CHAPTER NINE
Spiraling into Madness, Unstopping


The site of Eilariv teased him as Spock stood on the hill overlooking it. It promised him his final destination: home. To Nyota, for she was his home.

"Well, fuck me. We're finally fucking here." Nettles came up beside him, looking down below.

Spock cast his eyes at him but said nothing. There was nothing to say. He felt pain and struggled to rein in his gasp. He succeeded, but only just. A small wave of nausea rushed over him, but he was able to press it down.

Shranya stood beside him. "Would you look at that?"

Spock stared at the sight below. Eilariv was once a thriving village, well known for its exotic seafood cuisine. Now it was a shadow of itself. It had been decimated in this war. The Federation forces had all but flattened the small coastal village. The beaches were singed and littered with the remains of several of Starfleet's shuttlecrafts. Smoke still rose in places.

Spock shook his head. It was getting fuzzy. He was overwhelmed with the desire to escape, the knowledge that his obligations, his separation from Nyota were coming to an end. "We must descend." He set off at a run, climbing down the rocky hill. Behind him, he heard Shranya and Nettles laboring after him.

Eilariv was even more impressive once they arrived at ground level. Several units, several officers and soldiers, men and women, of all of alien races, were lined along the beachfront. Some were laughing and celebrating a successful mission. Others were mourning, tears rolling down their faces as they stared out at the Romulan Ocean.

Spock saw a Starfleet officer – a lieutenant – strolling across the beach, a PADD in his hand. The officer was flanked by two security officers, their red shirts startling against the brown of the beach. He deduced that the man was attempting to take a head count.

He approached him, with his comrades trailing. "Sir." His voice was neutral, impassive. Underneath, however, he felt ill; he felt pain. "We have just arrived. May you inform us what we are to do?"

The lieutenant observed him and the others. He looked at their tattered uniforms, their bedraggled appearances and sneered. "Nothing. Just wait."

Spock ran a hand across his sweaty forehead. "When will the shuttles arrive?"

The officer glared at the trio when he sighed and spoke. His words were laced with disdain, with derision. "There were a few here yesterday, but the Romulans blew them to hell." He sighed once more, heavily. "We lost several good officers."

Spock heard the tone of the man's voice and understood it for what it was. The lieutenant had disliked them on sight. He had taken in their mismatched non-Starfleet uniforms, their haggard appearances and deduced that they were mercenaries. The mercenary troops were often riddled with criminals, those that had been deemed too unworthy to participate in Starfleet.

Spock understood that hatred, but he refused to let it deter him. This man did not know him, did not know the circumstances in which Spock had fallen into the mercenaries' ranks. He needed to go back. To her. He needed to ensure that this man knew this. "I am expected to return."

The lieutenant scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You and everyone else, mercenary. So you'll just have to wait your turn." He looked Spock over, fully taking in his dirty appearance, his pale face. "Just be grateful you're not injured. Starfleet has ordered us to leave the wounded behind."

Spock's eyebrow shot upwards. "That is illogical. Why would Starfleet force the wounded to remain on Romulus, knowing it would mean certain death? Under whose command were those orders issued?"

The man sighed, irritated.

The security personnel beside him stepped forward, ready to act if necessary.

The lieutenant spoke, letting his true feelings known. "Look here, mercenary. The way I see it? Starfleet doesn't need the help of criminals to do its job. If I had it my way, we'd be leaving all of you trash here." He spit on the ground beside Spock.

Spock furrowed his brow.

Nettles stepped forward in an outrage, getting in the lieutenant's face. "Now look here, Lieutenant. Do you have any idea who you're talking to? That there is Commander fucking Spock! And you'd best show some fucking respect."

The two security officers removed their phasers from their holsters and aimed them at Nettles.

Spock pulled the man back, his hand on Nettles' shoulder. "That is unnecessary, Nettles. And incorrect. I am no longer an officer of Starfleet."

The lieutenant smiled coldly, though he said nothing.

Spock kept his gaze level with the hostile officer as he spoke to Nettles. "We must not intervene. We will return home."

He released Nettles and moved away from the lieutenant and his security officers, who slowly returned their phasers to their holsters. Spock sighed heavily, halting his steps. He keeled over slightly, attempting to catch his breath. When he slowly returned to an upright position, he looked down at his green-stained uniform jacket. It appeared that his injury had worsened. He assumed it was due to his overexertion when he descended the hill.

He looked up and noticed Nettles and Shranya staring at him.

He could not allow them to know the extent of his injury. He took a deep breath and stepped forward. His feet almost slipped out from under him, but he managed to catch himself before he collapsed.

"Are you okay?" There was a nervous edge to Shranya's voice.

Nettles circled Spock, stopping when he stood in front of him. "Yeah. You look like fucking death."

Spock wiped the sweat from his brow with a shaky hand. "I assure you, I am simply tired. I must meditate."

Nettles and Shranya initiated eye contact with one another.

"If you shall excuse me, I will endeavor to find a suitable location for meditation." He moved away from them, his eyes dancing around the beach. He brought one hand to his wound, covering it. He winced and wiped sweat from his brow once more.

He was growing increasingly disorientated and lightheaded. He looked out at the ocean, at the Romulan sun low in the sky. It was nearly nighttime.

He wandered the beach for several moments. He nearly tripped several times, but each time he managed to save himself.

"Taluhk nash-veh k'dular." (1)

He stumbled to a halt, hearing the Vulcan words of affection. He tilted his head, trying to find the source. His wild eyes scanned those waiting on the beach. No one looked at him; no one paid him any mind.

His eyes slid closed and he swayed on his feet. "K'hat'n'dlawa. Dungau-fun nash-veh. Dungau-nam teretuhr etek." The words were spoken quietly, a whisper, a prayer that was quickly lost in the wind. (2)

He opened his eyes, shaking his head to clear it. He stumbled past fellow mercenaries, past Starfleet officers, toward the streets of Eilariv. Spock walked into the decimated village, gazing around, his eyes watery and rimmed with a sickening green.

Dead bodies lay in the streets, scorched from phaser fire. They mostly belonged to Romulan soldiers. Some were Federation.

His keen ears heard the sonic boom of small vessels above. He jerked his head skyward to look, nearly stumbling backward in the process.

They were Tellarite. Were they the same vessels they had seen earlier? Were they returning from a mission? Or heading for one?

Soon, he would be on a shuttle. He would be returning to her.

He stopped in a narrow Romulan street, looking around listlessly. He swayed on his feet, weakly catching himself on the wall of an abandoned dwelling, running a hand across his sweaty face.

Shranya came up behind him, holding a hand out. "Are you sure you're okay?" She had followed him, out of concern.

He didn't answer, but his eyes suddenly caught a glimpse of a woman, who stepped across shattered glass into an old shop. She turned to look at him.

His eyes widened and his interest was piqued. "Wait here," he mumbled to Shranya.

She sighed helplessly but did as he asked.

Spock stumbled his way toward the shop, toward her. He entered the shop, bracing himself against the frame of the broken window. He looked around the room. He was sweating, pale. He eyed a lit fire and teetered toward it.

"Why don't you sit?"

He spun around and lost his balance briefly. Spock managed to save himself from falling, his hand reaching out and bracing against a dusty counter. "Nyota?"

She smiled kindly, lovingly at him. "Spock."

"How are you here?"

She didn't answer but raised her hand, pointing behind him.

He followed her hand and moved slowly to the chair that was placed before the fireplace. He swayed on his feet before falling gratefully in the chair. "It is hot in here." He shivered.

She smiled and knelt before him. "You're tired."

Spock nodded. "Yes." He took a deep breath. "I am unequivocally, undeniably exhausted."

"Take off your boots."

He shook his head slightly, though he did just that, bending and shakily removing his worn boots. "I must return."

She smiled. "Yes."

"That is what I promised. I shall return and we will live our lives together." He pitched forward in the chair, towards her.

She reached out and gently caressed his face. "Yes. We'll be together again and will be able to put everything behind us."

He closed his green-rimmed eyes and leaned into her touch. "My Nyota. I have missed you."

She nodded slowly.

"You love me. You are waiting for me." He said these words without conceit. He knew the truth.

"Yes. And now, you must come back to me."

His eyes closed and his breathing labored.

A sudden loud explosion sounded outside, but he paid it no mind. It was not important. It was not.

"You are a hallucination, are you not?" Spock didn't know why he spoke these words. He needed her to be real. He needed her here. He needed her.

But she couldn't be real. Last time he saw her, it was on Andoria, where she was working with the broken Vulcans, trying to rehabilitate them, even if that was a losing battle.

"Am I?" Her voice was gentle. Comforting.

Spock said nothing. He leaned forward into her, his hands gripping the arms of the chair tightly, his knuckles whitening.

He just wanted to rest. His eyes closed and they remained so for several moments. Five point three minutes to be precise.

When he opened them, she was gone.

Spock felt the irrational pain of separation. An unfamiliar burning sensation in his throat and eyes irritated him. He took a deep breath in an attempt to center himself, but an insuppressible gasp of pain expelled the air from his lungs.

He slowly got to his feet, swayed and righted himself. And with considerable effort, Spock made his way back outside the building.

Shranya was waiting outside for him. She looked at him, at his bare feet with confusion, her antennae moving sporadically.

He said nothing to her as he passed. He needed to lie down.

"Wait!" she called out.

Spock slowed slightly and she caught up.

"Where are your boots?" She glanced back down at his feet.

He said nothing. Really, there must be a place to lie down. It was only logical for there to be some place to rest.

Shranya circled in front of him, halting his movements. "Spock? Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

He gave a jerky nod. "Yes."

She raised an eyebrow skeptically.

He continued forward, concentrating on his steps, on his destination. "It is only logical for the Romulans to have beds, is it not?"

Shranya looked at him, concern in her eyes. It was a peculiar sight. She was a murderer; she didn't regret her crimes, but she was looking at him with something akin to sorrow, to sympathy. She approached him slowly, coming to his side. She reached an arm out hesitantly, as though she wasn't sure it would be appropriate to touch him.

Typically, Spock would have shied away from it. But he was so tired. So exhausted. He did not flinch when her hand came to a rest on his forearm.

She stopped him gently and stood in front of him, her antennae directed at him, still. "Commander?"

Spock shook his head. "I am no longer a Commander. I have not been for four years. You would be wise to note that."

She sighed. "Spock."

He stepped around her, turning down a small street lined with rubble from the crumbling buildings above.

The Andorian female followed him. He heard her footsteps behind him, hesitant. He looked around, at the buildings, the bland buildings. This wasn't it. Where was it? "This is wrong. I do not..."

Shranya came closer to him. She motioned to an open door. "This'll do. Come here, Spock."

He shook his head. The motion caused him to lose his balance and he braced himself against the wall. Shranya grabbed his arm, attempting to catch him.

"No. It is not here. It is a little further on." He was adamant.

She cocked her head. "What is?" Her voice was quiet.

"The place. The place I am to meet her. She is waiting. Large arches. View of the Andorian mountains. I am told they are pleasing to the eye. She is waiting for me." He looked around the small side street. Heavy debris blocked his path and he was forced to climb it. He did so slowly and with great difficulty. His breathing labored extensively. His bare feet caught on the ragged edges, leaving green stains on the jagged slabs.

Shranya sighed heavily, halting slightly in her steps. She slowly placed both of her hands on him, one around his waist, the other on his arm. "Yes. I remember. You told me. You're absolutely right. We should take you there."

"Yes." Spock nodded. "It is close to here, is it not? I saw her eight minutes and fourteen seconds ago. She is waiting."

Shranya directed him through the open door. "We're here. You're right. It was close. This is it."

He nodded. "Yes."

She led him to a small bed inside the tiny dwelling. Wooden furniture littered the floor. Most of it had been shattered at some point during the battle at Eilariv. It looked as though the dwelling had once belonged to a carpenter.

Shranya pulled the dirty and singed sheets back and helped him remove his jacket.

Spock collapsed in the bed, unable to sustain his strength any longer.

"There. Take it easy, Commander," she whispered.

He shook my head. "I am not a Commander any longer."

She nodded. "Sorry." She draped the soiled sheets across his body.

Spock closed his eyes and turned his head to face the ceiling. However, when he opened his eyes, there was no ceiling. It had been destroyed. But he could see... The corners of his lips rose slightly. "The mountains. My Nyota. She was right. They're beautiful." He looked at Shranya. "They say that Vulcans cannot love. That we cannot feel. But we do. I do. I feel. I love her. I love her with a passion no human can understand. If they did, if they knew and understood how much Vulcans love, they never would have taken me away from her. Never. She is mine. And I am hers. And we are to be together soon. She is waiting." He slowly brought a finger to his lips. "Shh. She does not know I am finally returning to her. I wish to surprise her."

She was sitting on the ground beside him. She looked at him with tears in her eyes, her antennae drooping.

"Why are you crying?"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I wanted to thank you. For saving me when you did. You didn't have to. You shouldn't have."

Spock's eyes closed once more and he shook his head. His breathing was ragged and he labored to take breaths. "Do not concern yourself with that, Shranya. I was merely doing my duty. I must meet someone. I must meet Nyota. She's waiting for me. I am always keeping her waiting."

Shranya smiled sadly. She reached out and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Now, you listen to me, Commander."

He tried to interrupt her. Correct her. He was not a commander. He had not been for four years. He must return to her. She is always waiting for him. But he was so tired. He merely nodded.

"You want to know what I heard? The shuttles are coming soon. We'll be off this forsaken planet before you know it. We'll be off. We'll be heading home. And you'll be able to see her."

Spock smiled. A small smile. A smile that a Vulcan would never have seen fit to make. But he was only half-Vulcan. He whispered to her, "Wake me before we embark, would you? Thank you, Shranya. I shall not speak another word."

He closed his eyes.


Translations:

(1) I cherish thee.

(2) Half my mind, half my soul. I shall return. We shall be together.