a/n: Hopefully you all enjoyed the weekend tremendously. Here is the next installment in my little interpretation of events. Thanks for all of your comments, they were greatly appreciated. Sorry once again about the patchiness of my writing. For some reason I lack consistency in my inspiration. Half of this chapter was written as soon as I uploaded the last, but it just kind of sat. I also was thinking about including music recommendations for reading. A friend of mine experimented with themed music for his blog entries and it was kind of nice. We'll see how I could possibly work that out. In lieu of that I could just recommend that you check out That's It I Quit I'm Moving On by Adele. And on to the fic...
IN THE ENCAMPMENT
Nyota had made a place for herself in the small dimly lit room by squeezing into a corner. Sleep was coming in micro naps now. She wanted to at least have her back to the wall if she fell asleep. No matter how sharp the edge of her senses, sleep stole her for a few seconds, then minutes. Soon she feared sleep would win and she and Spock would both be left unconscious in this precarious place. Nyota brought her forearms over her knees, pulling them up to her chest and keeping one eye on the aged Vulcan working on Spock. Two tears fell from either eye and made trails through the dust that had covered her face on their long journey. Dirty and stretched to her limit Nyota's eye closed and she finally fell into an uneasy sleep.
Walking by the slight moonlight through the encampment Saziz found the door he was looking for. Knocking in the agreed upon code, the door creaked open almost instantly. A mixture of stale air and nutmeg flowed from the opening. Not that Saziz found the smell cloying and overwhelming, he had grown up in it, had found his early fondest memories in nutmeg spiced food given him by the only parent he had ever known. One streak of moonlight escaped into the small room turning the gray hair of the woman silver in the light, skin translucent, and stripping her grey eyes of color. From a distance this woman might have appeared as a ghostly apparition on the surface of Vulcan. Saziz grinned at the sight of the woman, walking up to her and moving his arms around her waist to spin her in a circle while saying, "Hello mamoo, I have come bearing gifts." Smiling, the woman placed her hand against her son's face and said, "where are these gifts?" "I will go and bring them to you. Wait here." Saziz disappeared through the door as quickly as he had come, closing the door. Nasreen watched her son go, shaking her head at how beautifully child-like he could become when excited. Nasreen's eye clouded over as she remembered that he wouldn't be a child for much longer. His fires would approach soon, and then she could not save him from the fate of the culture he had been raised in, despite her best efforts.
SPOCK'S MIND
Spock was trying to meditate desperately, but found that the small trickle of water that had done what no sand storm could was causing him to chill and the trim of his outfit to grow damp. He was longing for dry clothes, but determined to outlast the annoyance. He checked his internal clock and found that he had succesfully meditated for a full hour this time. It was impressive, but perhaps not enough, if the water was any indication. Craning his neck slightly to the left to engaged his neck muscles in stretching to release tension. Suddenly it clicked that while the water level had risen, the howling of the wind had died down some. Amazed at the change Spock devoted his full attention to the sounds outside, picking up no rise in the storm with the lapse in meditation. Spock, sitting for a few minutes listening for assurance, made the decision. A small crack appeared in his cave, allowing in a low light. Outside it was raining gently, but the dust storm and lightning made no further show. Even as Spock worked to widen the entrance over the next few minutes, the rain fell steadily and the clouds moved gently, passing by with little haste. Spock was in wonder. His mind had rarely seen rain. Although unsure about the reasons, Spock saw an intact sky, cloudly or not as a good thing. Perhaps he should begin his track back to towards the upper layers of his mind. He might find shelter elsewhere along the path if events should turn. Slightly chilled, but seizing the opportunity created by the change, Spock began his trek.
IN THE FOOTHILLS
Skan sat with his small group, back to the night storm. Vulcan's hot earth was tossed up by the large storm that had appeared not unexpectedly in the desert. Chunks of the the now cooled earth flew through the wind like many meteors overhead. The warriors had taken shelter against the direction of the wind currents under a cave enclosure somehow eroded into the rock, probably by centuries of similar storms. His faced wrapped with only a small slit for his eyes, Skan's men could still see the tension in his muscles. It had been some decades since Skan had participated in military exercises as a young man in this very region. While much of Vulcan society considered itself escaped from the illogic of superstition and instinct, Skan's near lifetime of experience gave him the sense to realize better. This valley, apparition, ghost or not, had been the site of gruesome deaths to many a young soldier caught off guard. It had been centuries since anyone had thought of it seriously, but Skan was wary, he had felt too many eyes on his patrols. No, something was out there, and it had Spock and his charge.
NASREEN'S HOME
Saziz returned to his mother's home carrying something that looked like a wisp of cloth from a distance. Upon entering Nasreen realize it was merely a young girl. Her face was completely slack from exhaustion and Nasreen saw that the what she had interpreted as flowing movement, was the fitful twitching of an involuntary horrible daze-like sleep. She scolded Saziz for not bringing her earlier and set about making a space on a low flat cushioned wood-based sleeping pat. Feeling her head, the young girl was clammy and cold even with the poor circulation in Nasreen's hands. She ordered Saziz to fluff the few pillows and lay warm insulation blanketing over the poor thing. Nasreen was sure that she had not seen a young human girl in some forty years or so. It had been so long since she had swept the courtyard of her sunlit home back on Earth. Her favorite pomegranate tree hanging heavy with dark red fruit she loved to eat sitting on the flat roof. Nasreen was surprised by the forcefulness of the image, it was so vivid she could taste the earth and tart juice. Her eyes went wide and she had to pinch her eyes shut at the memory. a tear escaped unnoticed and she went back to her work. There would be later times to think on those early years. For now she must see that this reminder of her past would survive the night.
IN THE ENCAMPMENT
Spock awoke with a thrilling jolt of violent tremors and a loud primal scream. His body contorted and arched as if in the grips of tetanus and his jaw clenched at the rush of sensation that slapped him like warp speed for the time. After a few moments of further disorientation Spock lay panting to find himself in an empty low-lit room. Where was he? How had he gotten in this predicament? He quickly flashed to his last memory...Nyota. Where was Nyota? Spock was up and running down the corridor, the horror mounting in his side and heart at room after room of debauchery. It was almost too much, he felt his legs heavy as his mind processed the shock. What was this place? How could he find Nyota? Spock refused to imagine the worst of what lingered at the threshold of his near terror. If he let loose the encroaching swirl of rage and confusion he would be no good to her. Spock wiped his face, realizing tears had been pouring down his face. At the end of the corridor Spock reached an open door that seemed to lead outwards. In the least she had not been in any of the rooms.
a/n: Well this chapter just can't seem to write itself, but I couldn't just let it sit here unfinished. If you like, give me your input about what you think could be changed.