Treasured Memories
by Ster Julie
In 2004, after the sudden
loss of a very dear friend and mentor, I wrote a pair of stories, "Spock's
Treasures" and "The Treasured Box." Each contained elements that could be fleshed
out into individual stories. This is that
series.
I do not own Star Trek. It may own me, however…
Rated G-PG
1 - Teething on Rocks
--ooOoo--
It was Spock's first
birthday, an auspicious day in a young Vulcan's life. On this day, the year-old child is to be
presented to the entire family.
Spock had been very fussy
the past few days because he was teething.
Amanda had a difficult time dressing her son for the ceremony. Spock did not want to wear the fancy, pleated
Presentation garments. Usually such a
curious child, Spock did not want to do anything but be held in Sarek's
arms. It had little to do with warmth or
security. Sarek always had the most
interesting things on which Spock could gnaw, and if that teething toy happened
to be one of Sarek's fingers, well, he could tolerate that abuse far better
than poor, fragile and bruised Amanda.
On the day of his son's
Presentation, Sarek wore his finest clan wear, including the heavy, metal
breastplate studded with polished semi-precious clan stones. Young Spock latched eagerly onto one of the
embedded stones. It was smooth enough
and cool enough to ease the discomfort in his sore
little gums.
Disengaging his young son
carefully from the breastplate, Sarek handed him to his grandmother T'Pau. This began another spate of fussing, even
though the baby usually adored T'Pau.
"Sarek," T'Pau
ordered, "remove the stone for Spock." At Sarek's reluctance, she added, "It is
sufficiently large enough. It will not harm him."
Sarek did as his mother
commanded and the ceremony continued without further interruptions.
T'Pau held her small
grandchild. Intoning the proper chants of thanksgiving for
this thriving child and calling on his ancestors from the time of the beginning
of their clan.
Spock stared out at the many
assembled relatives in fascination, openly curious, chewing on the stone, and
happily burbling at the conclusion of the prayer.
"Thee agrees, Child?" T'Pau teased the little one.
Spock smiled and patted his
grandmother's cheek. T'Pau's eyes
sparkled as she looked deeply into Spock's curious, intelligent eyes, eyes so
like her own. She turned Spock back to
his parents.
When Spock caught sight of
Sarek, he happily babbled, "Sa-Sa!" around the rock. Stretching out a pudgy arm to his father,
Spock soon found himself scooped into Sarek's strong arms.
"Thy son has
appropriated your jewel, Sarek," T'Pau observes. "Thee shall
need a new clan stone. I shall send thee
a replacement."
Amanda reached over and
chucked her son gently beneath his chin.
"Show GranGran you toofies," she
cooed softly to Spock.
Spock turned to T'Pau,
wrinkled his nose and proudly displayed his gums in a garish grin. There, poking up from his gums, were the tiny
points of two upper and two lower teeth.
"Such
an accomplishment!"
Spock cooed in agreement.
2 - By the Sea
--ooOoo--
"Mama!"
Amanda groaned. It had been a long trip to Earth, and getting
to the bungalow seemed longer still.
Young Spock had slept through most of it, but his parents had not. Even if they had gotten to bed at a decent
hour, it was still too early to rise.
Sarek hadn't moved. She checked to make sure he was breathing (It
was less intrusive than checking through the bond if her husband was all
right!) before easing out of bed, donning a dressing gown, and padding over to
the nursery.
Amanda found her son sitting
crossly in his crib.
"Good morning,
Baby!" Spock favored his mother
with a dark look.
"Where
MY bed?" He hit one of the bars keeping him prisoner
in a bed meant for a child much younger than he. "Spock BIG boy. Want big boy bed!"
"And good morning to
you, Mister Grumpy!" she said wearily.
Amanda let the side down as far as it would go and held her arms out to
her pouting son.
"Gotta
potty," Spock declared before he deigned to uncross his arms and reach out
to his mother. Amanda helped him out of
the confining bed and led him to the facilities. As Spock took care of his urgent business,
Amanda peeked out the window and smiled at what she saw.
The eastern sky was
lightening, chasing away the dark of night with pastel splendor. She could see that the tide was ebbing,
leaving the sand littered with shells.
Amanda knew a little boy who had never experienced the ocean firsthand. It was time to introduce Spock to maritime
wonders.
"All done," Spock announced.
"Spock, would you like
a surprise?" Amanda asked.
"Yes, Mama!" he
proclaimed loudly.
"Shh!"
she warned. "Your father is still
asleep. We have to be quiet." Amanda led Spock back to his room and pulled
out appropriate clothing for him to wear at the waterline. Spock pulled off his pajamas and let his
mother help him dress quickly. Motioning
for her son to sit quietly, Amanda tiptoed to the master bedroom and gathered
her own clothes, which she quickly pulled on while Sarek continued to sleep. They all needed this
vacation, none more so than Sarek.
Amanda collected Spock and a
tote bag. Together they eased out of the
house, went down the stairs and walked the short distance to the shore. The light was still dim, so when the big wave
crashed against the nearby rock jetty, Spock clung in fright to Amanda's leg.
"It's okay, Baby,"
she soothed. It's just the water."
"Too loud," Spock
stated.
"Yes," Amanda
agreed. "It's loud. It's the roar
of the ocean."
"Ocean roar?" Spock puzzled.
"Lematya roar."
"That's right,"
Amanda concurred. "The Lematyas
roar, the lions roar, and the ocean roars." Amanda pointed out the first rays of dawn
coming over the horizon.
"Water
on fire!" Spock concluded.
"No, Spock,"
Amanda corrected. "That is only the
reflection of the sun on the water.
Isn't it pretty?"
Spock nodded. Just then several seals slipped out of the
water and onto the rocks. Spock's mouth
dropped open as they called to each other.
"Urk, urk urk!" Amanda imitated.
"Urk, urk!" Spock imitated right back.
"Look there,"
Amanda directed. Spock turned and saw a
flock of seagulls circling a fishing boat just coming in from a night
excursion.
"Eee,
eee," Spock repeated their plaintive cry. Amanda was impressed. Smiling, she took her son's hand.
"Come, Baby," she
urged. "Come see what surprise the
ocean left for you."
"For
me?" Spock asked in
astonishment. Amanda laughed softly.
"Yes, Spock," she
answered. "Today it is all for
you."
Mother and son made their
way to the tide line. It should have
been easier to walk on the wet sand, except that each step revealed a new
treasure. Amanda picked up a black
mussel shell.
"Look,
Spock." The boy oohed
as she revealed the shell's iridescent colors inside. She held out the tote bag. "Do you want to keep it?" Amanda
asked of her son. Spock nodded and dropped the shell inside the bag.
Spock took a step and
stooped to pick up a round, white object.
"Oh, Spock,"
Amanda said happily, "You found a sand dollar." The boy dropped the shell into the bag.
Mother and son went from
object to object, picking up one find after another. Most of them were bivalves, like the mussel
and some of those were still attached to its other half. Others were gastropods of various sizes and
textures.
Spock bent to pick up a
soft, olive-hued object.
"Wait, Spock,"
Amanda warned. "That is sea
cucumber."
"Balloon," Spock
insisted. Amanda nodded.
"Yes it has an air
bladder, much like a balloon," she confirmed. "But don't pick it up. It's . . . "
"Ucky,"
Spock announced, wiping his hand on his jacket."
"Ucky,"
Amanda repeated, amazed again at how fast her small child was.
Spock stooped suddenly and
picked up a pair of good-sized whelk shells.
He held them out to Amanda for inspection.
"Very good, Spock!"
she praised. "This shell can do
something very special." Amanda
gently pressed one of the shells against her son's ear. She watched his curious eyes grow very
large. "What do you hear?"
"Ocean roar!" Spock
announced. Amanda laughed and held the
other shell to Spock's other ear. He
quickly pulled back.
"Too
loud."
Amanda suddenly noticed
something about the shells. When turned
upside down, they nearly matched the shape of her son's delicately pointed
ears.
"Spock," Amanda
said playfully, holding both shells up to her ears. "Do I look more Vulcan now?"
Spock looked from side to
side in amazement. His mother's ears now
looked more like his!
Amanda picked her son up at
the waist and swung him in a circle until he began to giggle with all his
might. Amanda put Spock down and he ran
from her right into the flock of sea gulls.
The startled birds flew off in all directions. Spock tried to pluck them out of the sky, but
to no avail. Amanda picked him up over
her head and settled him on her shoulders.
Holding her son's arms out, she swooped and dipped from side to side
giving Spock the illusion that he was flying, just like one of the birds. She carried Spock like this all the way back
to the bungalow.
Spock's happy cries carried
all the way to the beach bungalow. Sarek
rose from the bed, opened the door and observed the early morning antics of his
very human wife and his halfling son. His tired mien grew dark.
Amanda swung her son off her
shoulders and lowered the tote bag as they entered the small house. Spock fished out the two whelk shells and
held them out to his father, but Sarek didn't move.
Amanda watched as Spock
visually deflated at Sarek's silent reproof.
Her happy little boy, bubbling with enthusiasm was gone in that instant. Little Spock didn't know what he had done
wrong, but he knew enough to keep quiet.
His gaze dropped to the twin treasures in his hands.
Sarek decided then and there
that Spock's babyhood was coming to an end.
It was time to stop indulging the boy and begin his rigorous trainings
in the Disciplines.
Sarek wondered who would be
more distraught at this, Spock or his mother?
3 - The Lesson of the Box
--ooOoo—
Sarek was having difficulty
mastering his frustration. It was his
place, as Spock's father, to be the one to introduce the boy to the Vulcan
Disciplines. As much as Sarek
cherished his wife, he was beginning to wonder if Amanda was a bad influence on
their son. Removing her from Spock's
life would be detrimental to them all.
Sarek –must- find a why around that.
He had tried the customary
ways of introducing the ancient studies, but Spock would have none of it. He could not wrap his young mind around the
concepts. His constant challenges, the
numerous "Whys?" were wearing Sarek down faster than a stream of
water on sandstone.
It was time to try a
different approach.
"Spockam,"
Sarek called. "Come. It is time for your lessons."
"Noo,"
Spock wailed from the floor of his room.
"I busy."
Sarek surveyed the clutter
around his son. Spock had upended a
container of items he had collected from the various places they had
visited. As Sarek studied the items, he
noticed that Spock had set them up in a grid.
The boy had sorted them by color across the top and by texture down the
sides.
"Spockam,"
Sarek chided gently. "You arranged
these items in a logical manner, but when your elder calls, you must
obey."
Spock bowed his head. "Yes, Father."
Sarek held out the basket
and Spock replaced his treasures inside.
One item had not been on the
floor with the others. It was the whelk
shell Spock had collected on their vacation at the Earth beach. The boy tentatively held the shell out to
Sarek.
"Ocean roar,"
Spock announced.
Sarek was puzzled. "No, son. It is a seashell."
Spock shook his head and held the shell up to Sarek's ear. "Ocean roar," Spock repeated,
"inside." Sarek listened a
moment and heard the sound waves bouncing off one another. "Why?" Spock asked.
"Why do we hear sounds
in the shell?" Sarek clarified.
Spock nodded vigorously, eager to soak up every bit of information.
/If only he would be so
eager to learn the Disciplines,/ Sarek thought. A sudden insight came to him.
"Spockam,
it is time for your lessons," Sarek repeated. "Bring your shell. When we are finished, I will tell you why you
hear the ocean inside."
Spock rose, carefully picked
up his shell and followed Sarek into his study.
Spock went and sat near Sarek's meditation brazier and waited.
Sarek entered the small
storage closet near his desk, rummaged around a bit, then exited with three
cartons in his hands. Spock watched him
curiously but said nothing.
Sarek placed the cartons in
front of Spock.
"Select a box, Spockam," Sarek ordered.
Spock inspected the boxes
carefully. He pushed aside the carton
that had two flaps on top. He then
looked at the box with the interlocking closures. It was intriguing, but Spock found it too
difficult to close.
The last box was a simple
box with a separate lid. The texture of
the linen finish intrigued Spock. He
made his selection and pushed the box toward Sarek.
"This one," Spock
announced.
"Open it," Sarek
said.
Spock complied, then frowned when he peered inside.
"Empty!" he
groaned.
/Someday, my son, you will
learn how not to let the whole universe know what you are feeling./
"Spockam,"
Sarek began, "remember our earlier lessons about how the Vulcan people
were ruled by their emotions?"
"Uh-huh," Spock
replied. At his father's raised brow, he
amended his reply to, "Yes, Father.
The killed each other. Vulcans
have to master their e-mo-shuns so we don't kill nobody
like –they- did."
Sarek blinked. How could one so young grasp a concept so
difficult?
"And what does mastery
mean, my son?"
Spock screwed up his little
face in thought.
"I dunno,
Father."
Sarek placed the carton that
Spock had selected earlier and placed it in front of his small son.
"Mastery is much like
this box," Sarek began. "Just
as the box can contain things, mastery will contain—control—emotion. This box will represent your mastery."
Sarek picked up the
shell. Spock looked at his father with
wary eyes. The shell was his favorite
treasure, and Sarek had promised to explain how it made that sound.
"I want you to place
into your box anything that represents your emotions," Sarek continued.
"Like what?" Spock
asked fearfully. Would he ever see his
things again?
"Like this shell,"
Sarek said.
"But you were gonna teach me about the shell!" Spock wailed.
Sarek blinked at Spock's
reaction. "I promised to teach you
about it after this lesson, Spockam," he
soothed, as he held both the shell and the box out in expectation.
Spock took his shell and
clutched it to his chest. He remembered
the happy time he shared with his mother that first early morning on the beach. They had had such fun together running after
the birds and listening to the ocean roar both at the shoreline and in his
shell. He remembered how silly Amanda
looked as she held two shells up to her ears and pretended to be Vulcan.
"You can see your shell
any time you want, Spockam," Sarek said calmly
as he continued to hold out the box.
Spock sniffled as he
reluctantly put the beloved shell in the box.
Sarek put the lid on the
carton and said, "Can you see the shell, my son?"
Spock pouted, crossed his
arms and said, "No."
"But does the shell
still exist even though we do not see it?"
Spock had to think a
while. "Uh-huh," he finally
answered.
Sarek placed the box in his
son's hands.
"Mastery is like the
box," Sarek continued. "We
know that the emotions exist in us, but if we allow them full rein, then we
will return to being savages."
"Like in the time
before Surak," Spock interjected.
Sarek nodded. "Like in the time before Surak," he
repeated, caressing his precocious child's head. "We remove the emotions from our actions
and save them to be examined and mastered during meditation. We do not deny their existence, but we cannot
allow them to control us. Do you understand?"
"Uh-huh," Spock
replied absently as he studied the carton.
"C'n I have the box?"
"It is your box, Spockam," Sarek replied. "You may place anything inside that you
wish." He fished into his
pocket. "I have something you may
wish to place there."
Spock's eyes grew large as
he gazed at the shiny object in his father's hand.
"That's your special
rock," Spock said as he recognized one of Sarek's clan jewels.
"That rock has been
replaced," Sarek explained. "I
wish you to have this one."
Spock took the rock and
examined it. It looked strangely
familiar.
"You teethed on this
rock," Sarek explained.
”When I
was a baby?" Spock asked.
"Yes," Sarek
replied. "Do you see the
scratches?"
Spock peered at the
rock. There were indeed several parallel
gouges in the rock. He lifted the lid of
his box, placed the object inside, and closed the lid.
"I sorry," he
whispered.
Sarek was confused.
"For
what, my son?"
"I messed up your
special rock," Spock wailed.
Sarek placed gentle hands on
his son's shoulders.
"It doesn't matter, Spockam," Sarek soothed. "The stone served its purpose and has
been replaced. Let us speak no more of
it."
Spock wiped his nose on his
sleeve and nodded. "'kay"
Sarek lowered his hands to
his knees and said, "So, then, Spockam. Do you still wish to learn about the sound in
your seashell?"
Spock immediately
brightened. "Yes, Father!"
"Bring your shell to
the computer and we will learn together," Sarek ordered.
Spock popped the top off his
box, withdrew the shell, replaced the lid and hurried to his father's side.
Sarek lifted Spock onto his
lap as he called up information on sound and on seashells.
"You see, my son,"
Sarek began, "sound is made of waves."
"The ocean gots waves," Spock announced.
Yes, Spock…"
"How'd the ocean get
waves?"
"There are many
factors: the planet's rotation, tides,
wind." Sarek saw a cup of tea on
his desk. He held it out to Spock. "You can make waves in this cup by
blowing on the surface." Spock
puckered up to do just that, then he paused and looked
at Sarek in confusion.
"But,
Father, who blowed on the ocean?"
Sarek sighed silently. It was going to be a long afternoon.
4 - The Ear
--ooOoo—
Sarek found Spock on a stone
bench in the garden. The boy's shoulders
were slumped, burdened with a grief and blame too great for one so small.
Spock slowly became aware of
his father's presence.
"Father," he
murmured in greeting.
"I have retrieved E'Chaya's body from the mountains, Spockam,"
he announced gently. "The tanners
will cure the pelt for us. What should
be done with the hide?"
Spock blinked up at Sarek.
"It is not my place to
decide," he rasped, barely controlling his devastation.
"E'Chaya
was your pet," Sarek reminded Spock.
Spock shook his head. "But he was your pet first."
"But he was your pet in
the end," Sarek insisted.
"Shall we spin the fur into yarn and have something woven, perhaps
a blanket or clothing?" Spock shook
his head again. "Perhaps leave the
hide intact and use it as a rug at the mountain villa?" Spock considered this, but in the end
discarded the idea. "The only thing
left is to tan the hide and make leather goods."
"Why so we have to do
anything at all?" Spock anguished.
"The illogic of waste,
my son," Sarek continued.
"This will be a lasting tribute to one who gave his life protecting
you."
Spock's fragile control
shattered and his tortured soul burst forth.
"I TOLD you I was
sorry!" Spock cried. "I
shouldn't have gone into the mountains.
I shouldn't have let E'Chaya follow me. He shouldn't have died. It's all my
fault."
Sarek knelt at Spock's feet
so that he would be eye-to-eye with his son.
"I for one am
–grateful- that E'Chaya followed you into the
desert," Sarek insisted. "He
saved your life. What's done is done and
in the past. No amount of emotion will
bring him back. This is not a fitting
way to pay tribute to one so brave."
"And turning him into a
rug is?" Spock questioned.
"Spockam,"
Sarek began tenderly, "E'Chaya had no katra to
leave with us and soothe our grief. By
making something of his fur, he will still be with us. His fur will keep us warm in the mountains,
and his leather can remind us of his bravery and loyalty when we gird ourselves
with it." Sarek placed his hands on
the boy's shoulders. "What is your
decision?"
Spock took a deep,
shuddering breath, fighting for control.
"It would be good to
have a warm rug at the mountain villa," the boy stated.
Sarek nodded. "It shall be done. Anything else?"
Spock thought a long
moment. "I require a small portion
of E'Chaya for my box."
Again, Sarek nodded. "Do you wish to have a fang or an
ear?"
Spock started at Sarek's
bluntness. It seemed savage of Sarek to
speak of dismembering the beloved pet so coldly. Spock reconsidered. Having a tangible piece of the selhat would be comforting.
"I wish to have his
ear, Father." Spock decided.
Sarek nodded, remembering
how Spock used to hold onto E'Chaya's ears as he rode
the selhat's back.
"Very well," Sarek
replied. "May I, too, have a
souvenir?"
Spock blinked in
surprise. "Why?" he breathed.
"I wish to have a
memento as well," Sarek responded.
"I wish to have his broken fang."
"Why?" Spock
repeated.
Sarek got a faraway look in
his eye. "E'Chaya
broke that fang saving –my- life when I was your age."
"I didn't know
that," Spock replied in awe.
"No one else
knows," Sarek answered. He shook
himself from his reverie. He stood,
brushed the sand from his knees and held a hand out to Spock. "Come, Spock. Let us tell the tanner of our needs."
-----
A month later, on the eve of
Spock's proper kahs-wan, Sarek tied a strip of tooled
leather around his son's waist.
"You have already
proven yourself, Spockam," Sarek said
calmly. "Run this kahs-wan in honor and in memory of E'Chaya. May his bravery encircle you as his leather
does your waist."
Spock ran his fingers across
the engravings.
"I am not afraid, my
Father," the boy averred.
Sarek looked warmly into his
son's eyes. He then withdrew a small
packet and pressed it into Spock's hands.
"This is for your
box," Sarek stated.
Spock gulped as he opened
the package. He reverently took the
preserved ear and ran its soft fur across his cheeks. The boy turned aside to get his box. He opened the lid and carefully placed the
ear inside with the shell, the clan gem, and the other items. He looked at his treasures for a long moment
before solemnly replacing the lid and returning the box to its proper place.
"It is past your
bedtime," Sarek stated, holding his hands out to Spock. "Sleep well, my son."
"Sleep well, my
Father," Spock replied, touching his hands to Sarek's.
The elder Vulcan moved to
his customary place of meditation. He
lit the brazier, but before he began his time of contemplation, Sarek opened a
secret panel beside the meditation area and withdrew an old carton. Opening the top, he withdrew a small object from
his pocket.
Sarek placed E'Chaya's broken fang on top of his own collection of
treasures.
"Goodbye, old
friend."
5 - Birds of Consolation
--ooOoo—
Climb. Climb.
Reach. Strain. Climb.
Hoist up on the ledge. Adjust
harp across back. Climb. Climb.
Sniffle. Climb. Reach.
Slip. Reach. Slip.
Reach again. Grab. Hoist. Higher, higher!
SCREAM!
Young Spock scrabbled higher
and higher, faster and faster, up the mountain to the very top. He wanted to be as far away as possible from
those that took his brother away, far away from those who –let- his Sybok be taken away.
Soon, yet not soon enough,
Spock found himself at the summit of the mountain. All of Vulcan lay at his feet. He threw back his head and poured out his
grief to the four directions. The winds
tried to caress him, tried to console him, but Spock would have none of
it. He struck out at the air and
continued screaming.
Spock slipped back down the
trail a little ways and entered the cave he and Sybok
had once discovered there. He circled
the cave's perimeter, ranting and raving like a fevered male. He screamed again until his ears rang. He bellowed until his throat was raw. He pounded his fists against the rock until
they bled.
Then, young Spock took hold
of his Vulcan harp by the neck and bashed it against the cave wall. The harp exploded into shards of wood as the
"twang" of sundered strings echoed in the cave.
"Sybok!"
Spock shrieked. "You promised that
you would always be with me!"
Spock staggered to the mouth
of the mountaintop cave and screamed until he passed out.
-----
The warbling cry of the
morning birds roused the sleeping boy.
The fluttery touch of something brushed Spock’s cheek and he opened his
eyes.
Looking up, Spock saw the
silver birds cartwheeling on the morning breezes,
showering him with discarded iridescent feathers.
Spock's katra drank in the
vision and the consolation of the rarely viewed sight. He dropped into the meditation pose and
contemplated the recent events—Sybok's exile and his
own response. After a time, he rose and
gathered a handful of the feathers. He
then picked up the largest shard of his spoiled harp and wound its attached
string round and around, making a package of wood and feathers. Tucking it into his tunic, Spock began the
long hike down the mountain.
-----
Amanda nearly screamed at
the sight of him.
Spock was covered in
dust. The fine red soil lightened his
hair and darkened his skin. A small
cloud of dust trailed him and eminated from the youth
each time the wind caressed him.
Sarek rushed to the door at
the sound of Amanda's strangled gasp. He
drank in the sight of his younger son, his –remaining- son and hurried to bring
him water.
Spock removed his desert
suit and boots. He shook the dust from
his hair and went straight to the garden fountain. Kneeling in the water, Spock let the spray
trickle over him and rinse him clean.
Dripping, Spock rose from
the fountain and returned to his pile of clothing. He retrieved the bundle he had made on the
mountaintop.
Amanda had never seen
anything like it. Sarek had never seen
so many of them before. There, in
Spock's hands, were a dozen silver feathers, shiny bright like new tin.
"One for each year we
were brothers," he rasped.
Amanda started at the hoarse
sound of Spock's voice. Sarek stilled
her with a touch. There was no need to
state the obvious.
Spock removed a feather and
gave it to Sarek. He gave another to
Amanda.
"For the
ceremony," Spock declared. Sarek
nodded in understanding. The family would
have a mock funeral for Sybok, declaring him dead to
them and striking his name from any family record. Since there would be no body, no ashes to
release to the winds, Spock intended scatter the silver feathers instead.
Sarek picked up Spock's hand,
the one that held the bit of wood and wire.
He recognized it as a shard of Spock's harp. /The illogic of waste,/
Sarek thought.
Spock raised a challenging
eyebrow at his father. /Don't start,/ Spock thought. /Sybok was wasted and you did nothing./
Sarek held his tongue. He knew that Spock had to work out his grief
for himself. Instead, he turned his
attention to his son's fingers. They were torn and tattered as Spock's tortured
soul must be.
"Come inside,"
Sarek said gently. "We will see to
your hands."
Amanda placed her hand
against her son's cheek. Spock tuned his
head and nuzzled against it briefly.
"Come inside," she repeated.
"We will make you something warm and soothing for your
throat."
Nothing more was said of
Spock's trek to the mountain. His hands
were treated and healed. His shattered
harp was replaced so that he might further his music studies. His token of splintered wood, harp string and
feather was reverently placed into his box.
The rest of the silvery fluff he dispersed to the four winds.
And his katra sang out in
plaintive cries to his Sybok.
6 - The Outcast
[A/N: Text bracketed by // indicate
flashbacks. Text bracketed by /
indicates thought-speech.]
--ooOoo—
Orientation was over at
//If you do this, if you
pursue this illogical dream, you will be cut off from the family. You will be no son of mine!//
Spock looked around his
room. His box was nowhere to be seen.
//You will take nothing from
here, nothing of mine. You will be cut
off, cast out.//
It was not under the bed, in
the closet, on the desk, or hidden in a corner.
//There will be no welcome
for you at our door. There will be no
fresh water to slake your thirst.//
Frantic, Spock concluded
that it had either been stolen or confiscated.
//You will be alone. Your name will be stricken from our
records.//
Spock felt panic start to
choke him.
//You will have no
people. You will have no arms to comfort
you in the night, no support in your difficulties. You will walk your path with no guidance,
with no companionship.//
"No."
//You will be vre'kasht!//
"NOOOO!!!"
-----
The commandant noticed a
dark shadow crossing his doorway.
Looking up, he found the new Vulcan cadet staring at him.
"It is customary to
knock, Cadet," he glowered.
Spock raise
his knuckles and rapped on the doorframe.
"Enter," the
commandant replied.
"I respectfully request
that my belongings be returned," Spock said without preamble.
"It is also customary
to announce your rank and name and ask permission to speak," the
commandant continued.
Spock blinked. He found several layers of illogic in the
commandant's two statements, but this wasn't the time to bring it up.
"Cadet Spock . .
."
"And stand at
attention."
Spock squared his shoulders
as he was shown earlier in the day and began again.
"Cadet
Spock requesting permission to speak, Sir!" /SO illogical
. . ./
"Permission granted,
Cadet Spock," the commandant replied.
"Sir! I
respectfully request that my belongings be returned, Sir!"
"Cadet Spock," the
commandant continued patiently, "you were given a list of items to bring
with yourself to
"Sir! They are not
trinkets, Sir!" Spock noticed that
his voice had raised a half-tone in pitch and 3 decibels in volume. He took a deep breath /Control!/
"Are these items
religious in nature?"
"Sir! They are
cultural. They are important. Some of them are used in rituals. Sir!"
"Then they are
religious."
"Sir! They are not,
Sir!"
"A
seashell, a feather. Are they totems?"
"Sir! I am
unfamiliar with that word, Sir!"
All the "Sirs!"
were beginning to give Spock a headache.
What a way to begin his time in Starfleet!
"Are they
talismans?"
"Sir! I am
unfamiliar with that word as well, Sir!"
"Are they amulets,
lucky charms?"
"Sir! No. They are just significant to me, Sir!"
"Why?"
Although Spock kept his eyes
front and center, he ached to turn his face, hide his eyes, anything to keep
the commandant of
"Sir!" Spock said with less force and volume. "They
are all that is left to me of my people.
They are the only things left that tie me to my world." The tears filled his eyes and threatened to
spill. "Sir," he added
belatedly.
"I don't
understand."
Spock could not keep his
chin from quivering. "I was
pronounced vre'kasht for joining Starfleet," he
whispered. "Sir."
"Vo-ray . . .?"
"Vre'kasht. Outcast."
The commandant was
astounded. "You were disowned?"
"My father had my life
planned out for me," Spock continued in a small voice. "Being a Starfleet officer was not part
of his plans."
"So you gave up . .
."
Shameful tears marred
Spock's young face. ". . . Everything."
"So
that is why your parents' names are not listed on your application, why you
don't have an address listed other than Vulcan."
Spock felt his cheeks, his
ears flush green. "I have no home
now, save Starfleet."
The commandant was shocked
into silence for several moments. He
pulled out his drawer and held a box out to Spock. "Here's a tissue, son."
"Thank you, Sir. May I have my box now? Sir?"
The commandant smiled gently
at his new Vulcan charge. It was not his
intent to make the poor boy cry on his first day at the Academy. "Certainly, Cadet
Spock. I will classify the box as
a container of religious items."
"But,
Sir! They are not religious . . .
"
"Look," the
commandant interrupted, "if I were to put 'cultural items,' you would not
see them for a long time, Cadet, perhaps never again. The rules are fuzzy regarding religious
items, within reason, of course."
"Of
course. Sir!"
"Just don't burn that
incense in the dorms," the commandant concluded as he held Spock's
precious box out to him. "Find
somewhere outside, or better yet, find another way to use it."
Spock wiped his eyes and
folded up the tissue. He took the box
from the commandant and opened it, taking a quick inventory of the items it
contained. There on top were the newest
items, ones that Amanda had given him at the Spaceport.
//"Spock! Wait!" a woman's melodious voice
called. Spock turned back to see his
mother Amanda tear a length of ribbon from her clothing. She knew these robes were Spock’s favorite
garments on her. "Take this with
you," she said tearfully. "Know
that I am always with you." Spock
took the ribbon from her hands, lingering his fingers on hers.//
//"I know,
Mother," he said gently before turning to board the shuttle for Earth that
would take him to Starfleet Academy.//
//"Take this,
too," she said pushing a holoframe into his
hands.//
//Spock pushed the button
and saw himself on this Bonding day 11 years earlier. He was flanked by a regal, doting Sarek and a
smiling, proud Amanda.//
//Amanda tapped the image of
Sarek. "Remember your father this
way, Spock," she said as tears filled her eyes. "Don't remember the way he was
today."//
Spock touched the frame and
the ribbon reverently, then placed the used tissue inside and closed the
box. He snapped back to attention.
"Sir! Thank you,
Sir!"
"Is there anything
else, Cadet Spock?"
"Sir! No,
Sir!"
"Then you are
dismissed."
7 - Father
Figure
--ooOoo—
Personal Log: Stardate 1243.02
I heard news today that
would be considered good by most. But my
. . . feelings . . . tell a different story.
Captain Pike was promoted
today. He will no longer be commanding
the
This promotion is the
logical consequence of a job well done.
Captain Pike is an exemplary officer who has served with distinction. I have learned so much from him.
While I have a vast
knowledge in many areas of science, Captain Pike showed me how those facts are
crucial to command decisions, in times of crisis as well as in times of
"milk runs." Captain Pike
taught me how all departments serve together as a team. The ship's missions have been successful, not
because of one being, but because of the integration of the whole crew striving
for the same goal. I am a much better
officer for having served under Christopher Pike.
But my meditations tonight
have proven that I am reacting emotionally, even selfishly, to the news of
Captain Pike's transfer. I am . . .
devastated. I will be without the one who
accompanied me on this journey away from my homeworld. Had it not been for that chance meeting
fifteen years ago between then-Lieutenant Commander Pike and me, I would not
have given a career in Starfleet a single thought.
I have retrieved my box and
am holding a sample of the singing vine from Talos
IV. It brings back a flood of memories
for me. It was during my third month out
of the Academy when we reached Talos IV. Every landing party was a feast for my
curiosity, and when Captain Pike and I found the singing vines we both grinned
in delight at the discovery.
Now, I am not grinning. I am feeling abandoned, orphaned. I can finally admit that Captain Pike was my
surrogate father. And now that I
acknowledge it, I can see how Captain Pike and Sarek are so much alike.
Captain Pike would brook no
nonsense, no duplicity. He could speak
volumes with one glance and silence the most loquacious foe with one word. There is such a presence to Captain Pike that
I could sense his arrival long before I saw him. His very presence instilled a desire in me to
be everything he needed. I did not ever
want to disappoint Christopher Pike.
It was once thus with
Sarek. Father could silence me with a word, give me a wealth of instruction with a glance. Sarek called forth and demanded the very best
in me. Like Captain Pike, he was firm yet
fair. And also, like Captain Pike, he
could be very tender when the need arose.
Just as Sarek did when I was small, Captain Pike would be at my bedside
when I awoke following each of my 12 serious illnesses and injuries during the
time we served together. Whenever I
faced a personal difficulty, I found comfort, consolation, and encouragement by
being in Captain Pike's presence, just as I did with Sarek.
But now, once again, I find
myself alone. I will have to walk this
path unaccompanied. And I am devastated.
Control! My emotion brings no honor to Captain
Pike. His legacy would best be served by
making the transition from Captain Pike's command to this new captain's as
seamless as possible. I will honor
Captain Pike by showing this James T. Kirk how much I learned, by showing him
just how good an officer Captain Pike has made me.
And I swear on my honor as a
Vulcan, that if Captain Pike is ever in need, I will walk through Hell itself
to help him.
End log entry.
8 - Cave In!
--ooOoo—
It was a day of firsts.
It was the first mission for
the new captain of the
It was Captain James T.
Kirk's first away mission as commander of the
It was Spock's first time on
an away mission with this untried captain.
He found himself studying the human about as much as he was studying the
situation on Janus V.
It was the first time any of
them had been trapped in a cave-in.
It was the first time that
Montgomery Scott, new chief engineer of the
It was Spock's first time
waking up after a serious injury without Christopher Pike at his side.
It was Christine Chapel's
first day of her first deep space mission; the first day as Head Nurse on a
starship with a new captain; and it was her first time seeing to the medical
needs of said captain and his half-Vulcan first officer. It was also the first time she had heard such
whimpering sounds coming from a Vulcan.
Doctor Mark Piper moved to
Spock's side.
"I'm sorry, son,"
he soothed. "I had to medicate you
for surgery. Hang in there. The drugs will be out of your system soon and
then you can go into your healing trance.
Try to even out your breathing and it won't hurt so much."
"How is Captain
Kirk?" Spock managed.
Dr. Piper looked over to the
next bed, to the still form lying beneath the sterilite.
"He took a blow to the
head," Piper informed. "He's
in a coma."
Spock peered blearily at
Piper.
"What?" he said.
Dr. Piper leaned closer.
"I said, our young
captain slipped into a coma," he said quietly. "Now, don't worry about anything. Mr. Scott is in command. As soon as the repairs are finished in the
mine, we will move to the closest starbase
hospital."
"DS4," Spock
supplied automatically. He craned his
neck until he could see the captain's sleeping face.
"You know," Dr.
Piper began, "despite his head injury, Captain Kirk stayed at your side
until you were free. He pulled most of
the rock off you and carried you to meet the rescue team. He didn't collapse until everyone was
accounted for. Your first mission together, and he saved your life."
Piper patted Spock's
shoulder, mindful of all of his many bruises.
"Get some rest,
son," Piper ordered gently.
"Go into your trance whenever you feel strong enough. Somebody will be nearby to monitor you."
"Understood,"
Spock whispered as he drifted off to sleep.
-----
Spock came to, gasping in
pain as Dr. Piper pressed hard on the Vulcan's sternum.
"Are you okay,
son?" Piper asked.
Spock rubbed his chest. "Affirmative."
"You came out of the
trance too soon," the doctor scolded.
"Your bones are barely healed."
"I have to see to the
ship," Spock replied weakly, struggling to rise.
"The ship is
fine," The doctor stated.
"There's no logic in getting up too early and re-injuring
yourself."
Spock collapsed in
defeat. Dr. Piper knew just how to get
to Spock, knew just the right thing to say to get Spock to comply. Mark Piper, although older, was a suitable
replacement for Dr. Boyce who retired two years before Captain Pike was
promoted. Spock wondered if Captain Kirk
would keep the elderly physician on for this five-year mission, replace him
mid-mission when the doctor reached retirement age, or request someone else
immediately.
"When you're up to
it," Piper continued, "I have a job for you."
Spock blinked in confusion.
"I already have a
job," he said. "While the
captain is unconscious, I am in command."
Piper shook his kind, grandfatherly head.
"Not until I say
so," he said with a small grin.
Spock was curious.
"What sort of
job?" he asked.
"A very easy one,"
Piper answered. "I need someone to
stimulate Captain Kirk into waking up."
Spock drew back. "What sort of 'stimulation' do you
intend me to use?"
"I just need you to
talk to him," Piper supplied.
"Stimulate his brain. Make
him want to wake up."
Spock drew back even
further. Kirk was still a stranger to
Spock.
"What should I say to
him?" he asked warily.
"Give him update
reports on the ship," Piper suggested.
"Read him a book. Tell him
about yourself. Anything
to get him out of himself. He
needs to know that he is okay and it's safe to come back. Can you do that?"
Spock considered all of
Piper's suggestions. "I will
try."
Piper handed an old-style,
worn, paper book to Spock.
"I sent Nurse Chapel to
the captain's quarters and she found this near his bed," the doctor
explained.
Spock was lost in the scent
of the antique book. He was transported
back to his mother's library that was filled with olds tomes such as this
one. Opening the book, Spock found that
it was some of the collected novels about Horatio Hornblower. So this captain shared his curiosity in ancient
books. Perhaps Spock could uncover more
of the young human's interests.
Gingerly, Spocked moved into the airchair
the doctor had pulled up alongside his bed.
He took care of his bodily needs then headed for the captain's bedside,
first stopping to ascertain ship's status.
"Captain Kirk," he
began, "this is Lieutenant Commander Spock with a report on our current
status.
"The
"As soon as the
engineers are finished with the repairs on the mining colony, we will be
pulling out of orbit and heading for the Starfleet hospital at Deep Space
Station Four. Doctor Piper says that you
are in need of a specialist for your head injury.
"You and I rescued
twenty-one miners before the ceiling collapsed.
I tried to push you out of the way of the rocks, but I was not as
successful as I had hoped, and for that I apologize.
"I myself suffered
three broken ribs and a fractured femur.
The bones are fused yet still tender.
I also have numerous bruises and contusions from the collapse in the mineshaft. Dr. Piper will not release me for at least
three days.
"In the meantime, he
has asked me to speak to you, give you reports, and read to you. Please forgive the intrusion, but one of the
crew was sent to retrieve a book from your quarters so that I might read
something you would find of interest.
"Before I begin, I must
tell you that my mother has a vast collection of old, paper books, including
the entirety of this series. If you have
not read all eleven of C.S. Forester's books on Horatio Hornblower, perhaps I
can convince her to lend them to you.
"Did you know that Horatio Hornblower and his adventures were based on
actual events? Mr. Forester purchased
three volumes of The Naval Chronicle of the British Royal Navy from 1790 to
1820 and used the information there as background for his novels. I find that fascinating.
"This book is an appropriate choice, Captain. 'A Ship of the Line,' by C.S. Forester."
Mark Piper shook his head in wonder.
For someone who didn't know what to say to his new captain, Spock was
really bending Kirk's ear.
-----
When Nurse Chapel came back on duty, she found Spock sitting quietly by
Kirk's bedside. She noticed that the
marker in the book she had retrieved for Dr. Piper had moved from the front to
the middle of the book.
Chapel set a pitcher on Kirk's bedtable and put a glass of water (no ice)
in Spock's hand. He drank it down
greedily and held the empty cup out for a refill.
"You know, sir," Chapel said quietly as she refilled his glass,
"you don’t have to read the entire book to him today."
"Dr. Piper said I needed to stimulate him," Spock explained.
"Perhaps it would be better if you varied the kinds of
stimulation," she suggested.
"I took the liberty of going to your quarters and brought you
this." The nurse went to a side
table and returned with Spock's Vulcan harp.
Spock gave the nurse a raised brow for being forward, yet he took the harp
and began to play.
-----
By the third day, Spock had completed his extensive repertoire of musical
pieces that would not sound offensive to human ears. He had also finished reading "Ship of
the Line," the ship's logs, and every bit of paperwork a ship of this size
could generate, right down to the fuel consumption reports and crew duty
rosters.
There was no change.
Spock heard the sound of a cart being rolled to Kirk's bedside. Looking over, he saw Nurse Chapel wheeling
over a three dimensional chess set.
"Breaking and entering again, Nurse?" he teased.
Chapel broke out in a shy smile.
"Well, sir," she stammered, "I found this set in the
captain's quarters and, well, I know you are a grand champion and all. I thought if you played a game with the
computer, but told the captain of every move, maybe that would stimulate
another portion of his brain."
Spock raised his brow in response.
"Logical," he agreed.
Spock quickly set up the chess pieces as Chapel pulled over the
wall-mounted computer screen.
"Computer," he said.
WORKING, the computer responded.
"I will take white."
AFFIRMATIVE.
"Queen's knight to Queen's Bishop four."
And so it went. At first there was
some change in Kirk's EEG, but as the games went on, ending in tie after tie,
the brainwaves began to even out again.
"Spock," Dr. Piper began, "stop trying to beat the
computer. Make some mistakes, some big
ones."
"Mistakes?" Spock repeated.
Piper nodded. "Yes, real
whoppers. Let's see how that stimulates
our captain."
Spock turned back to the chess
boards. "Computer."
WORKING.
"King's pawn to King three."
QUEEN'S KNIGHT TO QUEEN'S BISHOP SIX.
"King's bishop to Queen's rook six."
Piper noticed much more movement in Kirk's brainwaves.
QUEEN'S KNIGHT PAWN TO QUEEN'S ROOK SIX.
PAWN TAKES BISHOP.
"Queen to King two."
QUEEN'S KNIGHT TO QUEEN'S KNIGHT EIGHT.
"Queen to Queen's rook six.
Queen takes pawn."
Kirk started to move slightly.
QUEEN'S KNIGHT TO QUEEN'S ROOK 6.
KNIGHT TAKES QUEEN.
"It's working," Piper exclaimed happily.
"Stupid move," Kirk muttered in a weak voice.
"Welcome back, Captain," the doctor said in a cheery voice as he
waved ascanner over him.
"Ship's status?" Kirk asked tiredly.
"We are en route to the base hospital at DS4," Spock announced.
"Why?" Kirk asked.
Spocked looked to Piper. Piper
looked to Kirk.
"Well," the doctor said, "I guess we don't have to go there
anymore."
"Where's Gary?" Kirk asked next.
"Lieutenant Commander Mitchell did not make launch time," Spock
reported.
"I told him that if he was late, I'd sail without him!" Kirk
groused. "Where is he now?"
"He has been chasing us, Captain," Spock stated dryly,
"First to our original mission, then to the mining colony at Janus V, then
to DS4."
"Well, find his location, go get him and beam his sorry ass
aboard!" Kirk huffed before collapsing back on the bed. "Oh.
Shouting. Bad idea," he
muttered.
Piper patted Kirk's shoulder.
"That's it," he said, "just rest." The doctor turned back to Spock. "And you haven't been released yet
either, Spock. Back to bed," Piper
ordered.
"Not before I thank the captain for saving my life," Spock said.
"I did?" Kirk questioned.
"I don't remember anything."
"Nevertheless, sir, you did, and I thank you," Spock said. Sarek had always told him that thanks were
illogical, but Amanda was right. When
you live with humans, you have to make a few concessions.
Nurse Chapel saw the first officer back to bed. She reached into a pocket of her slacks and
withdrew a non-descript rock.
"Here," she said as she pushed it into Spock's hand. "A souvenir I found in your boot.
Spock looked at the rock, turning it several times.
"It may not the most beautiful specimen," Chapel continues,
"until you realize what it represents."
Spock looked at her quizzically.
"Survival," she explained.
"You should not have survived being buried under all that
rock. If it weren't for Captain Kirk
ignoring his own injury and pulling your free . . . " Chapel looked over her shoulder at the
now-sleeping Kirk. "And perhaps
this rock symbolizes the beginning of a rock-solid friendship. Why else would you do what you did for him
for the past three days?"
Spock held the rock in his hand as Chapel left to return the chess board,
book, and harp to where she found them.
The symbol Spock had in his box to represent his friendship with
Christopher Pike was a fragile leaf.
Could he anticipate forming a friendship with this new captain as
enduring as this rock? They had already
risked their lives for each other, and it was only their first mission
together!
He would wait and see.
9 - I Was Happy
--oOo--
Spock felt like pacing.
Sickbay was so full of
patients, both crew and colonists alike, that Doctor McCoy had ejected all but
essential personnel--and that included Spock--to give them all some elbow room.
Dr. Leila Kalomi was being
treated for overexposure to Berthold rays, like many of the others that had
returned to the planet or remained behind to pack up the colony without the
benefit of spores from the Omicron Ceti III lily.
Spock was still smarting
from the conference he had had with his mother.
Poor Amanda had to act as the mediator between father and son--a
daunting task. Spock had begged to be
released from his bond to T'Pring. He
much preferred to take Leila as his wife than that ice princess. Leila was everything T'Pring was not. Spock had argued that T'Pring had closed
herself off to him long before he went to
So now Spock had to
disappoint Leila once again.
The doors to Sickbay finally
opened and Leila walked slowly into the hall.
At the sight of Spock she smiled tiredly.
"Were you waiting for
me?" she asked in her sweet voice.
Spock moved to her side and
placed a supporting arm around her waist.
"Are you all
right?" he asked with concern.
Leila nodded. "I will be, with some rest," she
answered. "Could you help me to my
quarters?"
"Of course," Spock
answered. "Can you walk?" he
asked, ready to sweep her into his arms.
"Yes," Leila
replied as she slipped an arm around Spock.
The two walked in silence
until they reached her cabin door.
"Leila," Spock
began awkwardly, "I wish to speak with you."
"Come inside,"
Leila invited as she palmed open her door.
Spock settled Leila on the
bed, then pulled up a chair and sat next to her. He studied the carpet for many moments as he
gathered his thoughts and his tenuous control.
"Leila, " Spock began, "I want to be with you, but I
cannot. It has nothing to do with
you," he rushed to add as Leila turned her face to the wall. "It has everything to do with me. I am engaged to be married." Spock heard a sob come from Leila. "I tried, but I cannot break the
marriage contract. If I were free to
choose, I would choose you." He ran
a hand over her thistle-soft hair.
"That's why I couldn't touch you six years ago, even though I
wanted to hold you and not let go."
Spock reluctantly pulled his hand back.
"That is why I cannot touch you now."
Leila crushed her pillow to
her chest and cried herself to sleep.
Spock watched over her for an hour, then left.
-----
The colonists were all
off-loaded at Starbase 12 for reassigning. McCoy marked the occasion by making a
cabin-call on the first officer.
"Come," Spock
replied as his door signal sounded.
McCoy came in sheepish, not
wanted to overstep, but anxious to help his friend.
Spock looked up to see the
doctor shifting from foot to foot.
"Is something wrong,
Doctor?" Spock asked.
"I've been thinking of
what you said the other day on the bridge," the doctor replied.
"Since that statement
is so vague, I have no idea to what you are referring," the Vulcan
countered.
"'I was happy,' you
said," McCoy replied. "You
said, "For the first time in my life, I was
happy.'"
Spock just stared at the
doctor. He did not know which way McCoy
would take this statement, and he thought it best to just remain silent, be
patient, and wait. They had all been
under the influence of the spores--except the captain, of course. Surely McCoy wasn't going to . . .
Suddenly, McCoy thrust a
preserved spore lily encased in transparent aluminum at Spock.
"Here," McCoy said
abruptly. Spock took the clear bubble in
his hands and examined the lily inside.
"I thought these had
all been collected and destroyed, Doctor," he said at last.
McCoy fidgeted. "It would have been a shame to waste
something with such promise," he said.
"I'm sure the plant is just loaded with phytochemicals with
hundreds of medical applications. I have
several plants stored in safety lockers.
I hope to do a thorough analysis of them to test my theories."
Spock held up the lily in
his hand.
"And is this an
invitation from you to join in your research?" he asked, hoping to divert
the doctor from what he suspected was McCoy's real intent.
"You're always welcome
to join me in the labs, Spock," McCoy said. "You know that." He pointed to the flower in Spock's
hands. "I thought you'd might like a souvenir."
Spock raised a brow. Did the doctor know?
"You know, a
remembrance," McCoy blustered, "for the first time in your life that
you were ever happy."
Spock raised his brow
again. Were humans really that
dense? Had McCoy never heard of Vulcan
-mastery- of emotions?
McCoy suddenly lunged for
the lily. "Oh, forget it," he
fumed. "God forbid I should ever
try to get you to admit to emotions."
Spock pulled back and kept
the flower away from McCoy.
"No, please,
Doctor," Spock requested. "I
would like to keep this specimen."
McCoy harrumphed. " A
specimen!" he repeated. "Here I wanted you to have a memento, and you
just want it for research purposes.
Someday, Spock, you will see that logic isn't everything. Someday love will get through that thick
Vulcan hide of yours, and you'll remember that first time you were happy."
Spock was still staring at
the bubble-encased flower when McCoy stormed out. "I was happy," the Vulcan repeated.
Spock knew exactly what he
would do with the lily.
10 - Spock and the Horrible, Terrible, No-Good, Very
Bad Day
--oOo--
*Horrible*
A spate of Old High Vulcan
curses chattered through Spock’s mind as he splashed water into his eyes. The beard repressor gel dispenser had
malfunctioned and splattered everywhere, including his eyes. Spock continued until most of the sting was
gone. Peering through green-rimmed eyes,
Spock saw that some of his eyelashes were gone from his left eye, and his right
eyebrow was a bit thin. His vision was
still blurry, and Spock wondered if he should stop by Sickbay.
“All hands, turbulence ahead,” sounded
throughout the
*Father Surak!* he thought,
*What is happening?!* Spock rose and was brushing the sooty
dirt off of his clothing and hands when the intercom sounded.
*Terrible*
“Mr. Spock, report to the
Bridge.” Spock went to the desk and
found that he had to squint to find the respond button.
“Spock
here.” There was silence on the other end at first.
“Spock, I ordered you to the
Bridge,” Kirk said over the speaker. “Now get your Vulcan posterior up
here.” Spock sighed.
“I have had a small accident
and need to stop by Sickbay, Captain,” he explained sheepishly.
“Well, be quick about
it. Kirk out.”
*No-Good*
Spock stepped to his replicator to order up a breakfast bar, but instead the
machine spat goo at him. Spock quickly yanked off his soiled uniform
shirt, threw it into the chute, reached into his closet and found just one
shirt left. Laundry had failed to return his uniforms again. He pulled the clean shirt over his head and
walked quickly to the closest turbo lift, planning to call Laundry to complain
about his missing clothes. He was
distracted by the lift door closing on his foot. Instead, Spock called Maintenance about the
repairing the turbo lift.
In Sickbay, Spock had to
endure McCoy’s teasing remarks about the missing hair on his face.
“Hey, Chris!” the doctor
called. “Loan Spock
your eyebrow pencil, willya? He’s going to need it for a few days!” The nurse glowered at a chuckling McCoy as
she put drops into Spock’s eyes. She
gave him a tissue to wipe the excess.
“Don’t mind him,” she
whispered to Spock.
“I usually don’t,” he
replied.
*Very Bad Day*
The mission to Gamma Trianguli VI tested what was left of Spock’s
endurance. First came
the explosion from the rock he tossed aside.
He was certain that his hearing was affected by the sizeable blast.
Next came
the poisoned thorns Spock took in the chest as he attempted to get Kirk out of
harm’s way. Spock didn’t know which was worse, the poison in his system, or the antidote
threatening to empty his stomach of its contents.
The walk into the forcefield hurt Spock’s pride more than anything else. It had knocked him on his ass, and rightfully
so. Spock was so intent on the readout
of
The lightning strike both
frightened and perturbed him. One of the
red-shirted security guards had been vaporized by the vicious and highly
accurate lightning bolts. Spock wondered
how he had been spared. It had rendered
him unconscious, and he only came to when McCoy opened up Spock’s shirt to
examine the burns on his back.
Spock found the hand-to-hand
battle with the natives difficult as he dealt with the cumulative effects of
all the injuries he sustained that day.
When the mission was completed and they were all safely back aboard the
*
Much later that night, Spock
dragged himself back to his quarters. He
sagged against the doors as soon as they had closed.
He regarded his desk. No, he was too exhausted to work or to even
record his personal log. He looked to
the bed. He was too keyed up to sleep
just yet. His eyes went to the firepot
from its new place on the floor. He was
too unsettled to meditate. The burn on
his back from the lightning strike precluded him from taking a hot shower.
It was his stomach that
finally decided for him. At its loud
rumblings, Spock realized that he was hungry.
The bizarre events of the morning had prevented him from having any
breakfast before going on duty. The
anti-toxin that McCoy had given him down on the planet had nauseated him, so he
was not able to participate in the impromptu luau the natives had held for
them. After the mission was over, McCoy
held Spock in Sickbay for a few hours as the doctor tended the First Officer’s
burn, the many small puncture wounds from the flower’s thorny projectiles
(which “itched like the dickens,” as his mother would say), and the various
abrasions and contusions the Vulcan had acquired that day.
Spock was VERY hungry. The replicator in
his cabin was still not repaired (There had been no time to file a repair
requisition before going on the away mission), but he was unwilling to leave
his cabin to go to the Mess Hall.
His eyes then settled on the
storage area behind his desk. Brewing a
large mug of tea, Spock opened the cabinet and brought out a worn box and a
shiny tin. Opening his box, Spock rifled
through its contents and pulled out a slim, worn, hardbound, purple-covered,
ancient paper book. Spock didn’t bother
with the desk or the chair. He just sat
cross-legged on the floor, the book in his lap, sipping tea, munching on one of
Amanda’s homemade multi-grain cookies (the ones with the bits of his favorite
dried fruits), and began reading.
“Babydoll,
When you are having a very
bad day,
come to me and
you and I can plan a trip to
Love,
Mom”
Spock reverently ran a
finger over the inscription. Some other
mother wrote it long ago to some other child, but it always seemed like what
Amanda might have written to him. This
same book had seen him through many “terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad
days” in his childhood. It, along with
the rest of the contents of his box, was the only personal item Spock took with
himself on that fateful day eighteen years prior, the day he left for
Spock turned past the title
page, the dedication page and right to page one.
“I went to bed with gum in
my mouth
and now there is gum in my hair . . . ”
Spock finished the last of
the tea, and brushed the cookie crumbs from his chin as he closed the book with
a small sigh. He stayed on the floor,
lost in thought for a few minutes.
“Computer.”
WORKING
“List
suitable recreational sites in
11 - Dear Valentine
--oOo--
It was Saint Valentine's Day
by the old Earth calendar and love was in the air. Well, more for some than for others.
"Whose lame brained
idea was it to serve heart-shaped pancakes?" Christine Chapel groused over
her tray. Her tablemate glanced up from
her assorted cards.
"Someone get up on the
wrong side of the bunk today, Sugah?" Uhura cooed.
"Now, what's the matter with the Sickbay Sweetheart? No Valentines?" Uhura looked down
at the nurse's tray and gasped in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, honey. . ."
"Don't apologize,"
Chapel said. "I did so get a
Valentine. I just don't flaunt it like
you do."
"Chris, baby, a Valentine
from me doesn't count," Uhura said gently. "Now, what's really the matter?"
Chapel got very quiet. It took her a long time to finally speak.
"It's just that . . . " she began in a soft whisper, "at the funniest
times, the whole incident with the Platonians comes
back to me. They ruined what could have
been something beautiful between . . . us.
I feel like I'm in mourning for what could have been."
Uhura covered Chapel's hand with her own as tears filled
the nurse's eyes. Behind Chapel's head,
two tables away, Uhura saw Spock's dark head lift and
turn their way. Uhura
kept her eyes on Spock's as she said to Chapel, "Have you ever said
anything to him, Chris?"
"I should have gone to
him right away," Chapel said, wiping her nose, "but the moment has
passed."
Uhura shook her head minutely at Spock who had raised his
brow as if to say, "Can I help?"
"This is all so
silly. I'm just overtired from treating
all those Rigelian fever cases" Chapel
continued. "I just wish we could
find some ryetalyn." As she wiped her face, Spock rose and
approached the table, despite Uhura's warning. "It's over, it's done," Chapel
continued. "There was never anyng there. There
can never be anything . . . "
"My mother is fond of
saying, 'Never say never,'" Spock said as he sat
next to Chapel.
Uhura patted Chapel's hand, picked up her tray and left.
"We should talk,
Christine," Spock said in a low voice.
Chapel gathered the
scattered pieces of her flustered self and pulled herself together with great
effort.
"About what?" she
asked coolly.
Spock tipped his head to the
side, smiling with his eyes.
"About the pachyderm
standing between us," he teased.
Chapel was confused. "You mean the elephant in the
room?"
"I believe I said
that," Spock continued.
They both rose, Chapel with
her untouched tray, and left the mess hall.
Chapel pushed the uneaten heart-shaped pancakes at Doctor McCoy as she
passed him at the door.
"Here." Chapel
said. "Bon apetit."
-----
Spock led the way to a
nearby conference room.
"Neutral
territory," Chapel commented.
"It's also very
private," Spock said as he activated the door lock and switched off the
security cameras. Spock sat adjacent to
the nurse and studied her. "You look
tired," he observed in a gentle voice.
Christine self-consciously
patted and fluffed her hair.
"I mean to say that
your eyes look tired," Spock continued.
"It's been a tough
week," Chapel said unsteadily.
"I've pulled four doubles in a row.
Spock nodded. "I understand," he said. "The disease has struck a large number
of the crew. It is good that you have
taken time off to replenish yourself."
Christine quietly studied
her hands as they rested in her lap.
Spock took a deep breath as
if to fortify himself. "About that
pachyderm," he began. "Why
didn't you tell me that you were still plagued by the incidents that occurred
on Platonius?"
Chapel raised miserable eyes
to Spock. "Why should I trouble
you? It wasn't your fault." Her eyes fell to her hands again. "I sure my troubles are all my own
making."
Spock raised her chin with
one finger.
"Please don’t,"
Chapel begged. "I've already been
so humiliated by this."
"We were all
humiliated," Spock reminded.
"It's just that, for
these past years," Chapel said through her tears, "all I've ever
dreamed of was holding you, kissing you.
Now, the only memory I have is how hard we fought that kiss, that embrace."
She turned away.
"Do you wish me to help
you?" Spock asked gently.
Christine turned back. "How?" she asked. "Are you going to take away my
memories?"
"Do you want me
to?" Spock asked seriously.
Chapel shook her head. Spock breathed a little sigh of relief. He did not particularly want to relive those
memories.
"Then we shall make new
memories," Spock said as he rose, pulling the nurse to her feet with him.
"What kind of
memories?" she asked fearfully, hopefully.
"These
kind," Spock said as he tenderly took her face in his two strong
hands and kissed her, sweetly, yet not -too- chastely.
After Spock pulled back,
Chapel fell into his arms as they held each other gently.
"I am not actively
searching for a mate until after this mission is finished," Spock informed
Chapel. "My family has drawn up a
slate of suitable candidates that I need to look over when I take leave."
Chapel pulled back
abruptly. "So then, all this was
done in pity?" she said angrily.
Spock took the nurse gently,
yet firmly, by the arms. "No,"
he stated adamantly. "I told you
this as a courtesy. I have a responsibility
to look over the slate of candidates my family has assembled." Spock raised Chapel's eyes to meet his. "But I am not required to pick one of
them."
"So, in the
meantime," Chapel started.
"In the meantime,"
Spock answered, "I am performing my duties, seeing to my experiments and
other interests, and . . ."
"And abstaining,"
Chapel finished. She sighed in
frustration. The nurse paced away and
thought a moment. This whole scenario was
becoming ludicrous.
"Well," she
started, "I think I need a change of scenery."
"Do you wish to move to
another location?" Spock asked.
Chapel chuckled softly. Spock could be so wonderfully naïve when it
came to idioms. "No, I mean -I-
need a change of scenery, a radical change, a fresh start."
"What do you have in
mind?" Spock asked warily.
"I put some things on
the back burner when I joined Starfleet," she explained. "I think I want to revisit those
options." Chapel looked at Spock. "While you are living your life, looking
over your candidates, I think I'll try living my life. If God or Fate or whatever should cause our
paths to cross again, then so be it."
Chapel wiped her face dry, stood tall before her XO and mock
saluted. "Thanks for the new
memories, sir. Happy
abstaining. -I- am heading for
bed." As she moved to the door and
it opened onto the corridor, she pointed at their imaginary elephant and said,
"Boy, that little pachyderm sure can run."
Spock didn't have time to
decipher that non sequitur before he was called to the bridge about a possible
source of ryetalin in the Omega system.
-----
Spock wearily dragged
himself to his cabin. Not only had the
visit to Mr. Flynt's planet been trying, he was also
fatigued from the mindmeld he had performed on
Captain Kirk.
Kirk had fallen hopelessly,
completely head over heels for Flynt's perfect woman,
the android Reyna. Spock couldn't bear
to see his friend suffer so, and an illegal, highly unethical, unsanctioned mindmeld to dampen Kirk's pain seemed the only logical
answer for Spock.
McCoy's treatise on love
echoed in his mind.
"You'll never know the
things that love can drive a man to: the
ecstasies, the miseries, the broken rules, the desperate chances, the glorious
failures, the glorious victories. All of
these things you'll never know . . . simply because the word 'love' isn't written
into your book."
Spock knew love. He knew the disappointments of familial love,
always striving to be good enough, yet never succeeding; the pain of separation
from a brother so dear; the anguish of watching a beloved pet die because of
your own foolishness; the pain in a friend's eyes because you implied that she
was not good enough for you.
All these thoughts tripped
over themselves in Spock's mind as he walked down the corridor. He entered his cabin, finding a slim book of
blank pages—a journal. A piece of lace,
no more than braided hair, marked the first page where it was written in a
woman's handwriting, "On Valentine’s Day."
"Christine," Spock
breathed, shaking his head. He opened
the note that fell out of the journal.
I have made some decisions
about my future while you were on the landing party. I have decided to go back to school, medical
school to be exact. And with all of the
credits I already have, I could be a doctor in just a few years.
I have you to thank for
that. You encouraged me, by your
example, to begin living my life. I
joined Starfleet to look for Roger. I
stayed on the
And so, I wanted to
reciprocate for what you did for me earlier today. You left me with new memories, a bit of
yourself. So, I am giving you a part of
me.
The last time I was on shore
leave, I went to get my hair done. An
old woman asked for a few strands of hair.
She had amazing samples of her work all around her. I was game, so she combed through my hair
with her fingers, removing just a little.
By the time I came out of the beauty parlor, she had produced this
bookmark.
You
had the opportunity to stomp all over my heart today, but you were gracious and
gentlemanly. My very raw wound has
finally healed. "'Thank you" seems so inadequate, so I will say this
instead: Peace to you, dear friend.
Gratefully,
Christine
P.S. I don’t miss that damn pachyderm one bit!
Spock
ran the lacy bit through his fingers, bemused.
Christine Chapel was a good woman.
It was good that she was going to fulfill her best destiny, and do it
for herself.
Spock
had no use for the journal, but her knew exactly where
he would put this fragile memento.
12 - Spock's Treasures
--ooOoo—
**In memory of Bernie**
A battered box
Old
Tired
Precious
Story of a life
Tokens
Momentos
A battered book
A broken string
Pieces of nature
A pretty rock
A dried flower
A shell
A leaf
A feather
A polished bit of wood
Memories of loved ones
A photo
A braid of hair
A piece of fur
A swatch of lace
A polished gem stone
A bit of blue ribbon
Admiral James T. Kirk
reverently rummaged through the worn carton with the eclectic gathering of
items. He wiped a tear away as he gazed
at the family portrait.
"Spock couldn't have
been more than seven years old. Probably
his 'wedding,'" Kirk mused aloud.
He picked up the battered
book and gave a puzzled smile.
"Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day,"
he read. Kirk knew that Amanda had a
collection of old, paper books, but he didn't know that Spock had his own!
As Kirk paged through the
book, a strange sensation enveloped him.
He saw a sullen child, sore from fighting his schoolmates, reclining
against a wall of shaggy fur, carefully reading this book.
Kirk blinked. Was this just his imagination, or was Spock's
spirit still present here, the day after his funeral, sharing his memories with
his friend?
Setting aside the book, Kirk
gingerly picked up the braid of blonde hair.
It was intricately woven, a delicate, lacy thing.
“Whose was this, Spock?”
Kirk whispered aloud. He listened
carefully as his fingers caressed the woven strands,
Spock entered his cabin,
finding a slim book of blank pages—a journal. The braided hair marked the first page where
it was written, in a woman's handwriting, "On Valentine’s Day."
"Christine," Spock
breathed, shaking his head.
Kirk blinked again,
returning to the present once more. He
knew that Christine Chapel carried a torch for Spock during the first five-year
mission, so this gift, while amazing, was not unexpected. What did surprise Kirk was that Spock kept
this very personal memento.
Next Kirk picked up a
fragile piece of blue ribbon. He passed
the satiny softness through his fingers and waited.
"Spock! Wait!" a woman's melodious voice
called. Spock turned back to see his
mother Amanda tear a length of ribbon from her clothing. She knew these robes were Spock’s favorite
garments on her. "Take this with
you," she said tearfully.
"Know that I am always with you." Spock took the ribbon from her hands,
lingering his fingers on hers.
"I know, Mother,"
he said gently before turning to board the shuttle for Earth that would take
him to
Kirk looked again at the
ribbon and noticed that the original shade of the fabric matched the color of
Amanda's eyes. No wonder the robe was
Spock's favorite.
Kirk put the ribbon aside
and picked up a small conch shell.
Holding it to his ear, Kirk heard a toddler's laughter on the occasion
of his first trip to an ocean. Kirk had
to pause as another bout of tears shook him.
Drying his face, Kirk next
picked up a bundle of disparate items: a
bit of polished wood, an iridescent feather shiny bright like new tin, and a
broken harp string, which bound it all together. Holding the items, Kirk became aware of an
adolescent's anger.
Young Spock took hold of his
Vulcan harp by the neck and bashed it against the cave wall. The harp exploded into shards of wood as the
"twang" of sundered strings echoed in the cave.
"Sybok!"
Spock shrieked. "You promised that
you would always be with me!"
Spock staggered to the mouth
of the mountaintop cave and screamed until he passed out.
The warbling cry of the
morning birds roused the sleeping boy.
The fluttery touch of something brushed Spock’s cheek and he opened his
eyes.
Looking up, Spock saw the
silvery birds cartwheeling on the morning breezes,
showering him with discarded iridescent feathers.
Spock's katra drank in the
vision and the consolation of the rarely viewed sight. He dropped into the meditation pose and
contemplated the recent events—Sybok's exile and his
own response. After a time, he rose and
gathered a handful of the feathers. He
then picked up the largest shard of his spoiled harp and wound its attached
string round, making a package of wood and feathers. Tucking it into his tunic, Spock began the
long hike down the mountain.
Kirk shook himself. He never realized how deep Spock's anger
could reach.
The admiral was shocked at
the next item—a dried Omicron Ceti III spore lily encased in glass. "For the first time in my life,"
Kirk tearfully remembered his friend saying, "I was happy."
Admiral Kirk was not able to
sort through the rest of items in the box as the housekeeping crew arrived just
then to pack up Captain Spock's quarters before they reached spacedock.
The admiral dried his face
and nose, cleared his throat, and straightened his shoulders. Kirk replaced the lid on the battered little
carton, tucked it under his arm, and marched out of Spock's cabin one last
time. Kirk missed his Vulcan with a
passion born out of years of friendship, of being t'hyla,
but he had to now consider the living.
Kirk had a boatload of
traumatized cadets and of walking wounded, especially his other "other
half," Leonard McCoy.
Just as the admiral carried
the Vulcan's treasures in the box under his arm, Spock was the treasure Kirk
carried in his heart.
It was time to move on.
13 - The Treasured Box
--ooOoo—
Dr. Christine Chapel
couldn't help it. No matter how hard she
tried, she wasn't strong enough. The
minute she saw the lost look in the eyes of Admiral James T. Kirk as he answered
her signal, she burst into tears and launched herself into his arms.
"I'm so sorry for your
loss, Admiral," she blubbered.
"Spock was a good, good man!"
Kirk responded stiffly. Yes, the doctor had been their colleague, but
the admiral needed some professional guidance.
"Dr. Chapel," he
began.
"Call me Christine,"
she interrupted. Kirk pulled away from
her.
"No," he stated
firmly, keeping her at arm's length.
"I don't need sympathy now.
I need some professionalism." Chapel wiped her eyes and snapped to.
"Of course,
Admiral," she said coolly. Kirk
dropped his head, chagrinned.
"Call me
Jim." Chapel was puzzled.
"If I'm to call you
Jim, why can't you call me Christine?" she asked in confusion.
"Because Kirk the
Admiral doesn't need counseling," he explained, "but Jim the man
does."
"Why
me?" Chapel asked. Kirk took her hands.
"I can't talk to
Spock," he explained, chin quivering, "and McCoy is ill. I know you loved Spock, too." They both blinked back tears. "And I trust you."
Chapel blushed in
embarrassment over the praise.
"Thank you, Adm … Jim," she corrected. He squeezed the doctor's hands.
"Besides, it had to be
you," he said. "You have to
see what I found." Kirk released
her hands and put Spock's treasure box on the counter. Chapel delicately touched the worn carton.
"What's in it?"
she queried.
"You'll see," Kirk
replied, picking up the box and leading her to the sofa.
"Before the cleaning
crew came to pack Spock's effects," Kirk began, "I went and sorted
through his belongings. I found this
box." He paused, caressing the frayed
lid. "You won't believe what's in
here," Kirk said through tears as he removed the lid.
Chapel looked at the formal
portrait with a sad smile. Spock was so
young, so solemn, so _cute._
Next Kirk held up the shell.
"Dr. Chapel," he
said with difficulty, "when I hold each item, it tells me its
story." He handed her the
shell. "This was from the first
time Spock ever saw an ocean. He was two
years old." Chapel took the shell
and held it to her ear. "What do
you hear?" Kirk asked.
"The ocean," she
replied. "Why? What do you hear?"
"I hear a baby laughing
with delight," he answered. Chapel
blinked back tears as she put down the shell.
"Spock once got so mad
that he smashed his harp," Kirk said, holding the bit of wood, wire, and
feather. "I don't know the
particulars. The silvered birds of dawn
woke him up and calmed him down."
Chapel stirred.
"Seeing the silvered
birds is a rare thing," she observed.
"It must have been a healing moment for Spock." Kirk didn't respond. He pulled out the ribbon next.
"His mother gave him
this when he left home for
"Is that what I think
it is in there?" she asked. Kirk
nodded.
"An Omicron Ceti III
spore lily," Kirk replied. Chapel
didn't _ever_ want to remember that day, the day she saw Spock in the arms of
Leila Kalomi. Brushing aside angry
tears, she pointed to a brown patch of fur.
"Is that an ear?"
she asked in distaste.
"Yes," Kirk
answered, "from his pet sehlat.
This animal saved Spock's life when he was a boy by sacrificing its
own." Chapel fastidiously put the
ear aside.
"Some children have
security blankets," she said. "I guess Spock preferred an
ear." Kirk picked up the leaf.
"This is from the
singing vines of Talos IV," he stated
coolly. Chapel caught Kirk's mood shift.
"What's wrong,
Jim?" she asked with concern. Kirk
straightened his shoulders.
"I'm not
finished," he said as he pulled out the book.
"Hey," Chapel said,
"I read that book as a kid."
Kirk pushed it to her.
"Open it," he
ordered. The tone of his voice shook
Chapel, and she was suddenly afraid to obey.
"Do it!"
Chapel jumped and opened the
book. She started to read the
inscription, but Kirk turned to another page.
A fragile piece of lace fell
out. Chapel recognized it immediately
and tore it up again.
"Yours?" Kirk demanded.
Chapel nodded.
"I was on shore leave,
and I was going to get my hair done," she explained. "An old woman asked for a few strands of
hair. She had amazing samples of her
work all around her. I was game, so she
combed through my hair with her fingers, removing just a little. By the time I came out of the beauty parlor,
she had produced this bookmark."
Chapel caressed the lacy bit and her lip trembled. "I gave it to him on a whim, after Platonius. I never
dreamt he would keep it." Kirk
covered Chapel's hand with his own.
"Of course he would
keep it, Doctor," Kirk responded.
"You were special to him."
Chapel's head snapped up.
"Special?" she
echoed. Kirk nodded.
"Yes, special," he
replied. "Whenever he was sick or
injured, he came looking for you. If he
was unconscious, yours was the first face he'd look for when he came to. He trusted you more than McCoy because he
knew you had actually studied on Vulcan.
He couldn't relax when you weren't on shift." Chapel started to cry angry tears.
"Don't you _dare_ tell
me he loved me," she grated, "not after he's lost to us!" Kirk took her by the shoulders.
"I can't say that
because I don't know how he felt," he began.
"Yes, you do,"
Chapel interrupted. "Spock's
feelings are all in this box. This shell
showed he took delight in creation. This
ribbon showed he was loved by his mother, and he loved her enough to keep it. This book was perfect for the problems of
childhood, and we know Spock's childhood was difficult. This wood showed his anger and the feather
showed his consolation. This ear showed
gratitude for a pet's devotion. This
leaf showed his loyalty to Christopher Pike, who was a father figure to a
lonely Vulcan youth far from home."
Kirk stiffened again. Chapel
looked from him to the box and back again.
"There's nothing from
me," Kirk whispered, miserable, "not a thing." Chapel looked into the box. There was a non-descript rock that she had
cause to remember. She held it out to
Kirk.
"This represents
you," she stated with conviction.
"Me?" Kirk
said. "I don't recognize
it." Chapel smiled gently.
"You
wouldn't." She placed the rock
firmly in his hands. "Your first
mission as captain of the
"The horta?"
Kirk said. "That mission came
later."
"We encountered the horta on our second trip to Janus
V," she explained. "Our first
trip was to render aid after the cave-in at the mines. You and Spock were pulling miners out left
and right. Spock passed the last one to
you just as the roof collapsed.
"You were knocked in
the head. Spock was pinned under all
that rock. You pulled every bit of it
off of Spock and carried him to safety."
Chapel held up the rock. "I
removed this from his boot. It had
slipped inside in the cave-in.
"Spock's injuries were
easy to patch up," she continued, "but you slipped into a coma. Spock wouldn't leave your side for three
days, not that he could go far with three broken ribs and a fractured leg. That's when his loyalty passed from
Pike," she held up the leaf, "to James T. Kirk." Chapel squeezed the rock into his hand. "Your friendship grew to be as solid as
this rock."
Tears flowed freely down
Kirk's cheeks.
"How could I ever have
doubted that?" he asked.
"You just didn't
remember," Chapel said gently as she placed the other items back into the
box. Kirk placed the rock atop the lid
and sat back. Wiping his face, he said,
"I could use a drink. How about
you, Doctor?" Chapel checked her
chrono.
"It's too early for
drinks," she hinted. "It's
barely halfway through Alpha shift, and I go on duty in a few hours." She rose from her seat on the sofa. "Have you seen any of the other senior
officers?" Kirk stood and walked
her to the door.
"They are coming over
tonight for drinks," he said.
Chapel nodded.
"Good," she
said. "Give them my
regards." Chapel's eyes were drawn
back to the box. "What are you
going to do with it?" she whispered.
Kirk lowered his head.
"I don’t know," he
answered. "I think Amanda would
appreciate it, but Sarek might toss it out as so much garbage." He looked up at Chapel. Do you want your…?"
"My hair?" she
thought. "No, keep it in the
book. Just the thought that he kept it
all these years was enough." She
gathered the admiral into her arms.
"Thank you for sharing this with me," she said. "Call me anytime."
"Absolutely," Kirk
smiled gently. "Thanks for stopping
by."
On her way out the door,
Chapel pointed to Kirk's bar.
"No drinking
alone!" she ordered. "Wait
until the guys come over tonight.
"Yes, Doctor,"
Kirk replied with a mock salute.
(Much
later that night, after the mindmeld with Sarek.)
As Kirk moved to leave his
apartment with Spock's father, the Vulcan ambassador espied the Vulcan's family
portrait. His hand shot out and snared
the photo.
"How did you get
this?" Sarek demanded. Kirk
blinked. He thought everything was back
inside the box. "You have it, do
you not?" Sarek asked hopefully. "The box? Spock's box?"
Kirk moved slowly back to
the counter and pulled out the worn carton.
Sarek lifted the lid and stared inside.
"He added to it, I
see," Sarek stated quietly. He
touched each item with reverence, his eyes misting. "Thank you for retrieving this,
Kirk," he said, replacing the lid and moving as if to take it.
"Wait!" Kirk
pleaded. "Could I have one thing from it?" Sarek was incredulous.
"It must be kept
intact," he stated firmly. Kirk was
confused.
"What is the purpose of
this box, Sarek?" he asked.
"Why is it so important?"
Sarek caressed the frayed carton.
He had to collect himself, to pause at length, before he could speak.
"When I gave Spock his
first lesson in emotional control," Sarek began softly, "I gave him
this box. I told him to place into it
anything that represented his emotions."
Sarek had to pause and take several deep breaths. "A Vulcan _feels,_
Admiral. Vulcan emotions are very
strong. If we do not master them, then
they will master us." His hands
idly stroked the box. "I told Spock
that he could have any emotion, as long as it was kept inside himself, just as these items are kept inside this
box." Kirk silently contemplated
this.
"Do you know which item
is yours?" he asked Sarek gently. The
ambassador popped the lid and extracted the polished rock. His fingers rubbed the marred surface before
handing it to Kirk.
"When Spock was a year
old," he said in a tiny voice, "his mother and I formally presented
him to the family. Spock was fussy that
day because he was teething. He decided
that my jewelry soothed his sore gums."
Kirk examined the scratches on the stone.
"Teething marks?"
he said in amazement. "Spock
teethed on a stone?" Sarek shook
his head.
"No, he teethed on my
formal jewels," he corrected.
"I replaced the stone and gave this one to Spock. Eventually he put it in his box." Sarek met Kirk's gaze levelly. "We weren't always at odds,
Admiral."
Remembering his manners,
Kirk brought Sarek a glass of water, which he graciously accepted and downed in
one gulp. "We should get over to
Starfleet Command if we want to go over those ship's logs, Mr.
Ambassador," he said gently. Sarek
handed back the drained glass, picked up the box and turned toward the door.
On the walk to the transport
station, Sarek turned to Kirk.
"Which item is yours,
Admiral?" he asked gently.
"It was the gray
rock," Kirk answered. "We were
trying to evacuate trapped miners when there was another cave-in. I was hit in the head, but Spock was buried
under rock. Somehow I was still able to
pull Spock out. It was our first real
mission together. A rock was later found
in his boot," Kirk grew quiet.
"Because of the nature of my injuries, I didn't remember the
incident, nor did I recognize the rock."
Sarek stirred.
"How do you know of
these occurrences, then?" he asked.
"Then-Nurse Chapel
found the rock and gave it to Spock as a souvenir," he said. "She just told me of this today. She said that Spock, despite his own
injuries, kept vigil at my side until I recovered. He considered this the beginning of our
friendship."
Sarek was quiet a long time. As they approached the transport center, he
asked, "Do you wish to have the rock?" Kirk thought a bit, then
shook his head.
"No," he
answered. "Just knowing that he
saved it means a lot."
They were met at Starfleet
Command with the news, "Commander Spock's burial tube has been found
intact on Genesis." Sarek turned to
Kirk.
"They have found my
son's body," he said, and we have his heart, his treasured box. Let us find who has his katra."
And the rest, as they say,
is history.
End Treasured Memories