"I have finished my chemistry lessons, Spock-sensei."
The old Vulcan, seated regally in his armchair, looked up from his book. Absorbed in its antique paper pages, he hadn't noticed the youth leave the testing computer console and approach him. "And how did you fare, young Salak?"
"Eighty percent, Sensei," the boy answered. "I am still uncertain about resonance structures."
"I will explain the concept again more clearly after our midday meal," replied Spock. "For now, there is something I must discuss with you. Please sit comfortably." He motioned to one of the gray sculpted chairs opposite him.
Salak sat down and turned his face to Spock attentively.
"You have passed into adulthood," Spock began, "and there are certain things about life as a Vulcan man that are important for you to know. In generations past, we hid our transformations even from ourselves, and did not discuss them, even to inform and educate our young. Instead, the knowledge was transmitted telepathically through our collective consciousness, and each individual's experience was veiled from all others, with the exception of the one who would become his bondmate."
Salak swallowed.
"You are already aware of that which I speak. The words have been echoing in your mind for weeks," said Spock. "You may say them now."
"Pon farr," Salak said slowly, from between dry lips.
"Recently there has been a movement among some of our people to demystify the Time of Mating," Spock continued. "We will never share our biological secrets with the outside world at large, but within the community of Vulcans, full communication and disclosure may be the only logical way finally to tame that which has enslaved our pride for many centuries." Spock shifted in his seat. "Since your father is dead and no longer able to instruct you in these matters, your mother has requested that I, your teacher, take on the role of family."
"Why is our mating drive so strong as to distract us from reason?" Salak asked.
"Evolution," Spock said. "Those who were compelled to mate when the environment was most nurturing passed on those genes of compulsion. Evidently, the advantage conferred was so dramatic that those of the ancestral race who did not share the seasonal drive to mate died out. But it is useless to fear the Time, Salak. When planned for and dealt with properly, it is reduced from a chimera to the simple, sweet cement of a bonding. We have extra reason to love our bondmates, we Vulcans-more so than any other species in the galaxy. They give us life as they give us love."
"You speak of planning," said Salak. "I find I am drawn to my friend T'Lo. I like her very much. But I fear she may form an antagonism towards me if she becomes permanently obligated towards my benefit. I do wish to marry her. Will she-?"
"It is promising, if she is your friend and you are drawn to her, that your minds already play together where your words do not," said Spock. "Bring your thoughts into the world of words, and ascertain her position. She may be well-suited to be your bondmate."
"What would have happened to me if I had not found T'Lo?"
"It is rare among such a highly telepathic species as our own to remain unmatched. So many other species experience crippling mysteries that hinder true communication, but our relationships lack that barrier." Spock paused. "It was thought that I, as a hybrid being and the first of my kind, would have difficulty finding a compatible mind, or that any I chose as a potential partner would find me unsuitable. Therefore, immediately succeeding my kahs-wan, the passing of which proved my status as a Vulcan, a bonding was arranged between myself and a girl from my age group."
"So young?"
"Because of my unusual genetic background, it was not known when the Time of Mating would first come upon me," Spock explained. "We did not live together, but remained with our families, and when I passed my teenaged years without a sign of my Vulcan urges, I estimated that the chance that they would ever come was slight. This is when I left for Earth to join Starfleet."
"But your Time did come."
"Indeed," Spock sighed. "Many years later. I was first officer of the Enterprise by then. It was not an optimal place to discover the burnings of pon farr."
"Your bondmate was not with you."
"No, she was not. And it was torture, because by this point we hated each other. She thought I was never coming back, and she had taken another consort. Yet I could not fight the urge. I was drawn to her despite the years and distance between us, even though she had another mate and I-I had concerns of my own."
"Concerns?"
"My captain," said Spock. "We had grown to be very close friends. Our minds were strongly attuned. When my Time came and I realized I would not be spared, I longed to share this part of myself with him. But even had I not been locked to T'Pring, I doubted his ability to join into the intensity of a Vulcan mating bond. He loved his ship, Salak. You understand-a born leader, driven by his career. For a bonded Vulcan, the bond transcends career."
"Were you drawn to another male because of your hybrid infertility?" Salak asked.
"Possibly," said Spock, "but we do not understand the complexities of compatibility. I was drawn to James Kirk because he was my friend when I had only colleagues, because of his sharp mind and skill both in battle and negotiations, and because of his golden smile. We do not smile often, Salak. His smile permeates his skin."
"T'Lo's eyelashes flutter like an insect's wing when she is pleased with herself," Salak offered. "It is agreeable to me."
"At great risk to the career to which he was so devoted, Captain Kirk brought me home to Vulcan so that I might join with T'Pring," Spock went on. "When I returned home, I found that she had rejected me to such a degree that she challenged the marriage. I returned to the ship with no mate, with my Time unfulfilled." He left the specifics of the story buried in memory, disturbing to him even today as they were.
"What did you do?"
"My captain came to me," Spock said solemnly. "He came to my cabin and comforted me with his presence, his conversation, and, before long, his embrace. It was the purest, most exquisite encounter of my life at that juncture. He stayed with me until morning, kissing away the sweat from my brow and cooling me with his temperament. And, young Salak, I lived in the moment. I let my mind mingle freely with his, and put the shackles of logic aside. I treasured every minute in his arms, knowing how much he valued his career and could never allow any being-even me-to come between him and his starflight. He had given me the gift of that night, and I cradled the night as a precious, limited resource."
A timer sounded, and Spock stood. "Come, Salak. The soup is ready."
Salak followed his teacher into the next room and took three ceramic bowls out of a cabinet. Carefully Spock ladled the bowls full of broth, leafy vegetables, and mushrooms. Salak collected the spoons and carried them into the garden. He placed them on the table and went back for his bowl.
Slowly walking with the other bowls so as not to spill anything, Spock stepped outside into the shaded coolness of the garden. Pausing briefly to place his own bowl on the table, he approached a hammock slung between a post and a desert tree.
An old man, a human, lay rocking in the hammock, hazel eyes half-closed over a book. His face was round and ruddy and broken into a thousand creases, for he was a hundred and nine years of age.
His eyes opened all the way as he heard Spock come near, and he smiled his golden smile.
Spock sat beside him in the grass and fed him the entire bowl of soup, spoonful by spoonful. Kirk's lips were weak, and his hands might shake, but he was well-cared for. As he had cared for his Spock from the very beginning.
Returning to the table to join Salak in his meal, Spock remarked, "This is the nature of the Vulcan life-bond, Salak. Had I remained logical on that long ago first night of passion, I would have realized that Jim's love for me *was* great enough to shape his life. Our bond is not a chain of metal, imposed externally as if biology were a slave's taskmaster. It is made of nothing but ourselves, as we reach for each other, with all that we are. If T'Lo is for you, it will not be an obligation, but a joy to bring succor to your needs. And it will not be a chore, but a sacred purpose to bring her your devotion ever after."