This story is a slightly more serious sequel to my playful and teasing romp, "The Benefits of Fresh Air". It focuses on Kirk and Spock's developing relationship, with Spock and Uhura in an established relationship (just like the movie!). This story could be read as a stand-alone, but you'll catch more of the nuances if you read the prequel first. The sequel provides the answers to those of you who wanted to find out what this kashek-shoret wak was all about. Enjoy!

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Captain's log, Stardate 2258.169. The Enterprise is on course for New Vulcan, scheduled to arrive in two days time. Morale remains high after Commander Spock's return. With Mr. Spock and Mr. Scott's cooperation, we staged a battle exercise for the crew yesterday, the results of which earned the Enterprise crew an efficiency rating of 96.8%. I look forward to Starfleet command reviewing these results. Green as most of this crew is, I believe we're ready for what awaits us. I can't think of a finer set of officers or crew that I could be serving with anywhere. Universe, bring it on!

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Off-duty at last, Jim went hunting for Mr. Spock. If Uhura were missing as well, Jim would have assumed that she and their resident Vulcan were sequestered for some extended toning exercises. But he'd left the comely communications officer on the bridge with two hours still to go on her shift. Jim tried all the usual haunts: cabin, science lab, gym, mess. No sign of Spock. Then a brainwave struck, and he headed toward the cargo holds in the bottom of the ship.

A pair of sentries was standing guard, per Jim's order. He'd felt it only fitting, considering the importance of their cargo. One guard perhaps would have sufficed, but Jim wouldn't condemn one man to spend an entire shift alone down here with nothing to do. A partner at least gave the guards someone to talk to while on a tedious honor shift.

As Jim rounded the corner, the pair snapped to attention. Their formality and the fact they hadn't been talking told Jim all he needed to know, but he asked the closest guard, Jeffries, anyway.

"Is he inside?"

Jeffries, with a chiseled face that could have come straight from a Starfleet recruitment poster, answered, "Yes, sir."

"Thank you."

Jeffries stepped back, while his partner entered the passcode on the security plate. The door swished open. Jim nodded and stepped inside.

Were it not for the smooth walls, now visible only in glimpses through the clutter, Jim wouldn't have known he was on a starship. It was more like stepping into the crowded storehouse of a museum. And what a collection it was. Tall, carved statues of stone loomed over him, the fierce faces of their likenesses frowning down at him. Even their scent was wild; a harsh, musky blend of sharp odors and keen winds that must have been embedded into the very stone by centuries of uncompromising Vulcan weather.

Among the larger items were tapestries, lamps, jeweled ornaments and beguiling tools for purposes Jim couldn't begin to fathom, closely packed and padded with extra material to spare them any jolts, should the Enterprise have to make any sudden course corrections. Some of these treasures had been partially unpacked, the crates opened or the wadding pulled back to reveal the article inside. Jim followed the trail through the winding maze of what was now perhaps the biggest collection of Vulcan artifacts that remained in the universe. The reflection gave him a pang.

He found Spock standing beneath some menacing stone giant that was frozen in the act of hurling an ahn-woon toward some unseen foe. Spock looked up as his captain approached, and it gave Jim a start to see how much his First Officer resembled the legendary figure towering above him, right down to the shape of his body and the collected but determined look on his face.

Jim stopped near him. "I thought I might find you here."

Spock nodded. "Captain."

They spoke quietly, as if in a place of worship. For Spock, Jim supposed, this priceless collection, rescued from pirates, must be the equivalent of a temple.

Spock drew his finger across the base of the stone warrior above him, trailing a crack of stone with his touch. "This is Vulcan."

"It is," Jim agreed. "I'm glad you had a chance to see all this before we delivered it to the colony."

"I am not referring to the objects themselves." Spock turned, and held out his forefinger to Jim. A fine coating of reddish sand dusted his skin.

"This is Vulcan." Spock's thumb slowly closed over his fingertip; gently, he rubbed the grit between his fingers. "For six centuries, Survok stood in the hot winds beneath the towering cliffs of Vulcan's Forge. Forty-seven years ago, he disappeared. We long assumed that those who stole him dared not bring him to light for fear of retribution, but it seems that recent events made his captors so bold as to empty their stores, believing that now they could name their price. But Survok has done his duty well, and has guarded and preserved— this." Spock looked at the film on his fingertip in wonder. "This dust is part of my homeworld, all that now remains. This is Vulcan in its purest form— this sand that sifts from my fingers to fall upon the floor."

Jim followed the half-Vulcan's gaze, watching the drift of fine grains float to the cargo-bay floor, where they could hardly be seen in the gloom. Jim's throat grew tight. "I'm sorry."

Spock merely nodded, then looked up toward the statue's face. So alike were they, Jim thought they could have been brothers, this Vulcan hero from the past and the stern commander of the Enterprise.

Jim's original intent of asking his First Officer for a game of 3D chess was humbled into oblivion; such distractions seemed sheer triviality compared to the enormity of what he was seeing, what Spock must be feeling. He struggled to compose himself. "We should cover that with sheeting before we beam it down. Every grain of sand has a value; we don't want to lose any of it."

Spock looked at him with eyes that were worlds away. "Thank you, Captain."

Jim nodded. "Mr. Spock." He turned to wind his way back through the columns of the new and immensely old, filled with history and memory; relics beyond price.

Spock's voice halted him. "Was there something you wanted, Captain?"

Jim turned toward his First Officer, fighting hard to suppress the stinging in his eyes. "If I had what I wanted, Mr. Spock, you and Survok would both be standing safely at home right now."

Something crossed the space between them; a gleam of understanding like the flicker of a knife. Spock still stood unmoving, but now he seemed a fraction less remote.

"Carry on, Mr. Spock. I can think of no better way for you to spend your time than cataloging and appreciating these treasures. Consider this your regular assignment until we arrive at New Vulcan."

His officer's voice was harsh. "Thank you, Captain."

Jim walked quickly toward the entrance, keen to leave Spock alone with the immensity of the Vulcan disaster— made even more poignant by the confined space of the cargo bay. This was it, all that Spock had left— this pittance from the past.

Jim stepped through the door, the statues boring their stony gaze into his back.