The garden in the house's central courtyard was at its best. The Vulcan plants showed the most color they did all year. The earth plants had their leaves fully spread to the cool morning drifts of light. As the day warmed, they would curl or fold themselves for protection. The colors of the native stems would fade to rusty gray. Amanda sat on the most comfortable bench in the deepest shade tapping a padd as if managing lists of things.
She raised her head at Spock's approach and her face took on a look of suppressed joy.
"Mother, may I ask your assistance with something?"
She nodded and set her things aside, patted the bench beside her. Spock settled down onto the thick cushions that covered the stone. He held his brand new padd in his hands.
"Thank you for the gift," he said, holding it up a centimeter higher.
"I asked a visiting retired Starfleet officer I met at an event what the best model would be."
"It was well-selected."
"I'm glad. What do you need help with?"
"Given the long span of time since we last communicated, I think it best to have your help composing a meaningful message to James."
"What has he written to you in the interim? That can be your guide."
Spock indicated the padd. "Do you wish to read the messages?"
"No, no. They are yours only. Just in general. What kinds of things does he tell you about?"
"He cannot tell me specifics. But instead speaks about how his mission is changing him."
"You could write the same, about your time in the temple. Unlike, I expect James does, you do not have restrictions on what you can say."
Spock considered the message he'd composed. The details about the room he'd been given, the lack of schedule, the changing sunlight, his long melds for training. He had composed the message in Vulcan with the intent of translating it before sending it. Many of the temple concepts had no Standard equivalents and he was finding it even harder than expected to compose equivalent meanings.
"I have attempted that. It is quite different from every past message I have sent. I expect past messages have been a burden. But they were likely more meaningful than this one."
Spock gestured at the message on the screen, the dual lines of Vulcan and Standard, one atop the other in different shades of gray, the Standard incomplete in places. "I do not think he needs many of the details I have included."
"I am certain James will be deeply interested in anything you have been involved in. Do not have concern for that."
She studied his face. A breeze rustled the leaves of the gangly vines growing like a weaving up a post in the corner of the courtyard.
"If you wish to ease James's mind, consider that he will be concerned that you two will grow apart during this separation, hence his need to know what you are experiencing. If you wait too long to reconnect and meet again as different people, something will be lost. Right?"
"Indeed."
"How would you describe that in words. That might be a guide for you."
Spock had spent the night contemplating this, replaying his memories with the advantage of his new perspective on them. The tendrils of past emotion still clung to the memories, much of it pleasing, but always stained and distorted by a great deal of emotional weakness on his own part.
Spock switched to Standard. "There is mutual understanding there that creates an environment that one can inhabit with ease. Knowing oneself without risk in the present but also having room to develop toward the future."
"That's a nice sentiment. I think James would agree with that."
"It does not ressemble a proper personal message, however," Spock said. "And I do not properly understand it enough to turn it around into a message. I perhaps do not understand it at all."
She nodded. "I know it's difficult for Vulcans to accept things as they are. To accept them without understanding every last detailed bit of it. But I recommend trying to do just that. Accept what you have together. At least for a time. At least until you can compose a reply. James is quite alone and I'm certain he would appreciate anything at all. I don't think you need worry so about the content."
Spock considered the dry, factual message he had composed describing his temple training. He had considered adding phrases from previous messages, but resisted committing such a deception. "I was hoping you would assist with specific phrases. Something meaningful and relevant to now."
She clasped her hands together in her lap and considered him with an expression he was familiar with but had not seen this visit. It was a pained one balanced out with affection.
"The message should come from you. That's the most important part of it. Not what you say. James feels a great deal for you. He will understand."
That was the issue. James would understand too well. What was unspoken would speak more loudly.
"How about this," Amanda said. "Send him a status message just in case he is in a position to have a call. I think he'd prefer that over anything else. Then you can meditate on a longer message. It's difficult to force these kinds of things. That I do know."
Spock did not say that he had already meditated. Many hours. His conclusion from that meditation was that he needed assistance. He nodded and stood.
"There is logic in considering it longer. Thank you, mother."
Sarek stood in the doorway to his study, contemplating the garden from the shade of the house. Spock bowed to him and departed for his room to send a status message and to consider things further.
- 8888 -
Spock stepped inside Sarek's office and stood with hands relaxed at his sides. He still wore the meditation robe he had worn all day. Sarek clasped his hands together on the table to signal that Spock could interrupt.
"Mother stated that you wished to speak to me."
"Would it please you to go for a walk in the desert?"
"It would."
Sarek stood. "It is cooling already this afternoon due to the season. I notice heat causes you some difficulty."
Spock did not react to this, even though it could be construed as criticism rather than the indulgence it was intended as. Sarek wondered if navigating Zienn's instructions would always to be this fraught.
Spock donned the survival gear kept ready for Amanda and other non Vulcan guests, including the stunner for predators. Spock had apparently never learned this was the sole intent of the equipment. But Sarek said nothing. And could not help considering how much these practiced movements made Spock seem the soldier.
They minced down the zig-zagging path leading off the plateau and into a shady ravine holding a river of warm air. They strolled for a time, raising a fine pink dust.
Sarek said, "There are two family matters I need to discuss with you. Your mother would request that I hold off and let you settle in, but your schedule is not fixed. And I have duties I cannot entirely avoid that involve you."
Spock nodded. His attention had been far away or far inside. It returned easily to attentive but remained its newly typical serene.
Sarek said, "After years of urging from our family and others, the Science Academy has agreed to open themselves to outsiders. The need for increased exchange of knowledge, the need for openness in and of itself has finally overcome long-standing resistance. They have commenced offering short courses that are open to select off-world visitors. There is a course beginning in two days on mathematical modelling of energy fields that would be useful to you in your future endeavors. In the interest of keeping up with your education, I strongly encourage you to attend."
This was a topic with a long history of strain both personal and interpersonal. Spock nodded, face devoid of reaction, even that of expending an effort at control. Sarek would have assumed him deaf under any other conditions.
"Your presence would assist in sustaining a proof of our continued interest in the endeavor. As well, Starfleet was offered to fill a number of seats and it is expected they will send a contingent. Attending will also give you an opportunity to socialize with them. Which I expect you are eager to do."
This concession required much of Sarek's control to emerge as equitably as it did. Spock failed to react to this either. He had learned to Separate, as Sarek had been taught it, but in some way custom to himself that required zero effort to maintain.
They reached a three-way fork in the ravine. Spock's gaze followed up the rock fall filling the left hand passage. It had been a favorite scramble as a child, but his face remained empty of the past.
"It is true that I will need to readjust to living with humans and others." Spock spoke easily. "I will attend the course as you suggest. I do not expect to be rated well by the instructor in such a topic, as you are likely already aware."
"You need not be rated at all. Visitors are given the option. You may simply attend if you prefer."
They took the larger, center fork of the ravine.
"I will weigh the options in that regard and decide. In the meantime I will apply as you instruct," Spock said.
At a point where the ground rose in uneven heaves, they stopped and turned around.
"Because you are representing the family in this and our family has long asked for this openness, it would be appropriate for you to apply directly to the Head of the Academy in person."
Spock nodded that he accepted this.
Sarek stopped so he could watch Spock face on. "Since the course begins the day after tomorrow, you must apply tomorrow. Q'Pan's rooms at the Academy are off the second courtyard of the private hall."
Q'Pan's high demeanor, rigid dismay, and drilling gaze left even Sarek unsettled. And due to his own interference in the past with his insistence that Spock be allowed a full place despite her disagreement, Q'Pan would behave even more caustically with Spock. This was an errand sufficiently unsavory to provoke anyone. But there was still no reaction.
Sarek continued, "If you ask at the academy entrance and identify yourself as representing me you will be directed to the proper place. If not, inform me and I will intervene in the arrangements for the meeting."
Spock watched Sarek's face in turn, but as if mapping it. "I will do so."
"The course will be good for you." This was the kind of phrasing Amanda would use.
Spock considered this just a hair longer than necessary before bowing in acknowledgement.
They started walking again. They reentered the main ravine which was only a short distance from the switchbacks up the cliff.
Spock stopped this time. "I understand your intent was to speak outside mother's hearing. You mentioned two issues."
Sarek considered the dust as it hung in the air around them, the way it emerged from the narrow passage to be lit orange by the last of the sunlight. High Priest Zienn knew Spock in the way he knew himself, as an internal being with no external world to cope with. Sarek knew his son as an external being coping with an external world. Sarek estimated the external informed a great deal more about the internal than Zienn allowed for.
Sarek settled his mind and allowed himself to probe at his son and found not steely resolve, but an airy ease. He would have preferred to have met with the first. This did not even seem to be a mental stricture in any sense Sarek was familiar with, but this was not his area of expertise. He had never been considered for the temple. The family had chosen him to lead behind his mother, decades before it would ever be needed. Sarek had deciding to instead represent their entire world. That in itself had been an act of rebellion, even as it had increased their family's power.
Despite his deep reservations, Sarek let Zienn's explicit instructions rule him. "I am impressed with the discipline you have gained, Spock." He said this and resisted swallowing hard. He was impressed. Unfortunately, he was still not pleased.
Spock seemed to be elsewhere and a moment later was present again. He bowed his head. This praise, which must have been awaited on for an entire young lifetime, generated no emotion. The irony of this was not lost on Sarek, who could find no way to express it without violating the High Priest's edict.
"Given your new disciplines, perhaps this second task will also be acceptable to you. It is the more difficult one of the two. Surin, as you know, has taken over as head of the family. Interestingly, along with his second wife, T'Woon, who despite her lower age has demonstrated a keen ability to foresee the impact of Surin exerting his will. As a result he defers to her an unexpected amount. Your placement at Kipraro High Temple continues to be of curious interest to one or both of them. I cannot reliably inform you which.
"He wishes to meet with you. He refuses my presence at this meeting. Which is not a good sign for me, politically. But that is not your concern, except that you need to be fully informed."
Spock considered this. "You stated in the past that you over-extended yourself with the family in regards to me."
"It could simply be that. It could be that and the deeper past."
"They wish to assess me, themselves, in that light."
"Perhaps. Most likely they are thinking long-term, wondering what potential you have as a senior member of the family. But it is best to have no assumptions biasing your responses to them. Answer their questions exactly as they are posed. Do not read into them."
Spock looked away to consider things. A cooler river of air slipped along the ground, threatening a chill as soon as the sun dipped behind the mountains.
"Spock?"
Again, the snap back to the immediate. "I can recall the past. I can compare it to now. It is no difficulty obeying, although I can see that you might estimate there to be based on that past. I will do as you ask, in the way you have requested."
Sarek started walking and stopped again with a scuffing of desert boots on small stones. The marvel of this interaction could not remain unremarked on. He considered his son, how his mother's features left him looking childlike longer than a pure Vulcan would have. This being standing easily before him was not one Sarek had expected to interact with at this level for years hence, if ever. Perhaps there was something to Zienn's assertions that Sarek was the one making incorrect assumptions.
"Is there anything you wish from me, Spock?" Sarek asked, trying his best to sound as open as his wife would while saying this.
"Is there a context to this question?"
"There is no context to this question. And you certainly may consider your answer as long as you wish."
"I will consider it for a time, in that case."
The small creatures of the desert were beginning to emerge, presaging the emergence of larger predators. The two of them started out again for the trailhead leading up the plateau.
Sarek said, "I will remain open to whatever you request. And interrupt me when you return from your meeting with Q'Pan. I am curious to hear how that goes. Quite curious, in fact."
- 8888 -
The night breeze was cooling the bedroom when Sarek entered. Amanda had already donned her dinner clothes and was attending to her hands and nails, which suffered greatly from the Vulcan climate. She smiled gently at him, then became sober. She put her things away in a beaded pouch and turned to him without rising.
Sarek closed the door and the window and took up a seat facing her. Their knees nearly touched. She did not speak while he meditated on the right words. And tonight that took longer. And he additionally meditated on the question of whether everyone always made adjustments for him and did the opposite ever occur.
He spoke low, even though the door was Vulcan solid. "I have errored somehow and I do not know how to amend it."
She reached out a hand but did not touch him, simply rested her wrist on her knee, fingers extended toward him. "What is the matter, Husband?"
He sat back, but not straighter. "There was a narrow window where our son was healed and equally mine and yours. And I regret that window has closed so quickly. I would rather it be open yet."
Her brow furrowed and he could see her composing and recomposing possible responses the way her face muscles shifted. Her eyes grew moist.
She said, "Spock is doing well. After everything that has happened, he has attained amazing peace of mind. Yet you seem certain you have lost something. What have you lost?"
Sarek looked down at the small space between them. "I wonder. I wonder whether I am irrevocably conditioned to fall into the logic of displeasure. But I do not measure this as that, rather as regret. And I should not allow myself that emotion. But I cannot find a means of alleviating this concern beyond proving my assumptions wrong. I expected to do so just now on a walk with our son but have failed."
She tilted her head, which was her way of repeating her words without speaking them.
Sarek resisted but he needed to be understood, as he had no other advisor in this. "I was pleased with Spock before he departed for the temple. He was equally yours and mine."
Her fingers touched the robe over his knee. "I see him as equally mine, if that is any consolation. But in your mind, he is all yours now. So you are no longer pleased?"
"I cannot assert that. It would be absurd to. But my logic has always fallen short where he is concerned."
Her lips pulled taut, but he still had her sympathy. This close he could not avoid sensing it.
As if speaking for her, Sarek said, "The more tightly we hold to something, the more it slips away."
She sat straighter, closed her hands and pulled them into her lap. "Something an earth philosopher would say, but never a Vulcan one."
"Exalted High Priest Zienn is likely correct that Vulcan thinking needs expanding. I estimate now that had I done less throughout Spock's childhood, everything would be better at present."
"Everything turned out for the best. I do not think there is an argument to be made otherwise."
"No one can know what the alternative threads of time and space would look like had I acted differently so long ago."
She poked him on the knee. "Including you for your own assertion just now, Husband."
"You are pleased with Spock?" He didn't wait for a reply. "You are always pleased with Spock."
"Spock is unique."
"Perhaps why I do not know how to proceed."
"Nothing has changed. Forgive me for being unusually forthright, but really, Husband, what does Spock require from us? You tell me you regret the past. What would you change about your actions then that does not apply to your actions now? Your answer is there before you."
Sarek turned away. "Interesting. I can see the past for what it is, but cannot let go of the present to reach that same operational mode. This is indeed the crux of my falling short." He hooked her first two fingers with his own, held them firmly with his thumb. "You have always been a steady advisor. Your perspective has always been illuminating by its virtue of being so outside Vulcan thinking. I have likely not informed you of this often enough."
"You praise me, Husband. Do you use this generosity to me as an out to avoid praising your son." She bowed her head. "I am perhaps now out of line."
"You have earned the right to speak thusly. And I have already done as you suggest. But it does not ease my mind."
"It does not?"
"I will try again. Perhaps I can improve on the first attempt."
He stood and offered her a hand up. He could hear the tiny tapping of the table service being set out for dinner many rooms away.
- 8888 -
"All it takes is a disruption to scan. And the entire Federation is blind." The skuttle's exterior lights lit the smoke and fog and swirling leaked coolant, creating hard edged beams of mini starbursts. But without them the darkness was absolute leaving only the wonky scanners. Kirk was trying not to lean forward in his seat to see through the beam-shot mush. The result of hours of sitting back while straining forward for a better look was a stiff neck which he had already stretched and massaged a hundred times.
Somewhere down here was a missing skuttle from the skirmish which finally ended two days ago. Kirk was possibly being obsessive, but he was also hunting for enemy who could easily have gone the same way and he had been freely given a verbal to search deeper by Commander Nueng himself. The alternative was returning, starting another mission, possibly drawing the short straw for moon patrol which led to a lot of crew discontent.
"Anything?" Kirk asked many minutes later.
Ying shook her head. Kirk could see the movement out of the corner of his eye in the dark cabin because of the lights on her EV suit helmet. Kirk has his sharpshooter with him in the lead vehicle. They were at more than three klicks, more than deep enough to need the suits if they lost hull integrity. EV suits didn't work quite as well to reduce pressure as to maintain it against partial vacuum, but Kirk had been adamant they all be in full working order. To the point where he'd picked up the nickname Spanner when some of his crew thought he was out of earshot.
"What do you think, sir?" Hummer said from the row behind. Not for the first time.
"Claustrophobic, crewmember?"
Hummer breathed in sharply. His alien sinuses whistled faintly when he did this. "No, sir. Of course not."
They rotated to fit through a narrow opening formed of pure crystal shattered by something that had gone forcefully before them in some ancient geologic time. On the dimmed display a low power radar was creating contorted mesh images in red, mapping the unmapped areas not in the databank.
"Anyone would be," Kirk said.
"You said two runs ago, sir, that you couldn't be bored if you could see the stars. And I think I thought poorly of you for it. I could use some stars about now. I would not be bored."
The passage ahead glowed with a column of light. Kirk hovered just outside it. Sometimes this was light channeled down through a long crystal intrusion rather than an actual opening upwards. This was a bit of both. It wasn't large enough to hide an enemy except, as often was the case, from below. The scans ran, the computers worked their soft models on the reflecting, multiple bouncing signals and came up with a low risk reading for other craft nearby.
They hovered long enough that signals from up top filtered down to them. The screen filled with messages about clean up after the action. The skuttle they hunted was still missing. Kirk's helmet status bar indicated he had a personal message. There were only half a dozen people that could be. He couldn't be distracted at that moment to even look at the sender.
"None of this is mapped. Even with the opening, all the way up," Hummer said. "How'd that get missed. A basic probe could have handled it."
"We don't have a million probes," Ying said. "It's quite open below. Structural differences due to the large intrusion."
Kirk changed the settings on the viewer. Killed the lights to one quarter. "Let's drop down and look around. Get a map of it. Looks like a dead end otherwise."
They sank farther. The skuttle creaked, possibly from the acceleration, possibly under the increased pressure. If they had better breathers to change the air mixture, the suits wouldn't need to be so cumbersome, breathers would suffice much of the time. But keeping that many fully functional customized units working properly for that many races would be nearly impossible in the field. So they each sat in bulky M-class normalcy, that would function almost all the time.
The radar mapped the inverse of a mountain range above them, it also made them vulnerable as hell as exposed as they were.
"Let's find a way out immediately or back up," Kirk said.
Ying pointed. The crack in the ceiling didn't look like much but she seemed to have a better sense of how the layers sloughed apart over millions of years. He piloted that way, reoriented to slip inside. They followed along that channel at an angle and entered another larger chamber, this one craggy and murky with dark life that did not need light.
The nearby equipment warning bounced into the yellow.
"Pingback."
"ID?"
The signal came up on the board, mostly noise. "Too garbled. It's just noise on that frequency."
"Best guess which way it came from."
Hummer and Ying argued about this. Kirk let them. The rest of the scan was clean. He shut the radar off, shifted their location. The lights on the skuttles behind them switched off. They hung in the darkness, kept company by their screens on night mode. He studied the wireframe of the new mapping overlaid on the old, spun it. Studied it.
Hummer had taken out a snack bar. He offered half to Kirk. Kirk opened his helmet to eat it, pulled up the personal message as he chewed. It was from Spock. He was at home on a break. He was hoping to have a call. That was it. Kirk rubbed his eye, flipped his visor back down and reset the displays. As badly as he wanted to see Spock, he stubbornly worried about the lost skuttle, suspected he knew better where it would be than others would.
The argument between his crewmembers ended without a consensus. Kirk said, "There must be another way down here. Look at the tendrils there. Must be water coming down."
"That just leaks between the layers. Hits a hard layer and runs forever until it gets out. Misleading." Ying again.
"Straight ahead then," Kirk said, done sitting still. He piloted them with quiet ease through terrain he never imagined being this good at. They meandered, rose slowly through the maze.
Hummer's voice was too loud. "Another pingback. It's our skuttle. Upwards."
They had to backtrack twice to find an opening large enough to rise into a tall diamond shaped gap that had numerous openings above. Hours passed in patient maze mapping, careful piloting.
"Beacon now too. Must not care anymore who finds them. Tight beam to the team?"
"They've figured it out I expect."
"Right, sir."
The missing skuttle was wedged most of the way up in the chamber. Wedged as if to keep it from plummeting deeper. It was broken open, bent and twisted, but not bent open as a result of getting wedged. It was an odd wreck and they'd seen a lot of wrecks. Above them hovered a blueish haze of leaked coolants and fuels.
"Three life signs," Hummer said quietly.
Relief nearly ripped Kirk's heart out of him. Behind him his crew were checking suits. Kirk sealed up.
"Want me to take the controls?" Hummer said. They'd learned Kirk's habits. Seemed to think he was better dealing with the dying, and nearly dying, then they were.
"Yes. Thank you."
They had to belay down to the craft, cut a safer way in. The deck of the skuttle sat nearly level. Four figures lay curled around the perimeter of it. Scans showed all different ranges of normal lifesigns. The human's suit had failed. The woman, long hair leaking out of her helmet, lay as if clawing the air at the end moment.
"Dead last," Kirk reminded whoever was attending to that figure. In the heavy air and closed space voices ricocheted like they were underwater.
The strongest lifesign was an Andorian who was apparently far more naturally able to cope with a bad air mixture at this depth. The other two were deeply unconscious. Kirk knelt on the far side of the strongest survivor while the medics worked from the middle and Kirk had learned now that their competence while not high was broad across many races and hybrids.
Medic said, "We need to drop the atmosphere in the skuttles doing the evac and raise it slowly. Everyone else riding along will have to stay actively suited."
"Put 'em in ours then. I'll handle it."
The Andorian's lips were caked with blue blood dried days ago. Kirk put a gloved hand on him, leaned forward so he could see fully into Kirk's visor. "You're going to be okay." A standard almost empty thing to say. Almost a ritual thing to say. The Andorian nodded.
The team was already putting the foremost survivor on a stretcher. The craft creaked, rocked with the movement across the deck of so many figures at once. No one seemed to care. It was just one more thing.
"We cracked apart in midair," the Andorian said. "Lucky we slowed at all let alone stopped. Only the redundant controls worked. Nearly everything was severed fore to aft."
Kirk patted his arm. "You did a good job landing in that case."
The stretcher was expertly held vertical by ropes on the toe of it, maneuvered up and out. His own units were changing off, reeling in while more equipment lowered right in behind.
Kirk should have timed it. Mere minutes they were loaded up, back in seats, and checking their own status again. The air inside the skuttle was as heavy as outside.
"What about the craft, sir?" This came as an echo both inside and outside Kirk's helmet.
They shouldn't leave equipment for the enemy and they couldn't destroy it in such close quarters. Kirk thumbed on the tight beam to Uirick in the second team of skuttles. "Want to strip it?"
"I stayed empty to do just that, Kirk."
"Thank you. Keep an eye out. We'll relay our maps to you on the way out. Hopefully you get enough of them. If there's doubt we can drop a probe back your way as soon as we know the whole route."
Hummer came to the front. "Odie, our Andorian rescue says not to take the central way out up top from here. He's sure they got hit with something unexpected around a third of a klick deep."
"We'll go back the way we came. It was pretty quiet and we have it mapped."
Kirk began entering that route into the nav, waited for a confirmation from Uirick on those orders. Hummer visibly relaxed.
"Thought you didn't like small spaces crewmember…" Kirk teased.
With rescues on board they would likely be ordered back to base once they got up top. Kirk forced his focus on his piloting. Be a shame to have something happen now.
"I like air. But not too much," Hummer said. Then after a space. "Just enough air. And stars."
- 8888 -
Spock waited for Sten to shuffle aside after setting down the last of the cutlery. Amanda hurriedly lit tall creamy candles and the petroleum scent formed a cloud around the table. She wore mauve robes layered with gossamer lace, a favorite outfit from Spock's youth. Zienn stood with hands inside his great robe sleeves. He stared at the flames wearing an expression Spock had not seen before on him, one of distracted plotting. He stood fixed, seemingly unaware that his expression could be speaking for him.
"Sit please, Healer Zienn, Spock." Amanda stood beside her chair and sat at the same time Sarek did.
The faces around the table were warmed by flickering light. Spock relaxed into place, effortlessly composed. The servants arrived with water.
"Did you inform your mother you will attend one of the special courses at the Science Academy?" Sarek asked.
"Oh, Spock. I'm so pleased. I think you'll benefit greatly from that," Amanda said. "In many ways."
Great shining white tureens arrived. The servant lifted the lid off Spock's and steaming vapors of plomeek soup swirled outward from it. And Spock was somewhere else. The scent took full hold of him. He was every moment all at once from childhood to Starfleet Academy when he had ever consumed this substance.
Amanda was smiling at him. "I made it for you myself this afternoon. To welcome you home."
Spock nodded. In a state of stunned denial, he picked up his spoon and dipped it, felt the astringent heat of it pass over his tongue, and swallowed. He put the spoon down, carefully. It was ceramic and would make a great deal of noise otherwise.
Beside him, Sarek had paused as well.
Perfect eidetic memories of strain and angst roiled within Spock without any barrier to the re-experience of them. He could not divest himself of any of it. The wiring of his olfactory senses could apparently tap directly into his emotional center, bypassing anything that might impede it, no matter how well practiced.
And his father was watching all of it. Horror leaked in now as well, fresh horror tainting everything that had already undermined him. Spock swallowed. He'd lost practice with his old, substandard controls that might have dampened this at least somewhat.
Spock considered the tureen, the floating golden oils on the green surface of the soup. The way the edge held a milky halo. This was who he was absent his newly acquired skills. He was a morass, a struggle, a failing partial effort.
"I can have the servant remove it," Sarek said, too low for human ears.
Zienn glanced halfway to Spock, then said something engaging to Amanda about offworld travellers on Vulcan compared to earth, fully capturing her attention.
His mother had made it with her own hands, he would consume it. It would make him stronger to suffer through it. And then Spock would remember and understand why he never let things slip like this, no matter what message he needed to compose.
Spock picked up the spoon and with another mouthful let another wave of burdened memory wash a gully through him. Sarek wasn't looking at him, but Spock was certain he was the focus of his attention.
Also too low to be overheard, Spock said, "I was fed this to revert me?"
"I am certain not." Sarek took a drink of herb tea, carefully put the glass down again. "Your mother today made every food that was a comfort to you in the past. These were foods that centered you when you were otherwise inconsolable. The soup is centering you again, it is just that the resulting movement is now in the other direction."
Sarek's calm and factual voice, his openness of thought without judgement, let Spock cease to strain so hard against the hardwired pain he was suffering under. His father apparently did not find fault with what was happening to him, only engaged in curious observation.
Spock ate several more bites, then in a haze of emotions that had grown weary of themselves, said lightly, "Hopefully Surin and T'Woon do not feed me plomeek soup. If I am to represent you well to him. And the family."
"You will not warrant a meal."
"That is promising."
Finished finally, Spock covered the tureen and rocked slowly back from it. He was fatigued through to his soul, but with the fading scent, he easily found the footing to divest his mind again. He often was fatigued when he needed to reassert this separation some hours into an experimental mental mode. The practice was blissfully familiar, fell easily into place. Spock drifted, studying his eviscerated thought patterns as they eased. Even the self loathing faded without a struggle. He sat with an exhausted, empty calm as his mother continued eating, deep in conversation with his teacher who seemed more than willing to be outgoing for Spock's sake. Or for his own. It was somewhat odd.
Using the fingers beside his plate, Sarek made a hand signal to the waiting head servant. There were a great number of signals available, and this one was a mystery. Until the mashed green root came. With the lig'ton berry topping on the side in a little creamer beside Spock's plate. Spock still had enough emotional connection alight to experience the wisps of an aching gratitude. Being weak was apparently acceptable if it was temporary, and his father had said he was pleased with his progress. Spock could do no more than that.
