The ragged end of the bond was closed off as effectively as possible - and in Spock's brain that was very effectively indeed. He supposed he owed his father gratitude for that at least - the severing of his cultural bonds had let him accustomed to the silence and solitude of his own mind.
Were Pike (he needed the distance of last names to consider such a thing) to die, Spock would survive. Whether or not, he admitted to himself, he would want to, well, that was another question entirely.
And this limbo was taking its toll. His logic was not yet impaired but, as he mentally reviewed his actions of the past few weeks, he could read the emerging tendencies as clearly as anyone. He was spiraling closer toward the madness and blood lust that Christopher had controlled in Spock so rigidly, for his own good, when Spock's own control had come so close to failing before.
A lifetime of the strictest control had exacted its own cost as well.
The bonded nanoprobes, tuned to Christopher's hand and to Spock's as secondary command, visible only because there was such a quantity of them, swarmed inside the jar as he held it to the light, admiring. When these were unleashed on the Enterprise, they would become a part of the fabric of her systems, her very structural integrity at the deepest levels.
He was close now - there were two tests running, close to completion. If they concluded as expected, Spock would release the creatures, organisms, really, and let them secure the Enterprise for him, for Christopher.
The severing was violent and unexpected - the only reason he remained conscious was the careful shielding he had been holding in place so tightly. Even so, he gasped, in the privacy of his lab, and watched as the jar slid through nerveless fingers to shatter on the floor.
It was good that he knew how the tests would conclude, Spock allowed himself to think before he sank to his knees, body bending until his pounding forehead was pressed against the cool surface of the floor.
Christopher. Christopher. Christopher.
His blood pounded the name, screamed out for his mate. Something was wrong, deeply wrong and now there was no more time.
Spock tore down the shields he had erected out of self-preservation, tore through his own mind to fan the ember of the bond, almost smothered in what ever was afflicting Christopher. He whispered, he raged.
Christopher, I am coming for you.
No more diplomacy.
Spock took two more deep breathes, stood and straightened his uniform, and strode from his lab toward the transporter bay. The shards of broken jar glittered on the floor behind him as the organics of the nanotechnology gleamed wetly, claiming the Enterprise as his and as Christopher's.
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A universe away
Date: 2009-09-10 11:35 pm (UTC)Were Pike (he needed the distance of last names to consider such a thing) to die, Spock would survive. Whether or not, he admitted to himself, he would want to, well, that was another question entirely.
And this limbo was taking its toll. His logic was not yet impaired but, as he mentally reviewed his actions of the past few weeks, he could read the emerging tendencies as clearly as anyone. He was spiraling closer toward the madness and blood lust that Christopher had controlled in Spock so rigidly, for his own good, when Spock's own control had come so close to failing before.
A lifetime of the strictest control had exacted its own cost as well.
The bonded nanoprobes, tuned to Christopher's hand and to Spock's as secondary command, visible only because there was such a quantity of them, swarmed inside the jar as he held it to the light, admiring. When these were unleashed on the Enterprise, they would become a part of the fabric of her systems, her very structural integrity at the deepest levels.
He was close now - there were two tests running, close to completion. If they concluded as expected, Spock would release the creatures, organisms, really, and let them secure the Enterprise for him, for Christopher.
The severing was violent and unexpected - the only reason he remained conscious was the careful shielding he had been holding in place so tightly. Even so, he gasped, in the privacy of his lab, and watched as the jar slid through nerveless fingers to shatter on the floor.
It was good that he knew how the tests would conclude, Spock allowed himself to think before he sank to his knees, body bending until his pounding forehead was pressed against the cool surface of the floor.
Christopher. Christopher. Christopher.
His blood pounded the name, screamed out for his mate. Something was wrong, deeply wrong and now there was no more time.
Spock tore down the shields he had erected out of self-preservation, tore through his own mind to fan the ember of the bond, almost smothered in what ever was afflicting Christopher. He whispered, he raged.
Christopher, I am coming for you.
No more diplomacy.
Spock took two more deep breathes, stood and straightened his uniform, and strode from his lab toward the transporter bay. The shards of broken jar glittered on the floor behind him as the organics of the nanotechnology gleamed wetly, claiming the Enterprise as his and as Christopher's.