Beyond the Sand, chapter two
Three days later, Spock was sitting on a bench in the public sand gardens when he saw movement from the corner of his eye, and he looked over to see Sarek approaching.
"I am pleased to find you out of your apartment," said Sarek as he sat down next to Spock. "I am aware that you believe you have much to do and little time to do it, but another way to view it is that pushing yourself too hard will reduce the time you have available. It is illogical to expend more energy than is necessary."
"That is true, but I fear that my symptoms are growing stronger every day. It would also be illogical to assume that I have sufficient time, given the inevitable arc of this disease."
"Another factor to consider is that you have already transitioned most of your responsibilities to me. Of course, we will always welcome your input, but you should be able to slow your pace. You have earned the right to relax occasionally."
Spock shook his head. "There will always be more tasks than even both of us can handle, and I owe it to this community to maximize every minute that is left to me. Also, I must confess that if I were to deliberately slow down, I would feel as if I were accepting that the end is near, and I am not yet ready to do that."
Sarek nodded. "In that case, I will defer to your good judgment."
Sarek laced his hands together in his lap, and they fell into a comfortable silence. Spock reflected on the fact that his relationship with this man was easier than his relationship ever was with his own father. Even during the period of his life when his father was most accepting of him—after his friends had risked so much to bring his katra back to Vulcan and before Perrin had come between them—he had experienced an underlying instability, a feeling that one wrong step on his part could bring it all to an end. Did this universe's version of Spock feel the same way about the man sitting next to him as he, himself, felt about his own father? It was possible that Sarek and Spock of this universe experienced the same tensions, but he thought it unlikely. He had noticed that this version of Spock had a confidence around others, a self-acceptance that he had not possessed at this age. As the humans would say, this version of Spock was easy in his own skin.
"Sarek," he said, "I have been considering some of the differences between this universe and my own, and I have a personal question."
"You may ask it."
"Is your relationship with your son a good one?"
Sarek was unable to keep the surprise from his face. "Yes, it is very good. Am I to surmise from your question that your relationship with your father was not?"
Spock shrugged lightly. "Sometimes it was, and sometimes it was not. Such is the way of fathers and sons."
Studying him shrewdly, Sarek said, "I have the impression that there was more to it than that."
"Yes. Perhaps." Spock gazed at a nearby sand sculpture while he gathered his thoughts. "When I was young, my father told me that it was my choice whether I took the Vulcan path or the human path, but it was never truly my choice. He was very disapproving of almost everything I did, especially when I displayed even the smallest human trait. Then, when I chose to join Starfleet instead of attending the Vulcan Science Academy, he disowned me. We did not speak for many years."
Sarek did not reply immediately, and when Spock turned toward him he was surprised to see something akin to pain on the younger man's face.
"You are correct," said Sarek. "Our relationship is good now, but that was not always true. I did not know how to deal with you. You were highly intelligent, even by Vulcan standards, and precocious in your interests. But you were also rebellious and unforgiving. The slightest mistake on my part caused you to close yourself off. You would run away to the mountains. I would demand that you tell me where you had gone, but you would not. I would punish you, but you would endure your punishment and then run away again. I could not help but admire the part of you that refused to yield, but I was unable to tell you that. Amanda tried to help me understand how to interact with you, but I failed miserably for too many years."
At first, Spock could only blink at this admission. Aware that he was stammering, he said, "You? Failed? I thought that it was my failure to be a proper Vulcan son that caused the rift between us."
"No, it was my failure, not yours. I will not deny that I often held you up to higher standards than you seemed satisfied to accept for yourself, but it was only because I knew that you were capable of so much more."
"Higher standards, or Vulcan standards?"
Sarek sighed softly. "Perhaps both. I was often a less than adequate parent. I cannot deny the relief I felt when you and I finally joined minds, and you understood that the friction between us was primarily my fault. After all, you were only a child. I was the adult who should have handled things differently."
"We joined minds? That never happened in my reality."
"I find that disheartening. In my reality, I let too much time pass before I initiated mental contact, but eventually, I did. Our first mental touch was when you almost died in that accident during your second year at the Academy. Since then, we have joined minds many times."
"I had no accident at the Academy."
"Fascinating."
"Indeed."
They sat quietly again until Sarek said, "I offer to share my thoughts with you. I do not say this lightly, for I know that I can never erase my failings in your timeline, but I am still the person who was your father and I want you to better know me. Perhaps this will provide some comfort that your own father was never able to provide."
Spock swallowed heavily. "I cannot reciprocate and share my thoughts with you."
"I understand. You know things about the future that I cannot know. But I offer my thoughts to you, regardless."
"I accept. I am honored, and I cannot deny that I am moved that you would offer such a thing."
"Would you care to accompany me to the privacy of my apartment?"
Spock nodded, so they both left the gardens.
…
Images, impressions, feelings swirled around them, memories flowing through their minds in rapid succession…
Sarek, arriving late for his son's birth, experiencing elation upon his first sight of his son, followed by an overpowering, humbling surge of fear from knowing that this small life now depended on him…
Pride yet bafflement when he watched Amanda interact with the two-year-boy who laughed, chattered, and cried without inhibition… Seeing this same boy morph into someone who was quiet and stoic by his third birthday…
Clashes with his son, endless debates interspersed with chilling silences, unable to reach the boy no matter the soundness of his logic, aware of Amanda judging him, always judging him…
Being summoned to the school because his son had been in a fistfight, arguing with Amanda over how to handle it, fearing that he might lose both if he did not say and do the right things…
Pride when his son was offered a place at the Vulcan Science Academy, shock and anger when it was refused… Going to work early without saying goodbye on the day his son left for Earth and coming home to a wife who did not speak to him for a week…
Receiving a call in the middle of the night about an accident at Starfleet Academy, learning that a cadet had died and Spock was fighting for his life… Rushing to Earth, long, lonely hours of not knowing what he would find when he got there… Sitting by his son's bedside, watching him struggle for every breath, fearing that his angry words about the Vulcan Science Academy would be the last words his son ever heard from him, finally putting his hand on his unconscious son's face to impart his regret, his respect, his undeniable love…
The details of the accident unfurled before him as if he were experiencing it himself.
Spock entered the chemistry lab with his roommate and lab partner, Mike Rossi, at his side. The instructor was sitting at a desk at the front of the class, and a cadet Spock recognized as Alex Zabolotny was working by himself at one of the lab stations. Otherwise, the lab was empty.
Spock and Rossi approached the instructor. "Commander Samra," said Spock. "Would you have a moment to discuss our project? We have some questions about the parameters of the experiment."
"Yes, certainly," said Samra. "You can have a seat in my office, and I'll join you in a few minutes."
They walked over to the office, which adjoined the chemistry lab, and found seats in front of the instructor's desk.
"Hey Spock," said Rossi. "Do you have plans for the weekend? Elaine Martinez said that a group of cadets are organizing a scavenger hunt and she asked if we wanted to join them."
"A scavenger hunt? Do we search for buzzards, coyotes, and other creatures that feed on carrion?"
Rossi laughed. "No, you're given a list of unusual objects and you have to find them. You work in teams."
"Ah, I see. We become the scavengers because we are searching for items in our environment."
"Exactly. I…"
Suddenly, alarms blared. Spock and Rossi rushed to the office door to see what was happening, but the door slammed shut in the instant before they got there. Spock had seen enough, however. A cloud surrounded the area where Zabolotny had been working, and Zabolotny was dashing for the lab's main door. Respirator masks dangled from the ceiling. The instructor was sprawled on the floor near the front of the class. A faint scent that Spock recognized as hydrogen fluoride wafted through the air, and his eyes and throat began burning. He knew that the small concentration of gas in the office would only cause discomfort, but the concentration in the lab would be deadly.
Coughing, Rossi frantically looked up at the ceiling. "Why hasn't the air evac system kicked on?"
"I saw Zabolotny rushing for the door. I believe that somehow he must have prevented the safety panel from coming down. If that is the case, the air evacuation system will not come on. Why would he behave so illogically? If he has a mask, he has no need to leave the room in such a hurry."
"He was scared. Fear either paralyzes a person, panics them, or makes them think more clearly. He must be the panicking type. He just acted from the gut without thinking. What should we do?"
"It is obvious. We must ensure that the safety panel is able to come down before the fumes can spread to the rest of the building."
"Oh, shit."
"Indeed."
Rossi pounded on the button that would normally open the door, but nothing happened.
"The automatic locks are on," said Spock while he rummaged through the instructor's desk. "I cannot find any masks in the office. We will need to override this lock, procure masks, and determine why the safety panel did not come down."
"Okay. If you can get this door open, I'll head for the safety panel."
Spock nodded and moved next to Rossi. As he removed a portion of the wall by the door and found the circuit that was preventing the door from opening, he looked over at his friend's face. Rossi was clearly frightened, just as Zabolotny had been.
"Are you going to be able to do this?" asked Spock. "You are frightened."
"Hell, yes, I'm frightened! I'm scared shitless. But I know what we need to do so let's do it."
"Very well. On the count of three." His hand in the wall, Spock looked at Rossi. "One. Two. Three."
At that, he disconnected the circuit and they rushed into the outer room. Immediately, Spock felt his airways constrict, and his eyes were watering so much that he could barely find a mask to disconnect from the ceiling. Rossi was bent double, coughing, so Spock pulled down two more masks and placed one firmly into Rossi's hand, and the other over the instructor's face. The masks would help, but Spock knew that the toxic gas would not be completely blocked so they must act quickly.
They stumbled to the outer door, and they found that Zabolotny was on the floor beneath the safety panel, and this had prevented it from closing. They both continued to gag and cough. Rossi grabbed Zabolotny's feet and pulled.
"He won't budge," gasped Rossi, throwing his weight in the opposite direction.
"I will attempt to lift the safety panel," replied Spock.
He bent and took a deep breath, even though it burned his throat, and the pressure on his chest was so painful that it almost brought him to his knees. He wedged his fingers under the bottom of the panel and pulled upwards.
"It's not budging!" Rossi slipped and had to scramble back to his feet. "Try again!"
Spock released it, took another deep breath, and grasped again. As he pulled upwards, the muscles in his thighs and his back complained, but he felt it give slightly this time.
"Again!" cried Rossi.
Spock gave it every ounce of his strength, and finally the door lifted just enough for Rossi to pull Zabolotny out. The last thing Spock heard before darkness overtook him was the gentle hiss of the air evacuation system kicking on.
Spock gently ended the meld, and Sarek shook himself slightly as if just waking from a long nap.
"So that was our first mindmeld," said Spock.
"Yes," replied Sarek. "We sat by your side in the hospital for four days before you woke up. Your entire respiratory system was badly burned, from the lining of your nose to your lungs. The doctors were growing replacement organs in case your body could not heal itself, but they were not certain if transplants would be sufficient to repair all of the damage. Fortunately, you recovered without them."
"I remember Mike Rossi well. We became friends during our first two years at the Academy, although we drifted apart once we chose different specialties. I do not remember an instructor at the Academy named Samra, however. Doctor Jenkins was our instructor for that class, and when Mike Rossi and I went to the chemistry lab that day, Jenkins was working closely with Alex Zabolotny. The incident with the hydrogen fluoride was very minor."
"Could this be where your path diverged from the path my son took?"
Spock raised both eyebrows and nodded slowly. "It seems very possible. Everything you showed me until that moment was identical to what I remembered. I will be interested to see if I can determine why Commander Samra rather than Doctor Jenkins taught that class. What happened after your son recovered from his injuries?"
"We had to tell him that Mike Rossi had died before the first responders made it to the lab. He was devastated. He struggled with guilt, for he felt that because a Vulcan's respiratory system is more robust than a human's, he should have left Rossi in the office and taken care of Zabolotny's error by himself. This knowledge also caused him to be angry at himself, and he was angry at Zabolotny for committing the error. I believe that he was even a little angry at Rossi for his sacrifice although he experienced great sorrow over the loss of his friend. In addition, he did not understand how Rossi had performed so admirably despite the knowledge that he might not survive, while Zabolotny's fright caused him to make the worst decision he could possibly have made. It was very difficult for him."
"Did he finally come to a resolution?"
"Yes. The two of us had many hours of discussions, and in the end, he accepted the fact that he could experience multiple feelings at the same time even though they conflicted. It also led him to study the role of emotions in decision-making, and why one human could perform so well in the face of possible death while another could not."
"That sounds very much like the basis of the Kobayashi Maru test."
Sarek nodded. "You turned a traumatic experience into something that has benefited many people. I was very proud of you."
Spock nodded back with satisfaction, but he could not keep the exhaustion from his face.
"Allow me to walk you back to your apartment," said Sarek. "We will talk more about this tomorrow."
End chapter 2
