A/N: As long-ago promised, here we will start our continuation of our connection with "The Survivors", first introduced in the fic 'The Continuing San Francisco Saga. We will first give some background information on our noble Vulcans. There will be visits to their memories of their families, youth, training, their escape from their doomed planet and finally their relationship with the ones they have identified as 'The Saviors'. Sarek, Spock, Sirin and Lo'vaak.

We will be reintroduced to these families, explore the Survivor's settlement, marvel at their creativity, work ethic, skills and finally to their mates and children. Some of the information for the initial chapters will be lifted directly from my earlier work.

At this point, this is a WIP. Usually, I have completed any story I start to post, but I fear that too much time will elapse—so I will post much slower than I would normally. Bear with me, the general outline of the story is complete, however the details are on the 'stove' cooking. Thanks to all of you who take time to read.

The Desert Saga

Survivors All

Part 1

The Weaver

Tur'nuk

As long as he could remember there was this constant sound in his ears—shush, click, click, shush, click click, the sound of his father's loom as he wove fabric. Everyone in the family was involved in this their business which was the creation of beautiful fabric from natural plant fibers and minerals.

Although it was never The Vulcan way to brag, or accept praise, for excellence was the only acceptable standard expected in any endeavor, what was allowed within the confines of The Vulcan Way was admiration for anything beautiful.

Within the production of the fibers and then its subsequent fabric were the primary steps which was the gathering of source plants such as a durek-ashauk (shade loving plant) or ek'ha'gel-kastik (sun loving plant). The next step was the actual claiming of these fibers from the host plants. Each plant required a different initial acquisition and processing.

The metals that were incorporated into some fabric was also varied in size, shape and weight. These could be in the form of soft disc, threads, or other geometrical shapes.

While a specialize trade, the business supplied the entire family with work and was a lucrative endeavor. In addition to everyday robes for wear by the general population, their more luxurious finished products were prized by the high clans. The family also supplied the formal robes for members of the High Council and heads of clans and their families. The robes of state worn by Osu Sarek had been woven for the first Vulcan Ambassador by Tur'nuk's great grandfather and had been passed down. Osu Sarek's robes were hundreds of years old. These were still beautiful with no indication of wear or age. Certainly that was a tribute to the care taken in securing and processing the raw materials used, then the construction of these ornate and beautiful garments and finally the place of honor and the attention given to these garments as an indication of the place these held in the ambassador's life.

On the front of all such robes was embroidered the clans identify, all in formal Vulcan script. The family employed the talents of St'gon, the tailor, to construct garments and place the script on the lapels and around the bottom of the formal robes.

On occasion, Tur'nuk would create a tunic or vest for his own enjoyment. Whenever he was away from his family he always had one such garment with him. It grounded him and the woven work against his sensitive digits was almost like a message from his home.

He had been apprenticed at eight, especially young but all recognized his talents, which were extraordinary. All in the weaver's guild had agreed with this decision. By thirty years of age he was viewed as the most talented of the younger generation in his trade, and a leader in the trade's creative force.

At twenty-eight at the time of his second Pon Farr he was joined with the one who answered all of his heart's questions. His life with his aduna was extremely…satisfying.

As a city dweller Tur'nuk was drawn to the beauty and inspiration found in nature. For that reason, he regularly joined with hundreds of city dwelling males in seasonal work on the large agricultural fields that supplemented the personal gardens and exported to Vulcan settlements unable to provide enough sustenance for their inhabitants.

Of course The Vulcan Way was observed in this matter also—the goal was always, no waste of natural resources, man power or man hours. Employment of a body of workers for a full year for seasonal work was wasteful—employment for a season was not. There had been a similar mind set in this area for centuries on Terra.

His exploration during hours not involved with harvest, allowed his creative nature to be fed. He constantly was taking notes about flowers, plant arrangements, and the possibility of new fiber sources. It was, besides his actually weaving, a most inspirational experience.

The time away from his K'diwa was only able to be weathered because of their bond. He knew that there would be some time before he would be able to enjoy this respite for an extended period because his aduna was now pregnant. His next exodus from city life he would be accompanied by his two year old son, named, S'Aut.

A Vulcan who might be questioned about his mental or marital state, by a Terran not being aware of how private these people were, would simply say his life was…satisfying, or he was satisfied. In Tur'nik case, an additional source of not pride but satisfaction was that now he could pass his trade on to his son. Of course that added to any sense of accomplishment he felt, for that was The Vulcan Way.

On a solitary walk one late afternoon he communed with his bondmate and sent her a mental picture of the beauty that surrounded him. She sent him a mental picture if her swollen belly with the verbal comment, "Your daughter is anxious to vacate her place of residence. Please be present for her arrival."

`0`0`0`0`0`0`

Of course that would not be. As he and his co-workers rushed with their meager belongings to the waiting transporter the ground quakes, the blinding light that shown down from the heavens roared and his final message from his Aduna was,

"Tu'nik, my Adun,all around us the ground is splitting open and swallowing up everything around us. We are lost. If you survive, remember us."

So it was that when he appeared before Lo'vaak he was wearing what his interviewer had described as a wearable work of art, his special tunic, his bridge to his former life, his 'garment of remembrance'.