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They evacuated Vulcan as quickly as they could. Those on Vulcan with access to ships filled them to the limit before heading off while the Enterprise and any other ship in the area beamed people up twenty at a time.

Spock watched expressionlessly as his people calmly filed off of the transporter in the cargo bay. Engineers fluttered around them, trying to increase the beaming capacity. They might have been able to, if they had the time, but time was one thing they did not have. In 5.34 minutes, the device was going to detonate and wipe out the entire population of Vulcan.

There was absolutely nothing Spock could do, unable to stop the devise or speed up the evacuation process. So, he stood in the cargo bay that was slowly filling with people, and mournfully calculated the maximum amount of people they would be able to save. The number wasn’t nearly big enough. Dread pooled at the bottom of his stomach as he counted down in his head, drawing out each syllable in an illogical attempt to slow down the passage of time. Unfortunately, like all countdowns, time ran out far too soon.

Every Vulcan in the room froze in an almost horrified disbelief. Then, as one, they fell to their knees and screamed. The scream echoed throughout the whole ship, sending shivers down the backs of everyone who heard it, who heard the raw agony that filled it.

Spock clutched his head tightly, agony coursing through his veins, as he felt the bonds linking him to Vulcan snap. He couldn’t think straight. It was gone, they were gone! Why couldn’t he feel them? Why weren’t they there?

Spock clawed through his mind, desperately searching for something, anything to hold onto. He pushed passed the broken bonds that tore at his mindscape, and pressed deeper until he found a few surviving links. They lead right in front of him.

Spock lunged towards the remain of his people, grabbing the nearest Vulcan and pulling him closer. Distantly he could feel the others doing the same. All of the Vulcans lunged at each other in a panic, pulling each other close, biting and scratching at every piece of skin, assuring themselves of the others existence in the most primal way possible.

The pain didn’t register, insignificant compared to the agonizing hole in their minds. Their hands wandered over every body they could reach. They tore away the cloth that dared get in their way, then pressed closer, skin to skin, touching, feeling, claiming until they were all just a withering mass of bodies.

Soon physical touch wasn’t enough. They forced themselves into each other’s minds, shredding any defenses that got in their way. They tore each other apart, breaking the little that remained whole, then they pieced themselves back together. As one, they moved the pieces of their broken minds, twisting and bending the pieces in an attempt compensate for what once was there.

They bound themselves together, closer than they ever were before, trying desperately to fill the agonizing emptiness in their minds that was once filled with millions of other Vulcans.

They bound themselves to each other, and then, when every Vulcan on the ship were connected, they reached outside to the other ships in orbit of what used to be their home. They melded to the masses of Vulcans on the other ships, growing stronger with each mind added, knitting themselves together until they were inseparable. Then they reached further. Their minds scoured the galaxy, searching for every Vulcan left alive. They followed screams of the Vulcan minds crying out into the agonizing void for something to connect to. They found all of them, no matter how far away they had been, and pieced them into their collective mind until all Vulcans were one.

“Gone!” They screamed. “Gone!”

“Pain!”

“Silent! Too quiet!”

“Empty!”

“Gone!”

They screamed together, loud enough for the whole galaxy to hear their grief. They cried out for what they lost, for every broken bond, for the home they could never return to. They yelled and cursed the one that did this to them, vowing retribution for every lost soul. They continued to grieve, falling further and further into a dark place they might not be able to return from, until on voice called out.

“Live?” It questioned. “Survive? Together?”

The rest of the mind paused. It was right. Nothing mattered anymore except each other. Hate and prejudice were forgotten, and petty rivalries were cast aside. None of it mattered, not anymore. Slowly, they reached out and calmed their chaotic minds, trying to sooth their broken bonds as they attempted to heal their pain.

“Survive,” They said with determination.

“Love.”

“Hope.”

“Live long and prosper.”