A Son of Surak

By

Pat Foley

Chapter 9

Having told his tale to Sarek, and having never been asked or promised to keep it a secret, Suchon was now inclined to keep telling it. It was something, after all, to have been rescued by the heir to Surak, an unexpected, if minor distinction for himself. And a welcome insight for many into the reclusive heir.

Few knew Spock, except for teachers and classmates at his exclusive schools. The majority of Vulcans knew him only from his largely silent role, walking behind Sarek and giving a set affirmation of the commitment to the rule of logic at the yearly Council ceremonies. The opportunity to hear and know something more was of interest to curious Vulcans. Suchon found his story always had a listener. He was even sought out to relate it. That made him speak of it even more.

Eventually, the story made its way to Council. Unlike a tale passed through word of mouth by humans, it had not been over-embroidered with each retelling by Vulcans into something far from the original. But Suchon's codicils on Spock's telepathic awareness of the lematya were always included, and asked about, that being of more interest to Vulcans than the rather prosaic rescue.

Eventually a cadre of Council members to whom the tale found its way considered this sufficiently unusual to ask Sarek's aides for confirmation. Other council members less inclined to accept Sarek's human wife and his half-human heir, aware that T'Pau had never accepted the former into the clan, were inclined to privately doubt, if not the tale, than the alleged ability. They didn't communicate that to Sarek, but they spoke of it to other council members who did.

Sarek's chief aide was tasked with approaching Sarek about this situation. After hearing of Sarek's interview with Suchon himself, he considered briefly before saying, "I believe we must have Spock give evidence of this alleged ability."

"Spock has passed all the ancient tests. It is not the purview of Council," Sarek retorted, "to demand anything more of him."

"But we have Suchon spreading this remarkable tale among populace and Councilors alike. Yet he is unable to give evidence of his own; he relates only Spock's assertions. There are those in Council inclined to believe that assertion, but others in Council doubt –"

"Spock's veracity?" Sarek asked dangerously.

"Suchon has been interviewed. His veracity is confirmed. But Spock's has not been."

Sarek said nothing, knowing he could not even claim to have confirmed it himself, having never spoken to Spock about the matter.

"Sarek, naturally I do not impugn Spock's truthfulness. But it could be some misunderstanding on Suchon's part. The only way to silence these doubts of Spock's veracity is to have him attempt to demonstrate these abilities to Council."

"Negative. It is not the business of Council."

"But what is the difficulty if Spock has these abilities?" the aide persisted. "If he does, I believe Council should know – they are legendary abilities attributed in the past to the heirs of Surak. If Spock possesses them, it solidifies his position as heir. You must consider that useful."

"Spock is heir, proven by passage of all the ancient rites. These abilities have never been a requirement of the heir to Surak."

"True. But it would silence those who, due to his mother's heritage, have spoken of Spock not being suitable as heir – you know there are factions that say these things, Sarek, even if not to you. Such an amazing ability, out of legend, could end all such discussions."

"Such discussions are invalid and do not deserve any effort of Spock's to validate or not."

"Sarek. Speak with Spock. Ask him if he is willing to submit to a test of this ability."

Sarek did not answer. Staring at his aide, he deduced that momentum would soon require action, regardless of the legitimacy of the Council to invoke or demand such proof. Vulcan curiosity, once raised, too often demanded satisfaction. He would have to decide whether to deny Council directly or broach such to Spock.

Before the discussion could be carried forward, another aide came to him with a request to move the Alliance meeting with Starfleet regarding the Neutral Zone study group from Council Keep to the Fortress. There was apparently a conflict within the Keep that required the meeting room be freed. Sarek went off to deal with those arrangements.

xxx

At the Science Academy, Spock was encountering his own difficulties from Suchon's tales.

"Well, if it isn't the Heir to Surak," a voice drawled. "Not just scion to a dynasty, but the saver of old men from danger with his superior mountaincraft. And one who allegedly knows where all the lematya live too. How can such a paragon exist in one half breed?"

Spock halted. He had thought himself relatively safe at the Science Academy, where all attending should have mastered the Disciplines. It seemed not. He glanced behind him, noticing there was no other person in this service hallway. He was usually more careful not to be caught alone, but after a period of no altercations, he had become complacent as to his safety. He eyed the Vulcan ahead of him measuringly. A teen like himself, unknown to him personally. The other had three or four years on him and perhaps a third more body weight. But mass could be used against one, and Spock had put more than one lematya down.

"I have no quarrel with you," Spock said, while thinking, with a touch of despair, Why always? Even here, at the Science Academy. Am I never to be accepted?

"But I have with you, half breed!"

Apparently not, Spock thought, given that slur. His mood turning darker, he dropped the netpads he was carrying and flexed his hands as the young Vulcan came for him, prepared to defend himself. He neatly sidestepped out of the way as the Vulcan rushed him, then gave the other a boost, causing him to crash into a cart of recharging maintenance robots waiting to be dispatched on their nightly service. The cart upended, robots spilling everywhere, the metal cart bent with the impact. The other Vulcan tore a bar off the damaged cart, wielding it like a lirpa.

Spock jumped backwards, not soon enough to prevent a slice being ripped through his tunic sleeve, then kicked the bar away – his legs and feet were far stronger than his arms. Against an older stronger opponent with a longer reach, it was the logical move, and sent the other sprawling again. This time his opponent was slower rising to his feet.

Spock was debating what action to take – he suspected his father would prefer he flee rather than finish the altercation definitively, or even just act defensively as he was doing - when a custodian came rushing up, scanning the scene.

"What is occurring here?" the newcomer asked. "Who has upset my valuable -?"

"It's none of your business, cleaner," the young Vulcan said, shaking his head and pulling himself upright. "Leave!" Snatching the bar up again, he turned back to Spock.

"Kroykah!" an older voice said, coming up from behind them.

Spock turned fractionally, unwilling to turn his back on his attacker, to see a man in Council dress, wearing the over-robe of a part time faculty member, coming out of a nearby fresher.

His attacker was unphased, "He attacked me!" he claimed, "That half—"

"You will not repeat that epithet again," the elder Vulcan said. "I heard everything, Sindess. Including Spock's attempt to pacify your violence."

"He-"

"You will report to the dean's office at the 20th hour," the elder Vulcan said. "With your father. Go home now."

For a moment the other stood, holding his weapon still, breathing hard. The custodian, who had been hesitating, unsure if to go or stay, took a threatening step toward him. Sindess dropped the bar, then turned and left.

"Are you undamaged, Spock?" the elder asked, as the custodian picked up his metal bar and righted the cart of robots, muttering. Spock went over to help him.

"Affirmative. I don't know you," Spock looked up at his benefactor, trying to place the many Council and clan markings on his tunic while settling his own disarranged metabolism from fight to something approaching Vulcan calm.

"And yet we have been long acquainted, though you were a near infant when we first met. I am Sofet."

Spock inclined his head, placing the name as a kinsman. "Honored Cousin."

"I believe the honor is mine."

The robots restored, and the custodian dispatched on his way, still muttering over his broken cart, Spock went to pick up his netbooks, his ripped sleeve flapping.

"Perhaps we might have a cup of tea together," Sofet said, as placidly as if the moment's violence had never occurred. "Such an encounter fairly begs for a moment of civilized discourse."

"As you will," Spock said.

Sofet led him down a hallway to an innately carved door.

"But I can't go in there," Spock said, stepping back.

"You will be my guest," Sofet said.

Spock set his mouth and followed him in.

Inside the faculty lounge, Sofet led Spock to a secluded table, where a uniformed page brought them tea and a selection of eatables.

"I generally have a meal at this time," Sofet said. "Honor me by taking refreshment."

Put like that, Spock could hardly refuse, though his stomach was unsettled. He drank rather deeply from the cup of tea – the encounter, besides upsetting his equilibrium and his stomach, had dried his mouth and left him thirsty. When Sofet poured him more without comment, and gestured to the food, he took a small toasted seed cake layered with fruit, since it seemed ill-mannered to decline it altogether. He blinked with surprise at the flavor, unusual in his experience for school food. "This is excellent."

"Why do you think I eat here?" Sofet said wryly, "The food in the faculty refectory is far better than in the student cafeteria."

Spock flicked a brow in amused concession and took a second seed cake, his appetite having suddenly awakened. Across the room, the door opened and another knot of faculty entered. Spock felt the seed cake congeal in his throat as he noticed who was part of the group. A very human woman, who in spite of her companions, some Vulcan, some outworlders, was smiling and even laughing as she conversed. Spock found himself flushing, inadvertently self conscious, and eyeing the other groups in the room to evaluate how this was regarded by her colleagues. He was surprised to discover that no one in the refectory gave the group any undue notice.

"Do you wish to join your mother?" Sofet asked.

"N-No."

Sofet flicked a brow. "I myself am not personally acquainted with her."

Spock said nothing, hoping this was not a tacit hint for him to introduce her. Somehow, he suspected that fresh from a fight, his tunic torn and disarranged, was not the time she would wish for him to approach her at the Academy, nor to introduce a Vulcan relative to her.

"But alas, I must shortly appear at Council for an important vote." Sofet peered at him. "Are you aware of the nature of this vote?"

"Negative." Spock eyed him, and took another cautious bite of cake. Since Sofet appeared to be waiting for an answer, he asked, "Should I be?"

Sofet flicked a brow, in mild surprise, but didn't divulge further. "I regret the hostility which that individual expressed. Have you encountered any other such experiences here?"

"Negative," Spock said. He would have somehow gotten around confessing that even if he had.

"He will be dealt with appropriately."

Spock shifted uncomfortably. "I am willing to let the incident pass without further repercussions or notice."

"But I am not. The Science Academy is for the intellectual elite. Those here are expected to have mastered the Disciplines. To be focused on dispassionate study. Not brawling like pre Kahs Wan infants."

Spock glanced inadvertently at his mother, but Sofet was frowning at his steepled hands, continuing with, "This is no place for such behavior, or for such undisciplined attitudes."

"Yes, sir.'

"Cousin," Sofet corrected, looking up from his hands with mild reproof.

Spock looked at him, unwillingly touched by the address. He had very little experience of kinsman claiming such relationships with him. "Yes, cousin." He ate a few more bites of cake.

Sofet frowned slightly. "Spock… what Suchon has stated, about the lematya...?"

Spock colored faintly at the mention.

"Is it - with you - as he claims?"

Spock looked at him for a long moment, as if doubting Sofet's good intentions. "Yes," Spock admitted. "But, truly, I had no idea it was a point of conflict to have such an ability."

"Certainly it is not. Merely unusual. Except, perhaps, for the direct descendents of Surak."

"I had not known it was even that, until recently," Spock said.

Sofet studied him. "You do not regret that heritage, do you?"

Spock flicked a brow. "Rather that it seems some regret it in me."

Sofet half smiled. "I see. It is being burdened with the gifts of Surak that you find regrettable."

Spock said nothing, then ventured, "More that others find them so."

"The thinking of such others is their own problem."

"Some at least, have made it mine," Spock said darkly. Then he let out a little sigh. "I truly did not know that it was wrong. In any way."

"It is not wrong. But such an ability has not been attested for -"

"Surely you can see that makes it wrong, in some other's minds, for me."

Sofet tilted his head, considering, "Do you consider the judgment of ignorant children to rule you? Or is It that of others? Perhaps of Sarek?"

Spock said nothing. He would not have spoken of his relationship with Sarek to this stranger, regardless of his kinsman status. He never even spoke of it to T'Pau, and only rarely to his mother.

"Perhaps both," Sofet said, taking that from the lack of denial to either as evidence. "I suspect, for Sarek, it was merely unexpected. But though your father does not possess such an ability, it is not outside the realm of your familial traits."

Spock looked at the man who spoke so easily of his father, without the usual obeisance that most Vulcans affected. "Perhaps it is acceptable, within my father's heritage."

"But you think not within your own?" Sofet half smiled again. "Sarek does not have this gift."

"Therefore I should not," Spock reiterated.

"Do you think you compete with Sarek?"

Spock started back at that unlikely comparison, then regained control. "How could I, when I had no idea this was out of the ordinary?"

"And you don't wish to be out of the ordinary?"

Spock said nothing.

"I am afraid you cannot escape that, from either side of your heritage. Spock, those Vulcans who are not of your line, can find the gifts of Surak …somewhat over encompassing. That would be true regardless of your mother's heritage."

"But those in my father's line, find them even more so because of my mother."

'Perhaps. Only because they perhaps did not expect them, and are thus unprepared to deal with them."

"I don't wish to be dealt with," Spock said shortly. "I see no need to have it mentioned again, as I will not."

"It may not be that easy," Sofet said.

Spock bent his head.

Sofet sighed. "Unfortunately, I have that vote in Council to which I must attend."

Spock slid to his feet, "I am honored by your consideration…Cousin."

"I trust we will meet again," Sofet said as they parted, Spock doing his best to minimize his flapping sleeve from any onlookers.

Spock looked after the elder Vulcan broodingly as Sofet disappeared into the knots of walkers, half regretting the meeting. Based on experience he doubted it could result in anything good. Then he squared his shoulders and went on to face his day.

Coming home after his classes, Spock noticed a swarm of flyers on the hard packed sands before the Fortress' main gate, and another swooping towards it, coming from the Sirakvui Spaceport, rather than from Shikahr. Spock courteously cut back, to give the guest precedence. But at the back of his mind was one of his father's adjurations. It had been one of the few instructions Sarek had given him that hadn't been straight out of standard flight regulations, or the parameters for his type of flyer. He also remembered the dark look in his father's eyes, the way menace had sharpened the lines and planes of his face, even seemingly without him changing expression.

"If you ever find yourself bracketed by unknown craft, Spock, herded or driven to a location - even if you are unsure of the motivation - you are to avoid that by any and all means. Even, or perhaps especially toward the Fortress. You are to cut out, above the forcescreens here, and take evasive action." And Sarek had shown him the sequence of keys that would bypass the fight and speed restrictions on his little flyer, and give it a facile boost of power.

Of course, in his modifications, Spock had removed most of the 'nanny' restrictions on his little craft, while leaving them ostensibly in place to any overt review. Freeing him from requiring such a bypass sequence. Only someone who did more than casual servicing of the craft would notice his omissions and bypasses. And Spock intended to do all his own maintenance and service.

But that didn't mean he disregarded his father's words. Innate courtesy, born and further trained in him, would have automatically made him give precedence to a stranger. But now, without conscious thought, he cut back his engines to let the other vehicle pass him and then with a burst of power flew high, clearing the top of the Fortresses forcescreens rather than going through them to land. Circling the Fortress to reconnoiter, he scrutinized the activity below.

Many flyers had landed before the gates, and he could see the Fortress guard had increased accordingly. They were ringed around the parapets and guard posts, and several dozen appeared to be on the ground by the gate. Spock set his sensors to scan the crowd, curious at the need for extra security. With the increased magnification, he saw the familiar emblazons of the Andorian and Tellur ambassadors, and other Alliance members. It must be some sort of meeting, or conference, Spock concluded, with security being increased to protect such valuable targets accordingly. With that confirmed, Spock swooped back down and cleared the forcescreens, landing just after the flyer he had given way to. He saw it was familiar, carrying the Federation and Starfleet emblazons. So not strictly an Alliance meeting, Spock concluded.

In spite of having landed well after the Federation vehicle, he alighted first, and was walking past when the occupant stumbled coming out the hatch, nearly falling face first onto the sands. Spock leapt forward to offer assistance, even before the personage's accompanying guards could move. He cushioned the man's fall, going down on his arms to the ground.

"You will forgive my breaching of courtesy," Spock said, letting go of the man when as he recovered his balance and began to rise with a grunt, "but disorientation is not uncommon for those newly arrived to Vulcan. Time is required to accustom oneself to the change in gravity and oxygen levels."

Longworth squinted at Spock, even as he straightened, his aides running up to help. "Oh, I've torn your tunic. I apologize."

"No, I –"

"I've seen you before!" Longworth said.

"Affirmative, sir," Spock said. He nodded to the approaching gate guards, indicating he had this visitor in hand. "You are here for a meeting?"

"In the Armory."

"I can show you the way, sir." The Admiral's aides also dropped back, giving them privacy.

"That was you on that ship. On patrol in the Neutral Zone Patrol sector, weren't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Young, aren't you, to be in Vulcan's Space Force?"

"I was serving an internship, sir."

"Hmmm. And I've seen you here, twice before."

"This is my home."

The human looked from the Fortress to Spock as if doubting anyone lived in such an edifice.

"Ambassador Sarek is my father," he continued. "My name is Spock."

"M' name's Longworth. Admiral." The Admiral tugged at his collar, his face shading into an unhealthy red.

"Perhaps you would like to rest here, a moment," Spock said, pausing by a huge lematya statue in the courtyard. He indicated a nearby bench. "You seem unwell."

"Just off ship," Longworth mumbled. "Bit of a headache."

"Indeed," Spock said uneasily. "The pressure and oxygen levels here, in the foothills, generally require acclimation or at least, medication for humans. Failure to do so can result in-" He was cut off by Longworth pitching forward again. Spock barely caught him and eased him to the ground.

"Admiral! Admiral!" His aides rushing up from where they had dropped back, giving privacy to the Admiral's conversation, now shook him to no avail. One pulled out a communicator, then looked at a loss when he had no answer. "Our ship is in spacedock, out of communicator range. He needs a doctor-"

"A resident human physician is known to me," Spock said, and put out his hand for the communicator. "If you will permit me."

In short order, Dr. Mark Abrams' flyer was landing on the sands. After a hefty dose of triox, and some other drugs to manage altitude sickness, the Admiral recovered his color and equilibrium.

"Thank you for your prompt attention, Doctor," Longworth said, breathing easier.

"Well, I fairly jumped to get a summons from this character," Abrams said, gaze settling on Spock. "Never thought I'd see the day."

Spock eyed him warily in turn. They had a long history with each other, not all of it estimable.

"I'm well enough to join the meeting," Longworth said.

"Yes," Abrams turned his attention back to his patient. "Next time your ship's physician premedicates you, remind him that this location is a few thousand meters higher than Shikahr proper, with atmospheric pressure and oxygen levels reflecting that. It is cooler here than in Shikahr, I'll grant you, and more comfortable for humans in that regard. Maybe that's why they moved your meeting here. But if you're coming just off ship, best to premedicate for the Llangon Mountains, not the Shikahr plains. And you'd do better to acclimate properly, with a stint at a lower altitude on planet, rather than relying solely on drugs and coming directly to the mountains."

"I'm afraid in Fleet we don't always have that luxury, Doctor. But I'll remind him," Longworth said.

"Or you could wear an environmental suit." At Longworth's lip curl, he shrugged. "I know, and these young ones," he regarded Longworth's aides, "can adjust more readily but as we get older-" He broke off at Longworth's renewed scowl. "Well, a pleasure to meet you, Admiral." Abrams turned to Spock. "Tell your mother I said hello," Abrams said, and scrutinized the boy. "And tell her I said to feed you. You get any leaner and I could have her up on charges of abuse for starving a child."

Spock's mouth set and his eyes narrowed. "I will consider your message, sir."

"Behave yourself," Abrams said, and nodded to the Admiral. "Sir." He took his leave.

"The Armory is this way, sir," Spock said. "If you are well enough to walk. If not, I could summon the guards for a litter. We have one in the archives, I believe. T'Pau once -"

"Good Lord, no. I'm feeling better. I had thought the meeting was at Council Keep, in Shikahr. It was only after I was in the flyer that I remembered it had been moved up here. Some sort of last minute vote in Council Keep, bumping any 'outworlders' out of the place. They say Vulcans are supposedly so-" He eyed Spock and cut off whatever he was about to say, "My own fault.

Spock said nothing to that. He knew from experience with his mother, that humans had a spotty memory.

"I owe you thanks as well," Longworth added.

"I rendered such assistance as was logical."

"Hmm. Nevertheless you were something of a lifesaver. Quick thinking." Longworth gave Spock a shifty gaze. "Didn't you like serving in Vulcan's Fleet?"

"I found it interesting," Spock said. "But as I was scheduled to matriculate at the Science Academy, my stay on patrol was short. Though I do expect to return, periodically."

"You speak Standard very well."

Spock's lips curved briefly before he controlled himself. "It is a primary language for me. My mother is human."

"I knew that," Longworth said, nodding. "Half forgot it though. Got enough on my mind."

Spock forbore again to comment on his long familiarity with faulty human memory, slowing as they reached their destination.

"Speaking of schools, we have a fine school in Starfleet Academy," Longworth said, eyeing Spock speculatively as they came up to the Armory.

"I have never heard of it," Spock said as politely as he could. He stopped before the huge doors to the Armory, where the clamor of many voices rang from inside. "Your meeting is within."

"You are a might young for the Academy, but hey, boys grow. I'm giving these out to any likely young Vulcans I see. Haven't seen all that many, and none so qualified as you." He pressed a data chip into Spock's hand. "Take a gander to that, when you have a chance. And I'll see about replacing your shirt." He disappeared through the double doors, followed by his entourage.

Spock unfolded his hand, to regard the data chip, wondering why he should bring a male goose to it, and if he should have informed Longworth that in spite of the many Terran foodstuffs grown in the Fortress gardens, they raised no domestic fowl. The shirt remark he regretted, having not had opportunity to correct the Admiral's misconception as to the damage. But it seemed innocuous enough.

But reviewing the data chip in the accustomed way in a viewer in his room, he discovered it was a précis of the offerings of the Federation's Starfleet Academy. And while he saw no male geese there, he did read that they took applicants from all Federation members.

And later that afternoon, before the meeting in the Armory had ended, a guardsman delivered a package to his room, relayed by one of the Admiral's aides. Opening it, he discovered it was a t-shirt, of soft cotton, emblazoned with the logo of Starfleet Academy: a bridge, with stylized rays of the sun, and an odd triangular like symbol above. He raised a brow at it, and then shoved it in the back of his wardrobe. It was a too large for him now. But he supposed that someday, it might be made useful as nightwear.

He knew better than to consider leaving it out, or wearing it anywhere his father might see it. Given Sarek's views on Starfleet, it would only distress him.

But after his recent unpleasant experience at the Science Academy, the idea of Starfleet gave him something to consider

To be continued…

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