Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

If there’s something that James T. Kirk hates, it is propaganda for propaganda’s sake.

Why put his grieving family in front of the cameras? Why hide the fact that Sammy ran away? Why pretend that Jim never went to Tarsus IV?

Why say that it wasn’t a Vulcan vessel that came to the rescue of the colonists?

Perhaps what Jim truly hates is Starfleet.

Perhaps he can’t because it is Starfleet’s own pride that means he can hide as he does.

“James, place both of your feet onto the floor and wear the protective equipment you began your shift with,” Sern was unphased as he walked into Engineering to see the ship’s sole human hanging upside-down from a pipe, shirtless and missing his goggles and gloves.

Jim pulled at a piece of plating, “Five more minutes!”

“James, a fall from this height has an 8.37% chance of breaking your human spinal cord,” Sern scolded. 

“I’m–” He refitted a pair of red rubber wires that hissed in annoyance at his manhandling “–fine.”

Sern looked like he wanted to sigh, but, as Vulcans do not sigh, he did not.

“Captain,” Senak approached. “Several crewmates and myself have attempted to gain insight into his modifications and return his safety equipment to his person; however, our efforts have met critical failure.”

Jim rolled his eyes at the dramatics of the Chief Engineer onboard the VSS Iria, Vulcan’s prized long-distance science exploratory vessel. 

Despite nearly all larger science and exploration vessels belonging to Starfleet, they didn’t have a monopoly on them. Well, actually, they did, but since Vulcans had this strong insistence on having their own major learning hubs for only Vulcans, completely separate from the Federation’s, they had a singular major ship in their fleet. The Iria was a beauty of Vulcan engineering. Sleek, economical, circular warp nacelles, and with no corners cut in anything.

A pity that Jim was determined to stick his grubby little human hands in it.

“I’m fixing the transporters!” Jim called down, “Upgrading their capacity from twenty to thirty!”

Sern and Senak both looked up to pin Jim with identical looks of displeasure.

“James,” Sern said slowly, condescendingly. “There is no current issue with the capacity of the transporters.”

“Yes, there is,” Jim said as he finished off his final tweaks. “Did you know that Starfleet’s new flagship has the capacity to transport twenty-one people at once?”

There was a careful moment of consideration between the two officers. Vulcans are very careful, very logical creatures who have no consideration for petty disputes, such as who has the best engineering.

“There is a reason why Starfleet has novel transporter capacity,” Senak stated carefully. “The power capacity needed to improve this area is considerate.”

“Not that considerate in comparison,” Jim hummed. “Vulcan– ah– vessels hold the greater power capacity due to our superior resource allocation because we don’t jam a hundred different plugs in the same socket like ‘Fleet and start wondering why if the replicators go down, so do the biobeds. The problem is that, comparatively, the Iria allocates far more power to artificial gravity and false sunlight. 1.4 G vs 1G, 1000 watts per square meter vs 1430 watts. I’m just– ouch, no, I’m fine, just a reflex– lowering our power allocation to gravity and light. Not noticeable to anyone, but it is actually a shit ton of power. The ship is functioning at 1.3G and 1300 watts from… NOW!”

He slammed the plating closed for effect and looked down at them as he grinned, “Ta-da!”

Sern looked unimpressed, “I saw no paperwork on these modifications, James.”

Senak looked a bit proud, “The lowered gravity will be appreciated when retrofitting the warp core on Vulcan.”

Sern gave the engineer a look.

Senak backtracked as hurriedly as a Vulcan could, “A positive that does not neglect the breach in protocol.”

Jim continued to hang upside down, mildly enjoying the rush of blood to his head, “If you help me get down, I can send you all the paperwork approving this modification, signed off on by the First Officer.”

Sern gave him the driest look possible, “If there is any error in your memory recall, then perhaps we might end your excursion in Engineering with a trip to the Medical Bay. James, if you may recall, you are the First Officer.”

“Oh really?” Jim grinned as he let go of the pipe to flip onto the platform Senak had sent to stand underneath him. “Oops.”

“Shirt,” Sern demanded. “You are needed on the bridge, we arrive on Vulcan in 0.2 hours.”

“And you didn’t send Yeoman T’par, why?” Jim picked up his black and green shirt, designed to look like Vulcan blood on fertile black dirt, the sleek lines decorated using colorful embroidery. 

“I estimated it unlikely that she would be able to convince you to abandon your place in Engineering.”

Jim couldn’t help the smile, “I don’t only listen to you, Sa’mekh.”

After the rest of the survivors of Tarsus had been found, Starfleet had the Iria take over the final scanning of the fungus. The Iria had found several interesting biological anomalies in the fungus that had led to the death of thousands, and it had also found seven children who had managed to escape all scanners, only discovered when a skinny, shaky Jim had climbed out of a cave with a toddler in one arm and a knife in another and demanded they share their food. The others had been returned to their home planets and families, but Jim had stayed behind. 

“You listen to me 1.47 times more than you listen to others,” Sern pointed out. 

“Yeah, well, Mitrani is my favourite,” Jim said childishly.

“She is a… above average nurse,” Sern mused. “She is also unbonded.”

“Sa’mekh!” Jim hissed, “I don’t like her like that, jeez! She’s my friend.”

“You are twenty-five and unbonded,” Sern pointed out. “You may not experience your Time, however with humans’ shorter lifespans–”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re itching for grandbabies,” Jim teased as they stepped into the turbolift. “Don’t rush me, I’ll find love one day.”

“A logical pairing can be more efficient,” Sern tried.

“This conversation isn’t going to change from the last hundred times we’ve had it,” Jim pointed out as he tried to flatten out his hair. While no longer in the Vulcan style as he had it as a teenager (an unsuccessful attempt to tame it), it was still closely cropped, only letting the top fluff out. “I’m a romantic, Sa’mekh, illogical human and all.”

“I do not seek to change you, Jim,” Sern passed him his PADD and used one hand to expertly flatten the top of his hair in an un-Vulcan-like display of endearment. “Merely remind you that time passes.”

“I can’t forget that,” Jim mumbled as he stepped out onto the bridge before barking out, “Captain on deck!” 

The Vulcan words were intimately familiar to him: khart-lan fi’lan-tol . One day, it would be said by his own First Officer when he walks on the bridge of the Iria.

Everyone on deck immediately straightened up, just a tiny bit, focusing just a little bit more.

Living with Vulcans means that everything is done in microexpressions. An inch is always measured with them, so it means a mile.

“Captain,” Their senior Navigator, T’hen, spoke up. “We are to exit warp in two minutes.”

Sern sat down in his chair, leaving Jim to stand behind him. “Has T’Khasi responded to our hails?”

T’Khasi, Vulcan , has stopped replying to their hails as of four hours ago. It had been why Jim had officially been scheduled in Engineering today, instead of his usual oops-they-said-they-needed-help-and-now-it’s-been-seven-hours that Sern or T’par had to go fetch him from. After the straight fortnight in warp 5, it was not uncommon for one or two pieces to protest the constant strain, but they were all growing concerned at the sudden silence.

“Negative, Captain.” L’nel, their Communications officer, made the smallest of frowns. “There is no signal output from Vulcan, however we are capable of broadcasting.”

Sern and Jim shared a look of concern just before T’hen announced: “Exiting warp.”

A flash of lightning shot across the bridge viewport as they exited warp, and Jim didn’t think, he just reacted.

“Red Alert!” He screamed as he dove for the Captain’s chair, where the security alert button sat.

Their shields came up a mere second before the shots from the monstrosity hit them.

The shockwave sent Jim sprawling across the Captain’s chair, the only reason he didn’t hit his head on the floor was Sern’s reflexes to catch him.

Through the viewport, they could see what seemed to be the graveyard of at least a dozen ships, a mixture of Starfleet and Vulcan vessels. Above it all, a giant monstrosity of a ship, familiar and alien, floated like a deadly kraken. A direct beam from it came down onto the Iria’s homeworld.

“They’re attacking Vulcan,” Jim whispered in shock, blood running cold and skin going pale.

What the hell had they just flown into?

Chapter Text

“Sir!” T’hen sounded not-so-perfectly composed. “Another hit and critical shield failure!”

“Hail them!” Sern barked.

“They’re not responding!” L’nel sounded genuinely frazzled. “They’re blocking all our communications!”

“Evasive maneuvers,” Jim managed to steady himself on the deck. “Do not fire; it’ll be useless.”

“Incoming warp signature!” Ayhan, their pilot, said. 

A ship appeared and immediately drew the attacker’s attention, having to duck away from their next shot.

“Starfleet!” Jim could’ve cried in relief as he identified the flagship. “Hail them, now.”

“Hailing them!”

“USS Enterprise, this is Captain Sern of the VSS Iria, requesting immediate assistance on behalf of Vulcan,” Sern spoke in Standard.

“Captain Sern, this is Captain Pike,” The image forming was shaky from Iria’s equipment being damaged from the blast. “What the hell is going on here?”

Jim couldn’t help his double-take at the picture that appeared. He hasn’t seen his Uncle Chris since he got bailed out of Juvie at 12. Well, no time to reconnect like the present.

He pushed himself into the picture, knowing a human way of communicating this point would be far more well-received.

“Uncle Chris!” He practically yelled at the camera, “We have no idea, we just dropped out of warp, we don’t have any offensive capabilities! We can help evacuate the planet but if we get hit again we’re done for!”

Chris blinked, “Jimmy? What–?”

“Captain!” A woman yelled out of view from the Enterprise, “We’re being hailed!”

“Share the hail with us,” Sern demanded.

The picture suddenly split, a Romulan appearing on the screen.

“Hello,” The Romulan looked amused like they were playing some sort of sick game. 

“I am Captain Christopher Pike, to whom am I speaking?” Uncle Chris was calm, but Jim could hear the dangerous undertone.

“Hi Christopher, I’m Nero,” Like this was a casual conversation.

“You’ve declared war against the Federation; withdraw, and I will agree to attend a conference with Romulan leadership at a neutral location–”

“I do not speak for the Empire,” He interrupted. “We stand apart. As does your Vulcan crewmember, isn’t that right… Spock?”

His eyes shifted to the side to peer curiously at Jim, “And the other side of his coin… Kirk.”

A Vulcan, Spock, stood on the other side of the call, “Pardon me, I do not believe that you or I are acquainted.”

“No, we are not,” He smirked. “Not yet.”

“I don’t know you either,” Jim felt the urge to add. “Also, that’s not my name.”

Nero’s eyes flickered to Jim with the slightest hint of confusion before the glassy manic look reappeared as he turned back to Spock.

“Spock, there is something I would like you to see.” He looked at Pike, “Captain Pike, your transporter has been disabled. As you can see by the rest of your armada, you have no choice. You will board a shuttle, and you will come on board the Narada for negotiations. That is all.”

His image flickered out.

The alarm, flickering to show that weapons have been locked onto them, turned off.

The bridge crew of the Enterprise and the crew of the Iria stared at each other in fear and shock for a second.

“He is to kill them all…” L’nel muttered after a second, snapping them out of it.

“Chris he’s going to kill you–” Jim spoke, overlapping with the Enterprise’s own XO. “Captain, the odds are–”

“I know,” Chris shut them down. “But somebody needs to distract them so can we stop that drill before it destroys the entire planet.”

He looked at them, “You’re a science vessel with no offensive capabilities, yes? We’ll take care of the drill, but you need to be ready to beam up as many refugees as possible.”

Jim looked at his Sa’mekh, “Captain, should I take charge of evacuation?”

“Is the upgraded transporter functional?”

“Affirmative,” Jim couldn’t help but thank his guardian angel that he chose today to fix that damn transporter.

“Commander James, you have command over the evacuation of Vulcan,” Sern said like a promise.

On the other ship, Jim watched as Chris handed command to Acting Captain Spock and grabbed his pilot to go attack the drill.

“And Jimmy?” Chris said right before cutting the connection.

Jim barely stuttered over his PADD where he was shooting off orders, “Yes?”

“When I get back, you better have a good explanation as to why, in my thirteen years of searching for you, you have been hiding with Vulcans on a damn research ship.”

Uncle Chris has been looking for him?

Jim could help but smile sheepishly, “Yes, Uncle.”

The connection cut off.

“You will be explaining yourself and your conduct to me later as well,” Sern warned.

“Got it,” Jim straightened. 

The Iria inched closer to the planet, careful not to get close enough to the Narada to be seen as a threat, but close enough that they began to float directly over the capital city of Shi’Kahr.

“Notify me the second the atmospheric interference disappears,” Jim told L’nel before grabbing their head of Security, T’leia, and sent out a ship-wide notification.

“All supplemental pilots off-shift, report to an emergency shuttle. Evacuation of Vulcan is commencing, report two pilots per shuttle. Assignments are being sent to your PADDs, each shuttle is to rescue one major hub, and each additional pilot is to be dropped at a major transport hub to seek an additional shuttle to maximize refugees rescued.”

T’leia drew her phaser, “I do believe your father would find it illogical for you to place your name in the log of a shuttle.”

They left the turbolift in the direction of the transporter room, “I can pilot, and somebody needs to get the Elders out of the Arch. It is logical.”

“Ayhan is a more capable pilot—“

“Ayhan is needed on board, piloting the ship with the most Vulcan lives,” Jim corrected. “I have assigned our next best pilot to evacuate the VSA council. The third best is evacuating the Temples. I am the fourth best and heading to the Arch where the Elders will be. I can prioritize, T’leia.”

“You are human, the likelihood of–”

“If you call me fragile, I’m going to flip my shit.”

“That is an unprofessional response,” She responded.

Jim gave her a look, “And your logic is not objective. If something happens, it’s better to happen to me than to any member of the species currently in crisis.”

“I will be descending to the surface of T’Khasi with you,” She promised, her eyes hard. “I shall be faster and stronger than you.”

“Fine,” Jim said. “I’ll need someone to help me carry Lady T’pau to the shuttle because I’ve never seen that woman do more than a shuffle.”

Jim took relish in the mico-second of a pause she took as she processed that information, the moment of panic that got swiftly soothed by logic.

They arrived at the transporter room, where Jim took a look at the controls and immediately frowned at the officer in charge.

“If you keep playing this by the book, we aren’t going to save that many lives,” He changed the settings.

“Sir?” The officer looked at him expectedly.

“Safe is for every other day,” Jim said. “Today, we’re pushing the limits. 30 bodies at a time, 8 second intervals between beams. Target schools, just grab as many as you can. I know this is a big ask, but you can’t think about it. Just grab as many as you can, if the transporter starts protesting or straining, just randomise the intake location and grab whoever is touching, see if we can maximise families or bonded pairs.”

“That is 225 bodies in a minute!” They protested, “The calculations–”

“Which is why you can’t think, just do it,” Jim said. “Don’t focus on getting them individually, just focus on getting them here.”

He pursed his lips as he looked down at his PADD, “I am instructing the Cargo transporter to do the same, targeting workplaces, 10 bodies every 10 seconds, just to be safer.”

“The ship has a max capacity of a thousand two hundred and eighty-one,” T’leia spoke. “A thousand Vulcan bodies above our current population made for an emergency situation with our lower oxygen concentration. You are attempting to fill our ship in 3.51 minutes. You anticipate a catastrophic genocidal event?”

Jim sighed, “Let’s just say that my faith in Starfleet is near nonexistent.”

T’leia tensed ever so, “Understood.”

Jim’s comm crackled to life, “Commander James, Starfleet has disabled the drill and resumed T’Khasi’s normal atmospheric conditions, however, the Romulans have dispatched a weapon on the planet. The core of T’Khasi is destabilizing!” 

L’nel had an actual tinge of fear in his voice, and Jim didn’t spare a moment to look at T’leia, he just yelled at the officer to beam them to the shuttle bay and ran onto the transporter platform.

He didn’t want to live through a second genocide, but when did the universe ever listen to him?

Chapter Text

Jim was far from the best pilot on the Iria.

They had better calculators, better navigators, safer pilots. The only thing that made him stand out from the rest, is that he refuses to think inside the box, and so he was forced to break all the safety barriers.

Jim liked going fast, he enjoyed risky maneuvers and illegal modifications. 

He lived in a world that followed the rules, and he survived by breaking all of them. The Iria does not judge him for it, but rather commend him.

The atmosphere of Vulcan was thinner than Earth’s, but the interference that the Narada had given out had seriously unbalanced the planet, and the entry had been bumpy.

T’leia was moving about their shuttle, preparing the seats to receive several fragile old Vulcans, as Jim kept the speed up as they headed to the Katric Ark.

A sudden mask covered his mouth and nose as they reached the final stretch.

“Breathe,” T’leia commanded.

Jim took a handful of deep breaths as he landed the shuttle as quickly as he possibly could at the mouth of the Ark. A high concentration of Oxygen, no more than Earth carries but still a small shock of ease to his lungs long accustomed to Vulcan air, filtered into his airways and allowed his heart to pump with a slight more ease.

The removal of the mask was the signal to slap the parking break and book it out the shuttle onto the red ground of Vulcan.

T’leia was only a beat behind him, a hand on his back the second she caught up, pushing him to be a slight bit faster, a slight bit steadier.

The ground was a constant tremor that only got stronger, and despite the fact that Jim was raised in Vulcan-conditions on the Iria, the gravity, thin air, and shaky ground was making it almost too hard for him to keep upright and running.

Mitrani was so going to put him on Oxygen therapy the second he got back to the ship.

Their saving grace was their proximity to the entrance. It took only mere seconds to reach the main chamber.

The elders all stood around the statue of Surak, fingers on wrists, connected.

“Run!” Jim yelled in high Golic the second they entered the chamber, “Run now!”

The Elders all withdrew from each other, approaching them, but with no true speed. Their eyes glanced between their VSA exploratory uniforms and Jim’s clear non-Vulcan features in concern and confusion.

Their saving grace was the sprinting entry of Spock, his bright blue Starfleet uniform making a beeline to two figures in particular. 

“We must evacuate,” He said as he grabbed the arm of the Vulcan Ambassador’s wife. “The planet has only seconds.”

That got them actually moving, and Jim moved forward to take the two youngest elders from Spock and indicating him to go assist T’pau and Lorian, the two eldest. T’leia had immediately started herding Lyras and T’dess out.

“Move!” Jim urged, pushing the pair in front of him. “Shuttle is outside.”

At the word ‘shuttle’, Spock brought his communicator up. “Ensign Chekov, resume rescue beaming of all Vulcans with strong life signals.”

“ Sir –”

“The Iria has sent a shuttle for myself and the Elders.”

“ Understood, sir. ”

He flicked it shut right as a piller collapsed behind them, and they all felt the telepathic echo that accompanied a scream, a genuine feeling of emotion and fear, broadcasted by an Elder.

Jim nearly tripped at the intrusive feeling, amplified by the Ark so it was felt even by a near psi-null like himself. 

“Faster!” T’leia commanded, grabbing the slowest Elder and picking them up so they could run faster.

Spock followed her example, despite the clear face of disapproval from T’pau at the indignity of being carried by him. 

Jim and the Ambassador were the first to escape from the Ark’s tunnels that were quickly collapsing behind them, both pulling Lady Amanda and immediately pushing her onto the shuttle.

Jim practically dove for the shuttle cockpit, taking it from an idle wait into active floatation, making all who entered now have to step up as they filed in.

Spock and T’leia hung back as they stood one foot on the shuttle, the other off so they could reach for all the Elders who were climbing on board.

Suddenly, the ground collapsed from beneath them and Jim had to jerk the shuttle up so it wasn’t caught in the gravitational pull of the land disappearing beneath them.

He could hear T’leia yelp and the scream of an Elder, and then Spock groaning in effort as he slammed the shuttle door closed.

Jim locked the door closed with a shaky hand, adrenaline pumping as he forced the shuttle to climb as high and as fast as he could.

“T’leia?” He called out, unable to take his eyes off from the view screen as he pushed the shuttle to its limits. They were not the only ship in the air; many of the Iria’s shuttles were leaving planetary atmosphere, but there Jim could see several shuttles that took off probably mere moments after them slow down as the gravity increased.

“I am well!” She called back, “We have lost Elder Lyras and Elder T’mar.”

The Elder of emotional suppression and the Elder of trade, keepers of Vulcan knowledge, now gone.

“Fuck!” Jim swore as the shuttle did a small jerk. “Everyone strap in, the gravity is getting too strong.”

It truly was, the corners of his sight were going dark from the pressure, and he was desperately grabbing any little thing to push them out of the gravity well.

They were in the stratosphere, nearly into the mesosphere, but if they couldn’t push into the thermosphere in the next ten seconds, they were dead.

Spock pulled himself into the cockpit, and in a frightening move of messy engineering, he reached over and turned off the artificial gravity and lights of their shuttle and pushed all power into the engines.

It was a curious move in the way that it was so extremely human that if Jim weren’t trying to save all their lives, he would have stopped and gaped.

Seconds later, he was able to say: “Exiting the mesosphere.”

His voice was thready, but when T’leia moved to put the oxygen mask over his face, he weakly pushed her off. “Lady Amanda needs it more,” He told her.

“Illogical,” She said. “The lady has appropriate face coverings and did not inhale dust particles. You are the pilot and if you pass out, the shuttle cannot dock.”

Spock glanced back, out of the cockpit and at Lady Amanda. “Your consideration is honorable, however unneeded. My mother is suffering no oxygen deprivation symptoms, unlike yourself.”

Jim’s hands were shaking. Not surprising, not when Jim is pretty sure that T’leia is bleeding from a cut to her forehead and that Spock is worryingly pale. None of them got out unscathed.

“Fine,” He agreed after a moment. He’ll trust the Vulcans to be logical in survival. 

T’leia placed the mask over his face herself, not letting him move from his position as pilot. It was a familiar move, something that she has done for him several times in his life. The first time was when he was fourteen, where his weak and starved body was barely capable of adapting to the Vulcan life conditions of the Iria, and he had fumbled putting on his oxygen cannula. As he grew, he used the additional oxygen less and less, but every once in a while, T’leia approached him as he worked with an oxygen mask or cannula, fitting it on him and reminding him that he still needed oxygen therapy twice a week. Sern was always the one to lecture him on wearing it, but T’leia simply put it on and left him to it. She always trusted him to know his limits and get up by himself after falling, even while everyone else fussed over the fragile illogical human who would get himself hurt.

He flicked a comm line open, “VSS Iria, come in, this is Commander James.”

“ James ,” Came Sern’s extraordinary dry reply. Jim couldn’t help but wince at his Sa’mekh’s voice, knowing he was about to get the scolding of his life. “ Is there a reason given as to why you are not onboard? ”

“The Elders have been recovered from the Katric Ark with two losses,” Jim replied. “Unconventional tactics were needed to retrieve them.”

Jim couldn’t help but glance at Spock from the corner of his eye, seeing the half-human sit in the co-pilot chair, pale but hanging on.

“ We will be having a discussion, ” Sern promised once again.

Jim decided to take the loss, with the plan of only minimal argument later, “Yes, dad.”

He reached for the lever to decrease atmos-engine power to switch to space-engine power at the same time as Spock, nearly brushing hands, and they both quickly jerk back with apologies in their eyes.

“How is the Iria doing?” Jim asked instead, gesturing for Spock to take over while Jim talked to his dad.

“ Filled to beyond maximum capacity ,” Sern sounded just a slight bit relieved. Jim could imagine him taking the slightly too deep exhale that showed his age and slowing body. “ The USS Enterprise has expressed their inability to beam refugees aboard as swiftly as the Iria, an error with their transporter capacity. 346 Vulcans have boarded the Enterprise, and as they are yet to suffer life support straining, we are now sending our surplus to their ship. ”

“Current count of refugees?” Jim froze as he heard the paltry amount rescued by Starfleet.

“ The Iria has a population of one thousand, four hundred, and climbing .” Sern replied, “ Our evacuation efforts were effective. You have surpassed expectations, James. ”

Jim couldn’t help it, he folded forward, tears springing to his eyes as he leaned his forehead onto the cold control panel in front of him.

He’s saved as many as he could. He’s saved a thousand Vulcan lives. He’s not saved as many as he should have.

T’Khasi was slowly eaten by the singularity created at its centre.

The planet was gone.

“Commander James?” Spock had reached out to touch his shoulder, apparently his lack of response had alarmed him.

“I’m alright, Commander Spock,” He waved the man off. “I was just unprepared for the report.”

Spock had something in his eyes, exhaustion and fear and primal anger. “There is no simulation which can prepare for this scenario.”

“No, there isn’t,” Jim agreed. “Yet we must keep functioning at beyond optimal levels.”

“Indeed.”

The open line to the Iria crackled, “ James. ”

“Yes, Captain?” Jim forced himself to push back the panic attack that he would love to have.

“ The Iria is experiencing low oxygen levels and strained air filters, you cannot come aboard until the population is less than 935 once more. L’hen is communicating with a Lieutenant Uhura to prepare a tractor beam to take your shuttle in safely.”

The professional facade immediately broke when Jim swore violently. He wanted to go home, which is unfair when T’Khasi was gone, the planet was just missing, and his family cannot go home to their planet, and Vulcanshu are officially an endangered species, and Jim just wanted his dad.

“ Jim ,” There was no reprimand in his voice. “ T’leia is with you, and there is still a duty to be done. Once this Nero is caught, the Iria will be waiting to receive you. ”

“Thanks Sa’mekh,” Jim wished the shuttle was empty so he could point the controls straight down into the singularity. “James out.”

He turned off the connection, and sat back.

His lungs burned, his muscles were far too stiff, and he had a damn headache from the rapid shifting of oxygen levels.

He’s also pretty sure he did something to his ankle and the receding adrenaline was making it known.

“Captain Sern was correct,” Spock said lowly as he pressed several buttons on the dash, allowing the Enterprise to take over in directing them to a landing bay. “Your actions were commendable. You preformed a rescue operation despite the personal risk it caused you. You shielded my parents from debris with your own body.”

Did he do that? He can’t remember, it was an adrenaline-filled blur. If he did, it would explain why his back felt like that time Mitrani had to do the heimleich on him.

Jim shook his head, “Duty. I could not have evacuated them without you, would’ve lost more.”

His throat felt pretty damn scratchy from dust inhalation.

“I had a vested interest,” Spock replied, voice thick, it was almost ashamed.

“Don’t we all?” Jim started coughing, and T’leia practically materialised from behind, pulling him out of the tiny cockpit into the main shuttle body.

He was coughing too damn hard to protest when she forced him to lay down on his side on the shuttle floor, Golic notes of his health status as a littany of soothing words. 

After a few seconds of breathlessness, Jim managed to stop and pull his mask back on.

Several Elders were watching him, shielded, clearly unable to handle another death telepathically, especially not at such close quarters. Lady Amanda was being held back by her husband, which is very sweet of her, but also he feels like any touch is gonna hurt like a bitch.

“Jim?” T’leia sounded a tad concerned.

“Asthma,” He wheezed. “Does not like radioactive isotopes and dust.”

“You need a healer,” She frowned.

“Hope Starfleet’s doctors have improved,” He joked before immediately coughing again.

“We have lost our CMO,” Spock informed him. “Doctor McCoy has taken the position, however he is yet ungraduated from Starfleet Academy.”

“Damn it,” Jim groaned. “No Vulcan healing? Can’t Mitrani beam over so I don’t die again?”

“She is presently occupied,” T’leia reminded him. “I will request a secure transfer of data on your fragile body.”

Jim just glared at her as he wheezed, fingers pushing for a higher O2 concentration.

He let his head fall back down on the metal floor, watching as the USS Enterprise slowly grew closer.

Chapter Text

The second that the shuttle docked with the USS Enterprise, they were accosted by doctors.

Jim tried to insist that he could walk off the shuttle and to medical by himself, but the last time he was in Earth-like gravity was two years ago, and so he immediately accidentally launched himself forward. Spock, who had been assisting his mother in her first steps back in the lower gravity, had seen the fall coming and had stopped him from falling on his face. From the look on his face, he was a tad exasperated at the way humans cannot regulate their bodies like Vulcans and just instantly adapt to different ecosystems. 

T’leia grabbed him from Spock’s grip, holding him from his armpits like he was a misbehaving kitten, and walked the five steps to force him onto a stretcher. 

You know, sometimes Jim felt like Vulcans enjoyed using their superior strength and height to manhandle Humans. T’leia was taller than him by two inches, the average height for Vulcan women, and while Jim knew he was tall for a human, he was used to being short when surrounded by Vulcans. Well, except when surrounded by the Elders, Vulcans shrank after they hit a hundred, some capable of losing a full foot in height, though, now that he thought about it, T’pau wasn’t even five feet tall, which means she must’ve always been an absolutely tiny. 

“I’m fine,” Jim complained.

T’leia just looked at him, “I am not appreciative of Human tendency for falsehoods.”

Okay, shutting up now.

He lasted about five minutes until a random nurse tried to stick something in his neck to help clear his airways and T’leia had to stop him from bolting.

“Where is Dr McCoy?” She demanded from the nurse as she held Jim down with a single hand. “I will entrust James’ care to him only.”

The nurse spluttered for a second before going to grab the Doctor, there was no time for being offended in this crisis.

“What?” A man demanded as he was led to Jim. “What happened to you, kid?”

“James has inhaled radioactive isotopes and dust particles from Vulcan’s surface,” T’leia answered for him, stopping him from taking off his oxygen mask to answer. “He also suffers from the human condition of asthma and several life threatening allergies. If you are the Chief Medical Officer of the Enterprise, I am authorised to share his extensive medical file with you.”

Jim pushed off his mask, “Stop calling me fragile.” T’leia ignored him as she pushed the mask back on.

“Kid, if you’re in a biobed and have one of the hobgoblins actually mother henning over you, then I’m not trusting your self assessment of not being frag—oh for fucks sake!” He cut himself off as he glanced down at Jim’s file. “How do you have over 500 recorded allergies? You can’t be allergic to the anti-allergy shot, nobody is allergic to it.”

“James is a rare case who provides our medical officers new research often,” T’leia informed the doctor.

Her Standard was always slightly accented, with the Iria only ever speaking Golic, but she was never imprecise unless speaking to Jim when he asks for her to meet him on his level.

Jim took off his mask, “Hey Sawbones, before you start on me, maybe treat T’leia first because she’s got a concussion.”

“I am not suffering from such an affliction,” She swiftly denied. “The blow to my Supraorbital Foramen was not at the strength needed to concuss a Vulcan.”

“Then where are your statistics?” Jim asked with a slight wheeze. “Last time there were no stats, T’aria kept you in the infirmary for a week.”

T’aria was probably the sweetest, kindest, most empathetic Vulcan Jim has ever met. She was also a six foot five lithe figure of death to anyone who dared injure her crew. Vulcan healers don’t take an oath to do no harm like most Federation races, the promise of pacifism is already inherit to Surak’s principles, and so, like most Vulcans in dangerous situations, they are free to defend themselves against enemies in whatever manner they see fit. Preservation of life is one of the highest mandates of Surak, superseding even the oath of logic in some sects of thought. So, when Jim was sixteen and on his first away team, he got to see the Iria’s CMO gouge out a Tellerite’s eyes out for attempting to roofie Jim, and do so all while explaining to him the exact way she did it that meant the eyeballs weren’t destroyed and if the creep got immediate medical attention, he could still regain sight. Something about Surak stating that if a Vulcan is so prone to the illogic of invasive eyes and wandering hands, they should gouge out their own eyes so that others aren’t forced to kill them for their actions. Which, there is a reason why Jim thought Surak was as amazing as Vulcan’s did.

That story probably explained why Jim has such a healthy mix of fear and respect for doctors and nurses. Well, Vulcan medical practicioners. Jim knew this human won’t break his arm just by holding him too tightly.

“Put your mask back on before I sew it onto your face,” Old sawbones snapped at him. “You, go with Nurse Chapel. She’s the blond treating Commander Spock. If she says you’re without a concussion, then you’re free to go.”

Commander Spock looked decidedly uncomfortable next to Nurse Chapel, which was mildly amusing and very concerning. 

Jim tapped T’leia’s arm before she went, indicating with his eyes that she should get in the middle of those asap. She nodded tightly and left, a small push with her hand on his chest, telling him to stay put.

“I will endeavour to prove that my injuries are only telepathic,” T’leia said to the doctor as she went.

“Damn vulcan voodoo,” He muttered.

Jim frowned, “Vulcans follow their own spirituality, not a Terran one.”

“Would you stop talking?” The doctor snapped at him as he ran his tricorder up and down his body. “Keep it up and you’re getting a lung infection.”

Jim poked his tongue out at him, though it was a bit awkward with the mask.

“What are you? Five?” Sawbones scowled, “If you act like a kid, I’ll treat you like a kid.”

As the man was currently holding the mask onto his face, Jim couldn’t even make a snarky remark about the fact that Vulcans already treat him like a child.

Jim flinched at the hypo to the neck.

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock materialised out of nowhere. “Commander James—“

Sawbones pointed a hypo at him, “I just started treating him, sit down and wait your turn!”

Poor Spock very much was not expecting the threat when he hadn’t even finished speaking.

“Doctor, I am acting captain at this moment, as such you are–”

“Medical outranks everyone,” Doctor McCoy was not here to fuck around. “Did Chapel even clear you?”

“Physically, I am preforming at adequate levels. There are no noted injuries to my self.”

“Okay and mentally? I have heard the word phychic backlash enough times to know that you be suffering from it.”

The hypo that the doctor had given him was irritatingly good, and so Jim had no problem pulling his mask off to speak, “Don’t be rude, Bones. That’s a taboo subject, only Vulcan healers can ask that. Which, have you had any Vulcan volunteers? The Iria can beam some medical assistants over–”

“Mask!” Bones pushed the stupid thing back on his face. “You can switch to a cannula in five minutes if you would stop taking it off! I swear, it’s like undoing a damn Gordian knot trying to stop you from causing permanent damage to your throat. Are you asking for a synth-voice box? Because you’re going to end up with one!”

He stuck another hypo into Jim, this time straight into his chest. “And don’t call me Bones!”

Jim rolled his eyes, raised an eyebrow at Spock, and with one swift motion of a hand, he made the request of a translator-connection.

Vulcan’s didn’t have a non-verbal language with a whole depth of vocabulary. They had a lot of non-verbal cues, sure, but as a telepathic species, they didn’t have a sign language. Instead, deaf and mute Vulcanshu would create light telepathic connections with their peers, pushing their thoughts to another to communicate and translate.

Spock’s eyebrows twitched upwards, but he still reached out to tap two fingertips onto the skin between Jim’s wrist and palm, his palm curling so no other part of their hands touched in what would be an obscene gesture, and Jim mirrored him, so their hands formed an empty circle.

Jim wasn’t psi-null, but he wasn’t from a telepathic species either, so while a Vulcan might be able to push full thoughts, his empathetic human self could only push ideas and emotions.

“ Old movie- Sawbones- Annoyance- Southern accent .”

“Commander James has decided to share the human tradition of ‘nicknames’ with you, he recalls old Terran movies calling Southern North American doctors Sawbones.” Spock translated for the doctor.

McCoy flinched, “Are you doing that Vulcan mind voodoo? Are you supposed to be doing that with psychic injuries?”

“Vulcans have their own spirituality that is unrelated to the Human religion of Voodoo,” Spock’s shields were sliding down, cold in their build, and Jim could only tell the difference due to their slight connection. “I am merely doing a surface connection with James, a traditional translator connection, there is no depth to this meld. Furthermore, my psychic state is preforming satisfactorily.”

“ Satisfactory is not a synonym to optimally, Sern said once to a teenage Jim .”

Spock does not translate this impression to Bones as the doctor is looking similarly skeptical.

“Whatever, you hobgoblin,” Bones threw his hands in the air. “Just don’t let this infant speak for the next three hours and he’s not to take off his cannula for the next three days. Get out of my damn medbay.”

Jim sat up so he could swap out his oxygen mask for a cannula, and the doctor jabbed something else into him.

“Ow! Bones!” He whined.

Bones didn’t even look at him, “Muscle relaxant for you kid, you’re tense as hell. Relax, we’re still picking up survivors.”

Did he just look traumatised with guilt? Or is the doctor an empath or something?

Spock, still connected with him, raised an eyebrow, “As far as I am aware, Doctor McCoy is fully human.”

“Out!” McCoy pointed at the door, “Stop that telepathic shit in my medbay and get a damned room!”

Jim and Spock decided not to push McCoy on his ‘do no harm’ oath and scampered.

Chapter Text

Jim did not break his connection with Spock as they left the medbay, instead continuing a near fully telepathic conversation as they slowly but steadily made their way up several floors.

“ Mother- father- health?”

“ My mother has minor hypoxic symptoms, only a fourth of the severity that you have experienced. My father is suffering the psychic backlash of the death of his two sisters and his father. My great-grandmother is well, however she is old, and the many deaths she has experienced is not assisting her health.”

“Spock- health? Bonds?”

“I have only familial bonds broken. I am without a life-mate, this is easier.”

“Glad. Hurt?”

“There is… pain.”

Jim could tell that Spock didn’t want to admit to that, but it was also basically impossible to lie in any sort of telepathic connection, and he suddenly wanted to smack himself over the head for being so human and pushy.

“ Familiar- death- empathy- I greive with thee ,” Jim sent back, vague yet apologetic.

Spock nods tightly, the tiniest inclination of the head to acknowledge his words but no further discussion.

“ Assistance? Iria- Commander- Medical- Starfleet?”

Jim’s communication was extremely spotty, yet Spock seemed to understand every single thought he pushed towards the other half of the bond. It was a nice change of pace, Sern once told Jim that it was like communicating with a kan-bu , a baby, whenever Jim was rendered non-verbal by his human lungs. Their minds must be pretty compatible, or maybe Spock just has more practise making psychic connections with humans.

“ The Iria has offered its further assistance as we rendezvous with the rest of the Fleet in the Laurentian System, we are accepting three hundred refugees from their ship, alongside a Nurse Practicioner and a First-Aid attendant for our diminished medical officers. ”

Jim perked right up, “ Mitrani? ”

A burst of images of his best-friend on the Iria accompanied the thought. Mitrani, tall but not the slender build of most Vulcans, slinging Jim over her shoulder as she states that if he is incapable of taking his iron supplements to support his vegetarian diet, she will have to carry him. Jim, slinging his legs over hers, reading his engineering book as she read her nursing book. Mitrani and him, off duty, and she was wearing a light pink dress that clashed horribly with her green skin while Jim wore his neon orange t-shirt that had ‘IGNORANT SLUT’ printed across the chest, watching old Earth horror movies with a playful boredom.

“She is your bondmate?” Spock asked, slipping back into verbal conversation in a light stumble from the slipped thought.

Jim rolled his eyes, “Ew. Sister an’ friend. Only young pe’son on Iria”

Spock gave him a glance, “Do not speak aloud, you will damage your trachea.”

“ Improvement?” Jim gave in, only because he knew what he sounded like and it wasn’t pretty.

“Affirmative.” Spock lets down his scolding look. “ I can confirm that is the name of the Nurse from the Iria.”

“Excitement- relief.”

Spock led them down a different corridor, before slipping into a turbolift.

“ As the Acting Captain of the USS Enterprise, I have to acknowledge that the chain of command has been disrupted. Both officers that were to step into the place of First Officer after myself are deceased. Helmsman Sulu is the last man capable of doing so in an emergency, however he is still a Cadet. I find it logical to request assistance of the only experienced commander on board to fill the position.”

Jim raised his eyebrows, “ Me? ”

“ Affirmative .”

“ Acceptance- gratitude- solemn oath.”

Jim has a pause, then sends a memory: “ At least the VSA uniforms look good, he had joked to Sern once. Starfleet just paints giant bright colored targets on each officer and declares it a uniform.”

“ The colors of the Starfleet uniform are, indeed, unfortunate. It will not be necessary for you to wear such clothing, however, if needed, Starfleet captains are allocated an alternative green casual shirt, there would be no complaints if you needed to utilise this.” Spock agreed with Jim.

They left the turbolift, pausing to accept a report of a quartermaster allocating rooms to refugees, and Jim tried not to shiver as he saw the Vulcans in the room beside the officer.

A little Vulcan boy, from the southern pole of T’Khasi from his chubby features and bushier eyebrows, stared into the middle distance, pale. His little hands clasped and unclasped the air, as if trying to reach for something that was no longer there. He moved when an adult Vulcan man pushed him to– a schoolteacher from the way he handled the several children– but the boy clearly was not reacting properly.

The boy wasn’t the only kid obviously traumatised, but he was clearly the worst off.

Jim took the action that would get him the most yelled at and stepped to the side, breaking the connection with Spock, approached the boy, and picked him up.

The last child he had held like this was Kevin, over a decade ago, but it wasn’t an instinct that went away very easily.

He set the boy on his hip, cradled the back of the toddler’s head, and guided his face into his collarbone. The child could easily reach out to him and skim his emotions, and while Jim was too low on the psi-scale to be able to form a bond without a full mind-meld, the boy could steal some of his strength from him, the action that the traumatised schoolteacher could not preform due to his own wounds.

A gentle hum of warm emotions came from Jim, intersped with sorrow and grief, a few hundred memories of interacting with others happily, from his family on the Iria to his children that he kept up with through holocalls. 

The boy blinked against Jim’s neck, he could feel the flutter of little eyelashes against his skin, and his hands stopped grasping for what was no longer there.

“James?” Spock spoke up, watching Jim interact with the boy in a way that was extremely taboo in Vulcan society.

Jim brought his pointer and index fingers into a curl, touching the bend of his thumb while the rest of his hand stayed straight, before flicking his wrist to turn the symbol upside down. Spock didn’t even blink as he reconnected the translator connection by joining their hands once more.

“ Emotions- overwhelm- adapt- human- filter- warmth- shutdown. ” Jim attempted to explain his actions.

“I see.” Spock broke the connection as he straightened, placing his hands behind his back. “It is prudent that volunteers are found to assist the children. They are incapable of the logic of adults and are shutting down from the emotional pain of psychic backlash. A human or another empathetic species is necessary to assist in filtering these emotions using physical touch, their own, as humans would say, warmer emotions are capable of being less overwhelming.”

Exactly what Jim was thinking.

The schoolteacher, clearly overwhelmed, nodded tightly in reluctant agreement. It would be against all Vulcan mandates to allow their children to be physically touched by one who is not their parent or bondmate, but considering that the little one was no longer comatose in Jim’s arms, they were in desperate times.

Jim’s muscles were burning, and even though Vulcans tended to be lighter than humans, Jim really shouldn’t be picking up random six year olds. Gently, he passed the child over to the quartermaster, who fussed with anxiety before settling.

“Your actions are… kind,” Spock observes as they leave the room.

Jim doesn’t bother with the request and just offers his palm to him, “ Empathy- history repeats itself- JT and Kevin. ”

“ You have been in a similar position. You lost your family and needed rescue.”

“Sa’mekh Sern- meld- often- panic attack- stuck.” Jim shrugged, trying to make it seem like no big deal. Panic attacks had come basically once a week back then, and he was almost fully reliant on Sern to help him shake them, it wasn’t until Sern switched from Vulcan psychology methods to Human ones did Jim start being able to manage better on his own.

“ I believe I have to concur with Captain Pike. The retelling of your disappearance and the method of your reappearence within Vulcan society is to be a fascinating tale. ”

Jim couldn’t agree, so he said nothing.

They were nearly at the bridge, diverting to acknowledge several small fires on the Enterprise that needed assistance or a sign off, when Jim interrupted Spock.

“ Laurentian system?”

“The remainder of Starfleet ships are along the Neutral Zone border, we must regroup.”

“Uncle Chris.”

“While he has stated that he expects us to rescue him, I cannot align the conflicting orders of regroup or rescue. This course of action leads to the least possible danger presented to the refugees.” Spock was not looking at him, but Jim felt the tiniest slip.

“Spock- guilty- fear- repetition.” Jim immediately sussed out. “ Illogical. Earth- attack- fear- repetition. ”

“There is no evidence that Nero is attempting to attack Terra,” Spock said aloud. There is no way to lie in a meld, but every way to lie aloud.

“ No evidence?” There is doubt. “ He attacks you. Vulcan, you. Earth, you. Pain, you. Narada causes pain. Earth next.”

“I have orders–”

Jim stops him with a hand to his chest, right there in the middle of the corridor, eyes burning with defiance.

“ Official recommendation– first officer. Earth attacked– us close– run away– fear illogical. ” Jim scowled at the man who stop taller than him. “ Emotionally compromised, you. Emotionally compromised, me. Continue preforming optimally. Go Earth. Rescue Earth. Stop Nero. ”

Anger flared in Spock’s eyes, “You have no evidence for your claims.”

Jim sends back Spock’s own words from before , “There is no simulation which prepares for these circumstances. No evidence. Still happened. ”

Spock freezes, and there is emotion naked on his face for a moment, another, and then he shuts down, Vulcan mask back in place. There is no evidence of the anger, the guilt, the fear, the grief, the terror, the shame. 

“ The Narada has superior weapons, shields, and technology. We have too many refugees onboard to risk an attack.” Spock insisted.

“ I do not believe in no-win scenarios, Jim has announced that many times in his life.” Jim looked up at Spock, eyes pleading and determined . “Request assistance. Vulcans, across the stars, ships. Delta Vega. T’Khut, sister planet. Tactical plans. Ni’var. ”

The last Vulcan word slips out without Jim meaning to push it to Spock. Two who are one, it refers to the joining of two separate beings into a shared space. It can refer to allies, lovers, friendship, brotherhood, and a million other things. Federation Standard translates it to ‘two sides of the same coin’, although Jim feels like that understates the depth of trust and peace the word implies.

Spock looked away, “ You are more capable of command. I am emotionally compromised– ”

“Bullshit,” Jim wheezed. “ I am not Starfleet. I am not Vulcan. This is not my fight. You are captain. I am first officer. I am emotionally compromised too. Equals. I assist. You lead.”

Spock nods tightly as they continue to walk, entering the final turbolift that will take them to the Bridge.

They have come to an agreement.

In their time and compromised mental states, however, they failed to notice how it had gotten progressively easier for them to communicate using just their minds.

Chapter Text

There’s a little part of Jim that withers up when he can’t announce that the captain is on the bridge. He opened his mouth, the Golic words on his tongue, yet he didn’t speak them.

Instead, a young Russian boy does. “Keptin on the bridge!”

The boy was definitely too young to be here, seeing this. Jim very much tried not to remember how he was at that age.

“Plot a course to Earth,” Spock commands without much preamble. “Lieutenant Uhura, I want you to reach out to every Vulcan colony we are in range of. T’khut and Delta Vega have yet to report on the damage they have sustained by Vulcan’s death; they are our priority in communications.”

“Sir?” An Asian man at the helm frowned. “What of the Narada and our repairs?”

“If T’khut is capable, we will offload a significant portion of our refugees onto their planet,” Spock stated. “They will, in turn, supply us with warriors and support. Delta Vega is further, they have a 37.13 percent chance of being affected by Vulcan’s destruction, a better destination, yet lacking the infrastructure needed for refugees to stay for a longer term.”

The two planets were supposed to be gravitationally locked with T’Khasi; however, now with the Vulcan home planet gone, it was unpredictable to know how the yel’ko-kailar were coping.

Charis, T’Khut, or The Watcher, was volcanic, the extreme mimic of T’Khasi’s northern hemisphere, and in the times of Awakening, Vulcans began to build a colony there. During the past two hundred years, with the Reform, the colony had grown to be a home for many Vulcans who did not wish to wholly follow the ways of Surak. Traditionalists, orthodox, warriors, priests, and many others migrated to the planet. Not that anyone that wasn’t Vulcan was aware of the difference. Jim had visited the planet a handful of times, its atmosphere was thicker than T’Khasi’s but contained more oxygen and had a gravity of 1.25 G, much more comfortable to a human such as himself. T’leia’s brother lived on T’khut, and took his entire family there when their daughter was born with a mild mental disorder that meant it was difficult to have introspection on her own body and thoughts, and the emotionally freer culture was better for her. T’leia always took Jim when she visited her brother, and Jim always enjoyed being able to take mini-courses on martial arts with the traditional hunters of T’khut and to fulfill his human need to smile at strangers.

Delta Vega, T’Rukhemai, or The Listener, was in the middle of an ice age that began over three thousand years ago. It mimicked the complete south pole of T’Khasi, with it’s lower temperatures, yet taken to the extreme due to its far thinner atmosphere and Earth-like gravity. Most Vulcans could not stand the temperature, even with their bodies adapted to deal with the frosty nights of their home deserts, and so the planet was sparsely populated. There’s plenty of science outposts, and a colony of a thousand Southern Vulcans, kuh’rak vulcanshu , who work the ice for the minerals and handful of underground sealife that serve as a delicacy to T’Khasi. Mitrani was born on Delta Vega and as such she has a collection of beautiful luminous crystals that grow in their caves that she uses as jewelry and hair pins. Jim, to his utter dismay, is unable to even touch the crystals due to the fact that the natural oils his human skin produces mix with the mineral composition and react in a way that gives him a pretty ugly rash. 

“Warriors?” For some reason, Doctor Bones has appeared on the bridge. Isn’t he supposed to be CMO? “I thought all you hobgoblins were pacifists?”

Jim rolled his eyes and grabbed at Spock without thinking about it, “ Stereotypes, much?”

“Commander James is reminding you about your biases,” Spock translated. “As with all societies, there are a multitude of cultures and religious sects within Vulcan, many of those who do not adhere to our pacifist oaths prefer to relocate to T’Khut where they live peacefully while still connected to those of Vulcan. My brother is a priest on T’Khut, where he studies empathy and telepathic bonds.”

“ Call me Jim ,” He corrected Spock, not even bothering to request him to translate his thoughts more accurately to the word rather than meaning. “ My brother, Sam, colony too. Studies botany, doesn’t like stars, strange.”

“Sir?” Lieutenant Uhura kept glancing at their linked hands with a clear look of ‘what the fuck?’

“Commander James–” “ Jim! ” “–Jim of the VSS Iria is temporarily on board the Enterprise due to the injuries he sustained while assisting in the evacuation of Vulcan and the Elders. I have appointed him as my First Officer due to his experience. As he is currently unable to verbalize his thoughts due to medical complications, I will be keeping a telepathic connection with him to translate.”

Jim, to be a little shit, winked at the admittedly beautiful Communications officer. She pursed her lips at him.

Yeah, she likes him.

“ Jim, I would rather you did not purposefully agitate the crew at this moment.”

“She started it!” He whined mentally back.

“The likelihood of that statement being truthful is less than statistically significant. ”

Jim tapped his index finger twice against Spock’s wrist, a mental poke in the ribs.

“Sir, a hail from the Iria,” Uhura was already placing it on the screen.

“Acting Captain Spock,” Sern greeted. He then looked at Jim, saw the cannula and the telepathically linked hands, and very obviously sighed, a sound he makes only for the benefit of Jim. He’s pretty sure his father had read a book on interspecies cultural parenting after the first time Jim thought getting thrown off the ship while being lectured because of the total lack of human social cues. “James.”

Jim made an exaggerated shrug, one that was recognizable as his symbol of ‘yeah, I knew the consequences, I’m fine with it.’

“We acknowledge your diversion towards the Laurentian system. After contact with The Listener, we understand that the colony is capable of receiving two hundred refugees into their midst, as they do not predict significant immediate effects to their atmosphere. However, Starfleet will need to evacuate the planet within 37.2 days as the gravitational orbit has been disrupted. The Watcher is currently experiencing minor solar and ion storms, including a sudden increase in temperature by 3.2 degrees celsius. The planet is fully capable of sheltering the remainder of the T’Khasi refugees, however, they are also preparing a planet-wide evacuation.”

“ Exodus.” Jim thought grimly, “Genocide of all they hated. We’ll abandon to seek revenge.”

“We are not warriors,” Spock corrected. Jim could hear the slightest hitch in the thought, a fear that this statement would become a lie. “ To protect is not the same as to avenge. The spear in their heart is a spear in ours.”

“We will begin our transportation of refugees immediately, however, we have many who are incapable of being transported currently.”

Jim nodded, “Children,” he rasped.

Three glares were directed at him immediately, even if two were Vulcan and definitely-not-glares.

“Furthermore, our destination has been modified,” Spock stood slightly more rigidly. “We will be returning to Earth in order to intersect with the offending Romulan vessel.”

Sern’s teeth flashed from between his dyed-pink lips, his second eyelid appearing and disappearing for the briefest glance of feline pupils. “The hunt of a significantly technologically advanced vessel that is in warp is illogical, Acting Captain. Your vessel is in need of repairs to several floors, and there is no possibility of intercepting the Narada before its arrival to its destination without the Narada exiting warp.”

Jim immediately puffed up in offense at his father’s words. What the hell was his problem? Spock was a capable officer, the condescending tone was way out of line, the plan was viable and…

And Sern’s estranged wife was on T’Khasi. V’ana was a strict woman, unappreciative of her husband’s work or his decision to adopt a human boy, and while they were extremely compatible in many ways, V’ana and Sern only communicated when necessary. Jim had only met V’ana once, during Sern’s Time, and she was cordially cold. She was a landscaper, working at the community floating gardens of Shi’Yern, a small city far away from the larger cities that were capable of being evacuated. She must be dead now.

“Sa’mekh…” Jim tried. “We can. Community. Ni’var .”

Each word is easier than the last, which means the hypos must be working, but it still hurts, like gargling sand and washing it out with absinthe.

“We will direct non-vital power to the engines,” Spock informed Sern. “Earth contains a population of 9.7 billion. 0.65 billion more than the yel’ko-kailar . The loss is incalculable.”

Jim wasn’t the only one who had taken offense to Sern’s rebuke.

“Captain Sern,” The Asian man from before stood up. “All due respect, but we trust Captain Spock’s calculations. If the Federation is in danger, then we’ll defer to him to get us out of it.”

Lieutenant Uhura nodded tightly, eyes burning with a desire to gut Jim’s dad yet she seemed like she might pass on the murder if she’s allowed to hang up right this second. Jim very swiftly placed her in a mental checkbox called ‘fuck with them if you want to be found in pieces’. It was a very short list because Jim enjoyed riling others up far too much considering how breakable he was. Don’t ever tell any Vulcan he ever admitted to that.

“Commendable,” Sern stated. “Commander James, sa-fu , do not mistake my actions, I am capable of recognizing the fact that you have interfered in the original plans.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, “ We are acting logically. Does he not trust us? We will not be alone. ”

“James is conveying the logic of our chosen course of action,” Spock translated.

Sern was most definitely emotionally compromised with the way he replied, “I doubt that translation, Captain Spock, is accurate. My sa-fu is human, and I do not begrudge him his nature.” His eyes flickered to Jim, “Jim… The Iria will remain in orbit with the yel’ko-kailar , you are to behave yourself accordingly. You are not capable of exerting control of your emotions, yet I have passed on the teaching of Surak. Vengence has not been nurtured in you. Safety is your priority.”

Jim was far too used to getting told to behave in front of everyone by his dad that it didn’t even occur to him to be embarrassed by it. “Love you too, dad.”

Sern cut the connection abruptly, probably deciding that his emotions have slipped enough for his entire lifetime.

Jim made eye contact with Spock, “ Apologies. He’s overprotective.”

“Indeed.”

“Mr Sulu, Mr Chekov,” Spock spoke aloud. “Plot a course to Earth. Ms Uhura, delegate refugee transportation with the sister planets. Doctor McCoy, release every Vulcan who is not in immediate medical danger. We have 0.8 hours before the departure of the Enterprise is too delayed to intercept the Narada. All personnel to their stations.”

Spock gracefully sat upon the silver chair, his hand outstretched for Jim the entire time.

“ You command well ,” Jim appreciated silently. He did not mean to push the thought, yet it drifted down to Spock anyway.

“Your observation is acknowledged, ” Spock sent back. “ Your support is well received. ”

Jim smiled, “Thank you. ”

Chapter Text

The next hour was a whirl of only mildly less frantic evacuations of refugees, Elders refusing to leave the damn ship, and a truly amusing view of Bones’ face when he saw a Vulcan Hunter, a puksu, for the first time.

Jim ended up asking for another hypo (ugh) so he could properly fulfill his duties as a First Officer by being able to communicate without the need of touch telepathy. He really should learn sign language in case there’s ever a non-Vulcan serving on the same ship as him again.

Sikan and Tallera, a pair of Vulcan warriors, had beamed on board the second the Enterprise came to a hover over T’Khut. They were talking with T’pau, faces impassive and eyes burning with anger.

Sybok and Voris were a pair of priests who were running relief, occasionally pulling Bones into a conversation, but they were facilitating the transfer of refugees off the Enterprise and onto one of the massive refugee ships of T’Khut.

Mitrani was onboard, but she had barely paused to flash Jim a ta’al before continuing her triage. She was working remarkably well with Nurse Chapel, and after she had confirmed to Spock that she can handle the workload, the two had disappeared into an overloaded sickbay.

T’leia was discussing something with an Elder and a Fleet Security officer, her arms were crossed and her long braid had been twisted into a low bun, and she has never looked more tense.

Spock… well, seemed to be handling it the best he could.

Jim took a PADD from the acting Captain without looking up, not pausing the conversation he was holding with the T’Rukhemai colony’s leader.

“ Ah, faihan Kovar, di’kizh puzhu-tor .” He confirmed the report of refugees received to Leader Kovar. 

He glanced down at the PADD, seeing the words: “EVACUATION COMPLETE.”

“ Dif-tor heh smusma ,” Jim ended the conversation and stood swiftly to find himself face to face with Spock.

“ I'wak mesukh-yut t'on,” Spock said, standing tall, his hands clasped behind his back.

The present is the crossroads of both future and past. The past influences the present which influences our choices which influences our futures.

Jim doesn’t look down at the PADD in his hands. The Elders have chosen to remain on the Enterprise, there are several ships of Vulcans choosing to follow them, and there is no contest between factions and philosophies. There can be no other logical explanation than the emotional one: personal satisfaction.

Revenge is the oldest emotion to Vulcans, and the one that all factions have chosen to let go of, to repress. Vengeance of a Vulcan is violent, savage, and absolute. In the Time of the Awakening, it was what killed Surak, and it was what made him a martyr, and it was what revolutionized Vulcan. 

This wasn’t revenge, but it was something similar, yet made of pure logic. Reassurance and unity and pacifism and emotionalism and logic and grief . They did want their children to suffer more, so they will deal with the problem now. No one will suffer anymore.

“ Tushah nash-veh k'odu, ” Jim replied, placing his signature on the PADD. I grieve with thee.

Spock nodded, taking back the PADD. Their hands were close, their fingers nearly brushing for a second as the device was passed back.

“All refugees accounted for in evacuation,” Jim reported. “Non-essential personnel who have volunteered to assist with the children have beamed down with the refugees. Lieutenant Uhura has placed an official Federation SOS, reaching all Starfleet and civilian ships. Andoria, Betazed, Terra, and Illyria are launching relief ships. Terra has been notified of the possible incoming danger and are beginning planet-wide evacuations to nearby Starbases.”

“T’Khut assistance?” Spock requested, taking a seat on the Captain's chair. Jim was in synch with him, each footstep falling in time, until he stood behind the chair, exactly one foot and a half behind him like regulation states. Then, he took a step forward so he could place a hand on the back of the chair, a silent show of support.

Tallera stepped forward. She was short for a Vulcan, only six feet tall, and her ears were the sleek points of the Vulcans from the North-Eastern canyons of T’Khasi, the tip straight back like a pissed-off le-matya or a cat in a hunt. Her hair was long, braided back with four plaits that were interwoven and held together by hardened red clay that covered the final quarter of her hair. “Six ships, one from each clan of those who swore to not be blinded by the lack of violence and believe peace was eternal.”

She sounds fun. Jim would love to see a spar between her and T’leia.

“All minds have converged to plan,” T’pau spoke, raising her chin. “Finality without war, stealth without loss. We require further discussion with thou’s input.”

In translation: Everybody knows what they need to do, but not how to do it, and they would like a human touch of deranged plans that just might work so this can fit together.

Spock nodded tightly, the tiniest amount of hesitation. 

Jim knew exactly what was wrong.

He tightened his grip on the back of the captain’s chair and took a half step forward, “Input from all senior crew of the Enterprise will be accessible once the ship is in warp towards the target, an emergency meeting on the bridge will be called at 20.45 minutes after achieving warp 6.”

Spock relaxed just an inch now that it was no longer simply him making all the decisions.

“All stations: status report,” Spock requested.

Uhura flicked switches, and voices came through.

“Medbay confirms all patients prepared for warp,” Bones’ voice rang. “But damn it, you better not be bringing us any new patients now, we’re full.”

“Acting Chief Engineer Vro,” A different voice came, an Orion accent marking a young woman. “Warp 6 is capable, but we have to stay steady, sir. I suggest warp 5 for the first 45 minutes of this trip, gotta prep a girl for something like this.”

“Science has all labs on lockdown, every experiment is safely in stasis,” Another man spoke through the comm. “Reports ready, filed, and replicators prepared for incoming requests, sir.”

“Security reports all stations manned,” A large red-shirt guy who had been talking to T’leia just a few seconds ago speaks up. “No internal threats detected.”

Uhura turned off the comms, “Communication stations manned, no interference in wavelengths and frequencies.”

“Navigational systems plotted, estimated time to Earth is 4.6 hours, sir,” Chekov spoke with his accent coloring every word.

Sulu had his hand on the trigger, “All systems ready, sir.”

Spock didn’t look back at Jim, but he leaned back until his covered shoulder hit the back of Jim’s fingers on the seat. “Take us out: warp factor five, Mr Sulu.”

The viewport blurs and becomes a rolling movement of stars, lightspeed being bent in half as space raced past.

Jim had a small collection of things to do, orders to relay and a short burst of conversations to assist in translating; there were only two Communications officers fluent in Vulcan dialects, and even then, Uhura and Gamal knew as much Golic as Sikan and Tovis knew basic. Capable, but the context was missing. Jim privately wondered how Starfleet lacked that much understanding and diversity in regard to one of the founding planets of the Federation. What once was one of the founding planets of the Federation.

Forty-five minutes flew by, and soon enough, the ship was switching over to Warp Six, and they could gather an official meeting on the bridge.

Jim sat on the captain’s chair the second Spock vacated it to ‘Vulcans-don’t-pace’, fixing his cannula discreetly every time Dr. Bones turned his back to him so he could yell about something at Spock. Currently, it was him complaining about the theory of time travel.

“They will be passing close by Saturn to avoid the detection of Jupiter’s starbase,” Jim posited. “Ergo, we have to intercept them there, because once they pass Jupiter, it’s too late.”

“Jupiter’s starbase has been warned, and their bouncing red alert frequency will tip off the Narada,” Uhura agreed. “However the black hole of Saturn does mean that we can’t communicate with them now that we are in warp.”

“And we can’t drop out of warp to tell them to shut it down,” Sulu said. “Because the Narada has a head start.”

“However,” Spock continued. “I may be able to calculate a path where–”

“Captain,” T’leia interrupted them. “Ensign Giotto has just informed me of three intruders that have beamed aboard.”

Spock barely paused, but any Vulcan could catch the small blink. “Improbable, we are currently in warp.”

“Our intruders must either have really messed up with their warp equations, or they have figured out the mystery of trans-warping,” Jim pointed out. “Either way, I do believe they should be escorted here.”

T’leia eyebrows shot up as she read the report incoming on her PADD, “It’s a Human, a Roydeep, and a Vulcan.”

“That’s… a combination,” Jim shared a baffled look with Spock. 

‘ More time travel ?’ He asked with his eyes.

Spock’s left eyebrow twitched as the corner of his lips tensed, ‘ The presence of advanced technology may support that conclusion .’

Jim looked up at the ceiling. They never had time travel and transwarp beaming and high-stakes battles on the Iria, but of course, fucking Starfleet probably had protocols for all of this. Jim couldn’t lie and pretend that he wasn’t a little bit thrilled by all the action. This is probably why Vulcan handed over the reins of Starfleet completely to the humans the second that the Federation was fully solidified. 

However, that feeling of irritation-amusement disappeared completely when he saw the face of the Vulcan that had snuck aboard.

The features were familiar, intimately so, but also aged and foreign. Jim could look at their face and see the bone structure and eyebrows that mirrored Solkar, T’pau’s late husband and the guy who made first contact with humans. He could see the curve of ear and the shade of skin that were the same as Ambassador Sarek and all his ancestors back to Surak. He could see the crinkle of smile lines and warm brown eyes that looked so much like Lady Amanda, so very human the pupils and irises. He could see so much and it stole his breath away.

“Spock?” He whispered, his hand reaching out to find the arm of his friend, checking to see if they were still there, still warm and had blood flowing and no weakness in their bones and no wrinkles on their hand. Spock had evidently done the same, because their knuckles bumped against each other as they reached out, Spock grasping his shoulder as Jim sat in the chair, and Jim holding tightly onto the covered wrist of the same arm.

“James T. Kirk,” The elder Spock said. “I have and always will be your friend.”

Jim didn’t know exactly what that meant, but there was an oath in the words, like every breath and sound was for him, and he wished to hear it a million times more. With every sunrise and sunset, he wished to see that quiet smile and silent oath, and that scared him.

Chapter Text

Jim closed his eyes for just a second.

T’leia is here, and Mitrani is just a few floors below. Sern has given his approval, and Jim can feel the warmth of Spock underneath his palm. He doesn’t need to go searching for support.

He opened his eyes and decided to go with it.

“So I suppose our theory on the Narada’s breaking of the Temporal Directive is correct?” He asked, straightening up on the chair.

Is there such a thing as a Temporal Directive? Probably. Vulcans have a subset code of ‘please do not go messing around the timestream if Starfleet and/or a science project accidentally sends your forward/back’, so, statistically, Starfleet is way more likely to have a full-blown set of directives if you time travel considering that they are at least 60% of the problem.

“Indeed,” The elder Spock inclined his head. “You appear to be handling it remarkably, Captain.”

“Thank y– wait, what?” Jim started to say before he registered that last word. “Captain?”

His eyebrows furrowed, strangely expressive in his facial features. “Are you not Captain of the USS Enterprise?”

Jim is not one for superstition, that is a human fallacy and extremely illogical. Yet he still practically threw himself out of the seat and gave a quick tug on his Spock so the other man got knocked down into the previously occupied seat. Captain of the Iria, he could take. They had a grand total of 16 minor incidents in the past decade, all of a diplomatic nature. Captain of a Starfleet Vessel? They averaged 16 major incidents a year.

“No!” He yelped, “Absolutely not! No! Don’t curse me like that!”

Spock, who was blinking rapidly at his new position of being sprawled in the captain’s chair, righted himself with a bewildered look at Jim.

“Fascinating,” Both of them said at the same time.

“What?” Lieutenant Uhura asked, “Too good for Starfleet?”

“More like I’ve been raised to stay away from Starfleet’s brand of crazy and assholishness,” He corrected. “Thanks, but no thanks, I’ll be returning to the Iria as soon as my temp role as XO is done here.”

The smile lines in old Spock’s face were definitely being put into action, even if his lips weren’t smiling. Why was he emoting so much? This is weird. This is so weird.

Why does T’pau look like she shared Jim’s sentiments? Jim should not be sharing similar opinions on Starfleet and its shenanigans with the prestigious spiritual and political leader the Lady T’pau of the House of Surak. Jim had used a made-up word (or so he presumed, most of his slang and swears came from Tom and Kevin) and so she should be displeased at his illogical behavior. This entire bridge was acting illogically. Why is Jim suddenly the voice of reason? This is not supposed to happen, he was raised to be human and illogical and stand out against a background of Vulcans and Jim thinks he may be having a mini panic attack. 

Maybe.

Just. Roll with it, Jim. Just roll with it.

“Just… please… tell me you’re here to give us some information on how to beat this guy.” Jim pinched his nose and accidentally bumped his cannula out of place. “Please.”

“I carry much information from the future,” He stretched out a hand. “If you would allow me…”

Jim looked at the hand, then at his face, then back at the hand. Surely he isn’t suggesting a mind meld, right? Like, Jim may be human, but he also understands the implications and intimacy of a meld, and, uh, while he wouldn’t mind if it was an emergency and his Spock, who he knows , this is a stranger who is at least four times his age.

“I think talking would be faster than a translation connection like the mesukh’esta ,” Jim chirped, trying very, very hard for his smile to look natural and not the defensive one of someone who just got come on by some old guy. “Unless you were going for the ozh’esta , to which I need to inform you that you’re too old for me.”

And he fucking winked .

Jim. Jimmy. James. Why are you flirting back at the old guy who propositioned you in front of your aunt and T’pau? Why is he like this? Why is his defense mechanism flirting? Well, cause it works, but this is not the moment– !

Jim can see from the corner of his eye how T’leia’s cheek twitched. He vaguely wonders if she’s amused or if she’s going to throw him over her shoulder and drag him back to his dad for misbehaving.

“I can certainly observe the similarities between you and my own Jim,” Old Spock’s eyes were doing the soft, warm, crinkly thing. Jim was definitely weirded out by the overt emotion coming from a Surakkian Vulcan. “For all your differences.”

He’s cool, Jim has to say that he liked this guy. However, he is still going to inch ever so slightly back so he is behind the Captain’s chair. Spock can handle this.

And Spock did .

It was a beautiful thing to see, two Spocks discussing and coming up with tactical plans. Every piece of input from others was carefully considered and added, with statistics and science backing up every suggestion. And then they would both turn to Jim, as if waiting for his approval, and when he gave it, the two would immediately return to potentialities, and it warmed him.

Well, until he had to butt in with his own, slightly unhinged idea, and the way they took it in stride and suddenly changed everything to mold it to his idea, despite the look of visible horror Sybok made in the background, kinda troubled Jim.

Kinda.

Just roll with it, Jim. Just roll with it.

He’s pretty sure that should be the motto of Starfleet, ‘just roll with it’, would be way more realistic than all their lies and cover-ups and–

And Jim’s emotional compromisation may be pushing a bit to the brink. But he can’t do this here, and he definitely cannot do this now. 

“I do believe we have a plan,” He announced instead.

“It’s crazy, and it might not work,” Sulu pointed out.

Jim shrugged, coming to stand next to his Spock. “And here I thought that was what Starfleet was about: faith, trust, and beating the odds.”

“I was under the impression that the mission of Starfleet is exploration and science,” T’pau spoke up, making the entire bridge go silent. “However, prior incidents do lend themselves to that misconception. I do believe this is what the children of my line have sought from this organization.”

Both Spocks, and, strangely enough, Sybok and Sarek, are very much refusing to look at T’pau.

Jim grinned up at her, “So what are we all waiting for?”