by Diane Duane
Spock drew in a soft breath as the doctor’s words struck him like a blow. It wasn’t until that moment that the Vulcan realized, bitterly, that he’d hoped his old friend would be able to work some kind of miracle.Illogical, the Vulcan part of his mind whispered.Illogical, if not irrational…hope is a human emotion.
All at once he was acutely conscious of the automatic time sense marking off the hours, minutes, and seconds in his brain. Usually, the Vulcan never thought about it, unless he needed to, but suddenly, it was as pervasive as the ticking of some huge, old-fashioned Terran clock.
Time…
Amanda’s time was running out.
Without a word to the others, he rose from his seat and headed for his room. Fingers numb, he pulled on rough, outdoor clothing and desert boots. He was not thinking, he was simply obeying a strong, almost instinctive need to move, to be outside, to walk the rough soil and climb the jagged stone of his homeworld.
The heat struck him as he headed into the hills, but Spock ignored it. He was too conscious of the seconds ticking away inexorably in his head….
“Ambassador?” Sarek looked up at the sound of Soran’s voice. The ambassador was sitting by Amanda’s bedside, her hand in his, so he would be there when she awakened. On McCoy’s advice, he had engaged a Healer’s aide to monitor his wife’s condition, but he and Spock had been taking turns remaining with her during most of their waking hours, ever since Dr. McCoy’s revelation two days ago.
Now, seeing the concern in his young aide’s eyes, the Vulcan hastily left the bedroom and stepped into the hallway. “What is it, Soran?”
“Ambassador, a priority call just came in for you from President Ra-ghoratrei,” he said. “The president wishes to speak with you. He says it is urgent.”
Sarek nodded a quick acknowledgment as he headed for his office. Moments later, he was seated before his comm link. A presidential aide recognized him, nodded briefly; then the image wavered and was replaced with that of the Deltan Federation president. Ra-ghoratrei nodded a somber greeting to the Vulcan.
“Ambassador Sarek. Your aide told me of your wife’s illness. I regret having to call upon you at such a time, but I have no choice.”
“What is it, Mr. President?”
“A band of Klingon renegades has captured an Orion colony—the planet Kadura—and they are holding several thousand colonists hostage. The Klingon leader is threatening to kill the hostages unless the Federation agrees to negotiate a release and monetary settlement with him.” The president took a deep breath. “Ambassador…a great many lives hang in the balance. For this mission we need our best negotiator—and that is you. The meeting will take place on Deneb Four.”
Sarek briefly reviewed what he knew of the conference center on Deneb IV. It was at least three days’ journey at maximum warp. A week to go there and return, as well as whatever time the negotiations would require…he would probably be away from home for at least two weeks, possibly three…
The ambassador knew without consulting T’Mal or McCoy that, given her present condition, Amanda would probably not survive long enough for him to travel to the neutral site, handle the negotiations, and return. If he left his wife now, it was unlikely that he would ever see her alive again.
Nevertheless, there was only one logical course of action. The Vulcan took a deep breath.It is my duty. I cannot risk so many lives. The needs of the many …“I will go, Mr. President,” he said, steadily.
Ra-ghoratrei breathed a sigh of relief. “The Federation thanks you, Ambassador. The hostages will now have the best chance to keep their lives and regain their freedom.”
“I will need a complete report on the Klingon Commander,” Sarek said. “I will depart this afternoon, provided my pilot can ready my transport. Send the information about this Klingon via subspace message, if you will.”
“I will direct Admiral Burton, the head of Starfleet Security, to do so,” the president promised.
“Very well. Sarek out.”
“Thank you again, Ambassador. Out.”
Rising from his seat, Sarek quickly gave Soran instructions to prepare for the journey. Then, knowing it was for the last time, he went to bid farewell to his wife.
“Amanda.” The voice reached her in the darkness, pulling her back to light and awareness. The voice was familiar, known, beloved. An authoritative, precise voice with a faint resonance. Pleasantly deep, extremely cultured. The voice of her husband.
Amanda opened her eyes. Strong fingers grasped her hand gently but firmly. Sarek’s fingers.
“Sarek,” she murmured, gazing up into the face she had known and loved for so many years. “Have I been asleep long?”
“Several hours. My wife, I regret having to wake you, but I must speak with you…before I take my leave.”
Amanda’s eyes opened wider. “Leave?” she asked faintly, too weak to conceal the dismay his words caused her. “Why? Where are you going?”
“There is an emergency on the planet Kadura,” Sarek said. “I just finished speaking to President Ra-ghoratrei. He asked me to negotiate the release of a Federation colony that has been seized by Klingon renegades. There are thousands of colonists whose lives are in jeopardy. I must go, Amanda. It is my duty.”
Her heart contracted at his words. “How…how long will it take?” she asked, her words scarcely audible above the faint hum of the medical monitors. “Must you go?”
“Yes. I must take ship for Deneb Four within the hour. It is difficult to say how long I will be gone. Ten days, at the minimum. If the negotiations proceed slowly…” He trailed off and his fingers tightened slightly on hers.
“I see,” Amanda whispered. “Very well, Sarek. I understand.”
Her husband regarded her, his dark eyes shadowed with grief. Gently, he reached out and touched her hair, her cheek. “Amanda…if I could, I would stay here with you. You know that, do you not?”
Silently, she nodded, fighting to hold back tears. His dear, familiar face began to swim in her vision.No! she thought, blinking fiercely.I will not cry. I will not let tears steal my last sight of you. I will not let weeping mar our last farewell.
“Sarek…” she whispered, turning her fingers so her hand grasped his, returning the pressure. “I will miss you, my husband. I wish you did not have to go.”
“I will return as soon as possible, Amanda,” he promised, his eyes never leaving hers. “The instant Kadura is free, I will come home.”
But you will almost certainly be too late, and we both know it,Amanda thought, her eyes never leaving his face for a moment. She hated even to blink. In a few minutes her husband would be gone, and she would never see him again…at least, not in this life.
“I want you to remember something,” she said, struggling to keep her voice even.
“What, Amanda?”
“Never forget that I love you, my husband. Always.” She gazed at him intently, holding his eyes with her own. “You will need to remember that, Sarek, very soon now. Promise me you won’t forget.”
“My memory is typical for a Vulcan,” he said, quietly. “I forget very little, my wife.”
“I know. But remembering my words in your head, and remembering them here,” freeing her hand, she gently laid it on his side, where his heart lay, “are two different things. Promise me.”
“You have my word, Amanda,” he said, his dark eyes filled with profound sorrow.
I know that you love me,she thought, gazing up at him.But I will not embarrass you by telling you so….
“Spock will be here with you,” Sarek said. “Do not forget that, my wife.”
“His presence will be a great comfort,” she said, softly. Her gaze moved over his face, tracing the angular lines. Putting her hand up, she touched his cheek, his eyes, his lips, thinking of the many times she had kissed him there. “Sarek, hold me. I want to feel your arms around me. Hold me.”
Gently, he reached forward, scooped her up, and cradled her against him. Amanda slid her arms around hi
m and laid her head on his chest with a long sigh. Briefly, she abandoned herself to the moment…her soul was content. Finally she raised her head. “Sarek, I want you to promise me one more thing.”
He had difficulty meeting her eyes…Amanda could tell through their bond that he was profoundly moved. “What is it, Amanda?”
“I want you to read my journals…afterward. Take the first one with you now, my husband. Promise me you’ll read all of them. Please?”
Sarek nodded; then, with infinite gentleness, he helped settle her back onto the bed. Going into her sitting room, he returned with a slim, red-covered volume. On the spine was affixed the number 1. “This one?” he asked, holding it up.
“Yes, that one,” Amanda said, regarding him steadily as she lay propped up on her pillows. “Read it. And when you’ve finished that one, go on and read the next…until you’ve read them all.”
“I will do so, Amanda.”
“I know you will,” she said, and holding out her hand, two fingers extended, she smiled at him. Somewhere deep inside herself, she was crying, but she refused to let him see.Let him remember me smiling, she thought.
Her husband held out his hand, brushed two fingers against hers, and they remained that way for many seconds. Then, with a last, grave nod, Sarek walked away, pushing through the pressure curtain without looking back.
Spock saw the pressure curtain move; then his father appeared. The ambassador’s eyes widened slightly as he realized that his son must have been listening to him as he bade farewell to his wife; then they narrowed with anger. Before his father could speak, the first officer signaled curtly for silence and beckoned the ambassador out into the hall.
Only when thetekla wood door was firmly closed did Spock turn to regard his father.
“Eavesdropping is discourteous, my son,” Sarek said, and Spock could tell he was irritated, though his voice was carefully neutral.
Spock ignored the mild rebuke. He held his father’s eyes with his own, and his own voice was cold. “Soran told me that the president called, and why. He also told me that you have ordered your transport prepared. You intend to go to Deneb Four?”
“Yes,” Sarek said, eyeing his son with a touch of wariness. “I have just taken my leave of your mother.”
“So I heard.” Spock’s voice cut like a shard of obsidian. “I must admit that I found it difficult to believe. You actually intend toleave her? In her present condition?”
“I must,” Sarek said, quietly. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs—”
“To quote an appropriate human phrase, ‘To hell with that,’ ” Spock broke in, his voice rough with anger and grief. “You cannot leave her like this.”
“I recall a time,” Sarek said, “when you chose to remain at your post, when only you could savemy life.”
Spock paused. “Yes,” he said, after a moment, “butI have grown since then. It is a pity that you have not.”
Sarek’s eyebrow rose at his son’s words and the unconcealed emotion. “Spock, we all have our duties to consider. The situation at Kadura is critical.”
“So is my mother,” the first officer said flatly. “She will not survive long enough for you to return, and you know it. Your leaving in itself will very likely hasten her end.” He regarded his father unwaveringly.
The ambassador paused, and Spock knew that the thought of his leaving actually harming Amanda had not occurred to him until now. “You will be here with her,” he said, finally. “She will not be alone.”
“She needs herfamily with her,” Spock said obdurately. “You are her bondmate—her husband. Your loyalty should be to her. There are other diplomats on Vulcan. Senkar has handled situations of this nature before. Let him negotiate for Kadura’s release.”
“The president requested that I handle the negotiations personally,” Sarek said.
“He cannot order you.” Spock’s gaze never wavered as he held his father’s eyes. “Refuse…under the circumstances, no one will question your actions.”
Sarek straightened his shoulders. “Spock, I have no more time to discuss this. I must leave now.”
“You mean that youwish to leave,” Spock said, his voice cold and flat. “You do not have the courage to stay and see her through this.”
Answering anger sparked in Sarek’s eyes. “I will not remain to hear such acrimonious—and illogical—outpourings, Spock. I suggest that you meditate and attempt to regain your control.” He drew a deep breath, and added, in a tone that was intended to be conciliatory, “Remember, my son, you are Vulcan.”
“At the moment, if you are any example, being Vulcan is hardly a condition to be desired,” Spock snapped. Without another word, he brushed past his father and headed down the corridor. Behind him he could hear the ambassador’s footsteps receding.
When Spock regained control, he gently opened the door to his mother’s room, and entered, parting the pressure curtain with both hands.
Amanda was awake. Spock noted the unmistakable signs that she had been crying, but there were no tears present when she smiled at him wanly and held out her hand. “I was just about to eat my lunch,” she said, nodding at a tray placed across her lap by the Healer’s aide. “Would you like to join me, Spock?”
The Vulcan nodded and drew a chair up beside her bed. Amanda was making a valiant effort, he could tell, but she had to force herself to swallow several small mouthfuls. She smiled at him. “Do you know what I dreamt of last night?” she asked. “It was so strange…after all these years on Vulcan, being a vegetarian…”
“What, Mother?”
“I dreamt that I was eating an old-fashioned hamburger. It tasted wonderful—nice and rare, with cheese and lettuce and tomato…. ” She smiled, shaking her head.
“If you would like one,” her son said, “I will contact my ship and ask them to beam one down immediately.”
“Oh, no, don’t,” Amanda said. “I’m sure that eating meat after all these years would make me quite ill. And the real thing could never match how good it tasted in my dream…. ” She chuckled slightly. “But it was odd to dream about that after what…sixty years?”
“Indeed,” Spock said, cautiously. He sensed that his mother was chattering on as a way of working herself up to what was really on her mind. Sarek, he thought, was probably aboard his transport and leaving orbit by now.
“Spock,” Amanda said, softly, putting down her spoon and gazing at him directly, “what is death like?”
Spock stared at her for a long moment. How many times had he been asked this same question in the past three and a half years? Never before had he attempted an answer, but this time…he cleared his throat. “Mother, I cannot tell you what death is like. In a way, since mykatra departed to reside in Dr. McCoy when my physical body expired, I was not truly dead, as humans understand the term.”
“Oh,” she murmured, disappointed. “I’m sorry if that question was…disquieting. My curiosity got the better of me…under the circumstances.”
Spock forbore to comment on her reference to her “circumstances.” Instead he said, gently, “I cannot tell you what death is…but I remember dying. I know what it is to die.”
Amanda sat up a little straighter against her pillows, pushing her tray aside. Her blue eyes never left his. “Really? Tell me if you can, Spock.”
“It was painful,” Spock admitted, and if he had been human, he would have shuddered. “I had been exposed to enough radiation to literally burn me. In addition, my mind, while clear in some ways, was affected, and thus I could not control the pain. I suffered, but I knew before I even entered the chamber that I would not survive, so I also knew that I would not have to endure for long…. ”
Amanda’s eyes filled with tears. Spock knew that imagining her son burned, poisoned, and dying of massive radiation exposure was upsetting her. He hesitated, watching her. “Mother…if this is too painful for you, I will…”
“No,” she said, fiercely. “It’s a relief to talk about death, Spo
ck. I couldn’t, not with your father. It would have…distressed him too much. But you…you, of all people, you can understand.”
“I do,” he said, quietly. His hand slid across the coverlet and grasped hers, holding it tightly, reassuringly. “As my body shut down, the pain stopped, and I experienced relief when that happened. All the while I knew that I was dying, but as soon as the pain ceased, I realized with some surprise that I was not frightened, or distressed. It was more as if what was occurring was simply a further, entirely natural step in the order of things. I found myself at peace…such peace as I have never felt.”
“Peace,” Amanda whispered. “No fear?”
“Fear,” Spock reminded her, “is a human emotion. No, Mother, there was neither fear nor pain. Do not forget that I had established a link between myself and McCoy, so I knew that mykatra would…continue.”
“No fear, no pain…” she mused, plainly attempting to envision such a state. “What was there, then?”
“For a moment, I had a sense that knowledge was waiting for me, infinite knowledge. It was a heady sensation, and lasted only for a moment—then my consciousness blanked out, and I did not return to awareness until I awakened on that pallet with T’Lar standing over me.”
“Did you have a sense of an afterlife?”
“No, there was none of that. However, mykatra was residing within Dr. McCoy, so I cannot categorically state that there is no afterlife.”
“Do you believe in an afterlife?” his mother asked slowly.
“I do not know. I have no objective data to allow me to draw a conclusion.”
Amanda smiled dryly. “Spoken like a true Vulcan, Spock.”
Attempting to lighten the moment, the first officer bowed slightly. “Mother…you honor me.”
“Oh, stop it,” she said, chuckling despite everything. “You and your father…when you do that, I want to throw something at you!” She grasped one of the pillows, but her strength was not sufficient for her to make good on the implied threat…instead she sank back against her pillows, gasping.
