DANCING UPON THE WINDS by Ster J
DISCLAIMER: Don’t own Trek. Wish I did. It may own ME, however…
Characters: Spock, Kirk, McCoy, Sarek
Rating: PG
Genre: Angst
Setting: Post-Star Trek Five
A/N:
The concept of a vrekatra is—I THINK—from “Spock’s World.”
Summary:
Spock discovers that he bears Sybok katra! What now? (Dedicated to
all our deceased loved ones who wait for us Otherside… )
"What
have I done?" Sybok looked from
Spock to Kirk to McCoy and back to the alien entity that wore his face. "This is my pride! My arrogance!" He held up his hand in salute to his brother
and straightened his shoulders. Spock
saluted his brother in return and touched his outstretched palm.
"Sybok?"
"Forgive
me brother. Forgive me."
"Sybok!"
Kirk
was wakened by a strange muffled sound.
He peered around in the moonlit darkness of their camp at Yosemite. McCoy's sleeping bag was empty. Kirk could hear him relieving himself behind
a tree. He next looked toward Spock's
place. Kirk noticed the faint
thrashings of a bad dream. He crawled
out of his warm cocoon and over to his friend.
"Spock? Spock, wake up. You're having a nightmare."
The
Vulcan flung himself back and found himself in Kirk's arms. He was disoriented for several seconds, then
he lifted a hand to his face. It was
wet. "Oh," he groaned. "Oh, no."
"What
is it, Spock?" Kirk said gently.
"What's wrong?"
Spock
drew in a deep breath. "I was
dreaming about Sybok."
Kirk
pulled Spock closer to himself as his own vision blurred. Kirk remembered similar nights after his own
brother Sam was killed. He blinked
several times. "You're still
mourning the loss of your brother," he murmured. "It's only natural to dream about him."
"You
two want to be alone?"
Kirk
looked up as McCoy stood at the edge of the camp's firelight. He shook his head. "No, Bones. Come on
over. Spock was just dreaming about
Sybok." McCoy put a consoling hand
on the Vulcan's quivering shoulders.
"I
am so sorry about your loss."
Spock
shook his head. "This is
wrong!"
"I
don't think so, Spock," the doctor said gently. "Even Vulcans aren't spared grief."
Spock
pulled himself away from Kirk's embrace.
"No!" he insisted, "this is wrong. I have already completed the grieving
ritual. This," he said, indicating
the tears he had wiped from his face, "this is wrong. It should not be happening." Spock turned towards McCoy. "Something's wrong with me. Examine me.
Find out."
Spock's
breath began to come in fits and sobs as McCoy fumbled for his medikit and
scanner. He passed it over Spock and
peered at its findings in the light of the campfire. "This shows that you're fine, Spock. It was just a dream, probably just some
unfinished business you...”
Spock
tossed his head from side to side.
"No!" Kirk and McCoy
exchanged worried looks. "No! Something's wrong. You should know. You
should know!" Kirk tried to lay a
calming hand on Spock's arm, but the Vulcan shrugged it off. "McCoy should know!"
"But
why? Why should Bones know what's
wrong?"
The
Vulcan cast wild eyes about, not really seeing the worried looks on his
friends' faces. "Because it once
happened to him!"
McCoy
searched his memory to see what in blazes Spock was talking about. He took a sudden, sharp breath. "No, it couldn't be."
"It
couldn't be what, Bones?"
"There
wasn't enough time. Sybok only touched
Spock for a moment."
"Time
for what?" Kirk bellowed. Spock
drew his knees to his chest and curled up into a little ball.
McCoy
looked from the Vulcan back to Kirk.
"I think Spock is carrying Sybok's katra."
Spock
launched himself to his feet and moved towards the river. He climbed the rocks near the base of the
falls and sat himself in the middle of the river, high enough above the water,
close enough to feel the spray.
Kirk
and McCoy picked their way more cautiously to the bank of the river. "Spock?" Kirk called. "How
can we help you?"
Spock
lifted his head from his knees briefly.
"Give me some time to think.
I will meet you back at the campsite."
Kirk
nodded. "Okay. Be careful up there." Kirk watched his friend's profile a moment,
then turned to McCoy. "Bones, will
he be all right? Should we stay with
him?"
McCoy
shrugged. "When it happened to me,
I didn't know what was going on. I
nearly went crazy. But I think it's
different with him. Let's give him the
benefit of the doubt."
Kirk
turned a worried gaze back to his friend on the rock. "'Nearly'? Bones,
you were fruitier than a nutcake."
Kirk
had just finished dousing the campfire when he heard the soft sounds of
footfalls behind him. Turning, he saw
an exhausted and fretful Spock entering the campsite. "Would you like some breakfast?" Kirk asked, offering
him some coffee.
Spock
threw back the welcomed warmth of the hot liquid and shook his head. "We have a problem."
Kirk
took the pot and refilled his cup.
"'We'?"
"We. Sybok and I. I can only be relieved of his katra on Vulcan, but, I cannot
bring Sybok back to Vulcan. He was
exiled."
"So,
what's going to happen?"
Spock
shook his head, miserable. "I
don't know!"
Spock
sat at his desk, chin in hand. He was
trying--again--to compose a message for his father, to compose himself. How could he speak of the unspeakable with
his father? How could he tell him about
the one whose name was not to be mentioned?
The Enterprise was already en route to Vulcan. He could not very well show up on his father's doorstep with
Sybok's katra. Resolutely, he
turned off the padd and turned instead to his terminal, requesting a private
subspace line.
"This
is Sarek."
Spock
opened his mouth to speak, but was suddenly at a loss. Sybok had overtaken him. "Father?"
Sarek
was puzzled. "Yes, my son. You called me. How can I be of service?"
Sybok
looked at Sarek through the eyes of Spock and was overcome. It had been years, decades, actually, since
he had spoken to his father, ever since that awful day when he was driven from
the planet and Sarek was unable to help him.
Sarek
grew concerned at Spock's gawking stare.
It was indeed rare that his son should contact him in this manner, but
at least when he did, he had something to say.
"Spock? What is
wrong?"
Spock
shook himself, wresting back control.
"Sybok is dead," he blurted.
Sarek
nodded. "He has been dead to us
for years. We are not permitted to
speak of him."
"No,
Father. I have seen him. He gave his life to buy us time to
escape."
Sarek
was quiet. He had heard something of a
recent search for Sha Ka Ree.
"So. You saw him," he
said softly. Spock nodded. "And he is gone." Again a nod. "I shall mourn him, again.
Is that your message?"
Spock blinked several times.
Sarek grew disquieted. His son
seemed uncharacteristically agitated.
"What is wrong, my son?"
Spock
gasped for air. "I bear Sybok's katra." Sarek slapped his hands down on the desktop.
"What
have you done?"
Spock
closed his eyes from the stern visage of his father. He shook his head, fighting for control, not only over Sybok, but
over his own growing madness. "I
didn't know," he said in a small voice.
"I didn't know. It all
happened so quickly. He touched my hand
in salute before he went to battle the entity that held us captive. He only touched me for an instant, but it
was enough time for him to prepare me to receive his spirit." Spock gulped for air. "I didn't realize until several days
later that he was with me."
"What
is to be done? You can only be relieved
of a katra on Mount Seleya, but you cannot bring the exiled one
home. But if you are not relieved, you
will go mad."
"I
know," Spock groaned.
Sarek
raised his hands to his face.
"This is a fine mess."
Spock
stayed silent. What else was there to
say?
Sarek
rubbed his aching head. "Where is
your ship now?"
"We
are bound for Vulcan."
Sarek nodded. "Good.
Action must be taken quickly. I
will not lose you again, my son. I will
make arrangements, but be prepared. The
masters may not allow his katra in the Hall of Ancient Thought. We may have to set Sybok loose upon the
winds."
"No!"
Spock moaned.
Sarek
sat forward. "What he did was
heinous."
Spock
matched his father's stance. "He
was under the control of a alien entity," he argued. "Sybok knew that in the end. He was humbled. Without that evil influence, Sybok would not have done what he
did."
"I
will tell them that, but they will have final say. Contact me when you arrive.
Sarek out."
With
High Master T'Lar presiding, Sarek defended his son--his sons--before the
assembly of elders and matriarchs, Kohlinar monks and Mount Selaya priests,
members of his own clan as well as the clan of Sybok's victim.
"I
speak with the pain of a grieving father, for I am grieving anew the loss of my
elder son, one who has been dead to me for years. And I speak with the fear of a father whose sole surviving son is
in danger of losing his sanity if he is not relieved of this katra. You need no longer fear the exiled one. He was humbled before he died. He discovered the duplicity of the alien who
had misguided him and his mother T'Mir.
He knew that the place he was drawn to was not Sha Ka Ree. Give me back my first born son. Let him rest in the Hall of Ancient
Thought. And free my other son from the
horrors of madness."
"And
who will give us back our own dead?" spoke a voice in the crowd, a
relative of the monk Sybok had slain.
"He died, mind-violated, with no chance at the second life."
"But
does he not dance upon the winds with his ancestors?" Sarek replied. "My son will not have that. He died protecting the lives of others on a
planet so far away."
"You
are not the first to lose someone off world.
Who are you to have special privilege?"
Sarek
extended his hands, pleading. "If
my son had not been influenced by an alien mind, he would not have done
harm. If his mother had not been
influenced, she would have raised him rightly."
"So
you are saying that it was not you son's fault that he was who he
was?"
Sarek
dropped his arms. This was getting
nowhere. "Forgive me. My logic is uncertain where my son is
involved." T'Lar stirred. Sarek had said the same thing when Spock was
in need of fal tor pan.
"Then, at the very least, I am asking for someone to take my exiled
son's katra from the mind of my surviving son before he is driven to
madness." Sarek lowered his gaze
and his voice. "We are prepared to
set it loose on the wind."
T'Lar
stood. All eyes turned to her in
anticipation. "We remember Sybok
as a boy." Sarek could not repress
a gasp as she spoke his name aloud, a name that had not been mentioned on
Vulcan for nearly half a century.
"He was a gifted child, with an unusual talent for healing. Had he not have been unduly influenced, he
would have achieved much. On the other
hand, our brother Suvik had given many years of service at Mount Selaya,
guiding people to the vrekatras of their ancestors in the Hall of
Ancient Thought. His mind was violated,
his life extinguished in a moment of passion as a lonely, misguided youth
sought the comfort of his mother's spirit.
Before Sybok died, he knew of the deceit, of the folly. He revealed in his self-sacrifice the gifted
boy we once knew.
"It
is not only in great accomplishments and heroic deeds that lessons are
learned. Tragedy and error are
formidable teachers as well. Sybok
still has much to teach us. And we must
consider the health of Spock, one for whom we fought so hard to wrest back from
death not so long ago. T'Mir's vrekatra
still stands empty in the deepest recesses of the Hall of Ancient Thought. If there are no further objections, we will
relieve Spock of his brother's katra and place it there." T'Lar regally scanned the hushed assembly,
giving ample time for contrary opinions.
The relatives of Suvik stood.
"Let it be so."
Sarek's
heart nearly burst with relief. The
ancestors had been with him today, guiding his words. He saw the assembly of monks rise and chant as one, "Let it
be so." He saw the priests of
Mount Seleya rise and chant together, "Let it be so." He looked to T'Lar and one sob escaped from
him as she said, "Let it be made so." Sarek fumbled so badly with his communicator that T'Lar had to
take it carefully from his hands and call the Enterprise herself.
"Send
us Spock. It is time to lay Sybok to
rest."
Spock
beamed down carrying a small chest.
Kirk and McCoy flanked him, with Amanda close at hand. Of course she would have beamed up to sit
with Spock, Sarek thought. It was only
logical. Handing the chest to his
mother, Spock turned to Sarek, his eyes large.
Sarek
knew that both his sons were gazing at him though Spock's eyes. Sarek opened his arms, and Spock rushed into
them. Sarek closed his arms tightly
around Spock, pinning his son's arms to his sides. Sarek addressed Sybok.
"You will rest where your mother was, my son."
After a
time, Spock nodded.
"Understood."
Sarek
crushed Spock to his chest. "You
mustn't move. You must not fight the
High Master."
Spock
started to gasp for air.
"Understood," he whimpered.
Sarek
nodded to T'Lar. She pressed gentle,
warm fingers to the side of Spock's face.
He started to moan softly.
"Sybok," he whispered.
He struggled in his father's arms, but it was no use. Sarek had him in an iron grip. Someone brought out a dark and dusty vrekatra
globe. Spock looked at it in wonder as
it began to burn from inside with a warm glow.
"Sybok!"
T'Lar
stepped back, trailing her fingers away from Spock's face. Sarek relaxed his vice-like grip, but did
not release his surviving son. Spock
raised his head to Sarek, trembling, and looked at him for a long moment. He tried to speak, but found he had no
voice. Swallowing, he tried again. "I grieve with thee, Father."
Sarek
smoothed Spock's hair back into place.
"And I with thee, my son."
Both of
them lost their footing as their knees buckled. They sat in the dust watching as a procession of monks and
priests bore the vrekatra of Sybok to the Hall of Ancient Thought. Father and son rested on the ground, their
arms still around each other as if they were in need of being held up. McCoy whipped out his ever-present scanner and
declared them both fit, if not exhausted.
Amanda gave each of her men a sip of cool water from the flask she
carried, setting the chest on the ground between them.
"What
is this?" Sarek asked, finding his voice at last.
Spock
laid a hand on the little wooden box.
"Before going down to the planet we thought to be Sha Ka Ree, Sybok
asked me to trim his beard and hair.
Instead of putting it into the cycler, for some reason I placed it in
this chest." Sarek opened the
chest and looked at the salt and pepper curls and locks of hair, pressing his
lips into a thin line. "We do not
have his body to lay to rest, but at least this much of him can join with the
ancestors."
Sarek
concurred. "Very well."
Kirk
helped Spock to his feet, who in turned aided Sarek. They proceeded through a maze of carved walls and glowing pits
until they arrived at the family shrine.
Sarek held the chest as Spock raked the coals to life. Using the end of the rake, Sarek tucked
Sybok's curls between the glowing embers until the hair began to burn. Kirk stood at attention in respect. McCoy willed his face to impassivity, even
though he considered the stink of burning hair to be one of the galaxy's worst
smells.
Sarek
and Spock each took a paddle-like object that seemed to be made of tightly
stretched, tightly woven cloth. They
beat the air rhythmically in circles round and round the pit. McCoy thought it looked like a cross between
a march and a dance. Kirk realized that
the two of them were trying to stir the smoke and ash into a column, to catch
the wind currents, he supposed. They
kept saying a short phrase that the universal translator could not translate,
except the name Sybok, of course.
Amanda
felt her robes begin to stir. Kirk felt
the delicious relief of a cool evening breeze tease the back of his neck. McCoy gazed in wonder as the ashes and
embers began to swirl up, coaxed by the efforts of Sarek and Spock. They all looked up and watched the column
rise and move out across the plain.
Amanda joined her voice to the prayers of her family, in Federation
Standard for the benefit of their human friends.
"Dance,
Sybok. Dance always upon the
winds."