Chapter Text
The golden light of the transporter beam dissipated, and Jim clutched his stomach momentarily.
It was his Jim, Spock was sure: not only his stance and gaze were different, but the bond in his mind was humming with pleasure of being restored.
Jim dropped his hand and straightened, which meant the movement was a reflex from his other self, which in turn meant the other Jim’s body was injured… Spock didn’t like the thought of the alternate Jim returning into unexpected pain.
The surface examination has proven Jim was otherwise mentally unharmed, not that Spock expected him to be, but one couldn’t fault him for being logically concerned about a human experiencing an ordeal never heard of before.
Especially if the human in question was his bondmate: no one could fault him for picking the most beneficial course of action that would ensure his continuous well-being.
Even if that meant letting Marlena take the Taahtal-os.
Spock considered the possibility that Jim fell under the other Spock’s influence just like he did with another Jim. Would he find experiencing the alternate universe so appealing he would decide to change his own?
Normally, he wouldn’t be concerned with that; after all, Jim’s mind was exceptionally strong. He was a leader, never a follower, no matter how alluring the temptations were.
However, the moment the bond was restored, Spock felt a fleeting instance of disappointment in Jim’s mind. Was it residual disappointment from having his plan fail in the parallel reality, from being injured? Or was it a sign of his attachment to the other Spock?...
The possibility was low, in his opinion. He didn’t lie to other Jim when he said his Captain wasn’t easily swayed.
...All that pondering and examination took Spock a mere second.
The next second Jim was extending a hand towards Spock, and he knew in an instant what he needed, so he threw his own phaser towards him in a swift motion. Jim caught it mid-air and, and before his companions even adjusted to their sudden appearance in a new universe he fired at all of them.
Jim locked his eyes with Spock, and Spock felt a twinge of indecision followed by determination coming from him.
“Get them to the brig. They will pay for treachery and mutiny.”
Spock realized what it meant; Jim made a tough choice to postpone the debriefing in favour of letting Spock take care of the traitors, because he was the only person Jim could trust.
Without breaking the eye contact, Jim strode towards Spock and crashed their mouths together, and for a moment, Spock revelled in the sense of normalcy. There was a high probability that once Jim arrived in his quarters it would not be restored. Well, if the other Jim was right, Spock had a chance of changing his Jim’s mind.
He sent a pulse of agreement through their skin contact.
“Meet me in my quarters after you’re done with them. In the meantime, I’ll deal with this,” he nodded at the door behind which the officers were still shouting and trying to break in.
“The appearance of your counterparts has caused quite a stir,” Spock commented. He could imagine Marlena saying You’re the only one who can get away with an explanation like this very vividly.
The appearance of Jim’s responding familiar crooked smile was very much welcome.
***
Spock dumped the unconscious bodies into the brig.
He used to consider them exemplary officers – not trustworthy per se, no one really was – but fitting the roles they were assigned. However, there was nothing left of his good graces now; mutiny meant an attempted murder of his Captain. They deserved whatever fate Jim would deem fitting.
He felt a flash of anger through the bond, this meant Jim has dealt with the crew and has arrived to his quarters, seeing it in disarray, signs of the imposter all over his personal space.
As Spock walked in the direction of the quarters, he noticed the crew, while still throwing each other death glares, were placated: the mere presence of the real Captain was enough to put them back in place. And now Jim’s plan was to punish the rebellion with the Tantalus Field...
Spock quickened his pace, sensing another’s anger growing with each second. And once he reached Jim’s quarters his suspicions about its reasons were confirmed.
The Taahtal-os was missing, Marlena took it like she promised she would.
And Marlena herself, apparently, didn’t have enough time to gather her other belongings, because she was standing before Jim, bag slung over her shoulder, still as a statue apart from her eyes that shifted between the doors as she calculated the best escape route. Jim’s hand was outstretched into a perfect steady line, pointing a phaser straight into Marlena’s forehead.
“I had to take it to hide it from the rioting crew…” She was saying, but the words must have sounded unconvincing even to her own ears.
Jim sensed Spock’s presence without the need to confirm it visually and said, his back to him, “She is the reason for the mutiny. I need you to crack her mind open and see what she’s done.”
Spock met Marlena’s eyes, shaking his head in a minuscule motion, conveying a request to stay quiet and let him take charge.
“There is no need,” he said. “She was acting in accordance with the situation and my commands. The circumstances were drastic, and so our responding actions had to be as well.”
Jim didn’t believe him completely, it was not in his nature. He merely extended his free hand and commanded, “Show me.”
As it was his reflex, Spock was already reaching out in response, in the meantime calculating his next step. He couldn’t go into a full meld with Jim before thoroughly preparing him first: without context, without knowing what Spock learned from his counterpart, Jim would consider Marlena and him as mutinous as the three officers currently locked in the brig. But on the other hand, Jim still wanted to stay in full control of Marlena, he would want to keep his full consciousness – so Spock could get away with showing him a series of abridged impressions… Yes, this could work.
Their palms touched.
Jim narrowed his eyes at Marlena.
“That was merely your point of view, Spock. You didn’t see what she must have gotten up to during the periods you let her out of your sight, using the pandemonium of the past day – perhaps even causing it,” Jim bared his teeth at her, his finger moving closer to the trigger.
Marlena didn’t utter a word, didn’t even try to defend herself – she knew the tiniest notion that could be read as aggressive would cost her her life. She stopped making eye contact with Spock, instead choosing to look steadily at Jim.
The fact that Jim didn’t kill her on sight probably meant he wanted her death to be meaningful to both of them – but Spock thought that perhaps, deep down, it also meant that Jim was capable of sparing Marlena.
“She had it coming,” Jim continued. “She’s outlived her usefulness a long time ago. It’s time for us to clear the excess.”
Spock placed his hand over the phaser, not quite forcing it away, but throwing off the unwavering line of aim a little at last. He turned his back to Marlena fully, catching Jim’s eye and hoping the tension he felt radiating off her meant he provided her with an additional escape route.
As a general rule, Spock didn’t form connections; he wasn’t special in this regard, trusting another living being with parts of yourself was akin to sighing a death wish. Not even spouses truly trusted one another – Spock was seventy percent certain his father was afraid of his mother.
Jim was different, of course. They were t’hy’la, a universal constant, their connection was above this entire material world, it didn’t have to abide by its rules. They were meant to be one in every aspect of the infinity.
But with Marlena…
Spock has made a choice to form a connection with her. They didn’t share a mind; he didn’t have to humour her, or enjoy her company, or care about her well-being, and yet that was what he found himself doing over the course of their service aboard the Enterprise. Duty in the labs simply seemed lighter with her around. Marlena was an intelligent, focused, fearless woman, and Spock’s first and only friend.
Jim never ended up seeing her as anything more than the handy tool he hired her to be.
Perhaps in an emotional sense Jim was simply stronger than him.
Well, it just meant Spock wasn’t going to try invoking the emotional side of him.
“She will still be useful,” he insisted. “She helped with the Tantalus Field.”
“And?” Jim scoffed. “That’s already done. The job is finished. You shouldn’t be defending her.”
“Yes, because she has proven herself to be loyal and useful. In the current climate it would be hard to come across another qualifying team member.”
“We don’t need another member. The research on the Mirror is done, we can move on without her. The secret about the bond is out, and that was the only reason I took her in, a bait for those who would want to come after who’s closest to me. The status quo has changed, we have to find another way to assert dominance.”
Spock wanted to ask for Marlena’s opinion, for her defense of herself, to not seem like they were discussing her fate as if she was an object, but at the same time he was afraid bringing attention to her would only anger Jim.
He positioned himself to stand directly in front of the phaser, which made Jim loosen his grip just a little more.
“People like Marlena are few and far between, her presence in our lives is directly correlated with our rise to power; rationally, you must realize that. She is a valuable asset,” Spock said, and, when Jim didn’t waver, remembered the words of his alternate counterpart. You’re the one who can break him , the other Jim said. He always finds excuses for you.
And thus, that was the route he decided to push.
“ I need her,” Spock said, trying to express the desire to keep a friend’s life through the bond. “Please, Jim.”
He heard Marlena’s sharp intake of breathe – she must’ve disapproved of his tactic – and something flashed through the bond on Jim’s end, a strange emotion, something akin to a lightning strike of a realization, or perhaps confirmation to what he suspected before – and his grip on the phaser was finally released.
“If this is what you really think…” He said quietly, allowing Spock to take the phaser from his right hand and hide it back into the holster on Jim’s belt.
“It is,” Spock confirmed.
He wanted to look back at Marlena to validate that she was wrong, that perhaps Jim didn’t value her as a person and a scientist as much as Spock did but he was capable of learning to – but he didn’t get a chance.
Jim and Marlena might have been exceptional human beings, exemplary shots and experts in hand-to-hand combat, but they were still hindered by the limitations of their humanity. Thus, even though Jim’s left hand was lightning-fast when it grabbed a blade off his belt and propelled it in the direction of Marlena’s bare throat, Spock was faster in understanding Marlena wouldn’t have enough space to duck to avoid the deadly trajectory, and so he did the only logical thing in the situation. He barrelled into Marlena, crashing her into the wall and away from the blade, and that was the only thing he managed to do before feeling the icy metal slice the side of his neck with the entire force of Jim’s terrifying anger.
Jim pulled the blade back the moment he realized his target was swapped, but the deed was done. The pain from the sliced skin was quickly spreading through Spock’s veins, and he realized it was no ordinary weapon. Well, of course it wasn’t; it was Jim’s.
Marlena screamed, “No, Spock!!”
Her dark eyes, concerned and terrified, appeared in Spock’s line of vision for a brief moment, and were quickly replaced by Jim’s: wide open, a realization of what he’s done sinking in.
“Spock…” Jim’s fingers touched the cut. Spock barely felt it; his skin was going numb incredibly quickly. “ Why? ”
The world around him tilted and he realized he was lying half on the floor, half on Jim’s knees now. His muscles seemed to be both paralyzed and in a constant state of tremor, and he knew with utter certainty it was poison.
“Majorian… Deathgrip?” He asked.
Jim nodded, brushing Spock’s hair off his forehead. He wasn’t rushing to get an antidote, he simply looked down at him, shocked, and, for the first time Spock could remember, sad. This simply meant no antidote existed.
“Because,” Spock continued to answer his question, “she needs to… do something important.”
“What could be more important than you ?” Jim hissed. The sadness wasn’t lasting, it was quickly replaced with anger. Always anger. “She murdered you.”
Spock wanted to argue the cause-effect relationship, but he didn’t have a lot of time until his throat would be closed off, rendering him speechless.
He tilted his head to catch Marlena’s eye, who looked torn between wanting to drop on her knees and being too scared to approach Jim.
“Go…” Spock rasped. She took a step back. “Be… the catalyst.”
Another step, and another – Spock grabbed Jim’s hand, wanted to keep him close during his last moments – and then Marlena disappeared from their sight, her footsteps fading in the hall.
***
Marlena sprinted through the corridors. In the chaos of the mess they made no one really paid her any attention – and even if they did she wouldn’t care. All she could see in her mind’s eye was Kirk’s piercing, suffocating glare that promised her a torturous death.
Her breath stuttered, and she accelerated.
The poison’s usual time frame was around twenty-five minutes, but judging by Spock’s reaction Kirk has used the more potent version Chapel was experimenting on – of course he did, he wanted Marlena dead as quick as possible, without any chance of her attempting to find an antidote – which meant...
If her calculations were correct, Spock will be dead within two minutes. Two minutes of agony during which Kirk wouldn’t leave his side, then a moment of mourning, and then grief would be replaced by fury and Kirk would do anything to hunt her down…
If only she could manage to get into the shuttle within the next thirty seconds, this way she would be able to go into warp and hide behind a solar flare…
Marlena pushed whoever was manning the controls away without pausing to watch the body hit the floor, and threw herself into the shuttle where the container with the Taahtal-os was already hidden.
The shuttle responded to her palm pressed to the scanner, alighting its multitude of buttons, and Marlena quickly entered the coordinates embedded in her memory.
“It is a safe house,” Spock said when he first shared the coordinates with her a year ago. “A Vulcan scientist resides there, we used to work together, she will provide you with assistance if anything happens.”
The hatch flew open, and Marlena slammed the lever, propelling the shuttle forward, activating the cloaking device the moment she was out of reach of the Enterprise’s scanners.
And only once she was a light year away, she allowed herself to release a breath she was holding and let her emotions roam free.
There was a beautiful, shining moment when they fell under the other Kirk’s spell, when they believed his pretty words and thought they could be the ones to shape the world…
But Spock was dead now.
The revolution was over before it began.
Her first friend, her only friend in the abyss that tried to suck her lifeforce out any chance it got, he exchanged his life for hers...
Spock must’ve thought she was worth it. That she was capable of leading the revolution on her own.
Marlena wasn’t so sure.
She felt stinging in her eyes, and, not believing herself, touched her eyelashes, feeling wet residue. She couldn’t remember the last time she cried – not counting the immense physical pain inflicted by the agonizer. She touched the metal square embedded in her neck – best to get it removed once she arrived in the safe house.
Marlena took a deep breath, staring resolutely ahead at the space lined with glowing ribbons of warped stars.
Spock considered her life to be worth saving. She would not let his sacrifice go to waste, she would save herself and build a better world. That was the only way she could repay him.
Hours later she has reached a small non-habitable asteroid, lifeless apart from an opaque enforced dome, its grey colour blending with the environment.
Once the asteroid came into view, the shuttle’s defense systems alerted Marlena of two photon cannons directed at her; she slowed down to a stop and finally turned on the communications channel, immediately receiving an incoming message.
“State your purpose,” a cool voice came through.
“I am Marlena Moreau, Mr. Spock of ISS Enterprise has given me your coordinates,” Marlena said quickly. She could only hope the channel was undetectable, she could practically feel Kirk’s murderous stare locked on her, gaining on her… “He said you would help me in a time of crisis.”
Marlena wondered if Kirk knew about this scientist – oh, he must have, Spock shared everything with him, after all – and if he did, was it in the context of “a woman Spock used to study genetics with” or “a woman who would hide Marlena if needed.”
Marlena wanted to believe the former, that if Spock would choose a single thing to hide from his bondmate, it would be a way to save his friend.
Seconds tickled by, Kirk’s unseen presence growing larger and larger, tightening its hold on Marlena’s throat – until the dome cracked an opening and the voice said:
“You may enter.”
***
When T’Kari opened her eyes, she knew her plan was successful. Not because she felt the different atmosphere of the universe around her, or a new body with sensations specific to the dimension she was seeking – no non-material self-delusions like that. Her plan was a success because there was no other way. She’s never allowed any other outcome.
She chose the universe Kirk’s counterpart came from because of how different the circumstances were in it. T’Kari has already reached peak potential in her original universe; she was looking forward to entering a universe with rules so drastically different and see how much she could achieve there, what she could learn about herself, what new doors she could open.
It was an opportunity to rise above the limits of her existence, to push them until they break. And once she was done with this universe, she could always build a new Taahtal-os and find the next one.
She wondered what it would be like to experience all versions of herself at once, to possess the knowledge of all T’Karis in the multiverse, to truly become an ultimate self.
T’Kari didn’t believe there was such a notion as ‘having enough.’ But, perhaps, this would be the closest thing.
Right now though, T’Kari simply looked around carefully to get the impression of what kind of person this part of her was.
The laboratory she was in was neatly organized and rich with equipment, albeit a lot smaller than the one she had in the universe she’s just left. There was a high probability the change of size could be attributed to the specifics of the placement of the lab: above T’Kari there was a semi-transparent dome made from the type of fiber that seemed opaque to an outsider’s eye and was used for building habitats on asteroids with no atmosphere. The artificial atmosphere and gravity were provided by an ALC-069 system that had upgrades T’Kari wasn’t familiar with.
T’Kari brushed her hand through her hair and halted – it was disappointingly short. Shame; her long heavy braid was giving her extra respect among non-Vulcan species. On the other hand, this reality could have other universal beauty standards her other self was using to her advantage. That’s when she finally decided to look in a reflective surface.
Her features and body structure were nearly identical to the body she left behind, apart from a few insignificant details. There were several scars on her face, the ends of her short hair were curling under her ears, and her robes were made of a simpler, sturdier material.
The equipment around her was the one usually used for experiments with genome editing, and without further ado she activated a nearby terminal to learn all about the research she was doing.
In her original universe, fellow scientists called her experiments “unethical” and “unbefitting” and “T’Kari, you are the reason everyone thinks Vulcans are unfeeling bastards.”
Here, she could see some of those ideas come to life, her theories proven or debunked. Those were the only times she allowed herself to be wrong: if the person proving her wrong was herself .
The next step was figuring out a plan of action; how were she to rise to the top? The most logical step was to begin with using the information that she already knew: that is to say, the various dealings of Spock, Kirk, and their crew. Those were easy targets, after all. An ideal stepping stone.
The emotional creatures were all the same, no matter who they were: a ruthless Captain of a starship, a genius half-Vulcan scientist, or a quick-witted Romulan media expert… They were all identical in their weaknesses: a bondmate, a friend, a daughter.
A quick search revealed a crucial piece of information: not only did she know Spock in this universe, they have actually already worked together. This made her next target an obvious choice.
She activated a messenger – noting the encryption on all communications she must have designed herself – and started composing a message for Spock that would attract him to the lab in order to download all the information on this universe directly from his mind. However, she only managed to type a greeting when the sensors showed an incoming ship.
T’Kari opened the intercom instantly, having to wait three seconds until the ship disabled its transmission firewall.
“State your purpose,” she said.
The pilot of the ship turned out to be Marlena Moreau, the woman T’Kari has already worked with. It was a curious coincidence, she noted, to know Marlena though Spock here the same way she knew her in her original universe.
She doubted it was a case of a universal constant though, it was more likely the consequence of similar relationships between the three individuals.
Marlena was obviously distraught. Once her ship was stationed in a secure location (after going through several screenings), she entered T’Kari’s living space, looking around with underlying fear and flinching whenever she heard a sound.
“Take a seat,” T’Kari pointed at an armchair. “I will make tea.”
This T’Kari had cupboards loaded with the finest Vulcan tea, it wasn’t a rarity at all.
Marlena settled in the armchair with an exhale. There was no rush to get the information out of her, she must feel safe first.
“Spock told me to come to you if anything ever happens – he told me you’ll help if I’m ever in trouble – and I am. I– I assume he warned you?”
“Obviously he did,” T’Kari said. She didn’t consider it a lie; the information was passed to a person who was a part of her, even if she didn’t bear witness to that moment.
“He’s dead,” Marlena blurted out.
The pieces of the puzzle were rearranging themselves. It was a good thing she didn’t send that message to Spock; it would attract Kirk’s attention.
“You have to open your mind to me,” T’Kari said, placing a cup of tea next to Marlena’s arm. She didn’t seem to notice, too consumed by her emotions. Reading all the information through the meld would be the most efficient; otherwise Marlena could start crying while retelling the events already warped by her grief, and wouldn’t that be the worst.
“Yeah, alright,” she said, closing her eyes.
T’Kari placed her palm over Marlena’s face, merging with her mind and watching the scene of Spock’s poisoning playing out, and then, before Marlena could realize, going much further and examining all the information about Marlena’s life in this universe.
When T’Kari emerged, and Marlena fell back into the armchair, grabbing the cup and downing the tea in one sip, she rubbed her hands together, deep in thought. The draft outline of a plan of action was being born in her mind.
T’Kari glanced back at Marlena, who was staring blankly at nothing, clutching the cup.
She could work with this.