in fact, once attended a relatively casual dinner party where one of the Vulcan guests’ idea of a conversation starter had been: “Humans have been statistically proven to be inferior to Vulcans in all significant areas of achievement.” Pike’s baffled, spiteful answer had been: “I didn’t know existence had recently been declared a competition.” Then he’d walked away, unwilling to spend the evening playing humanity’s advocate, only to receive a message from that same Vulcan guest a few days later containing all of the man’s sources on the subject of his statement. He’d taken a great deal of pleasure in deleting that message. 

 Any Starfleet officer who regularly encountered Vulcans, which was inevitable given that Vulcan was as much a founding member of the Federation as Earth, knew that they could be as xenophobic as anyone. Not to mention that Pike would have had to be the most oblivious, unforgivably forgiving man in the universe not to notice the frequent, often shameless xenophobia his half-human first officer stoically suffered from both sides of the aisle. 

 But Christopher Pike was still slightly more in favor of letting the Vulcan researchers and representatives - who all belonged to a way of life that held non-violence in extremely high esteem - hold the Federation’s “new toys” for the time being. Instead of certain members of the Starfleet brass. Which said a lot of pointed things about nearly everyone, none of which was great for Pike’s peace of mind. 

 The fallout of Nero’s failure to destroy the Federation, starting with Vulcan, would never really stop and Pike knew it. The course of the universe had been permanently shifted ever since the U.S.S. Kelvin had been destroyed apropos of nothing. 

 And oh, it had hurt, Pike thought, learning that there was another universe in which George Kirk had lived a long and full life. He hadn’t needed to know that. 

 This mess would never really end. There would be no better time to act. History would keep on happening and new messes would crop up to challenge them, the consequences of the choices they made today, and then they’d build on those messes too with new choices. The universe wasn’t a pond in which the ripples of a cast stone would fade away, leaving them with a smooth surface once more, returning everything to “normal” again. Normal was now. 

 History was now, as it always had been. 

~ 

“History is now, as it always has been,” had been the closing line of James Tiberius Kirk’s speech at the Starfleet Academy graduation ceremony, which had taken place shortly after their return to Earth. It was a line that had stayed in Pike’s mind ever since the young man had said it, having been preceded by a truly excellent speech about taking interesting times into their own hands. 

 Pike had heard a lot of speeches that didn’t ring particularly true in his lifetime, quite a few very recently, between the graduation ceremony, press conferences on recent events, and extended Starfleet discussions and briefings on those recent events. Oh, nearly all of the speeches had been well-spoken - it was difficult to get into a speech-giving position without being relatively well-spoken, it seemed - and most of them had been heartfelt, but few of them had been strikingly original. 

 Maybe, Pike could admit, the lack of punch to their pontificating came from the fact that they hadn’t been there. They hadn’t seen the Narada’s gaping maw. They hadn’t looked down at the wide, red expanse of a planet and realized its existence rode on them. They hadn’t looked a murderer in the eye and let him hold a figurative knife to their throats. 

 Which wasn’t their fault, Pike thought cynically, but it made it difficult for him to listen to them when their sentiments stretched several paragraphs beyond his personal suspension of disbelief. This was a formality to some of them and, unfortunately, it showed at times. Meanwhile, when Jim Kirk had spoken to the thousands of people present about the opportunity before them to consciously change the fate of the universe - painfully young and brimming with sincere, raw determination - he had made the promise that he was going to do so. 

 And Pike believed him. 

 It was definitely a piece of writing and a performance for the history books, if only to better mark the beginning of a new part of history, although the Starfleet graduation ceremonies were professionally recorded and archived regardless. It was a shame that George hadn’t lived to see his son have the opportunity to speak for a generation. Jim Kirk didn’t have any family at the ceremony, actually, despite his almost offensively excellent achievements during his time at the Academy or the occasional misadventure that had made it a wonder he’d made it. Many graduates didn’t have anyone there. Jim assured Pike that his brother and sister-in-law had already sent him some long-distance well-wishes and had promised they’d watch his speech later. 

 Pike stood there in place of the people who should have been there, clapped Jim Kirk on the shoulders, and said, “When I dared you to do better than your father… I never wanted you to actually have to prove it, but you did. You might not be relieving me of the chair just yet, but… I’m relieved it’s going to be you, Jim.” 

 “Thank you, sir,” Jim said, smiling, then swept Pike up in a sudden hug. 

 Pike let himself hug the kid back. He’d earned it. 

 Jim had gone off after that to celebrate among a crowd of his peers, not quite yet separated from them by the chain of command. He’d made fast friends with most everyone, it seemed, but especially the people he’d wanted with him when they’d faced down the Narada. Jim accepted a hug from his friend McCoy, another hug from young Chekov, as well as a third hug and a quick kiss from an excited Orion woman, a firm handshake and a card from Helmsman Sulu, and another handshake from Lieutenant Uhura, who also offered a remark which made Jim throw back his head with laughter. Even the Scotsman and Roylan, Scott and Keenser, were in attendance and came up to congratulate him. Past that, there seemed to be a never-ending stream of people who all wanted a piece of Jim Kirk. 

 One person in attendance who surprised Pike, however, was Ambassador Spock. The man didn’t approach, but Pike spotted him as a part of the seated crowd, with a small Vulcan entourage probably for his own safety. He was on-planet several days earlier than expected, but he was apparently happy to let his alternate, younger self offer the congratulations on both their behalves that day. 

~ 

 Unfortunately, Pike didn’t have the opportunity to speak with the other Spock until the Starfleet commendation ceremony for the Narada-Vulcan mission, which happened about a week later. The Ambassador was a silent and anonymous member of the official Vulcan delegation sent to represent their people at the commendation ceremony, which was present to personally thank the Federation and Starfleet for their part in preventing the destruction of their planet. No one pointed the man out as the “Vulcan pilot” and he blended in almost perfectly with the solemn-faced party of diplomats, barring the noticeable (at least, so Pike thought) pride and fondness about him. 

 The commendation ceremony was good. It was touching, to those who let themselves be touched, with markedly better speeches. The Vulcan speakers’ words packed a hard punch. There were no tears, obviously, no heartfelt tones on their guest speakers’ end, but the sincerity of their sentiments rang clear and true without obvious emoting. 

 It was good that speeches weren’t a conversation, because for quite a lot of many of them, Pike wouldn’t have been able to say a word in response to the heart-breaking reality of someone being grateful that their planet hadn’t been destroyed. 

 The Federation speakers were better as well. Maybe, Pike thought as he was rewarded for his role in the mission, there was something about their Vulcan guests that inspired the Federation speakers to remember brevity was the soul of wit and compassion the core of their partnership. It was a solid reminder what all the damn fuss and frustration had really been about: the six billion lives at risk. 

 Afterwards, the obligatory socialization was… less nice. It could have been worse, though; Pike admittedly could have been more patient. 

 It took awhile for him to extract himself from the various agendas of the very important people in attendance, all urgently pushing some position or another on current events, a daily dosage of which Pike had been taking ever since Jim Kirk (also in attendance, having been greatly honored for his part in the mission, currently wearing a smile that looked mildly strained) had pushed his way into Pike’s apartment. It wasn’t that Pike disagreed with any of them about the importance of their missions, whether he agreed with their position on the way forward from here or not, but he’d been taking meetings, conferences, dinners, breakfasts, lunches, brunches, calls, conversations, messages, memos, huddles, discussions, councils, chats, and a painful assortment of other gatherings on these subjects nonstop since returning to Earth. 

 The Ambassador found Pike taking that much-needed breath of fresh air on a hidden balcony of the conference center. It wasn’t on his calendar, but he needed it. 

 “Oh, it’s you,” Pike said in relief. “I thought you were the head of the committee for the Terra-Vulcan Interstellar Academic Exchange Program again.” The woman had another position with the Federation, one which better merited attendance at this Starfleet shindig, but Pike couldn’t for the life of him remember what it was. 

 “Fortunately not,” Future Spock answered. “It is an unenviable position with some conservative parties on Vulcan sadly pushing for stricter immigration policies.” 

 Pike sighed, because those parties had made, currently made, and would in the future make his position unenviable too. “It’s almost like there’s no such thing as guaranteed progress over time,” he replied, turning to face the Ambassador properly. 

 He was, just maybe, hoping the man from the future (or a future, at least) would miraculously disagree. 

 “Indeed,” Future Spock said instead, unsurprisingly. 

 The man came farther out into the space, apparently without any company. 

 “Excuse me for not greeting you properly, Ambassador,” Pike said, offering a wave rather than a handshake. “It’s good to speak to you again. There wasn’t the opportunity at the Academy graduation. How have you been?” 

 “Quite well, thank you. People have been remarkably welcoming.” 

 “That’s good to hear.” 

  Pike didn’t know how the conversations had been going between the Ambassador and their own Commander Spock - he knew at least one private conversation had taken place, but it didn’t feel like it was his place to ask how it had gone. He knew Jim Kirk had been in regular, friendly contact with the Ambassador, but he didn’t know the depth of that, respecting how Jim had skirted around the subject. 

 “Have you spoken to Jim? He was looking for you earlier.” 

 “I have,” Future Spock agreed. “I needed to congratulate him on his magnificent speech. Your words at the Federation long-distance conference the week before were also excellent, captain. I appreciated the attempt to remind others not to approach the future as a foe and its inhabitants as threats.” 

 “Thank you. It seemed… necessary… especially given that the majority of our official information about your universe will come from Romulan archives. I feel like I shouldn’t have to remind people it’s not going to be an objective or totally reliable perspective on an alternate future, and yet…” 

 “And yet,” Future Spock agreed again. “Therein lies a great deal of difficulty for a man in my position.” 

 “How so?” Pike asked politely. 

 “Shall I let the voices of Nero, his crew, and the Romulan Empire define my universe? Is it my responsibility to provide information and education - which will also not be objective or wholly reliable - which I believe will save lives? Am I then, captain, responsible for what actions may come of my knowledge?” 

 “Mm, I see.” 

 “The debate on interfering with alternate universes to save lives is a long and complicated one, which I have heard at length before, not unlike discussion of the prime directive on non-interference with pre-warp civilizations, and the discourse upon each subject rarely seems to satisfy anyone involved.” 

 “No,” Pike agreed tiredly. “Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. All you can do is learn to live with the consequences of your choices.” 

 The man beside him now was an honored guest, a refugee welcomed to make his new home in their universe, and Pike believed the man had been made (or would shortly be made) an official citizen of both Vulcan and Earth. But Pike knew that this Spock had about as much say over the fate of the Narada and the Jellyfish as he himself did now - about as much as their own Spock did. Pike sympathized, given the nightmare the Narada and the red matter already were to his own conscience. 

 “What are you going to do?” Pike asked. 

 “Would you believe me, captain, if I said that I am not yet certain?” 

 Pike laughed. “Oh, yes.” 

 “It is not a decision that I wish to make in haste. I am highly conscious that my every action here will reflect on my alternate self, that we will be conflated regardless of the fact that we are vastly different people, and I do not wish, even accidentally, to potentially deny him his own choices.” 

 “...Well, definitely between a rock and a hard place, there.” 

 It was a dilemma to be sure, one which Pike didn’t envy. Personally, he did want to ask the man about several concerns already drawn from the Narada archives, which seemed to be set on a scale which ranged from dangerous to imminently deadly. But this affair was supposed to be a happy one - a celebration of a planet and its people saved - and Pike didn’t have the heart in him today to ask after more information on those strange shadows with stranger names, apparently waiting for them out there in the dark. The Dominion. The Borg. Pike didn’t have the heart to ask. 

 Not of this tired, lost man. 

 Not today.  

 Surely, the brave new universe could wait just a while longer. 

 Pike offered the man a standing invitation for drinks anytime they were on the same planet or station, citing the fact that a man could never have enough friends. Future Spock thanked him for the invitation and, though he made no suggestion of a specific date, said he would look forward to the occasion. From there, they made small talk about the public response to what had been shared about the rogue Romulan attack on Vulcan, on both Earth and Vulcan. 

 At least until Jim Kirk showed up looking for Pike. There wasn’t an emergency, Jim assured him after greeting them, and no issue that had yet gotten out of hand. 

 “But I just heard Admiral Marcus casually say that the Vulcans ought to act more grateful that we stopped an 'insane Romulan' from destroying their planet,” Jim said, with a sharp smile and a slightly manic look. “There’s only so much pointing out that the Vulcans saved themselves or that no one should have to be grateful that they weren’t killed for no reason that I can do.” 

  “Well, someone needs to keep saying it,” Pike said, equally horrified and unsurprised. “Can’t let those voices be the only voices in the room.” 

 “Yeah, but throwing a haymaker is sounding more and more like a solution, sir.” 

 Pike would like to see that very much. God, this was supposed to be a happy event, celebrating the continued partnership between Earth and Vulcan. Hopefully, the twin commendation ceremony the Enterprise was expected to attend on Vulcan later, to mingle with various Vulcan Very-Important-People and receive the appropriate honors as their first official mission, would be a better party. 

 Instead, Pike clapped Jim on the shoulder and said, “Don’t do that.” 

 “What if I make it look like an accident?” 

 Pike snorted. “No.” 

 “The old ‘drunk with a glass of red wine’ trick.” 

 “Still no.” 

 “I’m really good at that one. I saved Bones from his in-laws with that once.” 

 “I’ll keep that in mind for future diplomatic missions, but no,” Pike said dryly, with a side-glance towards Future Spock, who seemed mildly amused by this. 

 “In my experience, it has proven a remarkably useful tool,” Future Spock said, with the sort of tone that implied it was very much up in the air whether this was a good remarkable or a bad remarkable. It was the sort of vaguely judgemental word that had Pike noticing again the remarkable resemblance to a certain Vulcan commander after all. 

 Jim Kirk beamed at the man. 

 Pike promised to return to the main room shortly and Jim bid them both a relieved temporary farewell, apparently to let that certain Vulcan commander know where the Ambassador had gone. (“Apparently some people keep asking him if he knows, like he should have a sense for it,” Jim said cheerfully. “I think he’s getting annoyed about it.”) This left Pike to say his own temporary farewell to Future Spock, who seemed mildly amused by the current plight of his alternate self, which unfortunately very much suggested that Jim had been even more on-the-money about the general believability of “impossible psychic bonds between Spocks” than Pike had originally believed. 

 “I look forward to speaking with you again, captain,” Future Spock said politely. 

 “Likewise,” Pike replied sincerely. 

 He could have gone with that, but he paused, embarrassingly obviously, at the door. Future Spock looked at him with the calm gaze of someone who knew Christopher Pike was working up the courage to ask a question about the future. It wasn’t his place, but… there was one thing Chris had to know. 

 “That sort of fire,” he said finally, nodding back towards the door. “It’s admirable, in a person, but… it can burn out too soon.” 

 Spock seemed to understand the question without Chris saying it. 

 “Yes,” he agreed, looking strikingly like a man who had watched centuries go by and friends go with them. “However, in the company of good people… with the support of good friends… I have faith that the spirit can endure a great deal which, in a perfect universe, no one should have to bear. Though we do not live in a perfect universe and most likely never will, if there is one thing of which I can assure you the future will not be without, it is the possibility of finding good company and good friends willing to offer help.” 

 “Right,” Chris said, clearing his throat. “Good.” 

 Spock’s gaze was steady and steadying, his eyes as remarkably familiar as they were, and Chris already regretted leaning on a man so out of place. Though, he reasoned, in his opinion, there were few things to help an out-of-place man find his feet like someone else who needed help. 

 “Thank you,” he said. 

 “Anytime, captain,” Spock replied. 

 Chris turned to go, but caught himself and turned back to say, “Drinks sometime. Or dinner.” He snapped his fingers, like that would reinforce the reminder and he’d remember to tell his overworked assistant. “On me.” 

 “I look forward to it,” Spock promised. 

 “Good. Goodbye for now, Spock.” 

 “For now, captain. Farewell.” 

~ 

 The venue was beautiful. It was breathtakingly green. The afternoon sunlight off the glass of the greenhouses and the surface of the water features made everything brighter. Flowers were everywhere across the botanical gardens and they smelled heavenly. It was almost enough to make even Jim Kirk understand why someone could be content keeping their feet on the ground all their life. Almost. 

 “I can’t believe you dragged me to a wedding,” Bones said under his breath. 

 “Gaila already had a date,” Jim told him cheerfully, before they finally reached one of the many bars scattered around the massive reception area. As if, he thought amusedly, Bones wouldn’t have complained if Jim hadn’t dragged him along. 

 “About time,” Bones said, dropping onto one of the barstools and flagging down the server. 

 “I could have brought the Ambassador,” Jim said conversationally. “I offered.” 

 “Yeah, that friendship still doesn’t make sense to me,” Bones said, not having taken the revelation of the man’s identity particularly well. There hadn’t been shouting, but Bones seemed to fluctuate between being incredibly amused and being deeply disturbed by the existence of the other Spock. “Why didn’t the old man want to come?” 

 “Commitments on Vulcan.” 

 “Mmm.” 

 Jim hadn’t known that Sulu, in that other life, had been another good friend of himself and of Spock until he’d casually made the invitation thinking the old man might like a break, though a part of him hadn’t been surprised. Still, the old Vulcan had gently turned Jim down and Jim hadn’t pushed. Old Spock had revealed to him, however, that Sulu definitely hadn’t been married this early in his life in the other universe, though he hadn’t said if his Sulu had ever been married at all. 

 It was a shame, Jim thought, that Old Spock had decided not to come. Jim understood why not, but despite all of his own many issues stemming from the Narada’s arrival in their universe, it was difficult today to believe even briefly that their universe was the one that was definitely, inarguably worse-off. Jim generally liked weddings already, but after recent events, knowing the things he knew, watching two people smile through their tears in front of several hundred people had been moving. If the changes to their universe involved Sulu and his husband looking blindingly happy together like this, then they were all probably going to be alright. 

 “It was nice of Sulu to rustle up some last-minute invitations,” Jim replied. “I mean, the place is gorgeous, the drinks are free, politics didn’t get an invitation...” 

 “Politics are how you got your invitation,” Bones snorted. 

 “I thought we hit it off,” Jim protested. 

 He might have false memories, but that didn’t make Sulu any less a man who’d jump from space and fight Romulans with a sword if the occasion called for it, which was exactly the sort of person Jim wanted in his life. Sulu didn’t have those false memories, but he seemed to think similarly of Jim. Jim liked him. 

 “Yeah, that’s why Pike and Spock Junior are here,” Bones said sarcastically. 

 Alright, admittedly, Jim wouldn’t be surprised if his invitation was also motivated by one of the parents of the grooms wanting to make a good impression on the commanding officers of their son’s future assignment. It was, as far as Jim knew, official now that Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu would be continuing his Starfleet career with them on the U.S.S. Enterprise due to his exemplary performance. 

 Jim had been concerned about being out of place at first at this celebration, a stranger among family and friends of the family, but Sulu had assured him that, with the scale of the wedding, they wouldn’t stick out. No wonder. There had to be at least three hundred people here, scattered across the venue’s massive reception area. Jim had recognized a few people from around the Academy, but beyond that, the only people he would pick out from the sea of Sulus and Jeongs were Sulu, Sulu’s new husband Ben, the handful of cousins who’d introduced themselves to make conversation, and the three mothers of the groom and the father of the groom. 

 Which parents belonged to which groom, however, despite being warmly greeted and welcomed by the parents upon arriving, Jim had no idea. 

 “Maybe the invitations were a thank-you for getting him back on time,” Jim suggested. 

 Bones snorted again. “Now that’s a way to start a marriage.” 

 “He was this close to filing for emergency leave, I think,” Jim said, holding up a hand to hold a finger and thumb very close together. Through his hand gesture, he spotted another familiar face. “Oh, hey, Chekov! Chekov! How’s it going?” 

 Chekov had been another fast friend of the groom during the mission. The young man lit up upon spotting them and didn’t hesitate to come over. His formalwear was very colorful, the style apparently traditional Eastern European in origin, though the fabric looked like it might have come from somewhere other than Earth. 

 The Sulu-Jeongs had asked for the opposite of a minimalist, monochrome dress code, which made people-watching a delight in between conversations with the other guests. The extremely detailed traditional formalwear of the grooms had made it impossible for anyone to outshine them anyway. The team of photographers moving around the reception right now had to be having a great time, Jim thought, since it looked like a lot of the Sulus and Jeongs had been preparing their outfits for a year or longer.  

 “Lookin’ good, Chekov,” Jim said. 

 “Thank you. Did you see the journalist outside the park, sir? They are like wultures.” 

 “Could be unrelated to our mission,” Jim offered. “I think some of Sulu’s relatives might be famous? Though if the 'vulture' is actually wedding-crashing, I might be willing to bet you that they go out of their way to mention in their article that one of the grooms was on the ship that helped save Vulcan.” 

 “All good stories end with a wedding,” Bones said, and promptly finished his drink like a shot, which made Jim laugh. 

 They chatted with Chekov about how the young man had been spending his time since returning to Earth, which, like pretty much everyone else, consisted of finishing up any standing academic issues and getting in contact with family and friends. Chekov was officially assigned to the Enterprise as well and still brimming with infectious excitement over his good fortune, even bouncing once or twice on his heels. 

 “Are you here with someone?” Jim asked Chekov, after a little more casual conversation. He hadn’t seen Chekov glance around for anyone or vice versa. 

 Chekov’s expression immediately dropped. “No,” he said miserably. “Is not so easy to find dates when you attend the Academy starting when you are thirteen, you know, sir, and everyone around you is fife to sewen years older than you. Or more.” 

 “Oh, no,” Bones said, with amused sympathy. 

 Chekov glared at him, before he confessed to Jim, “And the people your own age feel like they are children and it is wery uncomfortable. So… no dates.”  

 “Ah,” Jim said. “Sorry.” 

 Bones whistled, still obviously amused. “Well, you can hang out with us, kid. We’re all pathetically single here. Not that there’s a damn thing wrong with that.” 

 “I think the ‘pathetic’ part is unnecessary,” Jim said. 

 “No, it is,” Bones replied. 

 “You have drinks, yes?” Chekov asked. 

 “Sure do,” Bones said. “Or, well, did. Let’s go get some new ones.” 

 Ironically enough, at the bar while he was ordering, while Chekov (despite being seventeen) was lecturing Bones on the merits of real Russian vodka, Jim was interrupted by a familiar voice adding another drink to their order. He turned around to grin at Uhura, who looked incredible, and allowed Jim a quick, up-close look-over of her enormous hoop earrings and brightly patterned, beautifully cut dress, which glittered as she stole his barstool, before she said:  

 “Have you seen Gaila? She said she was coming with one of Sulu’s fencing club friends and I haven’t seen her yet.” 

 “Not since the reception started,” Jim replied. “A Betazoid guest showed up late in, uh, traditional wedding attire under their coat.” 

 Uhura’s eyebrows went up and she pursed her lips, clearly repressing a smile. 

 “So Gaila swooped in to help with that, much to the relief of the nearby cousin-in-charge, who looked like she was thirty seconds away from needing medical attention. I think they went to go see if the venue kitchen had a replicator and do something about making a different outfit. Gaila’s idea.” 

 “With a food replicator?” Uhura repeated, bemused. "Would it be set up for that?" 

 “Engineers,” Jim said with a shrug. 

 “Well, I’ll not drag her away from that. I just need to get away from a never-ending conversation on Vulcan botany,” Uhura said, taking up her drink. 

 Uhura was here with Spock, obviously, though Jim reminded himself yet again that he had not actually seen her kiss Spock on a transporter pad. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to know or whether Spock had talked to her about any of the mind-meld… anything, really. Jim’s relationship with Uhura had improved since the Narada-Vulcan mission, especially after a very sincere apology for years of what he’d considered to be an all-in-good-fun school rivalry, which she thankfully seemed to see similarly or was at least agreeable about regarding similarly in hindsight. 

 She hadn’t told him her name was Nyota yet and Jim respected that. 

 Instead, they talked about other common acquaintances, both in attendance and not. When they’d congratulated the happy couple, Spock and Uhura had learned that Sulu and his husband hoped to someday honeymoon on an alien planet famous for its massive botanical gardens. Jim mentioned that Scotty and Keenser, though not in attendance today, were very interested in meeting Gaila at some point, whether or not she succeeded in being reassigned to the Enterprise. Uhura told them that she’d seen Christine Chapel, one of the Enterprise’s future medical staff whom Bones had over the course of their mission magnanimously deemed “not incompetent”, here with one of Sulu’s husband’s medical physicist coworkers. 

 From there, they skipped over a few casual subjects until, through a tangentially related subject, Jim delightedly discovered that Uhura also had strong opinions on Starfleet’s current and future relationship with the Klingon Empire. He should have suspected as much, having learned a couple years ago in one of their few shared classes that she was also (unsurprisingly) fluent in the dominant Klingon language which the Federation had designated “Standard Klingon”. 

 “Oh, no, here we go,” Bones muttered. 

 Chekov had already slipped away over ten minutes ago to go introduce himself to a mixed group of very fashionable Sulu-Jeong cousins who looked to be in the ballpark of nineteen-ish. He looked like he was having the time of his life being the center of their attention, waving his hands enthusiastically as he told a story. 

 “If the Federation and the Romulans go into a high-tension standoff for technological dominance, the Klingons are going to be pressured to pick a side,” Jim found himself happily arguing. “You don’t think we can convince them the Federation is the better deal between those options?” 

 “I think you’re underestimating Klingon stubbornness and pride,” Uhura said, but she was still smiling at him. “Terrans and Romulans are both inherently untrustworthy.” 

 “If ‘let’s be friends’ worked that easily, it would have worked a long time ago,” Jim agreed. “But if Romulus decides to go after Klingon space and starts something, there’s got to be a way to convince the Klingon Empire not to die alone on that hill.” 

 “Short of handing them free weapons?” Bones offered. 

 “Somewhere between that and intimidating them into giving up their autonomy to the Federation,” Jim replied. The latter path of action had been a real opinion he’d heard someone relatively important spout in the last two weeks, unfortunately. 

 “Somewhere between those options,” Uhura agreed amusedly. 

 They talked about their leverage with the Klingons and various forms of Federation alliances, which ones had more than a snowflake’s chance in the sun of holding, until Captain Pike and Spock joined them in their corner of the reception, coming from separate directions. Spock was coming to rejoin his partner and Pike was clearly dropping by just to say hello, possibly before leaving early, given the jacket over his arm. Upon being informed of the topic of conversation by a now slightly inebriated Bones, Spock looked mildly interested, but Pike just closed his eyes and sighed. 

 “Peace with Klingons,” Pike said. “Still can’t wrap my head around it.” 

 “Peace with Romulans too someday, sir,” Jim reminded him, grinning. “We know it’s possible. Eventually. All we have to do is keep on trying for it.” 

 “Might take awhile,” Bones said. 

 “We’ve got time,” Jim replied, unconcerned. “The sooner we start putting effort in, the sooner we’ll see results. Don’t you want to step foot on Q’onoS someday, Bones?” 

 “Not really.” 

 “I’d go to Q’onoS with you,” Uhura offered, smiling. 

 Jim grinned back at her again. “It’s a date,” he promised. “I’ll let you know when I figure out a plan for making it back from the Klingon homeworld too.” 

 Uhura laughed. 

 “We should be making greater diplomatic gestures towards the Klingon Empire before the Romulans do the same, captain,” Spock commented to Pike, who just rubbed a hand over his eyes and sighed again. 

~ 

 Captain Pike was the first to leave the reception, quite early too, hopefully to return to his apartment and pass out for eight consecutive hours, having finished saying all his farewells to his acquaintances. He’d been working too hard, Jim thought. 

 Chekov disappeared shortly after that with his new teenager friends, off to adventure in another part of the botanical gardens, promising to message them if he found himself stuck up a tree or something when Bones had prompted him to exchange contact information. An exchange which, after the kid left to go party, made Bones grumble something magnificent about being a doctor, damn it, not a babysitter. Jim laughed and patted his friend on the back sympathetically. 

 It was supposed to be their night off from work, but he, Uhura, Spock, and Bones continued to talk vaguely about peace with the Klingon and Romulan Empires some more. How it might have been achieved in another universe. How it might be achieved in this ever-changing universe. They didn’t talk about it in-depth, given the public venue, but Jim found it interesting and pleasant to fantasize optimistically about the future. 

 Gaila dropped by to greet Uhura and Jim. Other acquaintances passed by pleasantly, including Sulu and his new husband, now changed into more comfortable but no less handsome reception outfits. The happy couple looked a little tired from all the socializing they’d probably done today, but still definitely, radiantly happy. 

 There was dinner, then there was dancing. 

 Sometime near the end of the night, Jim found himself sitting at a table, watching the dance floor, next to Spock. Gaila had dragged Uhura off to dance together. Bones was chatting at another table with Christine Chapel and her medical physicist date, one of Sulu’s husband’s coworkers, and had pulled out a tricorder to demonstrate something (Jim hadn’t even known Bones had brought a tricorder to a wedding). It was the first time all night that Jim had been alone with Spock. 

 It was the first time in… awhile, actually, that Jim had been alone with Spock. 

 Jim didn’t really know how to talk to Spock most of the time. This didn’t stop him, of course, but in every conversation, he was still stubbornly dogged by all the memories of potential and alternate futures. They had known each other mind to mind, thoughts to thoughts, and though Jim was uncomfortably prepared to trust Spock with the universe if it came down to it, they didn’t actually know each other very well. 

 Not yet. 

 Maybe not ever. They both knew that they weren’t obligated to pursue a relationship that had happened in another universe, between different people who only shared their faces. It was possible that, despite their upcoming service under Captain Pike together, their lives would take them in different directions sooner rather than later. 

 Nothing was set in stone. Not the bad things, but not the good things either. 

 Those were the breaks of the brand new universe. 

 But… then again… new good things could happen too. And damn it, Jim liked this Spock. He liked the older Spock too; he felt like they understood each other a little better, or at least that the older Spock definitely understood him. But Jim liked this Spock too. It would be a shame not to be friends. 

 “I didn’t know you could dance,” Jim offered. 

 Spock looked at him. “There has not been another opportunity in the time that we have known each other,” he said plainly, which had to be a joke. 

 Jim laughed. “You and Uhura looked good together, I mean,” he said, before he asked after the commendation ceremony that was going to take place on Vulcan. It seemed like a casual-enough topic and it was vaguely related. 

 Spock told him: no, there would most likely not be dancing of any form while they were honored by the Vulcan Council for their role in saving Vulcan. Spock said: yes, he was looking forward to seeing his planet again, given that they had not been given any opportunity to set foot on the planet on their mission. Jim asked what Spock would recommend a first-time visitor to the planet see on a short visit and was referred to various Vulcan cultural sights and natural wonders. Spock said that he himself would be visiting his parents and assured Jim that the question was not too invasive. 

 “...Are you… really alright with working together?” Jim asked finally, after the overly casual conversation had become too much. “If Pike has his way, we’ll be working together for the next six years at least. Closely. I’d understand if you had mixed feelings- mixed thoughts on a working relationship with the pressure of… the mind-meld and… alternate lives in the mix.” 

 “Any such issues, which do not exist, would be my own responsibility,” Spock answered. “I have no intention of allowing the happenings in other universes to influence my ability to perform my duties.” 

 “Sure. I’m just saying, I forced a lot on you with that-” 

 “I undertook the mind-meld of my own free will and would do so again,” Spock interrupted. Then, less abruptly, he added, “I thank you for your concern. I am interested in pursuing a friendship with you in the future, Jim, for reasons that exist independently of the alternate universe in which a friendship existed between us.” 

 It took Jim a moment to register a statement so direct. “Me too,” he said, relieved. “Well said. Though… it’s hard to know how to continue, sometimes, when it feels like someone else started this for us. There’s a lot to separate.” 

 “It has been an intense beginning,” Spock agreed diplomatically. 

 “Yeah.” 

 The wedding reception looked like it was finally beginning to wind down. There were still plenty of people around, given the original size of the wedding reception, but Jim was pretty sure that even Sulu and his husband weren’t here anymore. The music had turned into something much slower. Gaila had her head on Uhura’s shoulder out on the dance floor, looking like she was going to fall asleep soon. 

 “Do you believe in destiny?” Jim asked. 

  He didn’t try to kid himself that Spock didn’t know where the question came from. The way the other Spock had said destiny had been stuck in Jim’s head ever since it had been put there to begin with. It stuck out nearly as much as the way Old Spock had first said Jim’s name, which… now… Jim thought… had become something different. Old Spock said Jim’s name a little differently now, though Jim still heard friend in it. 

 “Personally, I’ve never been one for the concept of an inescapable fate,” Jim continued, trying to keep his tone conversational. “People make their own destinies and all that.” 

 “I do not believe in the concept of destiny as an inescapable fate either,” Spock agreed. “If recent events have reminded us of anything, it is that the future is changeable. Though events may often be beyond our control, I do not believe the courses of our lives are the product of a forceful plan.” 

 Jim exhaled, strangely disappointed. 

 “However, there is more than one concept of destiny.” 

 “Oh?” 

 “Should certain individuals share a common goal, should they choose to walk the same path towards that goal, though they may be strangers separated by many obstacles, then it is not unreasonable that through their shared purpose they would inevitably meet. Nor is it unreasonable to assume that these individuals, on their mission, will most likely encounter other individuals who are working at cross-purposes and come into conflict with them. If one desires to be poetic about such meetings between determined individuals, then they might call such a thing destiny.” 

 Jim thought about this. 

 “I suppose that people looking for a fight are bound to find one,” he said finally. 

 Spock gave him a strange look. “...One might also call that destiny if they so wished.” 

 Jim laughed. “And, by that same logic, people looking to boldly go where no one has gone before are bound to find each other too,” he finished. Then he sighed, “Yeah, I could believe in that kind of destiny.” 

 The song ended and Uhura pulled Gaila off the dance floor. Spock got to his feet. Jim followed suit, stretching, looking around for Bones and for Gaila’s date. 

 Time to go. 

 “Jim.” 

 “...Yes?” 

 “I look forward to working with you.” 

 Jim smiled at Spock. The things he’d seen from that other universe couldn’t be taken as a promise, but even the potential of faith and good will that could cross universes was more than he’d ever thought to hope for, back when he’d believed the only true thing waiting for him - or anyone - out there on that damn “final frontier” was an early death. He was looking forward to forging something of their own. 

 “I’ll see you on the bridge, Spock,” he said.