Ghost In The Machine

Chapter nine:

You have to search for the hero inside yourself

Search for the secrets you hide,

Search for the hero inside yourself

Until you find the key to your life.

No, he could not allow himself to fail. That thought reverberated like an echo from the past, reminding him of his childhood so many years ago. A childhood wracked by uncertainty and confusion, never knowing who he really was or where his true path lay. He remembered distinctly the time around his seventh birthday. Then, as now, he had much to prove to himself.

The kahs-wan, an ancient test of strength and courage undertaken by all seven year old boys, was a rite from the ancient warrior days of Vulkhanir. The aim was to survive for ten days without food, water, or weapons in the Sas-a-shar desert, a task that required determination and steadfastness. Many, without undue shame or humiliation, did not succeed in their first attempt. However, Spock knew that he did not have the same latitude for failure, as did his peers. Sarek, his father, had made it palpably apparent that if Spock did not return in triumph, many Vulkhanir would brand him a coward.

Even at so young an age, he recognized that Sarek was among the greatest of his critics. Not overtly, not even consciously. Sarek had always publicly defended Spock with the maximum allegiance. Yet, he perceived Sarek's concealed disappointment, the private dissatisfaction with his behaviour, aware of the late night discussions between his parents when they thought him asleep.

If even Sarek thought his Human genes a shortcoming, and continually found him an embarrassment, maybe the boys who ridiculed him at school were right; he was just an emotional Tehr'n and could never become a true Vulkhanir.

Spock stiffened at the reminiscence. His eidetic memory recalled a typical conversation between father and son as if it had taken place only a few short days ago instead of thirty-three years before. He had asked simply enough, with a child's innocence, what would happen if he did fail the kahs-wan.

"There is no need to ask that question. Thee is capable of fulfilling thy own destiny." His father had avowed. "Thee will not disappoint me. Thee will not disappoint – thyself. Not if thy heart and spirit are Vulkhanir."

Sarek's declaration, uttered in the compelling tones applied, at that time, more often than not as cultural attaché in the service of Vulkhanir, resonated ominously in Spock's seven-year-old mind.

At the time, it had seemed the only way he could prove he possessed the mentality and character of his father's race, without exposing himself or his family to public ridicule, was to undertake a personal ordeal ahead of the scheduled maturity rite. The outcome, whatever it might be, would then determine the course his future life took.

Dressed in a desert soft suit and boots he had crept stealthily from the rear of the large old house where he had lived for most of his young life, without a single creak from either stair or floorboard, or door. Even M'aih, a Human early warning system if ever there was one, never heard a thing. When it came to stealth, a lematya could have learned a great deal from Spock.

It was late, the house shrouded in silence, the surrounding pedestrian ways quiet and empty of movement. Nonetheless, he took care to close the night screens silently behind him, conscious of the light in the upstairs guest room where Cousin Selek presently rested. Surveying the surrounding area cautiously, he left the concealing shadows before moving out into the open.

He took a couple of steps into the wild garden and froze as a rustling sound came from the sprawling vegetation. An instant later, a large familiar shape lumbered into view – Ee-chiya, his father's pet sehlat, wheezing in the late evening air like an asthmatic old man. Shaking his head in dismay, Spock held out his hand, palm up. The elderly sehlat halted obediently at the hand signal but continued to pant and groan.

"No, Ee-chiya," he whispered when the animal showed no sign of returning to its nest in the shrubbery. "This is my own ordeal. I have to do it alone. Stay here."

For an instant, Ee-Chiya seemed to consider his young master's instruction before coming to a decision in its deliberate and patient way. As Spock headed for the garden gate, the sehlat lumbered after him.

ShiKahr was a border city on the edge of the Sas-a-shar desert, a meticulously precise oasis set in the middle of an apparent wasteland aptly named Ah'hrak - Vulcan's Forge - surrounded by a buffer zone of lush, landscaped parkland. It was an old city, though modern in appearance, with pleasingly designed, geometric buildings; a logical municipality intended for uncompromisingly logical inhabitants.

At the city gate, Spock experienced an instant of apprehension as the automatic sentry defence systems, created primarily to keep out the fierce desert carnivores, scanned him with unseen radiation and hidden sensors. However, no challenge sounded, no tranquillising darts phocked out at him, no phasers on stun sought to bar his passage as he walked with steady gait into the desert proper.

Before him, stretched desolation painted in shades of harsh ochre, raw umber, yellow, and brown, the sands patterned only reluctantly here and there by an infrequent sprinkling of amethyst or jade. In the distance, a range of forbidding black mountains clawed at the sky with great ragged talons of granite, basalt and gneiss. In the daytime, still some hours off, the thin atmosphere would inspire a roof of flinty orange-red but the arid land now rested under the cool succour of Vulkhanir's sister world Nevas'ashar, a glimmering copper ball that hung low and huge in the night sky.

It was towards the Arlanga Mountains that Spock decided to head. Under the circumstances and given the task he had set himself, the forbidding peaks seemed as logical a place to demonstrate his merit as any other.

Nevertheless, there were places where the shadows took on a form and presence of their own, and sometimes Spock could not avoid those places. Going into them was a test of courage in itself. Who knew what might be lying in wait? Spock had rarely been in the desert during the hours of darkness and never alone. Despite his well-developed night sight, there was no limit to what a fertile imagination could, and did, conjure up from the darkness.

Heart in mouth, Spock plodded on, privately grateful that Ee-chiya still trailed close upon his heels. Though fearful of what lay ahead he was still utterly determined to trudge through the Gulf of Tartarus itself if that is what it took to succeed in his self-imposed undertaking.

When the sun finally rose over the Black Mountains, it turned the hard-baked desert floor the colour of molten lead. Rapid physical collapse was an early threat of the genuine kahs-wan. That, at least, was one test Spock no longer worried about as he strode along at an even pace. Of course, soon it would grow increasingly hot and the sun would start to pull moisture from him. Even with his Vulkhanir metabolism, he could not hope to survive such unforgiving conditions for long.

For some months, mindful of that vital truth, Sarek had instructed Spock on endurance techniques in readiness for the trial proper. He knew all about the xerothermic plant life, the cactaceae with their waxy skins that stored water in both stems and spines - and where to find them at need. There were dormant roots to eat, a few small, bitter fruits, as well as seeds and nuts. He could fashion a solar still given time, a crude weapon, shelter, or even protective clothing from what the desert provided.

Yet, Sarek had stressed that the most important element in the kahs-wan was mental not physical. Now, the awareness that he was alone, parched and giddy with fiery heat, without another soul knowing where he was in a world, had Spock feeling indecisive and vulnerable. Should he continue to push on towards his goal or stop and take shelter for the day? And what of the elderly sehlat? To Ee-chiya, the mental aspect was not the most important factor.

The big animal's normal environment was the cool, high woodland of the south. Neither was the sehlat used to such extended hiking. Ee-chiya managed well enough in the deep shade of the garden at home but here, in open country, his thick fur proved a heavy burden.

The rising heat was already taking its toll on the beast. Slouched on his belly in the hot sand, Ee-chiya panted from the unaccustomed exertion trying to catch his breath. The sehlat's spirit was willing but the flesh was definitely inadequate for the duty asked of it.

Alarmed by the animal's condition Spock, with hands on hips, admonished his pet, tone gentle but frustrated.

"Ee-chiya, go home. You are too old and too fat for this."

The sehlat examined the statement head tilted and ears cocked. It licked its salivating lips, swallowing the moisture, before putting its great head down on its forepaws, assuming an air of quiet dignity.

Spock shook his head determinedly, "No, Ee-chiya. That is how you get your way with A'nirih but it will not work with me. Go home."

The sehlat took little notice. It seemed quite prepared to spend the rest of its existence on that very spot. It was clear that the only way the beast would return home would be while trailing its master.

Thwarted, Spock sighed, shrugged, and lifted his shoulders in a very Human gesture of defeat. He had a great deal to accomplish before that return journey could take place.

Once again, he experienced indecision. If he continued towards the mountains, the big old animal would most likely be at risk, yet he could not give up so soon on his quest. He pondered the quandary before finally making up his mind. He would continue and reassess the situation when he reached the foothills. By that time, the old beast may have decided to return of its own accord.

A light breeze off distant desert plains swept sand and twigs into a miniature dust demon, a threatening manifestation of Vulkhanir's turbulent atmosphere. Spock set off again at a reduced pace in deference to his pet's condition, mind troubled by a sense of foreboding. Ee-chiya waited only the barest of seconds before he lurched to his feet and shuffled off after his young master.

An hour of steady walking later, the desert ended abruptly in the first rocky fortifications of the Arlanga Mountains. Spock knelt, studying the ground, picking out the recent tracks of a lematya, probably returning to its lair among the rocks after hunting game during the night. He eyed the distinctive marks apprehensively. Built like a Terran lion but far larger, the animal, with its leathery mahogany hide, leaned more towards reptilian configuration than mammalian, as did the poison in its claws. Not something Spock wished to confront alone and weaponless.

He pushed himself to his feet. A storm had started to ferment in the west. Spock glanced at the slow boil of air as one weather front met another far in the distance. He rubbed a hand across his forehead, an ache throbbing behind his eyes as the negative ions built up in the atmosphere. The slight breeze still blew but the air hung hot and heavy, almost palpable to the touch. If the storm caught them out in the open, the wind whipped dust would certainly flay every bit of skin and flesh from their bodies.

Spock found himself ensnared by another difficult choice. If he stayed where he was or turned back, the storm would take them. If they went in search of a place to hole up, the lematya could possibly wake and attack. He took what he thought was the least dangerous option and started to climb, the morning sun exceeding his rate of assent.

In later boyhood, those same mountains would become a refuge for him, each handhold, and support known intimately, the ways of the desert animals acknowledged and understood. As it was, he might still have enjoyed the scramble were it not for his anguished state of mind as the storm front advanced. Ee-chiya continued to mope along slightly behind, his snuffling and wheezing ever more raucous.

Spock climbed with slow intent. The various formations of igneous rock he passed as he moved higher into the foothills took on weird shapes and strange contours. Starkly beautiful, fashioned by the primeval forces of Vulkhanir itself, if Spock looked carefully enough he could make out beast faces in the stone, the forms of creatures long extinct.

He came to an old water course, a channel cut into the naked rock between vast stone buttresses. On one of the ramparts, a startling formation described the shape of a furious d'rachanya, a dragon with outstretched wings and gaping maw. Spock eyed the stone beast apprehensively. He had a distinct impression that it was only waiting for him to get a little nearer before it pounced. His steps became slower, shorter, stopped. He stared at it with dry mouth while his heart throbbed against his side.

Spock knew that he was being illogical but it did not help. He took a deep breath, stole with exaggerated caution beneath the outstretched neck. out the corner of one eye Spock saw it begin to stir.

He turned and faced it bravely, but the d'rachanya had returned to stone. It gazed pensively down at the earth as it had done for centuries. Could it have been just a shift in the light, a shadow moving across the fiery surface of the sun? Spock did not think so.

He was so frightened he even wished M'aih were there. Better still, A'nirih. It would be an excellent thing, in this haunted place to have Sarek standing foursquare next to him. Not even a living d'rachanya would take on his father. However, M'aih was not there, A'nirih was not there. He was alone… alone, and very afraid.

His eye caught another movement. This time it was in the shadows made by an overhanging buttress of rock. He peered desperately. A pair of large luminous orbs, several feet off the ground, shone out of the gloom. Spock swallowed thickly. If it had not been for his mission, he might have run, if his trembling legs had retained the strength to carry him. As it was he just stood and stared, horror-struck.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Lightning flashed as it discharged into the ground. The wind had grown stronger. It ruffled Spock's hair with less than playful fingers, tugging at the loose-fitting kibr of his desert soft suit. His temples thumped in reaction as loose sand swirled about his booted ankles, a tiny imitation of the full size tisulh'kosekh, the cyclone that loomed on the horizon.

In reply to the booming roar of the encroaching storm, the sheltering lematya gave voice to its own strident cry, a sound like metal rubbing at high speed on metal. The sound grated from the depths of the beast's terrible gullet. Boneless, it slithered from out of its hiding place into the full light of the sun. Eyes fixed unerringly on Spock, it crouched ready to spring.

Terror returned the vigour to Spock's shaking knees as the huge animal screamed in fury. He backed off down the dry conduit. Scrambling for a place of safety, he tried to stay behind protective rocks, following the twists and turns of the ancient waterway. Abruptly he burst out into a broad natural ran for the far side, each boulder strewn upon the level ground intent on slowing his progress, every small fissure designed to catch and trip him. With a quick look over his shoulder, he jumped for an outcropping just above his head, managed to hook his fingers over the edge before clambering up. The beast followed almost leisurely, padding lightly on his back trail, its rasping breath clearly audible above the rising wind.

Spock climbed higher, spurred on by fear. He gulped air, conscious of the lematya at his back. The animal screamed once more. It swung at him with venomous claws. The talons barely missed a trailing leg and dug gouges into the stone.

Trying to melt into the rock and become one with the stone, Spock reached for the next handhold. Instead, he confronted a sheer wall of shining black obsidian. It was no more than three metres high – not much of a barrier – but it might as well have been three thousand. There was no way up it or any way around.

He turned his back to the volcanic glass. The lematya had followed him. It's luminous yellow eyes were alight with a cruel awareness, a carnivore's knowledge that its prey could not escape. Though its stomach was still full with its previous kill, it was unwilling to pass up on an easy meal. The beast hissed and snuffled at Spock's heaving chest with a questing nose. Its forked tongue flicked in and out, tasting his scent. With the venomous talons sheathed, a huge paw batted at him. The lematya teased Spock awhile as a cat played with a mouse. It patted him again a little harder, and a third time until it, knocking him off his feet. At last it finally tired of the game. Spock stared in frozen horror as the beast extracted enormous claws ready to execute the fatal blow.

That blow never fell.

With a snarl of rage, the aging Ee-chiya burst out of nowhere and struck the lematya like a runaway warp drive. The knock rolled the lematya completely over on the high ledge. Yellowing old teeth made a deep double slash in the lematya's side, the sehlat no longer the cuddly, good-natured pet Spock knew so well.

Spitting and squalling, the carnivore twisted free. It clawed at the sehlat. Ee-chiya darted out of the way and threw a blow with one massive paw that barely missed the lematya's skull. Ee-chiya's low, rhythmic snarls boomed in counterpoint to the creature's high-pitched hysterical screams.

Spock stared at the battle that raged below his perch. Unable to help his pet, he feared for the animal that now fought for both their lives. The carnivore was young and Ee-chiya was old, his jaw muscles were weak, without strength to do much serious damage. The clash of the titans could not continue for long.

The sound of running footsteps alerted Spock unexpectedly to a further presence among the rocks. The footsteps came on quickly following the route that Spock had traversed hours earlier. To his complete surprise after a moment, Spock's Cousin Selek, exploded abruptly into view.

The young Vulkhanir resembled a taller, leaner, adult version of Spock. He seemed to evaluate the situation immediately. When the lematya rolled Ee-chiya over, preparatory to a killing strike, Selek ran forward and leaped quickly onto the carnivore's back.

Incensed at the sudden new weight on its shoulders, the lematya burst into frenzied anger. It jerked and twisted, trying to buck Selek off. Ee-chiya skidded back out of the way as the lematya frantically tried to deal with this unrelenting tormentor. It screamed repeatedly, spinning in circles and leaping into the air, trying to bite at the thing on its back.

Making a vice of his thighs and digging one hand into the rough, straw-like mane, Selek leaned forward along the leathery neck. Powerful fingers bore down, pressed hard on the nerves there. Instantly the lematya shuddered. Its wild eyes closed as it sank unconscious to the ground.

Spock hurriedly descended the steep rocks as the lematya collapsed and ran to Ee-chiya. The sehlat pushed itself slowly to its feet as Spock threw his arms around the big animal's neck. The slight boy had no effect on the huge furry mass. It shook itself, long rolling oscillations that commenced at the nose and fluttered back to the short tail

"Ee-chiya," Spock murmured a catch in his voice. . It seemed that his pet was unharmed, merely out of breath. "Good boy, good old boy."

"I suggest we move away from this area before the lematya regains consciousness. I do not believe it will follow us now but it would not be wise to tempt it. The storm is also approaching rapidly. We need to find shelter."

The words spoken in a calm, cool, semi-baritone, reminded Spock of Cousin Selek, forgotten in his relief at finding Ee-chiya unhurt.

"True, Cousin." He straightened, surveyed his relative with interest. " I thank thee for assisting us."

"It was only my duty, Spock." Cousin Selek replied with a slight hint of reproof.

"Mother says thee should always say 'thee is welcome.'"

Selek paused as if caught off guard and there was a moment's awkward silence before he replied. "The lady Amanda is noted for her graciousness."

"Does thee suppose I'll ever be able to do that neck pinch as well as thee, Cousin?" Spock asked as they moved away together, glancing back at the threatening shape of the lematya still unconscious on the ground.

"No doubt thee will," admitted Selek somewhat dryly. "Come now, let us leave this place."

Selek led them quickly away from the area. He circled the far curve of the amphitheatre, heading further into the mountains where the cover would protect them from the encroaching storm front. He appeared to know the area well which rather surprised Spock. Selek was, after all, a stranger to ShiKahr only passing through on his pilgrimage to the family shrine at Dycoon to honour the ancestors their families had in common. The Vulkhanir peered up at the slope above them, seeking something. Spock followed his gaze. A peculiar formation caught his eye; several large boulders tumbled together, with a narrow dark opening just visible between them.

"We shall take shelter under those rocks until the storm passes by."

However, the hole proved to be a genuine cave and, although the entrance was low, inside the roof was high enough to permit Selek to stand comfortably erect. The walls were rough and pitted, the floor sloped. It was also far from spacious and Ee-chiya took up most of the available room. The old sehlat lowered his bulky body to the ground in relief as he stretched out in the sudden cool, head on paws.

"Thee followed me. Why?" Spock asked of his cousin at last. He had to raise his voice above the shriek of the wind and the rumble of thunder, now directly overhead.

Selek paused. He glanced at the brazen, brassy skies from the entrance before making his reply. "I suspected thee might attempt something of this sort. I sensed thy worry about the kahs-wan. Such an expedition seemed a very natural gesture for thee to make."

Spock nodded, his dark brows drawn together. "I had to see if I could do it. I cannot fail."

"That is thy father's desire?" Selek turned from the entrance of the tiny cavern and hunkered down beside Spock, haunches on heels, long fingered hands clasped loosely in his lap.

Spock, with his back to the rocky wall, arms hugging his upraised knees, considered his cousin's words carefully.

"It is. My mother's also. They … confuse me, sometimes. A'nirih wants me to do things his way, the Vulkhanir Way. When I ask her, M'aih says that I should but then she goes and …" He stopped and looked away from Selek, suddenly made self-conscious by what he had started to confess. However, his cousin seemed to understand.

"The lady Amanda is a Human woman with strong emotions and sensitivities. She makes thee uncomfortable when she displays those traits. Thee is also afraid when thee sees them in thyself because of what thy father wants for thee."

"How … did thee know?" Spock asked, looking at Selek in quiet wonder.

"What thee does not yet fully understand is that Vulkhanir do not lack emotion, Spock." His cousin explained. "This is an all too common misconception – amongst many Vulkhanir as well as other species. It is merely that we practice arie'mnu, mastery of passion and emotion. This adherence to principles of logic offers a serenity that others – excepting certain theological and philosophical orders – rarely experience in full."

Selek bent, picked up a pebble, and examined it closely before continuing in a calm and serene way. "We all have emotions and feelings so there is nothing of which to be ashamed. It is as natural as having a sense of touch, or sight. However, we deal firmly with them and do not let them control us. Nor are Humans, like thy mother, wholly ruled by their emotional responses. Instead they must walk an uneasy, nerve-wracking, tight-rope between the Vulkhanir principles of logic and reason and their own disruptive reactions."

Spock nodded, his brow furrowed in profound concentration, the habitual, cold tightness inside him unfolding a little as he considered the foreign, adult thoughts stimulated by Selek's words. He had heard the same turn of phrase from Sarek on numerous occasions, but from this man, this strange cousin who had saved his life, they had the ring of personal experience, an understanding and truth that he could not deny. He reached out and idly stroked Ee-chiya's massive head, ruffling the warm fur behind an ear. The huge sehlat whuffed deep in its throat, before opening its eyes to look at Spock in absolute trust - and in consideration of the tall stranger who so closely resembled his young master. The stumpy tail thumped once and then again before he relaxed back into sleep sighing contentedly.

"A'nirih also says the Vulkhanir Way has much to recommend it."

"Indeed." Cousin Selek agreed. "There is no crime here and wars have not been fought in many thousands of years. We practice a regime of unlimited diversity in never-ending combinations. It is a good way but requires dedication."

He placed a hand on Spock's shoulder. "Thee made the desert crossing most efficiently, Spock, and moreover, at night. I believe thee will not fail thy father in the kahs-wan."

"Indeed?"

"Beyond doubt. Have confidence that the universe unfolds as it should – and also thy place within it."

Wise words from an intelligent and perceptive man.1

Spock's hesitant footsteps paused as he remembered the past, the boy he had once been. He had never seen Selek again after they returned safely home to ShiKahr, though he had wished to, many times. Nor did any member of his immediate family. It was as if his cousin had disappeared into thin air. However, that one chance meeting had transformed the direction of his life thereafter. It was because of Selek, not Sarek, that he was who he had become.

1 Taken mainly from the adaptation of Yesteryear by Alan Dean Foster in Startrek Log One. Written by D. C. Fontana.

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