Amanda
The desert air surrounded them with puffs of dry coolness, scented with sage and crystalline minerals. Occasionally, a hot breeze with the tang of metal would pass by them on its way from the Forge to the lowlands. The stars that shown after 40 Eridanus A set were icy bright and hard, glittering in the black, thin sky.
"You haven't had anything to eat or drink for hours."
Spock had no response.
"Here's a cracker and a banana. I know you like bananas, so eat. And here's some water."
Spock slowly took the food and canister of water. He set it down by his feet and otherwise, did not move. "Vulcans only need to drink once a day-"
"I know you only need to drink one time a day, but that doesn't mean you should only drink once a day. You're always looking after me so let me look after you for a change. So drink."
It was obvious that the human was not going to leave him alone, so he took a small sip and peeled a little of the banana and took a bite. He went on studying his boots coated with the ochre red soil. The crystals in the sand glittered slightly as the sand was moved gently by the night breezes. A call from the high peaks drifted down to register on his ears as a silver night-bird calling to its mate.
"It's a shame to let this nice picnic basket of fine food go to waste." Jim sat beside the Vulcan. The air was cooling, but the sand was still warm from Eridani's fierce daytime heat. "The champagne and caviar are really quite good."
"Extravagant," was the Vulcan's only reply.
"Well, maybe, but Uhura did go to the trouble of collecting it and putting it in the cargo container, so I think we should at least eat it."
Spock gestured at the silver-gray food container on the slope below them. "Proceed."
"You know, it's been a really long day-"
"Then leave." There was a sharpness there that came across almost as rudeness.
Jim sighed and said nothing for a while.
As if to clarify, Spock continued. "I do not require your assistance."
"I know that. But you have it." And Jim got up and left Spock sitting on the ridge alone. He made his way carefully down to the more level plateau, keeping an eye on his footing in the heavier gravity. After a while, and after some champagne, cheese, crackers, foie gras, and caviar, he thought it was time to make another attempt.
Spock had not moved.
Jim stood a little ways off, looking down from the plateau at the panorama far below of steam, boiling lava, and frost-covered higher slopes. "It's quite a dichotomy. Lava here and frost over there. Nothing like this in Iowa. Just boring corn." He was watching Spock, but the Vulcan made no indication that he had heard his human friend. "I remember when you came to see me after my mother passed. It was a long way for you to come."
Silence. And then finally, Spock responded without much enthusiasm. "It was a courtesy paid to my commanding officer. Nothing more."
Jim smiled. "Oh, I think it was more than that." And he sat next to Spock, shoulders touching.
"You speak with undue emotion," was the expected response, but Spock did not move away from the touch. The human's sympathy came through the touch gently, as if he were trying not to disturb the Vulcan too much.
"I don't think I ever said thank you for coming. Thank you. It meant a lot to me."
The wind began that peculiar sound that came from winding in and out of the canyon walls. It moaned. It seemed appropriate.
"Oh, I also brought this." Jim handed Spock a bottle of white wine. Spock regarded the bottle with a bland stare then took it and opened it. He frowned after taking a sip.
"My sentiments, exactly. Now try this."
Spock took the opened bottle of red and tried a little. And kept drinking it.
"Whoa, there. You probably shouldn't take big gulps on an empty stomach."
"Vulcans do not get drunk. My metabolism processes the alcohol differently than yours."
"Ok, we'll see." Jim took the bottle back and saw there was only a small amount left. He frowned and drank the rest of it. "I'll have to talk to Uhura about her taste in wine." He took a long drink of the white wine and made a face.
"Why drink it if you don't like it?"
"It's here. It's wine. It's a lonely night on Vulcan…I don't know…just because."
Spock rolled his eyes in that Humans! gesture that some human men reserved for women.
Jim finished off the white and laid back resting his head on his folded arms. He watched a bird shape for a while, far above, circling on the rising thermals. It was faint, but he could see it in the reflected starlight from its silver, leathery skin.
"When I touched her mind, she called out to Sarek, thinking I was him." The Vulcan's voice was soft, almost remote.
Jim listened without moving, closing his eyes.
"I tried to help her, guide her, but she didn't acknowledge me. She called his name over and over. But of course, he never answered."
"Spock, I'm so sorry—"
"Why? You've done nothing to offend. You were there with me. He was not."
"I meant, I'm sorry you had to go through that—"
Spock stood suddenly. "He thought his mission more important than her. He could've been there. He knew her illness was serious. He could've come."
Jim sat up. "I'm sure he thought the logical choice was—"
"No! No, he knew her time was coming. He could've refused the mission. I was there, I made the time. I was there."
"Spock, I'm sure she appreciated—"
"Appreciated? She didn't even know who I was."
"Maybe he didn't get the message in time."
"I received the message from her doctors. He was sent a copy at the same time. I saw it. And I sent him a personal message. So where was he?"
"I can't answer that, Spock. That has to be between you and your father." Jim stood up.
Spock turned toward his captain with grim determination floating before him like a toxic cloud. "It will be, I promise you. It will be."
Jim backed away slowly, his hands out and palm up, mindful of the Vulcan reputation for potential explosive anger when provoked. He remembered a backhanded slap across the face from a long time ago. "Well, now I know what a drunk Vulcan looks like." He smiled gently.
After a moment, Spock sat down again, clumsily. "Vulcans don't get drunk."
"Oh. That's good to know." Jim was careful to sit down slowly. "You know, when I was 8, I heard about my father being missing. It was the same night we had a really bad thunderstorm, right over the house. The rain was hitting the roof and sounded like nails. There was hail, too, I think. All I remember is that it was loud. And there was thunder, really bad thunder. I was scared and I got in bed with Sam. I think I was crying. All I knew was, my dad may not be coming home ever again, and it sounded like the sky was splitting open."
Spock was staring out over the plateau and said nothing.
"One of the reasons I went into Starfleet was to find my father. I thought if I could talk to the right people, maybe make friends with someone with the right connections, I could find out what happened to him. He was listed as missing in action because they never found his body. So I thought, he could still be alive, somewhere, maybe lost…somewhere… on some planet? So I tried to find him, in a database somewhere, find out something…but I never did. Not even when I had a higher level of clearance, I couldn't find anything. So, eventually, I stopped looking." Jim felt his eyes tearing up, but it was probably just the dry, gritty wind. He rubbed his eyes. "If I could just have a few minutes with him…" It was getting harder to keep his eyes open. "I'm just saying, give your father a chance to explain. Don't say or do something you may regret later."
Eventually, Spock looked over at his human friend. "My father isn't George Samuel Kirk. He's Sarek of Vulcan. That should be all I have to say."
"Well, maybe it's obvious to a Vulcan…"
"The heir to the House of Surak would never be…lost in space. I should be so lucky…"
Jim stared for a moment. It seemed to be a kind of Vulcan joke. He didn't know if he should laugh or ignore it.
After a while, Spock took the bottle of white and finished it off. Jim had fallen asleep. Spock felt the wine burn in his stomach along with the anger and resentment. He began to pace, but the loose sand and wine made his steps clumsy. He knew he was losing control, but the admonishing voice in his head seemed faint and far way. His words spoken out loud seemed strange and a bit slurred. Was he really drunk? The shock of it seemed far away, as well. He tried the mind disciplines but couldn't seem to focus. Well, there was always the human way. He tried to will the confusion of his thoughts away but failed. He heard himself talking out loud, but it seemed a normal thing to do. "The Vulcan way…the human way…nothing works. I'm going to the Forge. Maybe that fire will burn this pain away." Spock turned to march away but slid and fell in the sand next to Kirk.
"Spock?" Jim felt the weight hit his shoulder and sat up. Spock was struggling to stand. "Where are you going?"
"To the…Forge…"
"No, Spock. You're in no condition to go there. Not now."
"I will go—"
Jim reached out to grab the Vulcan's arm, but Spock pulled away. "Spock, wait! I'll come with you." Jim saw the naked emotion on the Vulcan's face and knew his friend had lost his shield of non-emotion.
"No! You can't come! In this, I…am a Vulcan. The Forge's too hot for you. The air's posinis...poisonous."
Jim tried to follow.
"No! You can't come! I said, go home!"
Jim shrugged. "I am home."
Suddenly the image of an aging I-Chaya filled his mind. He shivered and grimaced at the memory.
"Spock, what's wrong?"
"I-Chaya followed me. The night of my kahs-wan. Or, the night I chose to practice my kahs-wan. I told him to go home, to go back, but he wouldn't listen. He followed me all the way to the Forge…" Spock half fell, half sat on the sand. "That was the night he died, saving me from a le-matya attack. He never left my side." Spock was overcome with the memory and felt his eyes fill with tears. "I tried to help him, but he was bitten. The poison filled his system. I ran all the way back to Shi'Kahr to get help. I found a healer who agreed to come back to the Forge with me. We took a shuttle, but by the time we got there, I-Chaya was dead." He felt the hot tears spill down his face, but strangely, he wasn't shamed by it.
"I'm sorry. It's hard to lose a childhood friend." It was only the second time Jim had seen the Vulcan in tears. He reached out and rested his hand on Spock's shoulder.
"I-Chaya was my friend, but he wasn't a child. He was my sehlat."
Jim nodded in understanding. "I had a big, golden lab on earth as a boy. We went everywhere together. Eventually, he got to be 12 years old and died. That's the year I left for Star Fleet Academy. That's a long life for a big dog."
After a while, Spock seemed to calm down and started to speak in his lecture voice, or tried to. Some of the consonants had a soft, shushing sound, as in Vulcan accented Federation Standard. "Sehlats are not dogs. They are very intelligent. They have a social structure. They adapt…adopt…they attach themselves to you and protect you. You don't own them. They choose to stay with you." Spock wiped his face with his shirt, leaving streaks of sand on his face.
Jim nodded in shared sympathy. "You're tired. Let's go back to the ship so you can sleep."
"I can't. I have to go back to the hospital and arrange for my…mother's…" His voice broke and he turned his face away. This time the effort to stop the tears worked, almost. He lost the battle as one tear stubbornly drifted down his face and neck. He sighed. Everything seemed a massive effort.
"I can come with you." Jim put his arm around Spock's shoulders.
"Let's use the transporter," Jim suggested.
"No." And Spock set off for the city at a slow but steady pace.
The walk back to the city took hours. Jim was tired but was able to keep up with Spock, who walked slowly. The sand seemed to suck the energy out of his legs. They topped a dune and saw the lights of the city in the distance.
"Can we use the transporter now?" Jim asked hopefully.
Spock seemed to come to himself and used his own communicator to call the ship. And he used his sleeve to scrub his face while waiting for the transporter beams to take them.
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