Contains a sort-of reboot version of Star Trek: The Motion Picture. Story not told in order so we can get to the action first.

Disclaimer: I don't own ST

Jim tried crawling, his legs refusing to obey. Fuck that. He grit his teeth, the pain of damaged ribs shooting in all directions as he propelled himself forward on shaking arms, aware of the blood dripping from his nose. He was snarling, the sterile floors no closer and no farther. But he wasn't going to give up here, not after all that shit he'd gone through.

He wasn't going to lose here. Not now. And he certainly wasn't going to let that idiot Vulcan die.

Spock gasped for breath, his vision fading in and out in blurry swirls. Any thoughts he would have had fled as soon as they came- only one task at hand. His fingers remained outstretched, in preparation to touch the machine's core. Pain can be controlled. It is but a sensation.

The steel tube was midway through his body, lodging itself in his chest with a steady whirring sound. It dug until it reached the spine. He remained suspended as V'Ger continued its task, uncoiling the tubes from his limbs and pinning him up instead. He felt- a harsh breath- the metal touch a bruised bicep- pain is but a thing of the mi- felt it puncture the skin, ripping fabric and muscle, drive itself through the bone- pain is but- until it emerged from the opposite side. Warm blood flowing out, freely and immensely. Quantities.

The second tube rose up- he felt it again, digging into a thigh, breaking vessels and tissue, tearing its way through bone. Pain is of no consequence. You are Vulcan- the third tube was in his other arm, drilling through- this will not affect you- he gurgled- the fourth impaled the untouched limb, leaving both legs useless. A green haze- blood?- he estimated a few minutes before he would give in- he does not estimate- he felt the warmth leaving his mouth, trailing from his nose.

But the fingers were still poised- the task- he had one last thing to do- the tube made an abrupt turn inside him, tearing through a cracked rib instead of the spine. He felt it emerge from his backside with a triumphant sound. He was in the machine's control now, limbs impaled by its mechanical arms, body too damaged to be of use.

I am ready, the voice said.

Spock shut his eyes. My mind to your mind. Steel against his fingers. He felt the being's essence- the pain intensified- and then there was no more.

Son of Sarek- V'Ger- Machine- Vulcan- Human- we are one

"Come on, come on, stay with me, kid."

Leonard furrowed his brows, swearing under his breath, feeling the sweat roll with blood. But that was no matter- he'd been cut up before. It was the Russian he was concerned with; almost eighteen, damnit- looks like a friggin' fifteen-year-old.

Chekov stirred under the doctor's hands, split lips parting. "The- the," he was rasping, "-keptin."

"Save your breath," Leonard said. But he stiffened slightly at the mention of their captain. Shit. Jim couldn't stay out of trouble if his life depended on it. Scratch that- especially if his life depended on it. And that hobgoblin-

"I'll give 'em a piece of my mind, a real good piece!"

He applied more pressure to the wound on the youth's side, the blood-flow nearly coming to a stop. A wave of relief crashed over him; it wouldn't hurt to lie down, to shove the headache away. Chekov was breathing slowly, but steadily.

"Alright, kid, stay with me- slow breaths-"

He reached for a hypo while Chekov struggled with the task, his face covered in sweat and grime. He wasn't sure whether to smack the kid or hug him because for a second, Leonard almost saw his daughter there, and like hell he was going to let that reminder mean nothing. He'd save the kid like he'd save her.

He injected the hypo and waited for the effect to go through. Five. Four. Three.

"The keptin," the youth murmured, "doctor... he's in troub-"

Two. One.

"-rouble."

Leonard hoisted the boy up, made sure not to agitate the bandaged side. They were going to get out of there. "Then I'm coming back for you, Jim," he growled, "there'll be hell if you ain't there." Both of you sons of bitches.

Jim was up again, grateful that the undershirt was so dark- it hid the blood better. Made him feel better about this whole thing. He hobbled forward, the white tunnels curving everywhere, damaged viewscreens still crackling with blurred messages.

"V'Ger!"

No response. He grit his teeth, the phaser in shaking hands. "Hey, V'Ger!"

"Where the hell are you!?" He fired into empty space, partly from frustration. "We're tougher than you think! I am the captain here. Come on out- take me!"

Just let him go. Please, just let him go. I'll do anything.

"V'Ger! We can strike a deal! I get it- you're a superior being and all that crap, we all get it. So just tell me what you want, I have no idea what the hell you want, so just stop hurting my crew!"

He coughed. The air was heavy.

"Or I'll come to you. Tell me the way!" Please.

The glass bridges rotated above him, some mockery of the master computer's efficiency. With a roar, Jim pointed the phaser above him and blasted away. If V'Ger wanted to keep playing this game, Jim Kirk was going to put a stop to it. He'd never played by the rules anyway. A new surge of strength sent him running forward, instinct telling him to go left.

Where's the logic in this, Spock? Fucking hypocrite.

Jim laughed like a maniac. Nothing could stop him now. Nothing.

And here's my second Star Trek fic. Like it? Hate it? Feel free to let me know in a review! I don't know if I should continue this or not, so this is sort of a pilot chapter to see if anyone's interested.

Anyway, thanks for reading!