| New: "Circles in the Sand" Under the Sun series Part 7 Author: T'Thrill Series: TOS Romance Codes: K/Mc, Su/C, Sa, Sc/U, Sa/Mc, K/S/Mc (implied) Rating: NC-17 m/m, m/f Summary: The Enterprise has made a successful getaway, and the crew is on their way to the Genesis planet to retrieve Spock's body. "Circles in the Sand," is the seventh part in the Under the Sun series. The first six installments are: "Skylights" "Life is but a Dream" "The Burning Sands" "Easy Does It" "The Winter of Despair" "Praying for Time" If you have not read these, you may want to do so before reading this story. They can be found on my webpage -- T'Thrill's Den of Trek Delights - http://www.oocities.org/tthrill1612/ Warning: This story contains very explicit m/m and m/f sex. If you are not interested in and/or offended by such things, you will find reading this a complete waste of your time, so please move on. If you are under 18 years of age, please move on. Disclaimer: Copyright 2003 by T'Thrill. This is an original work of amateur fiction based on Star Trek. This work makes "fair use" of Star Trek copyrighted material; it is not intended to infringe on the intellectual property rights of Paramount, Viacom or other owners of copyright in Star Trek or any of their assignees or licensees. The author's copyright extends only to the original material in this work. Archive: Okay to archive in COCO-SSD, BLTS and ASCEM only, provided that header, disclaimers, my name, and email address are all attached. All others please ask. My email address is -- TThrill1612@aol.com Acknowledgments--I once more praise my betas, Selek and MizzMarcee. Never has anyone been so blessed with having two such wonderful people to offer support and assistance. I cannot begin to express the impact they (both) have on my writing. If you enjoy my stories, it is only because of their diligence. I also want to mention the Vulcan Language Dictionary that Selek has spent so much time creating. Although some of the Vulcan language used in this story I created, most words were found using this valuable resource. Chapter 1 Even if the Enterprise could maintain warp six, Uhura knew it would take a full two days for it to reach the Genesis planet. Time would need to be allotted to recover Spock's body, break free of Genesis' orbit, and travel the distance to Vulcan. If all ran smoothly, the Enterprise would be in a protected orbit around the red planet just a few hours after the arrival of the Vulcan Diplomatic shuttle. It was this shuttle in which Nyota traveled, along with Ambassador Sarek and the two-member crew. Listening for outgoing and incoming communications was the extent of her capability to lend assistance to the renegade ship. Long being an intricate member of the rebel crew, Nyota found this nominal duty to be, at the least, frustrating. The Vulcan crew, and especially the male who manned the communications station on the shuttle, found her often-repeated requests for updates both illogical and irrational. It didn't help that even after finally ignoring the Vulcan's regard for personal space, and ending up all but hanging over him, she still couldn't decipher the information on the screens. Most were in unfamiliar symbols since they were being sent via Vulcan outposts and being intercepted as they were forwarded to the Vulcan Interplanetary Affairs Ministry. She certainly had basic knowledge of Vulcan communication codes, but not at the speed at which they were flashing across the small screen. There were the expected communications being sent from Starfleet Command regarding the abducted ship. These she had no problem in understanding. The seriousness of the 'flash messages' that were being sounded at regular intervals was quite unmistakable. She heard the relaying of intercept orders to any Starfleet vessel in the area, however, due to the recent destruction of the U.S.S. Alexander, it seemed there were no ships capable of catching the Enterprise before she reached the planet. The U.S.S. Carolina had reported in as the closest ship, but even at best speed, it would take almost three days for her to reach the Mutara system. That was more than enough time for Kirk to get them in and out. The Grissom was in orbit over the planet, but that was a scientific vessel and certainly no match for the Enterprise. Uhura heard the warning go out to the Grissom and found it curious that there was no response. However, she concluded, there was the possibility that the atypical energy waves created by the Genesis device could still be creating communication disturbances. Too, even under the best of circumstances, the Grissom was not as powerful as a Constitution Class vessel, and was close to its maximum range for direct contact with Starfleet Command. Either way, there had been no messages intercepted that indicated trouble. Everything seemed to be running smoothly--too smoothly--she thought, but then admonished herself. After all they'd been through these last days, it was certainly time that they had things working on their side. She had been assigned a small room for rest, and the first two nights she stayed in her quarters. But by the end of the second full day, she decided to remain topside. She was growing concerned and knew that she wouldn't be able relax in the small, secluded room. Besides, the shuttle was approaching Vulcan territory, and they would be on the planet in less than a day. As each hour ticked away, she became more anxious. The Enterprise was to have broken communication silence and sent word to the Vulcan shuttle once the tube containing Spock's body had been recovered. She found herself repeatedly glancing between the chrono displayed above the ship's controls and the small one attached to her wrist, and noted they were long past the expected time to receive that message. Once more attempting to settle down, and be as little of an annoyance as possible, she opted to curl up in one of the seats on the main deck, staying as close as she could to the comm station. This was much to the chagrin of the Vulcan stationed there, if the arched eyebrow meant what she assumed it did. After continuously fidgeting, Nyota was just beginning to get somewhat comfortable when she heard an emergency signal burst through the comm unit. In an instant she was on her feet, alert, and leaning across the communications station, struggling to understand what had triggered the alarm. In their native language, the male at the communications station began relaying information to the pilot of the shuttle; eyebrows had risen high on their respective foreheads. Uhura had lived and worked around Spock enough years to realize that their actions, which would have been considered controlled by most standards, were anything but. "What is it?" she demanded. "What's happening?" It was the pilot of the shuttle who turned to her and answered. "The Vulcan outpost T'lecir'hath has intercepted a communication from a Starfleet ship identified as the U.S.S. Carolina. It seems they have now reached the system in question, arriving at the location where the Genesis planet was last reported to be." "What do you mean 'last reported to be'? How can you *lose* a planet?" she asked. A knot of fear began to rise within her. "Commander, the planet is not lost, it no longer exists. There is only a fresh debris field. It seems the Genesis planet has been destroyed. Within the debris, they have retrieved and identified pieces of wreckage, as well as encoded signal boxes, from two Starfleet ships; a scientific vessel identified as the Grissom, and a Constitution Class ship identified as the Enterprise. There are apparently no survivors." "That can't be!" she stated emphatically. "How? What could have happened?" "The specific details are unknown, Commander. There has been a report of a Klingon ship, a Bird of Prey, detected in the system, but that has not been confirmed. There is no other information available at this time." A cold numbness began to settle over Nyota. 'No survivors,' he had said. It was as if a shield rose within her and the words stung against it, but kept them from penetrating into her mind. It couldn't be. The ship she had served on for so long...was gone? Images of the Enterprise slipped through her consciousness unbidden. She recalled the cabin that had been her primary residence for the last eighteen years, the station and controls where she had been master over all that transpired, the herbatorium where she had loved to walk and think during her off hours. There was the smell of her decks and the small vibration that one didn't notice until you left her. Nyota concentrated on all the inorganic aspects of the ship, centering her grief toward those, for she knew if she allowed her mind to consider the demise of the five men onboard, she would go insane. But even in the midst of denial, she felt an icy vacuum begin to envelop her. There was no oxygen, no heat. The ability to breathe seemed to leave her, as if her body had forgotten how to respond to the aching of her lungs. Her mind seemed insistent on thinking about them, although her heart screamed for it not to. Jim Kirk wasn't dead. He couldn't be. How do you kill a man who has carried the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, yet could calm your fears with a single glance? Just a half-smile and a wink from him, and you knew that all was right with the universe. He was the kind of man that legends are made of. How do you kill a legend? NO! It wasn't possible. Not Len. His caring hands were lined from the many chemicals they had been exposed to, yet were so very soft and gentle. A touch from him could do more to heal than all the gadgets and potions in sickbay. You can't kill a man like that. Impossible. And certainly not Hikaru or Pavel. They had the future in their hands. They would be the ones to lead long after the legend was just that. The universe could surely never survive without their humor, their spirit, their strength, and their courage. And…Oh God! Not Scotty! He was a saint with just enough of the devil mixed in to make him perfect. He was a magician, a miracle worker, a phenomenon, and a visionary. He was...her love. With the thought of him, there was a piercing agony of realization that seized her. A gasp, sounding more like a strangulated wail, was ripped from her throat as she stumbled backwards. It was only the quick reflexes of the male standing behind her that kept her from tumbling to the deck. She was seated, but she couldn't remember how. She became aware of the two males standing before her and she slowly raised her face up to meet theirs. Even the Vulcan facade couldn't hide their concern. "I grieve with thee," the pilot stated. The one standing beside him nodded once in confirmation. The pilot started to move past her, toward the steps that would lead to the lower deck on the shuttle. "Where are you going?" she managed. He stopped, turned to her, and answered, "To inform Ambassador Sarek." "No!" she all but shouted. Then collecting herself, she said more calmly, "No…I'll do it." "Are you certain that you are capable?" he asked. She knew there was no insult intended. "Yes," she nodded as she pushed herself from the seat. With a hand on the seatback for a moment to steady herself, she replied, "I think I need to be the one to break it to him." "Very well," he nodded, then returned to his position. Was it a measure of relief that she saw flash across the stoic face? With a deep breath, Nyota removed her hand from the seat and took a step, as if testing her legs. Finding she could once more trust them to support her, she started toward the back of the shuttle. As she descended the steps, she began to think of how she was going to tell Sarek. Stopping halfway down the stairs, she sat down and buried her head in her hands. Chapter 2 Sarek was kneeling before the firepot; it was where he had spent most of his time on this journey. Since boarding the diplomatic shuttle, except to partake of meals with his guest, Sarek had stayed in his quarters. The time had been spent meditating in an attempt to place the unsettling events of recent weeks into a logical order as well as quell the emotions that had been so persistent in these troubling times. The causes for these emotions that had arisen within him were many, but over the days he had managed to arrange each into a specific category. There was the death of his son, which still lay within him like an open wound. Even successfully returning his katra to the Hall of Knowledge would do little to diminish the pain felt by this loss. He had acknowledged his need to grieve and knew that this would not pass quickly, or perhaps even completely. However, it would diminish over time. There was the impending dissolution of his bond and marriage to Amanda. Although disquieting, when one factored into consideration her frame of mind in the last weeks, it was not surprising that she had made such a choice. Even so, the passions that had arisen within him in her presence were inexcusable. It was these passions that he centered his powers of logic on. He began to realize that perhaps it had been his own grief that stopped him from protesting her decision to remain on Terra. But he knew that there were other factors involved as well, and these he had to reach deeper into himself to isolate. His Time was close, this could not be denied. He was beginning to feel the small burnings that would precede it. It would certainly occur within the next three T'Kuhati, as measured in Vulcan months. In the years since his son's bonding, he had borne witness to the passions that could exist between bondmates, even during this detested madness. His wife had chosen not to service him, as was her right, and having consorts to placate his needs had always sufficed. But he had spent many months with McCoy, and experienced the longing that comes with desire, and the satisfaction and fulfillment that comes with having those desires realized. Since that time, he had wondered what it would be to have someone who shared his passions attend him during the Time of burning. He realized that this blending of both insanity and lust was something that he wished to experience once before his death. Even now, when his powers of logic were at their strongest, his mind strayed to the evening when he and McCoy had found the passions in one other. A memory passed through his mind, unbidden, of the ecstasy he experienced having that cooler body pressed against him, of having Leonard's warm mouth seek him out. He recalled the flames of desire and need that drove him to give of himself completely, without reservation, possibly for the first time in his life. Even to this day, he was honored by the willingness of the man to taste him, to touch him, to take pleasure in him in ways that no one before had wished to. It would take little for his mind to give itself over to those memories, for his body to evoke those same sensations he had felt then. But now, as then, he ultimately understood that this man did not--could not--belong to him. Although one now dead, in his soul McCoy still belonged to two others. Two men with whom he shared a passion that Sarek could only imagine; one of those men was Sarek's son. He had left Leonard on the Deltan Station in their care and returned to the one with whom he had chosen to share his life. She who he had admired and lusted for, cared for, raised a child with and, yes--loved--for these many years. He had hoped to find with her some of what he had experienced on that deity-forsaken planet, with a man who had never ceased to surprise him. But it was not to be. And still, in quiet meditation, acknowledging the pain emanating from the loss of the extraordinary man that had been his son; grieving, too, for the impending loss of the bond that had supported him--if not sustained him--for these many years, he could still feel the longing deep within him for another. It was not logical, but it was so. Then there were the events that had transpired in these last days. There had been his confrontation with James Kirk, the realization that his anger was misplaced, and the feeling of being suddenly swept into Kirk's plan for rescue. The power that the man had wielded within the Federation was well known. Sarek had known Kirk possessed the ability to amalgamate this power with a deep caring for those around him. However, Sarek had been quite unprepared for the infectiousness of his spirit. Freely, and without reservation, he had set aside his own will in those hours of planning and executing the tasks that led to their hasty departure from Terra. Although he was grieving over the death of his son, illogically he had sensed exhilaration while being a participant in the clandestine events that had occurred. Even with his mind searching back through the most ancient variations of his native language, there seemed to be no word that would accurately describe the rush of excitement that overtook him as each part of the covert plan fell into place. There was, however, a Standard word that seemed most fitting, yet left Sarek discerning a sensation of disbelief when it occurred to him. Was it possible that even though the reason was certainly rational, that the participation in these surreptitious actions had elicited a physiological response of increased adrenaline production and had awakened within him a sensation of...fun? He dismissed that thought as unlikely. A soft tap at his door brought him to full awareness. He rose and palmed the door open to find Commander Uhura standing before him, her eyes swollen, and her face ashen. "Ambassador, we have received word...there has been...trouble." Sarek noted that both her demeanor and tone were quite indicative of acute emotionalism. Although his association with her had been brief, he believed that this was not a woman normally moved to hysterics. He had no doubt that the situation was serious. "Of what nature?" he inquired. "The Genesis planet, Ambassador...it no longer exists. There is nothing left but a debris field." "Were they able to rescue my son's body before the destruction?" "Sir...the Enterprise...the Grissom...they're gone, too. Destroyed. The U.S.S. Carolina reported... Ambassador, they are reporting that there were no survivors." Sarek closed his eyes as the images that flashed through his mind seemed suddenly unbearable. He remembered a son looking up at him with deep brown inquisitive eyes. And the disappointment in those eyes when, once again, he had reprimanded him over some excitement he felt regarding his newest discovery. He saw those same brown eyes looking at him from the face of a man grown to adulthood; competent, respected, and filled with a look of love and desire as he bonded himself to two who completed him. He remembered the man standing beside his son whose eyes had reflected the golden-amber glow of the Vulcan sunset, a man who had the ability to wield both authority and charm with equal ease. And he remembered Leonard McCoy, and a day not so long ago when, in a compound on a distant planet, the man whose blue eyes deepened with increased passion had turned to him, wet and smiling, and had stolen his heart. It was an image forever sealed in his mind. He thought of three others. Before these last days, he had only known them by way of title and brief introductions. Yet now he felt their loss as dearly as any. They had sacrificed first their careers, then their lives in pursuit of a single-minded goal. And there were others. Kirk's son, a young man who had been destined to face difficulty certainly, but who would have had many years left ahead of him. If he had been anything like his father, Sarek was certain that he would have found a way to turn adversity into accomplishment. There was Saavik, a Romulan-Vulcan hybrid who Spock had been instrumental in rescuing and who had been accepted into his house as family. There were those for whom he had no name, the crew of the scientific vessel. All souls with potential and promise, all now lost. "Most unfortunate," Sarek finally responded. Even as he spoke the words he knew they were not nearly adequate for this situation, however, there were no words capable of expressing the losses suffered on this day. He turned his attention toward the woman standing before him. "I offer my condolences, Commander Uhura, over the loss of your shipmates and your friends. Is there anything I can do to assist you at this time?" Uhura nodded. "Just one thing, sir. Expected time of arrival on Vulcan is five hours. Once we arrive, I would appreciate your arranging transportation for me back to Earth." "Commander, you must realize that these deaths will not absolve you from your participation in those recently committed criminal acts. The likelihood that you will be prosecuted is ninety-four..." "It doesn't matter, Ambassador. My place is on Earth. My place is defending the acts that have led to this, defending the men who no longer have a voice against the bureaucrats who have repeatedly turned their backs on those who serve Starfleet." The strength of the woman's character was admirable, as was her willingness to sacrifice herself for this cause. However, he felt that her goal may be obtained while still remaining within the safe embrace of the Vulcan people. It was a view he started to express when the communication's officer appeared. "Ambassador Sarek," he stated calmly, "we have received a transmission from Admiral James Kirk. He is reporting that the crew of the destroyed ship, Enterprise, has confiscated a Klingon warbird, and they are currently bound for Vulcan." "Dear God! They're alive?" Uhura spun around and gasped. "All of them?" she asked in disbelief. An arched eyebrow in response to the human's emotional outburst appeared on the Vulcan's face. "He reported that all from the Enterprise have survived, Commander." "And the other ship? The Grissom?" Sarek asked. The officer turned his attention back toward Sarek. "All crewmembers onboard the Grissom at the time of the Klingon attack are reported dead. One scientist, a Dr. David Marcus, was killed on the Genesis planet." Uhura turned to Sarek, her concern evident as she breathed, "Jim Kirk's son." "Yes," he whispered, "he has paid a dear price." Sarek recovered and looked at the Vulcan crewmember. "Is there any word regarding my son's body or of Lieutenant Saavik? She was assigned to the Grissom." "Saavik is safe and onboard the Klingon ship, sir, along with a Klingon that is being held prisoner." Sarek nodded. "Ambassador," the communication's officer continued. "Admiral Kirk reported one other passenger. It is the regenerated body of S'haile Spock, sir." "Regenerated? He lives?" Outwardly, Sarek remained composed. Inwardly, he felt an explosion of joy, amazement, even tinges of fear that the officer was mistaken and, once more, he would have to experience Spock's loss. "According to the report, sir, he is not himself, but he lives." Sarek nodded and turned to Uhura. "If you consider best speed for a Klingon Bird of Prey, their arrival will only be minimally delayed. I will contact the Council and advise them. There may still be time." "Time, Ambassador?" Uhura asked. "Yes, Commander. The longer the katra stays in the host, the more difficult and dangerous it becomes to separate it from the carrier." "And what will happen now that Spock's body lives?" she asked. 'What, indeed,' he thought. His son's body lived. An idea, one that held little merit in modern-day Vulcan practices, began to seed itself in Sarek's mind. It had been centuries since the procedure had been attempted, if at all. Since all records had been destroyed during Vulcan's last war, one which ended centuries before, there were only stories passed down through the ages that it had ever been achieved. But there was a possibility, and all possibilities must be explored. "Unknown, Commander Uhura. But in any case, we must have Spock's katra extracted from McCoy soon, or he, too, will be in danger." "Ambassador, do you mean that Leonard McCoy could die?" "Death is a possibility. However, there are even worse fates." Chapter 3 Upon their arrival on his home planet, she and Sarek had boarded an aircar to take them to Gol. Even seeing pictures of Vulcan had not prepared Nyota for its unusual, exotic appearance, especially once they had left the modern, mechanized city of Shi'kahr behind. Sarek piloted the small shuttle across what seemed to be an endless expanse of desert below them. "This is amazing, Ambassador. I have heard of the desert region on Vulcan, but never realized how vast it really is." "Indeed. It can be a most inhospitable province for those not trained in its ways." "How far is it to Gol?" she asked. "Gol is located at the point where the desert and mountains intersect. We will arrive in twenty three point seven minutes, Standard time conversion." He indicated straight out in front of them. Uhura had to strain her eyes to pick out the cluster of mountain peaks against the background of the red-gold desert, and the horizon of nearly the same shade. Along their journey, Sarek began to tell her of his home planet. He spoke with such eloquence and candidness, that she realized it was very nearly approaching pride. That thought made her smile. "The territory below," Sarek stated, "was once the site of a great battle. It was from a time when wars between opposing Clans plagued Vulcan. It was during this period of upheaval that our people were nearly eradicated from the planet. It was from Gol that Surak started the movement toward peaceful coexistence based on the mastery of all emotions. This movement began what is known as the Krus-palikaya'kum'i, the Time of Awakening, and started the philosophy which is still practiced among modern-day Vulcans." Nyota listened intently as Sarek spoke of his planet and found all that he was telling her to be most enlightening. "And Gol is still standing, even after so many centuries?" she asked. She had believed it to be a place that only existed in legend. "Indeed. In many ways, Gol remains the axis for our culture. It serves as a retreat for those who pursue the deepest purification of the mind. It is where the Hall of Knowledge is located--that place that holds the katra of those who have gone before. And it is the nucleus for all rituals and ceremonies." "And is someone from Gol going to be able to assist with removing Spock's katra from Leonard McCoy?" Nyota asked. "I shall speak with T'Lar," Sarek stated. "T'Lar? The same T'Lar who is the leading voice of the Vulcan High Council?" Nyota asked. Her surprise that anyone would be able to have an audience with the influential female so easily was evident in her voice. "Yes, Commander. Am I to understand that you have heard of her?" "I think anyone who is familiar with the Federation has, Ambassador Sarek. She's a powerful voice among the members. However, I have never fully understood her place in the Vulcan hierarchy. Do you mind explaining how it works, and her role in it?" "Certainly, Commander," he nodded. Uhura got the impression that he welcomed this opportunity to explain more about his planet. "The Vulcan High Council is comprised of democratic representatives from all segments of Vulcan, and T'Lar is a member of that body," he explained. "The Council is responsible for political structuring both on the planet and with all matters dealing with the Federation. It is this ruling league that oversees the High Command, an organization which had been a military-type force similar to Starfleet prior to Vulcan joining the Federation. Formerly, its key purpose had been to protect Vulcan from outside forces. Within fifty Standard years of the treaty between Vulcan and the United Federation of Planets being signed, the High Command began transitioning into an alliance dedicated to scientific investigation. It proved to be a slow process, since many who served on the Council wanted Vulcan to retain a military presence. The debate over the evolution of the High Command lasted for greater than two generations. However, for the last seventy-five Standard years, scientific research has been their primary purpose. "As for T'Lar, beyond serving on the High Council, she also holds the position of High Priestess. This places her in the position of being solely responsible where matters of ritual practices are concerned, as was her sister, T'Pau, before her. Vulcan is still principally a matriarchal society where matters of ritual are concerned. Priestesses, females who possessed only the highest degree of melding capabilities, performed all rites, and T'Lar is the head of their Order." "I see. I would have never guessed that T'Lar and T'Pau were sisters," Nyota stated. There was a tone of bewilderment in her voice. "Oh, Commander? And why is that?" She sensed that he was baiting her. Good-naturedly perhaps, but he was baiting her just the same. She was suddenly quite glad that she had made a hobby of learning as much as possible about the many cultures they had encountered over the years. The Vulcan culture, in particular, had always fascinated her. Perhaps it was because throughout the recorded history of the planet, women had played such a dominant role. "Why?" Nyota repeated Sarek's question. "Because the differences between the more severe rule under T'Pau, and the seemingly more open tenet on Vulcan since T'Lar came into power, is quite a contrast, Ambassador. The manner in which they reign is quite different." "Indeed, you are quite correct," he answered, arching one eyebrow. After working beside Spock for so many years, she could tell that she had surprised him with her knowledge of his planet, even as limited as it was. Sarek continued, "In fact, over the years, there have been only a few instances where they have found a common ground." Nyota was certain that an almost unperceivable smile caressed the lips of her traveling companion. "As with those who have served before, each has differing views on how best to serve in a way that would strengthen the Vulcan people while still maintaining the link to our traditional ideology. Interfacing the two has presented constant challenges now that we are in contact with other races. Each understands that it is most important to our civilization that we continue to follow the principles of Surak. Each is right, in her own way. Each still finds the concept of compromise...difficult." "So T'Pau still lives? There was never any official report otherwise, but when T'Lar came into power, the rest of the galaxy just assumed..." "T'Pau lives. When reasons of health caused her to relinquish her position, she had no female offspring to pass down all that she knew. Therefore, it was left to T'Lar to take her place. T'Pau no longer participates in the performing of rituals and stays in meditative seclusion for the most part." "So the position of High Priestess is a birth-right? Passed down through the generations?" "This is not a directive, but it has been so in modern times. This line has yielded those most qualified. If there is female offspring, and if that offspring has the commanding mental capabilities needed to assume the position, then it is passed through the generations. Otherwise, a search for an acceptable replacement would be conducted." "I find this very interesting, Ambassador Sarek. You seem to know a lot about them. Can I assume that being Vulcan's leading ambassador has afforded you the opportunity to meet them?" "My position has little to do with the fact that I have known them both all of my years. I assumed that Spock had revealed his relationship to T'Pau to his shipmates. Commander Uhura, T'Pau is my mother." At some point, Nyota realized she was turned toward Sarek with her mouth gaping open. "Spock never was very open regarding his personal life, Ambassador," she finally managed. Regaining her composure, she continued. "I suppose most who serve in the 'Fleet speak very little about what came before. I guess on some level, we have to file that away and not dwell on what we've left behind." "Considering the dedication that is required, that is understandable," Sarek replied. There were a few minutes of silence between them while Uhura assimilated all she had learned. However, after a while, her thoughts returned to the mission at hand. "Ambassador, when they do return, what rituals will be taking place?" Sarek immediately became stoic and withdrawn; certainly not the same open, caring man she had come to know these last days. His answer was a sharp, "Unknown," and no further information was offered. The remainder of the trip was traveled in near silence. She expected Gol to rival the opulence of any of the great temples found throughout the galaxy. Her expectations could not have been more wrong. At first it was difficult to detect. It seemed that the structure was an extension of the mountain range that rose up behind it, yet it blended easily into the desert expanse laid out below. It was as if this was the natural point where the two opposing landforms intersected. Billows of steam rolled up from the ground in broad plumes that quickly evaporated into the hot, dry air. Sarek settled the aircar just outside the massive wall that surrounded the structure. As they exited the shuttle, Nyota looked for an entrance into the edifice. There didn't appear to be one. It wasn't until Sarek approached a small opening and pulled against a metal ring that she realized there was a large door that lay nearly hidden beside it. An elderly male opened the heavy gate and bowed once to Sarek before he stepped aside to allow them entry into a long, broad hallway. The gate closed behind them with a heavy, metallic clang that seemed quite out of place for the stillness around them. Nyota had hoped that she would be allowed to meet the legendary woman, who, like her predecessor, was known throughout the galaxy as a formidable force when dealing with the Federation. Instead she was shown to a large terraced room to wait while Sarek was ushered deep into the sterile structure. The walls, towering ceilings, even the floors were of the same natural coloring as both the rock of the mountain and the red-gold sand that stretched as far as the eye could see. Her first reaction to the barren expanse was that they could certainly use some paintings or murals, something to break the flow of the tall, vacant walls. Looking for a comfortable place to sit, and not finding one, she decided that a few pieces of soft upholstered furniture would help, too, since the hard benches seemed to be nothing more than rock extensions of the interior. She discovered after only a short time that they were just as uncomfortable as they appeared. With nothing else to distract her but the sterile, featureless room in which she found herself, Nyota's thoughts gravitated to that of her friends. She had been grateful for the company of Sarek on their journey to Vulcan, and Nyota suddenly felt utterly alone. A feeling of despair began to settle upon her. Sure, her friends had miraculously escaped death, but they were still far from being safe. And the losses--the death of Spock, the death of David, and McCoy facing an uncertain future--how could even a man like Jim Kirk cope with all he'd had to face in these last days? Even legends had breaking points. The faces flashed past her at a dizzying speed; Spock, Len McCoy, Scotty, Sarek, Jim Kirk--all had faced great sacrifices, and it may not be over yet. It was true that Pavel and Hikaru had found each other once more, but at what cost? With the death of Spock, they had each lost a man who had been friend, shipmate, and mentor to both of them. And, if Sarek was right, Len just may be the next one they would have to watch suffer. Nyota realized even as she remembered that terrible day, she still hadn't fully accepted that Spock had been killed. She began to realize that if a man like that could die, one of the strongest, bravest, truest that the galaxy had to offer, what did that have say about her own mortality? How many times over the years had they defied death? Yet the fragility of life had become blatantly apparent lately. Scotty's nephew Peter, Spock, and now David Marcus, Jim Kirk's own son. Nyota added their names to the growing list of countless others--aboard Enterprise, Regula I, and Grissom--who had given their lives, and for what? Had all of this destruction really been caused by a device that was not only ill conceived, but, seemingly, a failure? How much more tragedy could they be expected to encounter? Wasn't there a limit to the amount of pain that they would have to endure before this insanity came to an end? 'GOD! A person could go insane in this desolate place,' she silently screamed. She desperately wanted something--anything--to distract her. But even the few robed males that walked by did nothing more than bow slightly, if they even acknowledged her at all, and continued on. She glanced at the chrono on her wrist, wondering how many hours she had been waiting, and was surprised to find that less than forty minutes had passed. It was as though time stood still in this place. She walked out onto the terrace and surveyed the surroundings, but even the view of the endless, never-changing desert below offered her little distraction. As she was trying to force the roiling emotions from her mind, a voice from behind her said, "Commander Uhura." Nyota jumped at the interruption, visibly startled. She spun around, only to find Ambassador Sarek standing regally behind her. He had approached her so silently that Nyota hadn't detected his presence. "I apologize, Commander, I did not mean to startle you," he soothed. Embarrassed, she shook her head. "No, I'm sorry, Ambassador. Usually, I'm not so easily frightened. It's just that it's so quiet here." "It is a place for meditation and contemplation of the deepest sort." Sighing, she looked around. "Well, it seems to work, but sometimes being left alone with nothing but your thoughts can be very disturbing." "There is much to contemplate at this time. As you are human, I should have taken that into account before leaving you alone." Uhura rolled her eyes up at Sarek, his words provoking a spark of anger within her. "I *am* concerned about them. They're my friends--no, much more even than that. And they are fugitives, traveling in an enemy ship, in a race against time. The fact that I am human has no bearing on the fact that I am worried about them, as you should be." "I apologize, Commander. There was no insult intended. I, too, understand your concern." Nyota drew a deep breath. The stress from the last few days was getting to her worse than she had realized. "Of course you do, Ambassador. I'm sorry for snapping at you. Did you speak with T'Lar? Is she going to be able to help?" "There are no assurances. That which I seek has not been done since ages past. I have requested that my son have returned to him that which he gave to McCoy--his katra." "She can do that?" Nyota asked, her eyes widening. "T'Lar has agreed to meet us on Mount Seleya once Spock and McCoy have been returned to Vulcan. I will have to ask her again at that time. Only then will her decision be made." "Ambassador Sarek, if I understand the relationship correctly, she is a member of your family. Surely she would not deny your request." "Commander, although true that we have a blood connection, in matters of ritual, that will be of no consequence. I will have to, as you say on your planet, 'make my case'. At that time, she will evaluate the possibilities and make the judgment based on the potential for success and our worthiness." "She could refuse you?" Nyota questioned, unbelievably. "She could, indeed." "Ambassador, you said on the shuttle that time is of the essence. It will be another day before the Bird of Prey arrives. Do we have that kind of time?" "Time is becoming an issue. The longest that a host has held the katra of another without madness ensuing is fourteen Standard days. McCoy's mind is strong. If there are no further delays, it is my belief that this can be done successfully." "From you lips to God's ears," she sighed. "Calling on the assistance of a spiritual deity, Commander Uhura?" Looking toward him, and again, for a moment, taking offense to his words, she noticed the small smile that caressed his stoic features. "Ambassador Sarek, if I thought it would help, I would call on the assistance of all the gods of Mount Olympus," she replied, smiling back at him. "Where to now, sir?" she asked. "We will go to my home where I will request all updates. The choice will be to either wait there, or we can go to the Interplanetary Affairs Ministry. I believe within the next hours we can have a communications link set up with the ship and allow you to update them on the recent events." Nyota nodded and followed Sarek as he led them back out the long corridor, through the heavy gate, and to the place where the aircar was parked. As they approached the vehicle, Nyota realized that against the backdrop of the never changing landscape, the shuttle presented a stark, and welcome, break in the view. An hour later, the aircar settled in front of a low, but massive, estate on the outskirts of Shi'kahr. The contrast between this home and the temple that they had just left was not lost on her. Whereas simplicity had been the rule at Gol, opulence best described the surroundings she was ushered into. Being a connoisseur of the arts, the first thing she noticed was the priceless collection of paintings and statues that were placed discretely within the estate. Knowing Spock for as many years as she had, she never would have guessed he came from such lavish and affluent surroundings. One specific piece caught her eye. At first glance, it was nothing more than an embossed column that separated the large main room from the even larger one beyond, apparently the formal dining area. However, on closer examination, it was not a column at all, but a sculpture that merely spanned the floor to ceiling height of the room, somewhat well over three and a half meters, she judged. The carvings, very erotic and mostly male, within the granite monolith were unmistakably in its design. "This is a Vigeland, isn't it, sir?" "Indeed. I see you appreciate the arts." "Yes, and I notice that you have some lovely selections in your home. This work, however, surprises me. I was once in Norway and viewed what was left of the park once created for his sculptures. Unfortunately, most were destroyed in the Eugenics War. I wasn't aware that a piece this large still existed." "It was a rare find." 'And an expensive one,' Nyota thought, but didn't express that thought aloud. Neither did she comment on the fact that the subject matter shocked her. Homoerotic art was not something that she expected to find in the home of the ambassador, no matter the rarity. In any case, she would have never pictured Spock coming from this background. The man she had known had seemed to find pleasure at the most basic levels; music, literature, and of course with the two men he had bonded himself to. She wondered; if all that Sarek hoped for could be achieved, would his son once more be able to find his pleasures there? But the one thing she had come to realize was that there were no certainties about any of this. To speculate otherwise was illogical. Perhaps, she mused, her companion of these last days had begun to rub off on her. "Would you care to freshen up, Commander?" Sarek asked, jarring her thoughts back to the present situation. What she wanted was to get to the Ministry as soon as possible. Sarek had said there may be a comm link set up with the ship, and she was anxiously awaiting the moment when she could hear their voices once more, even though she wasn't certain what she was going to say. There was so much...but this wasn't the time. But the idea of a cool splash of water on her face sounded good, too. "Yes, Ambassador, thank you. It has been a long journey." "Indeed. I will show you to a room. The communications link will not be established until they are a safe distance from any source where it could be used to trace and locate them," he offered, and Nyota wondered if he had read her mind. "And if we can dispense with formality, that, too, would please me, Commander." "Nyota, then, sir. Thank you, Sarek," she responded at the door to the lavish suite. "I won't be long." A short while later, she was advised that the afternoon meal was being served. The food was exceptional, but she found she had no appetite. She barely touched her food as she and Sarek waited in the vast dining hall. She couldn't help but notice that he, too, consumed only a few bites. They spoke very little. It seemed they both had issues of a most serious nature occupying their thoughts. What little conversation did take place was nothing more than brief attempts at small talk. Her mind centered squarely on her friends. Nyota tried to relax. Worrying over them would do no good. But every once in awhile, she offered up a silent word to the heavens to keep them safe and undetected by those who wished to arrest them. Soon after their plates were taken away, Sarek received the news they had been anticipating--the link would be established shortly. The two quickly proceeded to the Ministry. Chapter 4 Entering the modern structure that lay adjacent to the Vulcan Science Academy complex, she was shown to a room on the first floor that served as the center for interplanetary communications. Directed to a vacant station, she sat at the controls and patiently allowed the center's director to show her how to use the device before her. Of course, given her vast communications experience, she mastered it in a matter of minutes. She was advised that transmission was being established, and the link was being directed to her station. "Hold for Commander Uhura," the director of the station was stating into the central unit. With that, he nodded in her direction. "Lass, is that ye?" sounded through the link module in her ear. Expecting to speak with Admiral Kirk, Nyota smiled with pleasured surprise. "Scotty? Yes, Scotty, it's Uhura." "Oh, lass, tis good t' hear yer voice," the Scotsman's voice stated. Fatigue, which plagued them all, was very evident in his tone. "It's good to hear you, too, Scotty. Is everyone all right?" "We're alive, lass...we're alive. Beyond that I dinna dare speculate." "Is it true, Scotty? Is Spock alive?" "Aye, he's breathing well enough, but I would'na call it living. Doctor McCoy seems t' feel that he cannae survive long in this state." "Scotty, dear," she allowed herself this one endearment, a small concession to what she really wanted to say, "Sarek has arranged for a ceremony once you arrive. He is asking that Spock's katra be removed from McCoy and returned to Spock." "Nae! Surely not! Is that possible?" "Sarek is...hopeful. Beyond that, he won't speculate." There was no reason to express her real doubts about this procedure. It wouldn't help the situation they were currently in. "Scotty, how's Admiral Kirk?" "He's been through a bit, that's for sure. But he's commanding the ship and doing all he can t' get us there safe 'n sound. I'm sure the news of what Ambassador Sarek has in mind will come as a great relief." "Good, Scotty...good," Nyota replied with less than total conviction. She wondered if she had done more harm than good by relaying this information. Had she just set them up for even more disappointment? "Well, lass, we need 't break the transmission. We're still nae safe from the eyes of the beasties that are hunting us down, ye know. The less of a trail we give 'em, the better chance we have of arriving safely." "Yes... Yes, I agree. Take care, Scotty, all of you. Everything will be ready when you arrive." "Aye," he replied, soulfully. "By my calculations that should be just a wee bit under twelve hours." Scotty sounded as if it were years instead of hours he was talking about. "We'll be waiting, Scotty. *I'll* be waiting. Scotty...you know..." "I know, lass...I know. Scott...out." Uhura sat for a moment staring at the comm unit even after the link had been broken. She wanted to cry, but was determined not to do so in front of the Vulcans. With a sigh, she removed the transmitter from her ear and laid it aside. Rising from the chair, she nodded to the center's director, thanked him, and then left the room unaware that Sarek was at her side. She left the building, walking almost blindly as she looked for a place to be alone. It wasn't until she found the cluster of trees--small as they were--that she turned and found she had been shadowed from the building. "I'm sorry, Sarek. I just needed to get away from there for a few minutes." "Understandable, Nyota. If you wish privacy, I will leave you to yourself. I was concerned when you departed so quickly." "No...no. Please stay. You heard most of the communication, so you know that everything is going as smoothly as can be expected." "Yes, but that is not what is troubling you." "It's just that he sounded so...tired. You don't know that man like I do. There's little that can instill that kind of weariness into him. He's a dynamo and an optimist. This is one of the few times I've heard the sound of defeat in his voice." She looked away, hoping to hide the tear that seemed determined to slide from her eye and down her cheek. "And you are...in love with him." Nyota turned back and looked at the man standing with her. "Yes, I am. How did you know? Sarek, are you somehow reading my thoughts?" "I can assure you that I am not. However, it does not take a telepath to discern the look of love," he replied and smiled slightly, but so gently that it almost made Nyota's breath catch. "They're going to be okay, aren't they, Sarek?" She knew it was a question that he couldn't answer. But all she wanted right now was simple reassurance. "I have discovered that to expect anything other than success undermines the ultimate goal. Therefore, I must conclude that all will go as planned." It wasn't exactly a pat on the back, telling her that everything would be okay, but she was sure it meant the same thing. "Thank you," she whispered. Once Nyota was feeling more composed, they started back toward the entrance to the building when Sarek addressed her. "Commander," he said, reverting to her title, which she found surprising. After a moment, he continued. "I arrived after the communication had begun, and I was not able to hear the entire transmission. Was there any mention...did Commander Scott make any reference to how...how Doctor McCoy is managing?" It was something in his voice that stopped Uhura in her tracks. He stopped as well, turned to look at her, and arched an eyebrow high on his forehead. "I'm sorry, Ambassador. There wasn't time, but I assume he is doing as well as can be expected. Scotty didn't mention any problems with any of them, specifically." She noticed a flash of relief combined with deep concern and something else--something very obvious--highlight his face. It was unmistakably a look of... "Sarek?" she questioned. "My God, you're right. It doesn't take a telepath to know that look. You're in love with Leonard McCoy," she breathed, before she could stop herself. At first it was clear that he was going to offer a protest, but then if he had surprised her before, his next words almost floored her. "Am I so obvious?" he asked, his voice almost sounding bemused. "Only to one who knows the feeling well. It's none of my business, of course, but I'm going to ask this anyway. Does Jim Kirk know?" "He is aware." She stared at him for a long moment and then nodded. There were only about a thousand other questions she would have loved to ask. But whatever had caused this turn of events really was none of her business. These were all adult men, each and every one a man of honor. Whatever happened was for them to figure out. However, she thought, this couldn't make the adjustment to their new life any easier on any of them. With that, they returned to the building where they would keep a close vigil until word was received that the crew was safely in Vulcan space. Eleven hours later, it came. Word was received that the small ship carrying the renegade crew had crossed into the safety of the Vulcan domain. Sarek and Uhura immediately shuttled from the center that housed the Interplanetary Affairs Ministry to the landing site at the base of Mt. Seleya. Uhura had proceeded directly to the command station; Sarek had joined her there shortly thereafter. "Ambassador," Uhura addressed him as he entered. "They're on approach. They're requesting permission to land." "Permission granted," Sarek replied. "Tell them--tell Kirk--we'll be ready," he stated. Uhura nodded and relayed the message to the communications engineer. Then, together, they moved to the edge of the terraced plateau where they stood side by side as they waited. Nyota searched the horizon for any sign of the ship. She could barely curtail her initial response when she first caught sight of the Bird of Prey as it swayed nearly effortlessly through the jutted corridor carved between the mountains. Even knowing who was onboard couldn't stem the reaction of fear that arose within her at the sight of the clearly identifiable shape. To any who had spent the better part of their adult life in service to Starfleet, and had come up against the Klingons as many times as they had, the shape evoked an instinctive recoil indicative of impending danger. She drew a deep breath to calm herself, which caught the attention of her companion. "Are you well, Nyota?" Sarek turned to her and asked. Looking toward him with a slight smile, she answered, "Yes, Sarek, I'm fine. It's just not a sight that I've ever looked forward to seeing before." "Understandable," he nodded. Leaving his side, she moved toward the steps that would lead to the landing site. She looked back at Sarek, expecting him to follow her. "I will wait above. It will be best," he advised her. "Sarek..." she hesitated. "Are you sure?" He nodded his head slightly. Nyota understood. This was not the time to allow his controls to slip. In these last hours, she had learned more about the intricacies associated with Vulcan traditions than she had ever expected to, and certainly more about the affiliation between Sarek and McCoy than she had ever suspected. Turning back, they had to shield their eyes against the red dust that billowed up when the alien ship settled on the landing pad. Nothing could have stopped her from going to them as they arrived. This was a time to reassure herself that the rest actually lived. Once the red dust had begun to dissipate, she nodded towards Sarek, turned, and walked down the steps leading to the landing site. Approaching the ship, Nyota waited breathlessly for the hatch to open. When it finally did, and they were all standing in the bay with the stretcher between them, only then did she allow herself to believe it was true, that they had survived. They were not off of the ramp before she reached them. Her first instincts brought her arms around Jim's waist, and she felt that strong, reassuring arm as it closed around her. How many times in these years had she relied on this man to give her strength? Now she only wanted to share some of hers with him. How she wished she could remove the pain of these last days from those hazel eyes. "Sarek is waiting above, sir," she told him. She couldn't help but notice that Len's eyes looked toward the top of the mountain. Releasing him, she glanced back at Scotty. There, housed behind those kind, gentle eyes, was the anguish that this journey had reaped on them. But there would be time later to give comfort. She took her place behind her commander, relieved Saavik, and assisted in guiding the gurney toward those waiting at the foot of the mountain. Vulcan attendants were in place to take Spock's body and prepare it for what was to come. They carried the stretcher to the place where six Vulcan women dressed in sheer, white gowns were waiting. The entourage slipped Spock off of the stretcher and placed him on one that hovered between the Vulcan females. Once the attendants had taken charge of their unresponsive shipmate, she saw Jim looking toward the steps that led up the side of the mountain. Turning to her, he asked, "Is the report you sent true? Are they going to rejoin Spock's katra with his living body?" "That's my understanding, Admiral. From what I've learned from Sarek in this last day, it apparently isn't something that's been attempted in Vulcan's modern history. Still, it's his hope that the High Priestess, T'Lar, will be able to accomplish just that." He stared back at her without saying a word. But for one of the few times in her life, she saw reflected in those gold-green eyes something that she had rarely seen before--uncertainty. |