“Compassion is admirable, but you have just told me about the place of the aylakim. They live only to die; if we [69] gave them drink, the le-matya could not feed on their corpses.”
“You don’t understand,” Sanara interrupted. “I can give that aylak water.” She stared at the boulder. Within a few seconds a crack appeared in its side. The fissure grew, spreading like a spider’s web over the face of the rock. Spock heard the sound of churning water from deep inside it. He watched, amazed, as a clear trickle of water spilled out from the crack, splashing onto the aylak. The creature shrieked in delight as its forked tongue began lapping up the water.
“Sanara,” Spock said, his voice hushed. He had not felt the force of a mind so strong and yet so undisciplined since Gary Mitchell ...
The girl shrugged. “I wanted it to have water, so in my mind I told the rock to give it some.” The crack in the rock had grown even larger, and water was cascading out of it, soaking the parched ground. Chattering excitedly, other aylakim scampered toward the pool of water as it grew bigger and bigger. Sanara watched with enjoyment; Spock saw her smile for the first time. Saavik had told him about Sanara’s mental abilities, but he wondered if even the lieutenant knew their full extent.
“Stop this, Sanara,” he told her.
“Why?” The smile vanished from Sanara’s face. “My teacher would approve.”
“I am your teacher and I want you to stop.” Yet it had been ten thousand years since any Vulcan had displayed such powers. How could he hope to teach her?
“No!” Sanara shouted. The boulder trembled violently and then burst into pieces. Water washed over the patio, [70] lapping at Spock’s feet. Where the boulder had stood, a fountain now bubbled. Its spray was cool against Spock’s skin.
“Sanara, stop!” he ordered. Why had Sanara displayed her power to him and not to Saavik? Perhaps to scare him off? To avoid her than’tha? Or because they were both viltah?
“No, you stop! You speak as though you care for me, but you don’t! If you did, you would let me be who I am!”
“I do want that,” Spock replied, “but not like this. You must control your gifts. ...”
“They are not gifts,” she screamed, “they are mine! I did this! I don’t need you!” The fountain shot water even higher into the air. The ground trembled, beginning to break open, and the aylakim that had been drinking yelped as they tumbled into the cracks. Sanara thrust her hands in front of her; Spock felt a heavy blow strike his chest. He fell backwards; his head struck the patio. Water washed over his face, as if carrying him into unconsciousness.
“Captain!”
When Spock awoke, he saw Saavik gazing into his face with concern. His robes, soaked with water, clung closely to him. A moaning wind chilled his body; another sandstorm was gathering strength. Saavik cradled his head with one hand and supported his back with the other as he struggled to sit up. “What happened?” she asked, pointing to Sanara’s still-gurgling fountain.
Spock told her about the girl’s display of psychokinetic power. “Is she with you?”
“No.”
“What time is it?”
[71] Saavik glanced at her chronometer. “Third Watch has just begun.”
Spock frowned. “She has been gone for over two hours.”
“I hope she’s found shelter from the storm.” Saavik watched the sand being stirred up by the increasingly strong gale.
The mention of shelter sparked a thought in Spock’s mind—and suddenly answers to many, but not all, questions fell into place. “I believe she has,” he told Saavik. “Follow me.”
Within minutes, they arrived at the archaeological camp, where Saavik scanned the surrounding caves with her tricorder. “Odd,” she remarked, tapping the instrument lightly. “Some kind of energy field is causing interference, but I read two life-forms in a cave fourteen meters to the northwest: one full Vulcan, and one Vulcan-human.”
She and Spock ran toward the cave, calling out Sanara’s name. The sandstorm’s wail grew louder, drowning their voices, and the sand blowing around them restricted their vision. At last, Spock saw the cave’s entrance. A soft, warm light shone from within. “Do you hear that?” he asked Saavik.
Saavik listened, then nodded. “Conversation—in the High Tongue!”
“And one of the voices is Sanara’s,” said Spock.
They stepped quietly into the cave. Its rugged walls glowed with a strange, pulsating light. Saavik aimed her tricorder at the walls. “Captain,” she whispered, “this is the source of the interference. The stone seems to amplify psionic energy.”
“Then we must be cautious,” Spock said.
[72] They carefully crept a few steps forward, staying just inside the cave’s mouth, peering at the scene before them. Sanara sat on the ground, eyes shut, at the feet of a young Vulcan male who strummed a simple, seductive tune on a lyre. His back was turned to Spock and Saavik, but Spock recognized the man’s multicolored tunic: stripes in various shades of blue, orange, green, and yellow. Only one Vulcan had ever worn such a garment.
“Sanara’s other teacher?” asked Saavik. “It can’t be ...”
“No,” Spock whispered back, “it cannot. But Sanara apparently believes her other teacher is Surak himself.”
Sanara opened her eyes and let out a long sigh. “Surak, I’m tired. Can I go back? I’ll return tomorrow; I always do.”
“Sanara, we are so close to this discovery, you and I.” Surak continued to play his song; its notes filled the air with an almost tangible tranquillity. “You must concentrate. Open your mind further than you have ever dared.”
Sanara took a deep breath, contorting her features in earnest concentration, but after several seconds she shook her head in aggravation. “I’ve worked too hard tonight.”
Surak put down his lyre and patted Sanara’s head benignly. “I know you are tired, but you must understand what is at stake. Events have taken an unforeseen turn, and our time grows very short. If we do not find ShiGral soon, then ...”
“Then what?” Spock stepped out from the shadows.
Surak spun around to face Spock. “Spock.” He spoke the name as though it were an accusation. “What are you doing here?”
“Sanara,” Saavik called from behind Spock, “come here.”
“No!” Sanara leapt to her feet. “Surak, don’t let them take me!”
[73] “Of course not.”
“What is your business with Sanara?” asked Spock.
“I’m helping him look for ShiGral!” said Sanara.
“Indeed,” said Spock, moving closer. He felt intense mental energy emanating from this person; it pressed against his own mind, throbbing around him, as thick as the sand in the storm had been. He fought to stay focused against the amplified psychic field “Surak” was projecting.
The other man arched his eyebrows. “You do not seem surprised to see me, Spock. Are you not curious? Why ask about my quest when so many more questions beg for answers?”
“I do not ask,” said Spock, “because you are not Surak. But you knew who I was. How?”
The man’s gaze wandered for a moment before he said, “Sanara has told me about you. Your attempt to be her than’tha, your career in Starfleet ... I must admit I am disappointed that you have chosen a path which has involved so much violence.”
Spock shook his head. “I have told Sanara very little about my service in Starfleet. The answer is quite logical: you are not Surak.”
“Sanara,” Saavik called again, “please.”
“No!” Sanara grabbed the stranger’s leg. “You’re just jealous because he chose me and not you!”
“Sanara,” said Spock, “think logically. Even if the tales of Surak’s return to ShiGral are true, do they not claim that all Vulcan will know of it?”
Surak began to say, “I have my reasons for ...”
Spock did not listen, but continued to move nearer to Sanara. “And do those tales not teach that Surak will return [74] in Vulcan’s hour
of greatest need? We have had unbroken peace since the Time of Awakening; we are in no hour of need.”
Sanara looked confused, and the impostor noticed. “Sanara, he lies to you. He is a fool for focusing only on the external.” He spoke to Sanara but stared directly at Spock. “I see the heart. Vulcan’s need has never been greater. The threat is real; our culture has become impure. We cannot tolerate so much diversity if we ...” He stopped in midsentence.
Spock narrowed his eyes. “These words from the man who gave us our creed? That infinite diversity in infinite combination yields beauty and hope? Sanara: did not Surak teach IDIC to our world?”
Sanara looked back and forth between Spock and the stranger; doubt filled her face. “Yes ... but ...”
“Sanara!” Spock grasped her shoulders. “What is Kiri-kin-tha’s first law of metaphysics?”
Fighting back tears, Sanara quoted, “Nothing unreal exists.”
“Good. This is not Surak. He is not real. He does not exist.”
Sanara stamped her feet. “You can’t accept that he’s chosen me!”
Spock glanced at Saavik, who had moved behind the other man. The mental energy continued to oppress Spock; he found it increasingly hard to concentrate. Action must be taken, he thought, and it must be taken now. The risks were great; the potential for damage existed. But ultimately Sanara would face more risk at the hands of this person, whoever or whatever he was. Spock made the decision, and [75] gently but firmly grasped Sanara’s face, his fingers instinctively finding the appropriate pressure points. Sanara gasped, but Spock recited in a soothing voice, “My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts.”
Surak raised his hand as if to strike Spock; he crumpled to the floor as Saavik squeezed the nerves between his shoulder and neck.
“Sanara,” Spock said, “open your mind. ...”
And their minds opened, one to the other. Wave after wave of vibrant colors swept over Spock’s mind. He carefully navigated through the upper layers of Sanara’s consciousness, then descended into the kaleidoscopic maelstrom ... and the link was established.
Images from Sanara’s psyche floated up from the whirlpool. Surak’s face ... chess and kal-toh matches played with Saavik ... Vulcan’s blazing sun ... crystal stars against a black night sky ... and Sanara’s voice drifted above them all: I’m frightened.
Do not be afraid, Spock reassured her. I mean you no harm.
What is this?
This is First Meld. Trust. Let go.
The images wavered in and out of focus, as if dancing among the whirling colors. The colors exploded violently from time to time like solar flares, but as Spock continued to comfort Sanara, they gradually resembled a smooth ocean at sunset, one hue of the spectrum gently blending into the next. Clarity. Peace. Calm. Spock could now ask the traditional three questions of First Meld.
Who art thou?
I am Sanara.
[76] And whose child art thou?
I know only their faces. And for a moment Spock glimpsed those faces. His most pressing question was at last answered, but he had one more question to ask, one final query to assure that the Meld was successful.
And what art thou?
I am Vulcan.
Spock removed his hands from Sanara’s face and opened his eyes. Sanara trembled, but seemed to stand a little taller than she had before. She raised her hand in the age-old salute. “Live long and prosper.”
Spock returned the salute. “Peace, Sanara, and long life.”
“Captain?” Saavik gestured to the person at her feet, now recovering from the neck pinch. It was T’Ryth. The matron sat up, dazed; then she twisted her face in fury. She rose shakily to her feet, shouting, “Spock, you are an illogical fool!”
“I think not,” said Spock. “What you seek is not logical, T’Ryth.”
“ShiGral will be found,” said T’Ryth, pounding one fist into an open palm.
Spock arched his left eyebrow. “Perhaps. But not by one as blind as you.”
T’Ryth glowered at Spock. “You are the blind one: blind to the dangers of. diversity. There are more of us than you know, Spock. I am not the only one who sees through the Federation’s lies. Its worlds—none more so than Earth—have led our youth astray, urging them to forsake our traditions for others. Rejecting our heritage is not logical!”
Spock asked, “Is it not you who lead our youth astray, by teaching them that strength is found in isolation? You [77] who claim to hand on our tradition betray it at every turn, even as you would have betrayed Sanara.” He tenderly placed his hands on Sanara’s shoulders. “You saw her strong mental abilities and were threatened. All that power—from a viltah!” Now Spock’s eyes flashed in anger. “So you lured her here, to these caves, to amplify those powers even more, to abuse them to find an energy source you believe would destroy all ‘impurities’ like her. Was that not your plan?”
“Our world would be better off without all viltah,” T’Ryth said, spitting out every word. She marched toward the mouth of the cave, turning back to add, “Yourself included, Spock.” With that, she went out into the stormy night.
Sanara was weeping. Saavik went to her, softly laying a hand on her back. “Let’s leave this place, Sanara.”
She looked at Saavik and Spock through tearful eyes. “I thought ... I did want to find ShiGral.”
“If ShiGral is the essence of what it is to be Vulcan,” said Spock, “perhaps you did.”
“Fascinating!” Doctor Tully laughed as she read the communiqué in her hands. “This is from the Institute. It seems the Vulture has resigned her position.”
Spock stood with Saavik and Cadet Walters at the archaeological camp. “That is for the best,” he said. What he did not say was that T’Ryth’s resignation had not been voluntary, and her unbalanced thoughts were now being treated.
“And that’s not all.” Tully waved a second sheet of paper. “This is from FAC Central. It seems all funding for the ShiGral dig has mysteriously dried up. We’ve been [78] reassigned to Andoria.” Tully grinned as she looked around the camp. “So much for Camelot.”
“Captain Spock, are you ready to beam up?” Walters asked.
“One moment.” He walked to the edge of the camp, beckoning Saavik to follow. When they were out of earshot, he asked, “How is Sanara?”
“She’s resting,” said Saavik. “She’s still shaken by last night and upset about who her ‘other teacher’ was. But she will be well. The meld freed her from T’Ryth’s illusions. Sanara asked me to thank you.”
“Wish her a happy birthday for me.” Spock’s gaze drifted to the horizon. “Her parents are dead.” It was not a question.
Saavik cast her eyes down. “Yes. In the Vulcana Regar quake. I am sorry I could not tell you.”
“You were right; your role as instructor left you little choice.” Spock turned to face Saavik. “Lieutenant, I want to ...” He closed his eyes briefly. “I have been remembering our time on the Genesis Planet.” Saavik straightened visibly, but remained silent. Spock continued, “I wish to thank you for your kindness. I would not have survived without you.”
Saavik turned away for a moment. When she looked at Spock again, a tear rolled down her cheek. “Captain, I would not have survived without you. I would not be who I am today.”
Tenderly, Spock touched Saavik’s hand. “Saavikam,” he whispered, “should you ever need ...”
“Captain?” Cadet Walters was calling again, clearly eager to return his legendary charge safely to the starship above.
[79] “Very well,” said Spock. He and Saavik returned to the camp, and Spock stood next to Walters.
“Raleigh,” Walters spoke into his communicator, “two to beam up.”
Saavik was the last sight to fade from Spock’s vision as the beam enveloped him. He had not found what he had hoped to find. He had found something better. He had found two extraordinary young women in whom Vulcan’s bright future was assured. And perhaps that discovery compensated for the no
nreality that he had come seeking.
After all, as Kiri-kin-tha taught, nothing unreal exists.
The Hero of My Own Life
Peg Robinson
“Okay—fine. You don’t like Handel, you don’t like T’Tron, you don’t like Bach or Baabaatarma Ka? How about another sort of classic? Let’s try Frank Zappa.” Gillian Taylor knew she sounded demented as she ordered the computer to broadcast yet another piece of music out into the vast and empty seas. But then, she felt demented.
Darkness was upon the face of the waters of Pacifica. The only light to be found was the dull glow of the planetwide force fields, and the crackling flashes of lightning as storms harrowed Pacifica’s seas. From the surface it was as though the Lord God had said, “Hey, Gabriel? Ditch the light thing. I have another idea. ...”
It wasn’t God who had summoned the darkness, but a woman named Carol Marcus. Even without God making an appearance, this was Genesis: the birth of life on a lifeless world. The rebirth of a failed project. But no birth is without danger. Lost in the birth-tempest was a young humpbacked whale, named Harpo.
In the observation room of the drift-station Madrigal, Gillian searched the waters and swore.
[81] If only he’d answer. Sing to her. Anything.
There was a crackle as the communication system struggled to deliver a message from the U.S.S. Hermes, in orbit above. “Doctor Taylor, we can’t hold off on the second discharge much longer. Doctor Marcus has been ready to begin the second stage of the Genesis transformation for the past day. If you and your team don’t beam up soon, we may have to abort.”
Gillian grimaced. “I’m sorry, Captain Uhura, but Harpo still isn’t answering. Have your people picked up any trace of him?”
“Nothing. I’m sorry.”
“You’d find his body, wouldn’t you? If he were dead?” Gillian was annoyed at the quiver of fear in her voice. Her inability to wall off her feelings about “her” whales had always been her downfall. In all the years she’d been “here,” in the twenty-fourth century, that hadn’t changed. If anything, it had become worse, as her relationships with the great creatures became fuller and more equal. But it was embarrassing to sound so helpless and needy. She was in her fifties. A professional. An officer. Why did she still feel ... what? Blurry and undefined, as though she’d never quite come into focus after leaving her own era. As though she were just a loose end, a raveled thread flapping in the high winds of time.
STAR TREK: Strange New Worlds II Page 7
