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mirroredcommandHe had told himself that he did not want Spock to come, to find him.
As the days passed, it was getting harder to believe that lie.
He had spent the last several days in complete silence, reading endlessly on the padd he had intimidated out of the guards, reading every bit of history that he could discover on the universe he found himself in. The history of Starfleet and the 'Federation', which honestly amazed him. Such little differences that had changed entire worlds. Here, the Vulcans, Andorians, and Tellarites were allies of Starfleet instead of having been conquered.
It was strange how the changes in technology had been remarkably slower here in this universe by a great deal. The Enterprise had been designed by his own hands a full fifteen years earlier then the Enterprise he was currently sitting in. He had developed his own design from the ships of the same name from the past. Curious.
His fingers delicately over the padd, typing in rapid, unwatched motions that kept up a long stream of notes for his later perusal. He assumed that everything he put into the padd was being monitored and kept it simple. There were several things he had decided.
If he was trapped here, he would have to convince this crew, this captain, that he was not the dangerous animal he truly was. Further attacking any member of the crew would be foolish, and as it stood, he had nothing to gain from it. If he could be freed of this damned cell, as long as he was allowed to remain on the ship, he could serve. He would hate it, but there was little choice to be had. He could work on finding a way back to his own verse but he needed the tools to be able to do so.
His way to the captain, without a doubt, was through Spock.
And now, he had a different way entirely then was originally thought. He could feel it, something so small that it had gone unnoticed, but could not be denied. It felt like an echo, a sonar, constantly ringing outwards and trying to seek something it could not find. A slim thread of golden light, extending into the darkness, diverging from the thick, ragged end that was what remained of his own bond.
It was that same bond that was driving him to harder and harsher thoughts. He would not allow himself to slip into the madness that threatened. The not-silence that remained after a death scream rang in his ears, needing something that he had not been without for eight years.
He reached out, keeping that sonar-echo constant, looking for a ping that meant it had struck something. Found something. Found someone. He would not go mad. He would find a way, no matter what it cost, back to where he belonged.
Spock.
As the days passed, it was getting harder to believe that lie.
He had spent the last several days in complete silence, reading endlessly on the padd he had intimidated out of the guards, reading every bit of history that he could discover on the universe he found himself in. The history of Starfleet and the 'Federation', which honestly amazed him. Such little differences that had changed entire worlds. Here, the Vulcans, Andorians, and Tellarites were allies of Starfleet instead of having been conquered.
It was strange how the changes in technology had been remarkably slower here in this universe by a great deal. The Enterprise had been designed by his own hands a full fifteen years earlier then the Enterprise he was currently sitting in. He had developed his own design from the ships of the same name from the past. Curious.
His fingers delicately over the padd, typing in rapid, unwatched motions that kept up a long stream of notes for his later perusal. He assumed that everything he put into the padd was being monitored and kept it simple. There were several things he had decided.
If he was trapped here, he would have to convince this crew, this captain, that he was not the dangerous animal he truly was. Further attacking any member of the crew would be foolish, and as it stood, he had nothing to gain from it. If he could be freed of this damned cell, as long as he was allowed to remain on the ship, he could serve. He would hate it, but there was little choice to be had. He could work on finding a way back to his own verse but he needed the tools to be able to do so.
His way to the captain, without a doubt, was through Spock.
And now, he had a different way entirely then was originally thought. He could feel it, something so small that it had gone unnoticed, but could not be denied. It felt like an echo, a sonar, constantly ringing outwards and trying to seek something it could not find. A slim thread of golden light, extending into the darkness, diverging from the thick, ragged end that was what remained of his own bond.
It was that same bond that was driving him to harder and harsher thoughts. He would not allow himself to slip into the madness that threatened. The not-silence that remained after a death scream rang in his ears, needing something that he had not been without for eight years.
He reached out, keeping that sonar-echo constant, looking for a ping that meant it had struck something. Found something. Found someone. He would not go mad. He would find a way, no matter what it cost, back to where he belonged.
Spock.
