The PADD slid in front of him, quietly; for a brief moment he had the illogical compulsion to simply ignore it, but curiosity inevitably won out.
“What is this?” he asked—perhaps somewhere down the line he had meant to say something along the lines of ‘Hello, Jim’ or ‘What brings you here, old friend?’ or just simply one ambiguous ‘Why?’, but. Curiosity won. As it always had.
“I’ve had Scotty running through some calculations—y’know, in his spare time. He thinks it’s possible—to calculate the exact temporal trajectory of a controlled wormhole—and we were thinking, if there was any chance…He thinks it could work. You—the other you—he thinks it could work too.”
The captain shrugged with an air of nonchalance that somehow completely juxtaposed the situation, almost mocked it.
“But I thought I’d defer to your expertise.”
“And you imply…?”
He left the thought hanging. ‘Nice try, old man’, Spock could almost hear Jim think, ‘but we both know that you know that that’s bullshit. Don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean.
Somehow the austerity of the Vulcan Science Academy’s labs did not suit this conversation. No; a more suitable atmosphere would certainly have been one were they were both secure within the bulkheads of a starship from a liquid wall of
“Don’t you wanna go home, Spock? Don’t you want to fix things? You could just go to the point in your universe…with the other me—you could
Together, the word sort of hung in the air, but it seemed that Jim had reached the conclusion that it was a totally ridiculous
Spock ran through scenarios in his head, myriad possibilities. What could have kept the Jim of his universe from leaving? Could he have been incapacitated—made to sleep in, by some absurd means, gotten horribly, suddenly ill? Would Spock have had to somehow sabotage the Enterprise-B herself in order to keep the captain away? Could he have simply told him? But no. It was much too whimsical to speculate upon improbable
“I do not wish to press the matter further. It is kaiidth—whatever will be, will be.” Whatever had been, had
Jim looked a bit lost for words; he ran a hand through his hair and laughed, picking up the PADD and practically shoving it in his
“It would be so simple! You could easily create the red
“It is not a matter
“The accommodations could be made. Aren’t you at least curious what we’ve come up with? This could be it! Haven’t you ever seriously thought about going back home?
The old Vulcan—seasoned, perhaps Jim would describe him were he inclined to being a bit tongue and cheek right then, but he wasn’t—looked up at the captain, face for once truly devoid of expression. It was all in the
“No, Jim,” he lied. “No. I have not.”