Chapter 43 - End of Term

In the seat next to Spock's, P'Losiwst leaned farther over her devices. They were in a Leadership session, but she was finishing up a project on Propulsion. She would raise her head and listen, note something on one device with her bright blue nail, turn her attention back to the other device. Her regular small sighs were likely audible only to Spock. The entire two hours went by in this mode, with no pause in routine.

The intense planning for their revenge, the coordination of supplies, the secret orders with small fashion houses, the revisions to materials and planning, it had put P'Losiwst in a mode of competence that had carried over to her Academy work, as if her earlier difficulties had been simply an incapacity with engaging her existing skills.

The class was released. P'Losiwst stood up, collected her things. She looked up at Spock as if just remembering he was there.

"One week," she said with a small smile.

"You ready for exams?" someone asked them from the row behind.

P'Losiwst seemed to need to think about this. "Wish I could just get them over with."

"Oh, great tentacled goddesses," the person said. "I'm not THAT ready." Laughter, then the others shuffled on out of their row.

P'Losiwst looked at Spock again and something passed between them, a nonverbal understanding completely absent telepathy. This was how you made a group, Spock thought. A combination of both public shared understandings and secretive understandings, a kind of specialized interface between beings that one felt compelled to maintain. Akin to family, perhaps.

Her antenna were straight up, aware and open to everything around her. "You're ready," she said.

They started walking out of the auditorium. "I am."

"Five. It'll have to do."

"Five?"

"Two in one room, twice over."

"I did not realize you'd ascertained that assignment was possible."

"I've been comparing shaved heads to rosters. We can do another two-fer if we shuffle targets around."

"Efficient." They were in a crowd now, the noise higher. "Which are you dropping?"

"That little hanger on, Horton."

Spock stopped. "Do not drop him, drop the other."

"I'm not dropping the leader of the entire thing."

Students flowed around them. They remained there in the center of the corridor staring at each other.

"It's important," Spock said.

She frowned, looked away, antenna low. "Damn. Why?" She grumbled. "Okay. Four only. One two-fer plus leader and hanger on. Three rooms, four outfits. Okay?"

"Thank you."

She shook her head and started walking, following the tail of the crowd. "I don't understand you."

"Do you need to? I have logical reasons."

"I know you do. So it's okay in the end. I've got to get to a meeting, see you later."


Spock stood on the Academy parade grounds. Rows and columns of gray uniforms spread before him: tall, wide, small. All were level and in line with those beside and behind them. The sun glinted off shiny hair, shiny spines, and in the case of one Lccolle in the row ahead of Spock, it glinted off a brain interface dome for converting sound waves into neural stimulus.

Not only was there not rain or mist, there wasn't even a wisp of fog. The air was uncharacteristically pleasantly warm. He and P'losiwst were in the same formation block but three rows apart. Far to the right side of the parade grounds. By previous agreement they had arrived with other friends and arranged themselves with them, but in positions not too obviously distant from each other, either. They waited there in the preternatural calm with glass buildings rising around them like great sentinels.

Head still, body rigidly relaxed, Spock scanned the faces he could see at the edge of the observers. From where he stood he could only see the tallest, or those who stood on the temporarily dry fountain. Kirk would be there were he present; his mother would not.

The term scores had all been reported, Spock had moved to eleventh in the class rank but had been given a notation for his exemplary performance in an advanced course. It would have to do when he saw his father. His mother had said she might attend the assembly. She had warned Spock that she would have to ease Sarek into the idea before committing to attending. Odd, Spock thought, that his father could disapprove of this organization while simultaneously insisting Spock perform well within it.

A breeze swept through the ranks, snapping the UFP, Starfleet, and Academy flags. The Vice Admiral Justin, the Superintendent, stepped up to the podium and suppressed a smile. Spock judged him to be feeling far more pleased than he wanted to reveal.

Vice Admiral Justin congratulated them all, warned them this was just the beginning and to not slack off. A marathon, not a sprint, even if they felt at times that they were sprinting through a marathon. He went on with a relaxed air, described recent changes in Starfleet mission policy, a sharper division between defense and exploration, and how that would impact the upcoming terms and the focus of their learning.

A disturbance floated on the breeze. Spock moved his eyes only but could not see far enough to the left. There were snickers, shuffling feet. One person ahead of Spock turned her head all the way around, face curious. A senior cadet immediately castigated her and she fell back in line.

Vice Admiral Justin went on as before. The ranks fell still again.

"You asshole!" came a voice across the calm. Another scuffle. "No! Don't touch me. What'd you do this for? You've been giving me so much shit."

There came a cascade of organized movement as ranks shuffled out of the way. Cadet Horton stumbled by, gesturing behind him, uniform dissolving, split open at the armpits and down his spine so that the fabric flapped around his torso. He stopped and spun around, pointed several formations over to Spock's left.

"I'll get you for this! I knew you were up to something. Some friend!"

He tried to stride off the grounds, but was intercepted by two drill seniors, who stepped shoulder to shoulder into his path. They pointed at an open spot in a ragged edged formation beside the fountain.

"I'm outta here. You think I'm staying like this. With these assholes?"

A discussion ensued, too low for Spock to hear with the wind at his back. Horton gave up trying to pass, stood hulking at the end of a row. The Superintendent went on as before, but Spock no longer detected a smile.


P'losiwst came to Spock's dorm room an hour after the end of term assembly. She asked to come in, pressed hands together before her, elbows out, leaned back against the door.

She spoke as if to a diary. "Hanger On almost made up for the others. They stayed in rank, at attention, so they didn't get into trouble. Also, apparently not as sweaty, so not as obvious. Rain would have been much much better." Her antenna dipped to the sides.

She noticed Spock packing up his things. "Damn, you really are going."

Spock bowed a nod.

She put her hands behind her lower back and pressed them backwards, put a foot up on the pulled out low table. "You don't seem sad about it anymore."

"I am mentally prepared to depart."

"Well. I'll see you. Write, okay. If you're allowed. I'll let you know how things go here. I'll have to stay out of trouble after this. I don't trust anyone but you to keep their mouth shut better than I can keep my mouth shut."

Spock stood tall, put on a lecturing tone. "You are required, during your time here, to learn how to build workable teams, Cadet."

P'losiwst gave a smile full of pointed teeth. "Well . . ." He rocked her raised foot. "If you were anyone else, I'd offer you a going away romp, but I know you'll turn it down, so just know I'd be willing to offer, okay? I like you that much."

Spock adjusted to the idea that in this, even with very little data to work from, Kirk was correct. "I believe the humans say that 'it is the thought that counts'."

"Yeah, that's definitely not true for sex, but best that can be done here."

Spock estimated that something more should be shared. "I am not adept at this, so I do not have the words to match this situation, but I now suspect neither do you. That is why you have leapt directly to the domain of intimacy as a way of expressing yourself, albeit with an assumption of impossibility."

She fell still, staring at him. "You bastard. You've not let on much."

"I do not understand."

She pushed away from the wall. "You act like you don't understand anything around you."

"I don't. In general. But I can recognize in others the same limitations as I already recognize in myself."

She sighed, in a way that made it clear it was something she'd adopted from humans. "It's not going to be the same. With you gone. It's going to suck asteroids, actually." She gestured at his open delivery boxes and folded clothes. Her antenna drooped forward. "I'll let you get on with your packing. Write me."

Spock nodded. "I will."

Spock was just completing the packing of a second set of delivery containers when the door chimed. He'd already sent the larger cases off on a sled to be delivered to the embassy. As he packed the last of his robes, he marveled that despite having a full list of his dorm room possessions in his eidetic memory, their total volume still occupied more space than he'd estimated.

Spock called for the door to open and a tired Lt. Grange put his foot in the way of it closing and leaned against the frame of it. Spock put down the spare pillow he was about to roll tight for packing. Over the course of the term his mother had given him four. He'd accepted each of them for what they figuratively were, not what they physically were.

"Sir," Spock said in greeting.

"Super ordered me to fetch you."

Spock nodded. He was still wearing his dress uniform, having decided to arrive at the embassy with it on that evening.

Grange remained silent on their walk. He usually put on a hardened attitude over a soft core. This attitude wasn't that one. This one felt relentless all the way down.

He abandoned Spock at the door to the administrative head office, gestured stiffly that Spock should go inside.

Vice Admiral Justin sat at his desk wearing the same expression as Grange, an almost gothic grimness that made the lines of his face deeper. He powered down his device and pushed it aside, sat back in his chair, fingers still holding the stylus. He tossed that down, returned to considering Spock.

"I'd usually work out what I'm going to say before calling someone in, but you are departing, so I don't have a chance to."

"Sir?"

Justin pushed his chair back with a foot against the desk, leaned back farther. "I'm dismayed, Cadet. To say the least."

Spock studied the front of the broad desk. "I do not know the proper response, Admiral."

"Because there isn't one." He exhaled. "You've pushed the limits, not just of this institution, mind you. But mine." He paused. "That's worse. By the way."

Spock's hands at his sides felt awkward after standing at attention so long earlier in the day. He forced them to remain still. "I apologize, sir. May I request clarification of the topic under discussion?"

"The topic is your modification of your fellow student's dress uniforms so as to cause their failure during a large public assembly of this institution."

Spock weighed his words. Strictly speaking, this was untrue. But outright denial seemed too obvious. He considered what Kirk would do in his place. "Do you have evidence implicating me, sir?"

"Working on that now."

Spock considered that, made himself appear at ease. "I see."

As expected, doing the unexpected seemed to have unseated Justin's tactic of anger. He appeared curious now. He rubbed his chin.

The door swished open and Grange returned. He placed a series of square cuttings of uniform material in a row on the desk, set a tumbler full of water down as well. "The uniforms were replaced with near perfect duplicates."

He dropped one of the cuttings into the water. It softened into a haze that immediately began to settle. Grange swished the glass and set it down again. The swatch had vanished but the water appeared vaguely green and thickened. "It's some kind of algae derivative. It's not in any databanks in this exact form, as a thread that would withstand being woven."

Justin picked up a square. Since it came from the collar it was composed of three different kinds of material. He held it up and fingered it. "Amazingly convincing." He angled it into the light. "Maybe just a tad too shiny."

He dipped the corner into the glass, pulled it up trailing strings of clear green goo. He dropped it on his desk where it curled and retracted into itself. He put his hands on his hips.

"That's a lot of energy expended, Cadet."

"I would agree, sir," Spock said. "As to your assumption that I am responsible . . ." Spock hesitated. "Permission to speak freely, Admiral."

"You lost that right, Cadet."

Spock nodded more times than was necessary. "I see, sir." He fell still, waiting with almost bored detachment.

Lt. Grange picked up a swatch and fingered it. He explained some minor points about the fabric based on a scan done in one of the Academy labs. Then silence fell.

Justin patted his chair back twice. "Okay, Cadet. Talk to me, but manage to do it without needing to break rank."

Spock considered his words for a time. "I am concerned, sir."

"Are you now?" This sounded patronizing. Spock ignored the tone.

"You seem, sir, to have dismissed hundreds of my fellow cadets as capable of this. Are they not the product of a highly selective process?"

Justin's fingers ceased drumming on the back of his chair. He stared at Spock. "Go fetch our waiting cadet, Lieutenant."

Jaek was led in. He wore a day duty uniform, looked comfortable in it. He stepped up beside Spock, two paces away and assumed the same pose, not quiet attention, not quite parade rest.

"Your dress uniform has gone missing, Senior Cadet?" Justin asked. "Do we have theft on top of vandalism?"

"No, sir. It was in the back of my closet. I didn't see this morning that I had two." He glanced sideways at Spock, but not with any rancor.

Justin held up a swatch. "Cadet Spock, did you make these mimic uniforms?"

"No, sir."

Justin dropped the swatch. "I see."

Beside Spock, Jaek inhaled a long way and exhaled slowly.

"So. I am, as you say, overlooking someone else's abilities here." Justin's fingers resumed tapping on his chair back. "So, Mr. Jaek, your friend Mr. Horton has gotten himself into a bit of trouble. He attempted to entice you into a fist fight after the assembly broke up, I was told."

Jaek tipped his head to the side.

Justin said, "You realize there is no rational reason to protect him at this juncture?"

Jaek said, "He thought I made the uniforms and set him up to be embarrassed, so he was angry. He sweats a lot more than me . . . So his uniform fell apart a lot worse. He thought that proved I'd done it since he hears about his sweating from me all the time. I tried to calm him down, tried to get him to direct his upset on another channel than violence."

"Lt. Grange tells me you did as well as one could under the circumstances."

"Security moved in faster than necessary, Admiral. I and my fellow cadets had a handle on him."

"We aren't going to leave such to the mentors when the public has a view. We already have the bad PR of his initial ranting."

"Yes, sir." Jaek bowed his head and remained standing that way.

"How many people have free access to your quarters, Mr. Jaek?" Justin asked.

Jaek shrugged. "Six or seven. We get together a lot in there. My roommate is a mentor so we have a suite."

"Any idea who would have left you a bogus uniform?"

"I haven't a good guess, sir. I'd like to think I'd have noticed someone plotting something like this. This is more work for the payout than my friends would bother with."

Justin said, "I couldn't help but notice that the three impacted were all involved in the prank on Cadet Spock, here."

Spock said nothing about the count discrepancy. Someone had made it off the parade grounds unnoticed.

Justin sighed. "But they also happen to be the class leaders, so that doesn't tell us very much. And I want to believe Mr. Spock's denial."

"If I might, Admiral," Spock said. "I would not know where to begin creating such a garment. And it would have taken a great deal of time I did not possess to learn enough to succeed at it."

"I would have been most sadly disappointed that you considered it a good use of your time, Cadet," Justin said. "You're dismissed, Spock. We hope to see you in a year. Don't forget to return and please stay out of trouble in the next handful of hours. Cadet Jaek, stay. I need to talk to you additionally."

Spock departed the administrative offices. He slowed his pace to better take in the Academy, to better make a memory he could explore later if need be.


Spock caught a branching-stemmed clematis as it pulled free along with the wilting anthurium his mother had just tugged from the vase. He took up the scissors and clipped the stem on an acute diagonal and gently reworked it back into the mass of flora so that it could touch water. Then the flowers around it needed rearranging to be symmetric again. He pulled those that were straight stemmed and put them back in at better angles.

Amanda paused to watch. Her hand hovered over the shiny wrapper of flowers she was drawing from to refresh the old bouquet. She wore a faint smile that slipped past her control.

Sarek entered, hands clasped together inside his heavy sleeves, robes sweeping the stone floor. Spock dropped his hands to his sides to indicate he had turned his full attention to him.

"My calendar is quite full tomorrow at the time of your departure, Spock," Sarek said.

Spock came around the table and stood the required polite distance before his father. He felt the awkward shape of his uniform acutely at that moment.

"I have informed T'Pau, Surin, and others in the family of your imminent installation at South Kipraro High Temple." He paused, slowed his speech more. "You bring this family honor, Spock. Everyone is quite pleased with your achieving such an exclusive placement."

Spock bowed.

Sarek spoke again. "The house in Shikahr will be kept minimally staffed. We will be back and forth to Vulcan in the next months. Unfortunately, since communication into the temple is made difficult, it will not be possible to keep you abreast of our comings and goings. Nevertheless, you can arrive home without warning and without inconvenience to the household."

Spock nodded. "Thank you, father."

Sarek looked to Amanda. As if by pre-arrangement, she said, "Your absence will be noticed, Spock."

Warmth bubbled inside Spock's midsection where his control did not seem to reach. He did not know the appropriate response, so he bowed his head and remained silent.

His father adjusted his clasped hands as if he was composing a difficult speech. His robes gave off a muffled sighing of fabric. Spock looked up.

"For once I am pleased to see you in that uniform," Sarek said. "My communications with our august clan members reminded me that one does not enter such a temple with the intent to return from it."

Spock had no idea his father had such concerns. "I have no intention of remaining. Father. I rate the likelihood close to zero."

Sarek nodded graciously.

Amanda said, "I will see Spock off tomorrow. James requested a going away picture. He complains to me that Spock does not send enough pictures."

Spock felt a blush flowing over his cheeks. They had comm linked three times while Kirk was on land base. Spock had control of his coloring seconds later, managed to speak with proper high disregard. "How many does one need?"

Amanda smiled. "Many, Spock. Many."


"Well, I guess that is that." Overlander stood with her arms crossed, broad shoulders pushed back.

Zienn's few possessions were in a battered Starfleet kit duffle beside the door.

"It is strange, the workings of random chance. I do not know that logic is fully equipped to account for it."

Overlander's face shifted, grew wry. "That you're way of saying something?"

"You construe too much. I am merely observing."

She looked down at the floor. "I guess I'm going to be an exec officer after all. No reason to stay posted here."

"You wished to leave things to chance. Of that I am certain."

She frowned, shifted her feet with a scuffing noise. "Yeah. Doc offered something more certain. I didn't bring it up with you." She tilted her head. "As I'm sure you are well aware. You know. I don't think I've learned a single thing about communicating in a relationship from this experience."

"Indeed? I have learned a great deal. I grossly underestimated how complicated intelligent beings can be."

The door chimed.

"Speaking of complicated beings," Overlander said.

She signaled the door. Spock stood in the doorway wearing heavy formal robes.

"I do not wish to interrupt," Spock said. "We are not on schedule. If you wish me to wait elsewhere-"

"I'm on a schedule," Overlander said. "The schedule of no long goodbyes." She held out an arm toward Spock in invitation. "James would expect me to give you a last hug. You know."

Spock had carefully composed himself and his composure held as he was gripped with mechanical fierceness, patted, and released.

"There. Now I can report to your boyfriend that I sent you on your way properly. Go on with you. And good luck."

Spock took up the duffle beside the door and led the way to the lift running up the hollow core of the building.

As they rode upward, Zienn said, "I am not used to having choices, so it is fortunate you are retracting mine from me."

Spock looked over. "You are not ready to depart?"

"I do not know what I am," Zienn said. "So it is perhaps past time I returned to something I know well."

Spock turned to him with his entire body. Emotions made his throat thick. "I cannot express how grateful I am for your consideration."

"I promised to suffer whatever service you require," Zienn said. "And I will hold to that. Do not suffer gratitude, as well, for me in return."

"But if you are having doubts about departing . . ."

The lift opened onto the roof deck landing area. The sky was busy with traffic shifting in and out of the low clouds. They remained under the shelter of the lift column. Spock's family's ship sat on the closest pad, active engine lights flashing, indicating it could lift off any time.

Zienn said, "I need to put my situation back into the previous perspective to judge it on a scale that has meaning for me. I must return to the perspective of no actual suffering, only striving against myself under the overdone honor of my people."

Spock blurted into the ensuing silence, "My father sees honor in this for me and our clan."

"He is confused."

"As I suspected." Spock ceased fighting himself on so many fronts and felt his control fall easily into place. He exhaled into the shifting breeze carrying the heat rising off the paved roof.

Zienn was studying Spock's face. "I am pleased that you have learned to relax into yourself in the service of higher discipline. For a time, I doubted I was going to convince you to trust you could."

"I was taught to be strong in all ways."

"That was unwise of someone. Strength is usually more a use of finesse than a brute application of force." He lowered his hands to hang before him, loosely interlaced. "I have prepared you for the temple the best I can in such a place as this. You have been frustrated often, but have learned a great deal in a short time under poor circumstances. You have already succeeded whether the temple allows you residence long-term or not. Do you understand?"

"You wish me to avoid worrying that I will fail."

"Correct."

"Then I will not worry."

"You have only me to gain approval from anyway." Zienn's brow quirked.

"If only that were true."

"For the next months, it is. Remember that."