“I fail to see the logic in training cadets to become familiar with defeat, Mr. Spock,” she said, raising an eyebrow at him.
Spock raised his eyebrow in turn. “It is my belief that victory can, at times, be snatched from the jaws of defeat, to borrow a human idiom. I have seen it done … more than once.”
“By James T. Kirk,” she said, and it was not a question.
“Indeed.”
“The admiral is known throughout Starfleet for his … resourcefulness … under such circumstances,” Saavik admitted. “Someday I hope to be able to meet him.”
“The admiral frequently conducts personal inspections of graduating classes, Saavikam. It is likely you will encounter him then.”
Saavik nodded. “I am content to wait, my teacher. Being here at Starfleet Academy is … the fulfillment of a long-standing goal. I learned … much … my first year here. One of the most important things I learned is that I still have things to learn. Especially about interacting with the other cadets.”
Spock nodded. “Indeed. The life of a Starfleet cadet is challenging. The Kobayashi Maru simulation is but one challenge cadets must face.”
Saavik walked over to peer into the simulation chamber. Her nostrils contracted slightly as she took in the rank smells of burned insulation and cloned blood. Spock watched her, then added, “You will understand more of the reasoning behind the test when you finish your training and take it yourself, Saavikam.”
“I do not plan to take the test,” she said, levelly.
“Why?”
She hesitated, clearly searching for words. Finally, she replied, “When I hear them speak of the test, I consider myself fortunate to be in training as a science officer. I have no wish to become a line officer.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you chose to pursue science officer training? Because you did not wish a command of your own?”
When she did not reply immediately, Spock held his silence, knowing that she would answer in her own time. And her answer was likely to end in a question for him. For all of their long association, Saavik had been asking him questions.
The Vulcan had been Saavik’s mentor, her guide, ever since he’d found her, naked, starving, and feral, on the Romulan planetoid known as Hellguard. He’d led a rescue mission of Vulcans who had learned that kidnapped Vulcans had been brought to that desolate place as part of a Romulan “experiment.” The captive Vulcans had been forced to mate with Romulans, to produce children of shared ancestry. What the Romulans had intended for those children, nobody knew. The experiment, whatever it had involved, was abandoned by the Romulans. The children had been discarded, left to starve and slaughter each other for a few scraps of food. Spock had managed to communicate with the child Saavik, had convinced her to trust him. Then he’d brought the savage, fiercely intelligent youngster away from that desolate planetoid and overseen her education. Because of him, she learned to speak properly, received an education, and, eventually, was accepted into Starfleet Academy.
Since he’d first rescued her, Saavik had regarded her Vulcan mentor with near-reverence. The cadet had never made any effort to trace any of her Vulcan relatives, though gene-testing would have provided her with proof of her ancestry. Instead, she had looked to Spock for companionship. It had been his approval that counted. He was her teacher, and she honored him as she did no other living being.
Finally, she nodded—a short, economical motion. “Correct. I have no wish for command. I do not consider myself suited for it.”
“Saavik … please explain your reasoning. While you have been a student here at Starfleet Academy, your performance has been … above average, even for a Vulcan. Your test scores indicate that you would make a commendable line officer.”
Saavik’s expression hardened, and there was a glint of … what? Stubbornness? Defensiveness? in her eyes. “Mr. Spock, from what I have heard of the Kobayashi Maru test, I have no wish to experience an examination designed to provoke officer candidates into illogical and irrational behavior.” Her dark eyes met his. “I understand that you did not take the test yourself, my teacher.”
Spock nodded. “You are correct in that. Because I started out as a science officer, I did not have to take the test.”
“Then how did you become a line officer, my teacher?”
“A field promotion, while serving under Captain Christopher Pike,” Spock replied. A sudden memory of Pike as he’d last seen him on Talos IV filled his mind—young, strong, and handsome once more, striding eagerly towards lovely Vina. That had been sixteen standard years ago. Was Pike still alive? Communications with Talos IV were still proscribed, so there was no way to know.
“I am off duty for the remainder of the day, Saavikam,” Spock said. “Have you thought about what you would like to do this afternoon?”
Saavik nodded, her dark eyes suddenly betraying eagerness. “I have, my teacher. I should like to go back to the Valley of Death, and run.”
Spock nodded. “Very well. I shall change and gather our supplies, and meet you at the HQ transporter unit in ten minutes.”
“Very well, my teacher.” There was a note of eagerness in Saavik’s voice that was most … agreeable, Spock noted. Since he had become one of Starfleet Academy’s head instructors, he hadn’t had enough time to spend with his protégée. It was … pleasant … to know that Saavik still desired his company.
Two hours later, Spock and Saavik raced together down a rocky ravine, beneath the light of the westering sun. Both were clad in sleeveless shirts and light trousers, wearing boots and small backpacks. They had been running for over an hour, glad of the chance to exercise in the desert. Spock could not help contrasting this Terran wasteland with the vast deserts of Vulcan. The ground was similar, rocky, with little vegetation, the soil thin and sandy. But he could never have imagined himself on Vulcan—the air was thick and heavy, and the temperature, which could prove deadly to an unprotected human, seemed to him quite pleasant. The gravity was lighter, and the difference made his flying feet feel light.
By the time they halted, the sun had dropped beneath the horizon, and a cool breeze stirred the air. Spock sat down on a convenient rock, as did Saavik, to watch the brilliant colors of sunset. They were beautiful, vivid crimson and orange, shading to violet and purple … but as the minutes passed, Spock found himself watching Saavik as much as he did the sky. Her hair had loosened from its moorings, and part of it tumbled down past one cheek and spilled across her shoulder. Spock regarded her averted profile. Her face was rounded, but it was the rounding of a woman now, not that of a child. Her body was sturdy and fit, but, for the first time, he realized that she would never pass for a young man now, not even in dim light. The child he had helped to raise was gone, and a woman sat there on the rock, her face flushed from the exercise, her dark eyes alight as she drank in the beauty of the desert, the sunset.
Feeling his gaze upon her, she turned, and Spock glanced away, then, realizing for the first time that the breeze was chilly, reached into his knapsack for his jacket. He did not look back at her until he had pulled it on. Taking out his water bottle, he took a sip, musing that on Vulcan, such behavior would be judged self-indulgent. Vulcans prided themselves on being able to cover long distances in harsh land with little in the way of food or water.
Saavik had also pulled on her jacket. Being half Romulan, she was not as sensitive to the cold as he was, but now that the sun was well down, even a human might have been tempted to cover up bare arms.
They shared food: oranges and Vulcan kalafruit, flatbread and a handful of almonds apiece. They ate in silence. Spock listened to the sounds of the nocturnal desert life, hearing the soft slither of scales gliding across sand from a snake hunting some distance away, then picking up a scritching sound that was probably its prey—some small rodent, most likely. A nightbird called mournfully.
“Saavikam,” Spock said. “There is something I would like to discuss further.”
“Yes, my teacher?”
“I would like to ask why you believe you would not make a suitable line officer.”
Saavik did not turn to regard him. He could make out her profile against the last, fading lightness in the western sky. Finally she said, “I have learned to work with due humans. Tolerate their illogic.” She paused, shook her head. “No, more than tolerate. I have learned that they do many things well, even if they do not use logic as we do to analyze their situations and arrive at conclusions. Humans are not the problem they used to be for me during my first year.”
Spock nodded. He’d seen Saavik’s reports from her first year as a Starfleet cadet.
“But the others, the Andorians, the Caitans … the Tellarites … especially the Tellarites! They are, if anything, even worse than the humans! They are totally governed by illogical emotions. They act on impulse, without reasoning. It is most … taxing … when I must work with them, during labs, for example. One Tellarite female made an extremely offensive comment to me when I—” she broke off, then shook her head. “There is no purpose to be served by going into that. Suffice it to say that I doubt my own ability to command illogical beings. We are taught in Starfleet that good commanders must have empathy, must be able to see many sides to a question. I see only the logical side to questions. I will be much better off working with scientists than I would trying to command humans and other humanoid species.”
Spock nodded. “I appreciate your candor,” he said. “However, I believe you may be, as the humans say, ‘selling yourself short,’ Saavikam. I urge you to reconsider your decision.” He took a bite of flatbread. After he had chewed and swallowed it, he changed the subject. “There is a training cruise coming up next week. I shall be gone for two months.”
Saavik turned to face him in the darkness. There was no moon, but he could make out her form clearly enough in the starlight, though not her expression. Her voice sounded … amused. “I know, my teacher. I shall be on that cruise.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “You rated first in your class?”
He could discern excitement in her voice, despite her careful control. “Yes, I did. They announced the ratings today. As is traditional, I have thus been offered the chance to spend semester break on a Starfleet vessel, accompanying the upperclassmen. It will be my first time to actually serve aboard a vessel.”
“I see…” Spock said. He found the thought of seeing Saavik every day for weeks to be pleasant, yet unsettling. For a moment he wondered why that thought should occur to him, then dismissed it as illogical. The Vulcan busied himself gathering up his knapsack and taking out his communicator. It was time to contact the transporter tech at Starfleet HQ. “I am sure you will serve well, Saavikam.”
“Nothing would please me more, my teacher,” she said softly, looking up at the heavens. “To be back among the stars…”
“Yes,” Spock said. “I know.”
Tail swinging lazily back and forth, Rrelthiz stood before the viewport in the giant spacedock, gazing out at the enormous starship that would be her home for the next two months. In design, it was very different from a Carreon vessel. Her people’s ships were thick in the middle, tapering towards one end, and on the other, a jutting, sickle-shaped prow. This vessel, the Enterprise, had two slender nacelles above a large, central disc that was topped with a small, protruding “bubble.”
Hearing footsteps behind her, Rrelthiz hastily raised her tail, then grasped it and secured it to the loop that hung from her belt. If an unwary humanoid were to step on it, it would break off, causing her great pain, and taking many seasons to grow back. Her tail, like the rest of her, was slender, black-skinned, and striped with neon blue.
Carreons were an amphibian race that had only recently applied for membership in the United Federation of Planets. Rrelthiz, like all her species, stood only shoulder-high to the average human. She had a slender body, a lean muzzle, and dexterous clawed fingers. She wore no clothing save a belt around her middle, festooned with little storage pockets, plus her tail-guard loop. Her feet, like her hands, bore seven slender, taloned digits.
A deep, resonant voice came from behind her, speaking in her own language. “Greetings, daughter. Having second thoughts?”
Rrelthiz turned to face her nest-father, the envoy from Carreon. Bbalsho was peering at her anxiously, his lidless blue eyes, the same color as his stripes, darting back and forth between his child and the human-built vessel. “Spending half a season with a crew of aliens…” he added. “You will be the first of our people to actually live with other species. It will require a great adjustment.”
Rrelthiz drew herself up, refusing to allow her nervousness to show. “Nest-father, this is a wonderful opportunity for one of our people, to be invited to travel aboard a Federation starship as an observer. Captain Spock’s crew is diverse—I will be able to meet and speak with Andorians, Tellarites, a Caitan, and a Vulcan cadet, as I understand it. If we are to join the Federation, we need better understanding of the species we will be dealing with, is that not so?”
Bbalsho made a sound halfway between a hiss and a sigh that signaled resignation. “It is so, my daughter. But it will require many … adjustments in the way you live. Even enduring discomfort, I fear.”
“I am aware of that, and am prepared to endure, nest-father. As a Healer, I am sure I will learn much that will benefit our people on this voyage. And when I return, I shall be able to assist you and the other Carreon diplomats as you work to understand and communicate with these people in our trade negotiations. The knowledge I will gain will surely help us in our application to join the Federation.”
Her nest-father’s throat sac inflated, and he hummed for a moment, sending the sac pulsing. Rrelthiz knew that this was a sign that he was cogitating, and did not interrupt his thoughts. Finally, Bbalsho spoke again. “Daughter, your observations will indeed benefit our world. Our people have had only limited exposure to other species. Their mental processes and mores are difficult to apprehend. I trust that you will be able to make the adjustment. The environment will be difficult for you.”
“They have assured me that I will be able to program my cabin to my own comfort, nest-father. And when I must do my observations, or mingle with the crew, I will be careful to keep my skin supple. I have improved on the emollient I devised before our mission to Earth. The new one will protect our skin for nearly twice as long as the one I originally formulated.”
Bbalsho cocked his head at his daughter. “Ah, that indeed is good hearing, Rrelthiz!” He pressed the skin of his own spindly, black-skinned arm, and winced. “I need another application. This dry environment can be … damaging.”
Rrelthiz reached out, took his hand, then touched the skin above his bony wrist experimentally. “You have been negligent, nest-father. You are in dire need of a refreshing mud soak. As the team’s physician, I order you to return to the ship immediately and rest in the mud baths until the evening meal. I shall bring you some of my new emollient. I have added a hormonal supplement and various bioextracts that greatly increase its effectiveness.”
Bbalsho gazed at his daughter appreciatively. “You were always clever, my child. I shall do as you say.”
“Good, nest-father. I will beam over to our ship soon, do not worry.”
“Very well.”
Bbalsho turned and left, tail carefully secured against mishap, his steps slow and dogged. His skin is tight over his joints, Rrelthiz realized, with concern. Tomorrow I shall make sure to give the entire mission staff a last checkup, and to dictate complete notes for my replacement, so she will have my new formula when she arrives from Carreon.
Moments after Bbalsho left the observation lounge, another figure entered. Rrelthiz recognized the tall humanoid from news-vids, though she had never met him before. She made her species’s “greeting to those who are honored” bow. “Captain Spock!”
“Healer Rrelthiz,” the Vulcan said, holding up his hand, fingers spread. “Peace and long life. They told me you were here.”
/> “Yes, I wanted to gaze upon the ship,” Rrelthiz said, gesturing at the viewport. “Such a famous vessel. It honors me much that I will be permitted to travel aboard a ship prominent in Federation history.”
Spock inclined his head. “We will be honored to host you, Healer. I shall be pleased to take you on a personal tour the day we embark.”
“That, Captain Spock, would be most gracious. Our people are eager to learn much about your Federation, and the member species. What will be our mission … if speak of it you may?”
The Vulcan made a slight dismissive motion. “It is by no means classified, Healer Rrelthiz. We have been assigned to map a section of space that is new to us, but far from the Romulan Neutral Zone, or the Klingon Empire. I am expecting no … incidents.”
“Shhhhh…” Rrelthiz hissed, in appreciation. “There are times when lack of incident is to be appreciated, Captain. My people have a saying, ‘Embrace boredom. Soon enough one will yearn for it.’”
Spock raised an eyebrow, and his mouth quirked slightly. Signs of what? Amusement? Discomfort? Did I say something wrong, or something funny? Rrelthiz wondered. She was still not astute at reading humanoid facial expression. She expected to be much better at it when she returned from this voyage. “My human cadets would do well to learn the merit of that saying, Healer. Humans seem to seek out excitement and incident … often to their detriment.”
“I am eager to meet and speak with your cadets, Captain.”
“I shall introduce you to the crew during our tour. Such a cultural exchange can be only beneficial.”
Rrelthiz gestured her thanks, her motion graceful and formal. “Captain Spock, I have heard of the Vulcan reverence for Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations. I thank you, and look forward to our voyage.”
“As do I, Healer,” the Captain said. “We embark in two days. You will find that you may adjust your cabin controls for your comfort. Also … please be prepared to provide our engineer and medical staff with any Carreon nutritional needs, so they can be programmed into the ship’s food synthesizers.”
Star Trek: Enterprise Logs Page 18
