What if the
universal constant was a force so vast that its influence spanned reality as any
humanoid being understood it? Imagine
there were two souls destined to meet, to connect, and to change their world
for better…or worse.
Imagine a universe where the one known as James Kirk never
came to be. The other soul, the other half of their constellation could never
know what was missing. But Spock still longs for…something. He would deny the
feeling, would pick it apart into its components and stow it away deep inside.
He would excel in his endeavors, he would be alone, but content in his work. He would study and learn and his work would be flawless. And nevertheless he would remain restless and always - forever - searching for a thing without a name.
Now imagine
a universe that never witnessed a human-vulcan hybrid. Captain Kirk gets his
command, of course, it’s his first best destiny after all. But there is
something that keeps him, not quite unhappy, but unsatisfied. He loves his life and
his job. Sometimes his bed is empty, sometimes it’s occupied by another welcoming
body, but he never feels attached enough to stay. He feels like he was born
restless, always running headfirst into the adventure, the next mission the
next posting. And sometimes his passion pays off and sometimes it costs him
dearly. But not once does he experience the peace of mind to just keep still
and breathe.
What if the
universe conspired to repair this mishap? What if during an exploratory mission
into unknown space Spock finds something that should not be where it is and gets dislodged?
Maybe he is
lured by a strange human with an annoyed expression that keeps on
nagging about how it’s not his job to correct the mistakes of others. And before
Spock could even react to this being that reveals itself as certainly not human…he
finds himself somewhere else.
“Hey are
you alright?!” A man asks him, when he comes to on what appears to be the
transporter pad of a federation ship. Spock’s eyes need a moment to get used to the
strange light and when he looks up into the kind face with the warm golden eyes
he finds himself unable to normalize his heartbeat.
“It’s ok.
We’ve got you and your vessel. You got pretty banged up in that space
distortion, but the scans showed that you were physically alright.” Concern
radiates of the stranger in gentle waves, before Spock is finally able to rebuild
his shields.
“I’m Jim Kirk by the way. Here, let me help.” The
man, Jim Kirk, says and helps him onto his feet.
Let me help, something echoes in the halls of Spock’s ribcage.
And just
like that something falls into place. The constant is reestablished and the Q
are satisfied with the outcome.