5 weeks later

The Enterprise was on course to Vulcan following a private commendation ceremony for Mr. Spock held at Starfleet Headquarters. The Service had awarded him the Blue Star Medal, a prestigious award for scientific application in service of the Federation. Thanks to his quick thinking, the Romulan cloud was neutralized. Mr. Spock was scheduled for six months of maternity leave. His due date was less than two weeks away, and Spock anticipated giving birth on his home planet with his family.

"It looks nice," said McCoy, gesturing to the handsome silver medal pinned to Spock's maternity dress uniform. The three friends had just entered the turbo lift to return to their quarters for the evening.

"While aesthetically pleasing, the appearance of the award is not important," replied Spock.

"Typical," grumbled McCoy, rolling his eyes. "I should know by now never to compliment a Vulcan."

"Indeed," replied Mr. Spock. "Which leads me to believe that you derive a strange sense of enjoyment from my constant . . . reproofs . . ." he trailed off, bringing his hands to his large stomach. Concern flashed across his face.

"Doctor, we must visit Sickbay. I believe that I am in labor," he stated calmly. Jim and McCoy looked down at the same time to see a dark stain spreading itself across Spock's pants. There was a green-tinged pool of fluid forming beneath him.

"Whoa!" cried Jim in surprise and mild disgust.

McCoy grabbed the turbolift throttle. "Sickbay!"

Within minutes of arriving, Spock was undressed and installed in a private room. McCoy and Chapel were busying themselves in preparation.

"What do you mean I can't stay?" protested Jim. "Spock's my best friend!"

"Sorry, Jim," said McCoy. "You'll just get in the way. You'll just have to wait outside. Besides, this could take a while. Spock doesn't exactly have what my grand-daddy would've called 'birthing hips.'"

The birth indeed took a while. For Spock, the experience seemed to illogically defy the passage of time; everything happened both very slowly and all at once. There was great pain: pain that ebbed and flowed and came in spurts with each contraction. Although Spock could use the Vulcan mind techniques to somewhat control the pain, he found he had no control over the birth itself. It was as if something greater than he was orchestrating the entire procedure; he was merely the medium.

He had never felt so focused on something in all his life. There seemed to be only one goal in the universe: to deliver the child. He could feel the telepathic reaches of the child's mind. He sensed confusion, fear, and deep curiosity about what was coming next. It won't be long now, little one, Spock thought towards the child. Soon I will hold you in my arms and we will finally meet face to face.

Spock was panting; he was sweating; he was groaning and breathing hard in measured gasps. McCoy's encouragements were distant ("Almost there, Spock! The head's out now. Just a few more pushes; you're doing so well.") The struggle, the labor continued.

And then, the infant emerged, and his baby cried for the first time.

It was a curious sound – no doubt to the others it was just another screaming baby, but to Spock it was so much more. As he listened to that squalling, he felt a strange sensation: great relief, great accomplishment, and intense anticipation. That voice was like the purest of all music.

"It's a girl!" exclaimed the doctor. "She's tiny but healthy. And very pretty too, despite all that ugly hollering."

Spock waited impatiently as the nurse cut the cord and bathed the child. And then he finally held her in his arms.

Spock rarely felt amazement, but he felt it now. It seemed nearly impossible that he had made this little creature. She was so tiny, yet so superior. She was indeed beautiful: big dark eyes, thin wisps of soft brown hair, and delicate little pointed ears. Her skin was soft and green-tinged. She had the smallest fingers and toes that he had ever seen.

"Greetings, little one," he said to the infant. "Welcome. I am your father, and you are my daughter. You shall be called . . . T'lym."

"That's pretty Mr. Spock," commented Christine. "What does it mean?"

"It is an old Vulcan name: the feminine form of the word 'star.' It seemed appropriate."

Christine smiled. "I think it's lovely."

This time, Spock was too distracted to comment that beauty was irrelevant.

"Well, Spock," said the doctor, grinning. "What do you think?"

"I am deeply satisfied," replied the Vulcan. "More than I believed was possible. I am pleased that she is healthy, and that the delivery proceeded well. I look forward to nurturing her, to becoming acquainted with this . . . new member of my family."

McCoy smiled. "I thought you might." And then he left father and daughter alone for a few minutes. As the pair observed one another, Spock felt their bond strengthen. Although the umbilical cord was cut, it was if she was still somehow attached to him.

Spock knew from then on that he and his daughter would always share a very special connection.