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Spock stood by the entrance to one of the large cave openings on the surface of the planet. Its entire litosphere was porous, permeated by long circular tunnels that went tens of kilometers down, cold and dark. It was in these tunnels that the sole inhabitants of the planet found refuge.
It was debatable whether “inhabitants” was a proper term. “Inhabitant” was more accurate. One hivemind, billions upon billions of living organisms fused together into a writhing, slimy creature that made up 11.212% of the planet's mass, old enough to have sucked up all the water and carbon that had ever existed on this world. It shifted before Spock now, limbs continuosly rising out and back into the safe haven of the cave, just long enough to capture some precious sunlight, but not long enough to dry out. The Unity - for that is what it called itself - was white, and often formed into bulbs or strands with a characteristic noise that made Spock want to regurgitare his breakfast.
“Ask them where Jim is,” said McCoy, who was standing behind Spock.
The Unity had no mouth, nor did it have ears. Spock took a step closer and rolled up his sleeve. His arm trembled as he stretched it out towards the biomass, and he resisted the desire to flinch away with all his power. Communicating with the Unity had only become more difficult since he began to suspect where Jim had gone.
Do it for him.
Spock plunged his hand inti the cold, moist body of the Unity. Psi-contact was established immediately.
James. Captain. Where is James?
He is INSIDE.
Spock sensed that for the Unity, “INSIDE” was one of the fundamental concepts that made up their perception of the world.
Why? asked Spock.
There was no answer.
Why is James INSIDE? Let him OUTSIDE.
James is me. I cannot be OUTSIDE.
James is not you.
Fool. Fool. Fool. James has the world in his mind. James has always been INSIDE, it's only his flesh that has been OUTSIDE. I am reunited now.
A cold shiver of apprehension ran through Spock.
Are you absorbing him?
We are reunited.
Spock's mental shields recieved an enormous wave of rage from within, some primal instinct awakened. Were he not logical, he would've fired his phaser at this...thing, just to cause it some pain for what it's done.
Release James immediately.
Why?
This is not what he wants. James isn't you.
We feel him. James is happy. James will never suffer again. James will never be alone, never be in pain, never be hungry, never be afraid.
James is not like you, Spock reasoned. To him, this is death. You are killing him.
We do not understand.
You are erasing his identity. Identity is what makes James himself. Without it, he is dead.
We do not understand what you're thinking. Go OUTSIDE. Let us be.
The white mass slid off Spock's arm.
“What are they saying?” asked McCoy quietly.
“It seems our suspicions are correct,” said Spock, desperately trying to hide the shakiness in his voice, “The Unity is attemping to absorb the captain into itself.”
“Mother of God...Tell them he wouldn't want this!”
“I have tried, doctor. It seems it has no conception of identity, and therefore cannot understand my reasoning.”
“Goddamit,” said McCoy, pulling out his phaser. His face had dropped. He suddenly looked ten years older. “I sure hope they understand pain. Do you know where he is?”
“Inside, obviously.”
“More precisely?”
“23.6 minutes have elapsed since the captain's dissappearance. Considering the Unity's average movement speed, he cannot be more than 500 meters underground.”
“Perfect. Tell it we're going in.”
Spock didn't say it could be too late - what use would it be? He touched the Unity's limb again.
We will enter and retrieve James.
No. Leave.
With that, more of the Unity's mass moved out from somewhere deep inside, and the tunnel, which was previously only partially covered with its flesh, closed off completely. But Spock was far past maintaining pacifism. He held out his phaser, set it to kill and fired into the center of the tunnel.
He heard a sizzling sound, like an egg cooking in a frying pan. The blast burned through the Unity, leaving an ugly gash. Spock repressed a twinge of sadistic pleasure as he saw - literally - saw the Unity throb with a long-forgotten pain signal.
In 9.74 seconds, the gash closed off again, the burned flesh got replaced, but it would've been more than enough for Spock and McCoy to get inside.
Before he knew, the doctor had already fired again and stepped into the cave. The Unity's tendrils wrapped around his ankles, but he shook them off easily as he took another step.
“It's not that strong at all!” he yelled, “Get in!”
Spock's heart was pounding. The disgust he felt at the Unity was forgotten, but he was afraid now - afraid both of not finding the captain, and of finding him and seeing what the Unity had turned him into. Of all the ways he could've died, this was one of the worst. Spock cursed himself for not protecting him better.
When the Unity touched him, he could no longer sense any distinct thoughts - only rage, rage at being hurt for the first time in aeons, rage at him and McCoy for trying to take away its only plaything. Spock fired again to clear the way. It smelled like cooked meat. He wanted to throw up even more now.
“I bet this thing is delicious,” said McCoy, fighting through the white mass.
“I highly doubt that,” said Spock, trying to ignore the slowly fading light behind his back, “I estimate the texture would be...unpleasant.”
McCoy fired again, and they moved down, almost sliding on the slippery mass. It was horrible to be touched all over by this cold, slimy mass. At least the uniforms were water-resistant.
The Unity's tendrils were powerless against them. It had forgotten how to fight. It could not even scream in pain as they burned it again and again.
You deserve this, Spock told it.
It was illogical, of course. The creature was simply too alien to understand that what it was doing was wrong, he knew that. But it was destroying James - there could never, ever be justification for that.
It was dark now but for the light from their tricorders. It was enough for Spock's vision - not like there was much to see, anyway.
“Tell me if I'm going the wrong way!” shouted the doctor. “God, I hate this. How will we find him, anyway?”
“Heat signature. The temperature of the Unity is equal to air temperature. The human body is significantly warmer.”
“Got it!” said McCoy, adjusting his tricorder. While he did so, the Unity rose up almost to his shoulders, and it took significantly more effort to break out. “Is it trying to absorb us, too?”
“Unlikely. It is more probable that it is attempting to suffocate us.”
“I think I'd prefer that.”
“Likewise.”
They went deeper and deeper, squeezing through the mass of the Unity. Spock had the impression that he was a parasite entering a larger organism. They used their phasers strategically, careful not to overheat them.
You are fools, the Unity told Spock.
We will find James, whether you like it or not, he answered.
When the tunnel branched out, McCoy took a minute to examine his readings while Spock fought off waves of slime.
“Found him!” he shouted excitedly, “Left and down. Looks like there's a big cave. His core temperature is dropping, but it's whithin acceptable levels.”
Spock couldn't help but be relieved. Perhaps the Unity was slower than he'd thought.
They made their way down the tunnel, which had gotten so steep they could easily slide. Soon, Spock saw a faint glow in the distance - some kind of bioluminescence, no doubt.
“We're close,” said McCoy, “Hold on, kid, we're coming for you.”
It is likely he cannot hear you, thought Spock. At another time, he would, perhaps, have told McCoy as much, but today, his human half wanted nothing more than to tell Jim the same.
The tunnel became narrower. Soon, Spock had to bend over to fit inside...something strange was happening - the Unity was no longer fighting. It was pushing them towards the light.
“I don't like this,” said McCoy, “Feels like a trap. What's it thinking?”
They stopped for a minute and Spock concentrated. The Unity was intent on keeping his mind out, but its shields were measly.
Oh.
No exit. Close way OUTSIDE. Too much mass to hurt through.
“I believe it plans to close off this tunnel completely once we enter the chamber,” said Spock, “The width of the tunnel will certainly contribute to this plan, as will the time spent retrieving James.”
“Smarter than it looks, this goop. Well, it's good that there's two of us...”
McCoy reached down and pulled something out of his boot. Spock was surprised to see the glint of a Vulcan dagger, one made made by his ancestors for close-quarters combat.
“Just something I keep on hand for situations like these,” said McCoy smugly.
“I believe “on foot” would be a more appropriate expression,” said Spock. The doctor smiled and handed him the dagger.
“Now you give me your phaser. I'll make sure this thing doesn't trap you in there, and you go get Jim.”
“Good luck, doctor.”
“You can do it. If anyone can, it's you.”
* * *
The chamber looked different from the rest of the Unity's body. Here, its tendrils were thick and moved very slowly, with pink veins glowing inside them. The walls, if they could be called such, were heavy with round pink bulbs that looked like they were about to burst. Spock recognized them to be proto-brains. McCoy's dagger was pleasantly heavy in his hand. He craved to use it to burst every single one of the pink growths.
But he could not, for in the back of the chamber was a telltale mound. As he stepped closer, his heart raced so hard it felt like it was about to blow up. He saw a yellow command shirt in between the tendrils.
James Kirk was sunk halfway into the Unity. As Spock tugged away parts of it, he saw, to his relief, that he remained distincly James-like in shape - it seemed the Unity had not dissolved any of his flesh. The mass wrapped around his head was more worrying. It had left his mouth exposed so Kirk could breathe, and indeed, his chest was rising and lowering at an even, slow pace. Spock's tricorder showed Kirk's body was functioning normally.
Spock shook him.
“Captain, wake up.”
No response. He shook him harder, and slapped him on the chin.
“Captain! CAPTAIN!”
Useless. We are one, said the Unity.
Let him go! Please, let him go!
He is happy. Come, see for yourself.
It withdrew from his face. Even here, in this disgusting place, he was beautiful. His soft features were relaxed, lips parted slightly, eyes shut as if in peaceful sleep. Spock placed his hand onto his meldpoints, admiring how his skin dented gently under his fingers.
My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.
He was horrified. James's mind, which he knew was always vibrant and active and welcoming, was now almost completely empty, only stupid contentment sloshing around the few cognitive functions still left.
Cold, said one of the remaining slivers of consciousness.
Spock! said the other.
James...Jim...come back to me.
But it did not understand.
Spock felt a tear slide down his face. Far, far away, where the mind (if it could be called such) of the Unity began, lurked his real self, his desires and memories and logic. Spock called out to them, tried to pull them back, but they did not listen or recognize him.
Spock withdrew. A deep pain began to settle in him. To see James die like this...Spock wanted to go with him. He gripped his dagger, tempted to slit his own throat.
No.
He could not give up.
Jim wouldn't have given up.
He couldn't just cut him out of the Unity - that would leave him a shell of a man, likely to be comatose for the rest of his life. Another solution was needed.
Spock retreated into his thoughts. Kirk's mind was not gone, just dissipated. If only he could collect himself somehow, become whole again.
Never, said the Unity.
Spock placed his hand on his face again and reminded Kirk of everything that he was: a captain, a son, a brother, a friend...it seemed he didn't understand. The memories were alien to him now. The neurons remained dormant.
Perhaps what he needed was shock. Desperate, Spock took his hand and sliced the skin on his palm with McCoy's dagger. Red blood dripped from the wound, but Kirk didn't seem concerned. He felt like he was part of a body a billion times larger - such a small gash hardly mattered.
Spock was crying now. He needed to remind Kirk he was human, but how could he with so little of his mind remaining?
One final memory came to him.
The part of the body with the most neural connections are the lips.
Spock didn't really know why he did it. Part of him hoped that it could work, but part of him was only giving his final goodbye to his most loved, the better part of his soul, the man without whom he could not imagine living. He knelt by Kirk's unconscious body and leant down to his face, teardrop landing on his cheek. Then, Spock kissed him.
He kissed him gently but firmly, pressing his mouth into his oh-so-soft lips, inhaling his smell, not yet corrupted by the Unity. He cradled Kirk's head in the crook of his elbow and kissed him like he'd always dreamed.
Jim. Come back to me. Please, come back to me!
And he did.
Spock was hit by a sudden influx of thought and emotion as Kirk's mind awakened, neurons firing. He immediately fought off the Unity, crushed its influence with his powerful will. Spock withdrew and watched in awe as Kirk took a deep breath and began to struggle against the fleshy mass of the Unity.
No, no no! protested the creature, in shock at the sudden emptiness whithin its neural network. How?!
Spock cut it down mercilessly, freeing Kirk. He sat up and wiped the slime from his eyes. Spock was the first thing he looked at. His expression relaxed immediately.
“Hello, mister Spock.”
“Hello, James,” he answered, voice hoarse.
“What's going on?” Kirk said, looking around curiously with his shining hazel eyes and apparently not enjoying what he was seeing.
“The Unity...tried to absorb you.”
“Oh dear. Wow.”
He blinked at Spock. His face was lit up in wonder, as if he was seeing him for the first time.
Spock was numb to everything, even the cold tendrils of the Unity under his knees. His heart had swollen with pure joy. He felt as if he'd never been so happy in his life.
The mass tried to climb Kirk again, but Spock swiftly cut it away with the dagger, then offered Kirk an arm to stand up.
“Captain, we should leave.”
“Yeah...yeah, that's probably a good idea.”
* * *
It was fortunate that McCoy had stayed in the corridor. So intense was the barrage that both of his phasers had started to overheat.
“Welcome back, kid,” said McCoy with a warm smile, “How are you?”
“Fine, honestly,” said Kirk, laughing a little, “I don't remember much. One minute it's dragging me in, next - I'm sitting up, and Spock is looking at me.”
Although the way back up was significantly easier - the Unity had decided that the pain of being shot at was not worth it anymore - Kirk needed help climbing. He was still unstable on his limbs. Spock tried to ignore how much he enjoyed touching him.
When they emerged into the light, Spock's eyes burned, and yet he was filled with a deep sense of safety.
Jim was back. Jim was with him.
Spock swore to never let him out of his sight again.
* * *
When they had beamed aboard, been desinfected, rested and changed, and Jim's hand was patched up, it was the end of Beta shift. McCoy said he needed to take a leave and, quote, “take some hard drugs”.
“Jim, if I don't deal with this right now, I'm gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life.”
“No one is stopping you,” said Kirk cheerily. He was sitting in his chair at the bridge, determined to finish his shift despite McCoy's recommendations.
The dreaded planet was now on the viewscreen, yellow and completely empty. One would never know what lurked beneath its surface. The bridge crew murmured amongst themselves with alarmed expressions on their faces - Spock had just reported on their...adventure.
“Analysis, mister Spock?”
It was strange how calm he was. Perhaps Spock should've expected it considering he remembered almost nothing.
“The Unity has existed long enough to have lost all the memories and ideas it might've had before it reached this state. Therefore, it found your mind to be extremely intriguing. It wished to keep you as a source of stimulation, and, since it has no concept of identity, found it to be an acceptable action.”
“Can you blame it?” Kirk said, swiveling in his chair, “Sounds like a boring existence. Very calm, mind you, but very boring.”
Spock supressed some irritation. He refused to accept any positive comment about the Unity.
“Permission to make a suggestion.”
“Granted.”
“Captain, this planet presents a significant danger to any and all intelligent life that may discover it. My sensors indicate that it is made of porous, fragile rock. I estimate that fourteen blasts from the ship's phasers at full power will be enough to crack it in half. There are no other planets at close range for the debris to collide with. The operation will take 6.32 hours to complete. Permission to proceed.”
Spock was surprised at his stern, rushed tone, as he was at the captain's dissapproving glare.
“Denied. I am surprised at your cruelty. There is no need to destroy this innocent creature.”
“Innocent?” said Spock, something primal threatening to break its way out of him, “What is innocent about a being that wished to capture you for its own entertainment?”
“Watch your tone, mister Spock.”
He looked down, stricken with a pang of guilt.
“Yes, captain.”
“Like you've said, it knows no other way of life. From its point of view, it was doing me a favor by sparing me from the pain of the world. It has no concept of life, or death, or morality, so why would it deserve to die? We cannot understand it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't deserve to exist.”
Logical. How was it that a human was more logical than him? Spock had allowed his mind to be clouded by emotion again.
“When you communicated with it, did it seem happy?”
“It is not capable of happiness. It was merely content.”
“Well, contentment is an good feeling. All the more reason to spare it. You're right about the danger, though - Uhura, mark this planet as a category 4 immediately and give a brief description. Mister Spock, see me in my ready room.”
Half an hour later, Spock stood next to Kirk in the agreed place. Kirk was examining him curiously.
“I did not expect such a strong reaction from you. Are you alright?”
“You are correct in your assesment. It was illogical of me to suggest destroying the planet. I was merely...distracted.”
Kirk nodded. Spock did not need to say more. Kirk knew him well enough to understand.
“Very well then, we can forget you ever said anything. Just one more question - you were rather short on detail as to how you...got me back, so to speak. Could you elaborate?”
Spock's throat dried up. What was he supposed to say? The truth? That he kissed him - performed such an intimate, sacred act on him without his knowledge or consent, not even knowing if it would work?
He could not tell him that. Neither could he say that he'd craved to kiss him since the moment they met, that every time Kirk touched him he felt lightning strike him right in the heart, that he wanted desperately to love him in every way he could.
In a way, he was no different from the Unity in his desire to posess and absorb him.
“Doctor McCoy had presented me with a non-regulation dagger, which I do not recommend you confiscate from him. I cut your palm with it in an attempt to shock you awake. As evidenced by you standing here, it was a succesful strategy.”
“Ah! I see. Thank you, Spock, really. As much as I'm willing to tolerate the Unity, I would not wish to be part of it...besides, it's just a small cut.”
He showed him his bandaged hand and opened his mouth as if to say something else, hazel eyes shining beautifully in the artificial lighting of the Enterprise. But he closed his mouth, evidently having changed his mind.
“Anything else?” he asked.
“No, captain.”
“Well then, see you tommorrow. Make sure to rest well. I'll go check on our doctor.”
“Goodnight, captain.”
“Goodnight.”
Spock left the ready room and walked to his quarters, trying to ignore the pounding of his restless heart. The memory of his lips on Kirk's was still fresh in his mind, and he intended to preserve every detail, from the way his breath felt on Spock's nose and the warmth of his lips to the feeling of his mind rushing back to greet him.