by Brad
Sarek sank into a chair beside Spock’s bed. “I see. And his motive was to prolong the war?”
Spock nodded. “He blamed you. The off-world colonists could not refuse to sign the treaty that they had negotiated, or they would lose face. But once away from the planet, Minak convinced the others that the planet-dwelling Marathans had bribed you to omit guarantees of religious tolerance. The opening of P’ik Ban Aldor for all believers was to have been the symbol for that tolerance.”
Sarek rose. “I will question the captives,” he said.
“Father!” Spock’s weak croak stopped Sarek in the doorway. “Cha and his father—were they taken?”
“They are captured and the other members of their clan as well. None of them were seriously injured.”
“Do not let them know where you learned this,” said Spock. “Otherwise Cha will become an outcast.”
Sarek nodded, and as he turned, Spock sank back on the bed. “I am very tired,” he said.
He felt Amanda’s hand, cool and soft, on his forehead, and he drifted to sleep again.
A time of healing and slowly returning strength followed. A dazed Spock woke only long enough to take a little nourishment, and then he sank back into the depths of Tow-kath, the healing fever. Drifting dreams disturbed him. He saw himself on the Enterprise, grimly trying to avoid some kind of catastrophe but failing because he could not move fast enough. He was on the grounds of the Vulcan Science Academy, witnessing an attack on Sirok, but when he tried to run to his cousin’s aid, the pathway turned to mud and made him stagger forward in nightmare sluggishness. He saw himself speaking to a group of students at the academy, with all of them murmuring, “Not logical. You are not logical.”
But finally a day came when he opened his eyes, searched for the pain, and found it had vanished. He rose and dressed, and he met Amanda in the doorway. “You are better,” she said, and impulsively she embraced her son.
“How long has it been?” he asked.
She led him to her room, made him sit in a chair. “You have been asleep, more or less, for a week. So much has happened.”
“Sirok. I dreamed of him.”
“Sirok is well. He has recovered, and he will be back at the Vulcan Science Academy within a month.” Amanda shook her head as she studied her son’s face. “A neural disrupter set to kill is a terrible weapon,” she said softly. “It destroys major nerve junctions, and they cannot be restored. You were very close to death.”
“I know. The security officers saved me.”
Amanda smiled. “No,” she said softly. “Your friend saved you.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “I do not understand.”
“Cha,” said Amanda. “He threw himself in front of the disrupter beam. His father dropped the weapon, certain that he had killed his son. Marathans are even more susceptible to disrupter effects than Vulcans.”
“Their neurons are not as well shielded as ours,” Spock said.
Amanda almost laughed. “For whatever reason. When the security officers arrived, Karos Mar Santor was holding his son’s body. The nerves of his lower spine were badly hurt by the disrupter. He could not move his legs, and he was in pain. They took Cha to the House of Healing, and fortunately the damage was not permanent. He will walk with a limp for a long time, but he’ll recover full use of his legs eventually.”
“I see. The treaty?”
“Sarek is planning to return to Marath in six weeks, as soon as Cha is well enough to travel. Santor’s people—”
“Mar’s people,” Spock corrected. “The Marathan family name comes second.”
“Very well,” Amanda said. “Mar’s people have taken Hul Minak Lasvor into custody. They will try him according to their laws. Sarek believes that he can negotiate a treaty that will allow all sides free access to some site on the planet that seems very important to them.”
“I am sure he will succeed.”
“Aren’t you happy for him then?” asked Amanda.
“Mother!”
Amanda chuckled. “At least you show some emotion. I believe I shocked you that time!”
Spock considered. “I was not shocked. I was surprised at how illogical you can be.”
Days later, Spock stood beside Cha, who had walked a little for the first time since his father had tried to kill Spock. Cha, thinner, exhausted, sat in a hover chair in the solarium of the House of Healing. Through a huge curved window he looked out across the city, toward the west. The dry landscape of Vulcan rolled away to the horizon. Hot afternoon sunlight poured in. “Your world is like Marath in some respects, but it is very different, too. Not as much water, different colors, a strange sky. And yet it has beauty of its own,” Cha said.
“I wanted to thank you,” Spock said softly. “You saved my life.”
Cha twisted away awkwardly, not letting Spock see his face. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, full of feeling: “Friends do that.”
“Yes,” Spock said, considering. “I suppose they do.”
For some minutes the two sat together without speaking. Then Cha cleared his throat. “I will celebrate my birthday on the way back home, Spock. As soon as we arrive at Shakir, my father and my uncles will join me to perform the Ceremony of Bonding. Then I will be a man.” He glanced at Spock. “Everything in my life will change from then on. No more childish disobedience. No more sharing secrets with alien friends.”
“That will be a loss,” Spock said. “But in accepting adulthood, you will gain much as well.”
“I hope to be a leader of my people in time,” Cha said. “You Vulcans have much to teach Marathans. We are a violent and illogical people. Perhaps we can learn from you to control our hurtful emotions. To get along with each other. I wish I could help all Marathans learn that lesson.” With a grin, Cha said, “It would be wonderful if I became the chief counselor of the Marathans and you the ambassador from Vulcan.”
This time Spock looked away. “Only time will show if that is possible.”
“Thank you, Spock.”
“On the contrary. Thank you, Cha.”
Weeks passed. Cha and his family, Sarek and his aides, left Vulcan for Marath. Before long, Sarek called home to tell Amanda and Spock that the treaty had been successfully amended. “Working out the language was very difficult, because we had to refer to things that cannot be named, but somehow we have succeeded. Now all sides can at last agree,” Sarek said. “And Marath will become a member of the Federation.”
“And Vulcan?” Spock asked. “Has the crisis passed here, too?”
Sarek nodded. “An acute question. Things have changed because this problem has been successfully resolved despite the warnings of those who fear outsiders. The power of the opposition party has waned. Vulcan will not close itself off from other worlds. More logical minds have prevailed.”
“That is good.”
“I think so. I must prepare for the return voyage now. Amanda and Spock, live long and prosper.”
Spock raised his hand in the ancient Vulcan gesture of greeting and farewell. “Live long and prosper, Father.”
When the screen faded away, Spock stared into the distance for a long time, not really seeing anything.
More weeks passed. Sarek returned home. He spoke to his son of the coming year when Spock would enter the Science Academy as a full-time student. Spock listened gravely, nodded, and kept his trouble to himself. After a morning spent reviewing the subtle language of the successful Marathan treaty, Sarek looked at Spock for a long time before saying, “You will make a fine diplomat one day, Spock. Study your science if you must, but realize that you have a higher calling. It is an infinitely varied galaxy, with much trouble in it. You can help to end hostility, to make the universe a more rational place as I have done.”
Spock hoped that his face did not show the turmoil in his heart.
On a warm afternoon not long after, he found Amanda working in her garden. The sun was low, and the heat of the afternoon was pleasant in his bones. He helpe
d his mother with an exotic, Earth plant, and she spoke of it as they watered and pruned. “It’s called a century plant,” she said.
“Why is that?” asked Spock.
“There’s a legend that it blooms only once every hundred Earth years.” Amanda took a step back. “Well, it seems to be adapting nicely to Vulcan conditions.”
“Does it?”
Amanda glanced at him. “Does it bloom only once a century? No, actually it doesn’t. It’s more like once every twenty years or so.”
“An illogical name,” Spock observed.
Amanda laughed. “Well, we humans are an illogical species.”
Spock looked around the garden. “This is a very harmonious place,” he said. “You have planted species from forty-nine different worlds. It ought to be a jumble of competing forms and shapes, but it is not. There is a sense here of …” His voice trailed off. “Of completeness,” he finished at last.
“Thank you, Spock.”
“I am reminded of the Enterprise.”
Amanda laughed again. “The connection escapes me.”
On the horizon the sun sank. Soon the chill of night would come, the thin air releasing the heat of the day. Spock looked up. High in the darkening sky, wispy ice clouds caught the rays of the vanishing sun and glowed a brilliant scarlet. Beyond them was the darkness of space. Slowly, Spock said, “The Enterprise crew was not made up exclusively of humans. There were Centaurians, at least one Andorian, and a Betazoid as well. And one of the crew’s parents were a Deltan and a human.”
“Oh,” Amanda said. “I see. They were many alien species all planted in one garden. Is that it?”
“Not planted, for they are all sentient,” Spock said. “The Vulcan Science Academy, by contrast, is a garden filled with varalinths.”
“Weeds?” Amanda shook her head. “Now you have lost me.”
“A varalinth is not a weed,” Spock said. “It is a Vulcan plant.”
“I know, Spock,” Amanda replied. “It branches roots far and wide, and wherever they approach the surface, they send up shoots that become clones identical to the parent plant. But to tell you the truth, varalinths are not particularly lovely specimens. They are adapted for harsh conditions, but they crowd out other plants.”
“And so do the students at the Science Academy.”
Amanda led him to the sheltered seat. “This is a more serious conversation than I thought,” she said. “Tell me everything, Spock.”
For the better part of an hour, Spock told her the whole story. He spoke of how he had felt like an outsider at the Science Academy but as if he belonged aboard the Enterprise. He told of Christopher Pike’s surprising offer, of the fascination it held for him. To be the first Vulcan officer in Starfleet—that was an intriguing goal. “And it is logical,” Spock said slowly. “Father has struggled to forge closer ties between Vulcan and the Federation. To have Vulcans in Starfleet can only help both Starfleet and ourselves.”
“If you feel strongly about Starfleet,” Amanda said, “you must accept the offer.”
“Feelings are illogical, Mother.”
“Not always, Spock.”
With a sigh, Spock looked up. It was night now, and stars glittered overhead. “Father has planned my whole future for me,” he said. “And he does not think highly of humans.”
“With at least one exception, I hope.”
Spock said, “I regret my—”
“Oh, hush, Spock. I’m joking.”
“Yes.” Spock sighed. “Father will not be pleased,” he said at last.
After a long silence, Amanda said, “In an ancient Earth play, a character says, ‘This above all: To thine own self be true.’ He wasn’t a very bright character, but that was a good piece of advice. And another work of literature from Earth, a poem, talks of choosing a path less traveled. It may create problems, but could you honestly take the path your father has made and not feel regret?”
“No,” Spock said. “I would try to suppress the emotion, of course. But I would feel regret.”
“When must you decide?”
“I have already decided,” confessed Spock. “I will accept the appointment to Starfleet Academy. I must give my answer to Starfleet soon.”
“I’ll tell your father if you wish.”
“No,” Spock said. “That is my task.” He looked up again. The stars, brilliant and fierce in the thin air of Vulcan, beckoned from the depths of space. “The motto of Starfleet Academy is also from an old Earth tongue,” he said. “Ex Astris, Scientia.”
“That’s Latin,” Amanda said. “From the stars, knowledge.” In the darkness, she touched his arm. “But I know a better motto for you, Spock. Ad Astra.”
“Yes,” murmured Spock. “To the stars.”
To the stars!
About the Authors
BRAD and BARBARA STRICKLAND are a husband-and-wife writing team who have co-authored three spooky books in the Are You Afraid of the Dark? series: The Tale of the Secret Mirror, The Tale of the Phantom School Bus, and The Tale of the Deadly Diary. They have also written two books about young Jean-Luc Picard in the Starfleet Academy series: Starfall and Nova Command. On his own, Brad did two Deep Space Nine books, The Star Ghost and Stowaways. Brad teaches English at Gainesville College, and Barbara is a second-grade teacher at Myers School. The Stricklands live in Oakwood, Georgia. They have a son, a daughter, and numerous pets, including two ferrets who always travel through the house at warp seven or faster.
About the Illustrator
TODD CAMERON HAMILTON is a self-taught artist who currently lives in Kalamazoo, Michigan. He has been a professional illustrator for the past ten years, specializing in fantasy, science fiction, and horror. Todd is the current president of the Association of Science Fiction and Fantasy Artists. His original works grace many private and corporate collections. He has co-authored two novels and several short stories. When he is not drawing, painting, or writing, his interests include metalsmithing, puppetry, and teaching.
