Chapter Five
Spock raised his hand and grasped the wrist of the Klingon youth before he could strike him again. "Thank you." He said, without a hint of sarcasm. The boy nodded and bowed.
"It is true then, what my father told me about Vulcans requiring assistance to rouse from a healing trance."
"Your action was timely." Spock agreed.
"I have never met a Vulcan."
Spock attempted to rise, felt the restraints binding his arms and feet, tensed his muscles against them. The Klingon pushed him down gently. "You are not healed."
Spock raised an eyebrow but he could not disagree. "How long?" He asked.
"Two days. We treated your wounds and hoped that what we had heard about the Vulcan ability to self-heal was true."
"The process of recovery is accelerated." Spock explained, "However, as you rightly pointed out, I am not yet completely healed." Strange, his feeling of unease was still with him but the Klingon's words and manner were not threatening.
"My name is T'Sorf." The Klingon informed him somewhat hesitantly. "Forgive the bindings. We did not know if you were friend or foe."
"I understand." Spock said, "My name is Spock. I am a Starfleet Officer."
T'Sorf's eyes widened in surprise.
"Please excuse me. I will consult with Mark and my father concerning your restraints. I am confident that they will be removed."
The Klingon boy bowed again and left Spock alone to take in his surroundings. As far as he could tell he was in a tent of sorts, put together using branches and animal skins in the manner of the tepee common to many worlds and cultures. The remains of a fire, smouldered at its centre and Spock was lying on a bed of leaves and twigs and covered with animal furs, one of which he identified from its markings as belonging to the rabbit-eared big cat family. Spock appreciated the irony. His phaser was missing, he noted, unsurprised.
The healing trance had improved his condition but he was still weak from blood loss and the wounds from the animal trap and the fight with the sardur still throbbed painfully. Even at full strength he doubted whether he could free himself from the restraints binding his arms and legs.
As it happened, Spock did not have to wait for long. He heard T'Sorf's voice first, followed by that of another, older man. Even with his acute Vulcan hearing, Spock was unable to make out more than a word here and there.
"Spock of Vulcan. Are you awake?" T'Sorf's voice, quiet.
"I am." Spock replied turning to look at the Klingon boy and his companions. The Klingon male who had borne Spock on the stretcher stood by T'Sorf's side, his father, presumably. Another man, human, tall and with greying hair stood by the doorway, eyeing Spock with suspicion.
"A Starfleeet officer. We are honoured." His tone was not mocking. My name is Mark Hunter."
Spock nodded, "I am familiar with your work on warp field theories.
Hunter nodded in acknowledgment of Spock's recognition. He turned to the Klingon by T'Sorf's side. "Allow me to introduce my great friend, Kort. T'Sorf's father." Spock inclined his head slightly which was mirrored by a bow from Kort.
"We will untie your restraints and if you feel well enough we will talk."
"Indeed." Spock agreed. At a nod from Hunter, T'Sorf approached Spock's bedside, and, drawing a knife from a belt around his waist, began cutting the ties, all the while staring at the Vulcan in silent fascination."
"You must forgive my son's rudeness. He has never seen a Vulcan." Kort remarked. Spock rubbed his wrists and looked at the boy. He supposed that in a situation like this, Jim would smile warmly and charm everyone in the room with an appropriate response but he had no such resources at his disposal. He merely acknowledged the boy's interest with a slight nod and a visibly arched right eyebrow. T'Sorf steadied him when he swayed on rising and Spock caught a sense of the Klingon boy's concern; his mental shields were not wholly intact A touch telepath from birth, Spock found it uncomfortable, even distressing to be around other sentient beings with his mental guards compromised. This was particularly so when he was in the company of those who had no telepathic ability and did not shield their own thoughts and feelings.
Still, it was reassuring to sense T'Sorf's concern. Spock had coped with the deleterious effects of the mindsifter in the way that any Vulcan would, by employing the mental disciplines accessible to him from years of instruction and practice, but the experience had scarred him in ways that he would not readily acknowledge, even to those closest to him.
As a Vulcan he bore no enmity towards other beings – to do so was illogical - but Organia had tested Spock's beliefs to the core and the sight of a Klingon still reminded him not just of his ordeal but of the months of inner turmoil that he had suffered as he sought to reconcile his beliefs with that of a race whose sole raison d'etre seemed to be to wreak evil and havoc on the galaxy. And yet, Spock sensed, that standing beside him now, were two members of that very race, ready to catch him should he fall.
"Are you up to this?" Hunter asked, and Spock nodded in reply. Hunter was a tall man, over six feet in height and broadly built, his hair, not wholly grey at all, but streaked with silver at the front and his face beginning to show the faint lines associated with middle age. He had about him a kind of serenity and an unmistakeable air of self-assurance. What would James Kirk make of him, Spock wondered, quickly dismissing any thoughts of his captain along with the anxiety that gnawed at him whenever he thought of Jim.
Hunter led them outside where the air was chillier than was comfortable for Spock, but Kort began coaxing a neglected fire back to life and T'Sorf handed Spock a fur to wrap around his shoulders.
Spock drank cool water from a flask remembering his last long drink from the stream two nights ago. The memory brought another in tow - the sight of the Klingon shuttle plummeting from the sky on collision course with the distant hills.
"I have reason to believe that some others have landed recently on Skara." He said. Hunter's face was inscrutable but his voice betrayed a sense of urgency, "What others?"
"Two nights ago I saw a Klingon shuttle hurtling from the sky in the direction of the hills north east of here. Strange, we detected no signs of a Klingon ship on our instruments – it must have been out of range on the far side of the planet." Had the Enterprise been made rudely aware of the Klingon ship, and, if so, how had she fared against it, Spock wondered.
Hunter, and Kort exchanged glances. Kort spoke first. "There is something that you should understand, Mr Spock. I am not your enemy, but I am aware that my people are not all of my persuasion." He paused, looking to Hunter, "Mark and I are friends – more than that – we are brothers. I do not ask you to understand, only to accept this fact. Furthermore, it is my belief that one day my people and yours will be as one. Our differences are not so great a divisive force as our current prejudices would attest."
Spock listened with keen interest, all the while thinking of the Organians and their gentle leader's prediction that one day the Federation and the Klingon Empire would be at peace. In answer to Kort's pronouncement, he said, "That may be so but, these Klingons, should they have survived, may pose a threat to you. Do you have the means to defend yourselves?"
"This planet's native population is primitive and aggressive - our tactic has been to stay out of their way. Still, we have had to arm ourselves. " Hunter said. "With our scientific knowledge and the planet's natural resources, plus what we salvaged from the shuttle, we've been able to assemble a number of crude devices that could be used as weapons in an emergency."
Spock nodded. "It might be prudent to gather these together." Hunter nodded. "Tell us how you came to be here. What ship are you from?"
"I am First Officer and Science Officer aboard the Federation Starship USS Enterprise." Hunter whistled softly.
"The Enterprise. Is she still under the command of Captain Christopher Pike?" He asked.
"You knew Chrisopher Pike?" Spock asked, with interest.
"Knew of him." Hunter answered. "A distinguished captain and a good man as I have heard."
"Indeed." Taking a moment to explain Pike's fate. "My captain is James T Kirk."
"Never heard of him." Hunter said, dismissively, "Some upstart straight out of the Academy, no doubt." Those who knew him well, would have discerned a faint trace of amusement in Spock's eyes, but his face remained impassive as he replied, "Captain Kirk is on record as the youngest graduate to have assumed command of a federation starship."
"Like I said," Hunter said, "An upstart."
Spock explained about the distress signal and the ion storm. "I must assume that the Enterprise is no longer in the vicinity."
Kort had been listening, grim faced. "You have no way of knowing whether the Klingon ship engaged the Enterprise in battle?"
"Unknown. When the landing party beamed down there was no sign of it. I can only assume that it was on the other side of Skara, beyond the range of our sensors." T'Sorf, in his eagerness, voiced what the others were thinking. "If there were a battle, who would have won?" No one answered him.
"A Federation starship and a Klingon battlecruiser turning up at once. Coincidence?" Hunter said looking at Kort. The two men held each other's gaze for a moment in a way that seemed strangely familiar to Spock though he could not place why. He found the easy familiarity between the Klingon and the human strangely dislocating, as though things were not as they should be and for some reason, he felt unsettled.
"May I ask how many escaped from the ill-fated Curie?" Spock asked. He saw immediately that he had surprised them.
"What do you mean, ill-fated? Did something happen to the Curie?" Hunter asked.
"You did not know?" Spock said, surprised, "The Curie was destroyed by a Klingon ship. There were no known survivors – until now."
Hunter's face paled. He cleared his throat.
"Mr Spock, when we left the Curie, she was all in one piece." Spock nodded, "May I enquire whether the Curie's captain was aware of your departure?"
"Tell him, Mark." Kort said. "I suspect he is formulating his own hypothesis as to how two Klingons came to be aboard a Federation spaceship."
"I smuggled Kort and T'Sorf aboard, hid them in my cabin. I was travelling as a civilian scientist bound for the Hadean system." Spock raised an eyebrow and inclined his head.
"You hijacked a federation shuttlecraft?" He prompted.
"Hijacked is not the term I would have chosen, but it is technically correct, I suppose." Hunter admitted.
"I would be interested in learning how you managed to launch a shuttlecraft without attracting attention."
"Smoke and mirrors, Mr Spock. In the light of what you have just revealed, our escape from the Curie must now appear suspicious, but I assure you that Kort and I had nothing to do with the attack on the Curie."
As a Vulcan, Spock expected people to tell the truth, but he was well aware that even some Vulcans were proficient liars. He had no way of knowing if Hunter were telling the truth. The evidence, and his apparent friendship with Kort, a Klingon, seemed to suggest otherwise, yet something about this man engendered trust; something about him reminded him of another man in whom Spock willingly put his trust.
"May I ask why the Klingon ship attacked a vessel on a peaceful mission that was well within neutral space?" Kort asked.
"The order came from Klingon High Command. That is all I know." Spock answered, "However, Klingon High Command maintain that they were acting on intelligence that suggested the Curie was a threat to Klingon interests in the sector." Kort leaned forward, obviously intrigued. Spock hesitated before continuing as if reluctant to reveal the rest; "The Klingons were unable to corroborate the source of that intelligence. They even hinted that a Starfleet officer was involved."
Hunter whistled. Spock raised an eyebrow, "In all such incidents, conspiracy theories abound." He said, "Humans and Klingons alike are want to indulge in idle speculation to fill the vacuum created by an absence of facts."
"Still, they may have some basis in the truth. Here's a theory for you, Mr Spock. What would you say if I suggested that the Curie were destroyed to ensure that one man aboard was killed in a way that would not invite suspicion?"
"I would say that there must be easier ways to bring about a single death." Spock paused, "I would also like to know the man's identity."
"You're looking at him." Hunter said. Behind his Vulcan mask, Spock was puzzled. He was also tired and irritable. If Hunter had something to say, why did he not just say it instead of prevaricating – surely he must be aware that Vulcans were interested in the tale, not in the telling?
"You must be wondering, Mr Spock, how it is that a human and a Klingon came to be friends." Kort said, seeming to change the subject. "We met on Ravik V."
"You were on Ravik V?" Spock asked looking from Hunter to Kort. If the Curie incident had gone down in history as a brutal and senseless attack, it did not compare to what happened on Ravik V. In terms of scale at any rate.
Kort and Hunter seemed to nod in synch. Ravik was a world lying on the very edge of explored space. It had been made up of two continents and had been home to a sizeable community of a million or more colonists from all over the galaxy. It had also been the location of an intergalactic space station, a centre of scientific excellence that had attracted the great scientific minds of the galaxy to work and study.
"I was a scientist on Klingon, but I was also a rebel – such men and women do exist amongst Klingons, Mr Spock. We see a different future for our people. I wanted to pursue science for its own sake, not for the glory of the Klingon Empire. I came to Ravik to do research and ended up working on a project with Mark."
T'Sorf came over and sat by his father, listening. He had no doubt heard the story many times before.
"We were not great friends to begin with." Hunter said, "I did not trust Kort. My prejudices about the Klingon race were deeply entrenched, but I did respect him as a scientist. However, I was intrigued to learn that T'Sorf's mother was human and it was Marianne who built the bridge that led to our friendship. Later, our experiences on Ravik strengthened our bond – we became like brothers." At this, Spock raised an eyebrow. It had not occurred to him that Kort's son was a hybrid. Now he understood why T'Sorf had come and sat by his father – Spock sensed that Marianne had not survived the attack on Ravik.
"Do you know how many people died in the first strike on Ravik, Mr Spock?"
"Approximately four hundred and fifty thousand A further five hundred thousand in the second strike on Ravik's more populous northern continent . In each strike nearly one quarter of the planet was quite literally ripped away. Thousands more perished in the series of climatic and other disasters that followed the attack. It has been estimated that out of one million inhabitants, fewer than ten thousand survived long enough to be evacuated to safety."
"You have a good head for statistics, Mr Spock." Hunter commented. "I wonder if you are as good at imagining what conditions must have been like on Ravik in the aftermath of the attacks?" Spock's face remained expressionless.
"Imagine if you can pitch blackness filled with noise and chaos and terror. Imagine knowing that the very world you inhabit is breaking apart around you and on a massive scale. Witnessing the death of thousands…" Hunter's voice was unsteady. He cleared his throat. "Kort and I were out riding in the hills when the science station was targeted. I was thrown from my horse and rolled down a ravine. Kort risked his life to rescue me."
"And Mark risked his life to help rescue T'Sorf – we dug him out of the rubble of the station. We found Marianne close by but she was already dead." Hunter glanced at T'Sorf who was obviously struggling with his emotions.
Kort spoke unashamedly and honestly. Hunter looked at him when he stopped talking, and Spock, tired and still partially unshielded, felt the intensity of the emotion that passed between them with all the impact of a physical blow. He doubled over. "Mr Spock!" T'Sorf was beside him in an instant. Spock managed to bring himself under control. "Please do not concern yourselves…" He began, his voice faltering.
"Perhaps we overestimated the extent of your recovery." Hunter said. "You must rest."
Spock nodded, wearily. Before rising he asked, "Where are Mara and Reena?" and received vacant looks from his companions. "The children who discovered me in the forest. They went to bring me help, I think." Kort and Hunter looked puzzled, "There are no children here. T'Sorf came upon you whilst we were hunting, Mr Spock. You were unconscious."
"The sardur that attacked me?"
"Sardur? You mean the wild cat that attacked you? It was lying dead by your side. You had killed it, Mr Spock." It was Spock's turn to look puzzled. Had it been a hallucination? Was whatever was in his bloodstream affecting his very perception of reality.
Back in the quietness of the tent, he lay awake, trying to soothe his troubled thoughts by meditating. It had disturbed him to see Kort and Hunter together, to sense the strength of their bond.
He had understood perfectly what Kort had meant when he said that he and Hunter were more than friends, for his own friendship with James Kirk had long ago strengthened into something more akin to brotherhood; the Vulcans had a name for it; Th'yla, a word invested with subtle layers of meaning. After Deneva, he had wanted to tell Jim that in this sense he still had a brother, but he knew that his friend needed to grieve. Spock wrapped the sardur's warm skin around him, feeling a sudden chill. The last sound he heard before succumbing to an exhausted sleep was Kort and Hunter's laughter dissolving in the Skarran night air.
Spock woke to the sound of T'Sorf's voice again, but this time the boy had no need to strike him. "Are you feeling better, Mr Spock?" he asked. Spock nodded, observing T'Sorf with curiosity. There seemed nothing of the human about him, just as there was nothing in Spock's own outward appearance to suggest that he was anything other than Vulcan. "I too am a hybrid." Spock said, "My mother is human. T'Sorf smiled, "Then we are alike, you and I. Except, I have never been to my father's world. You grew up on Vulcan?"
"Yes, but I visited Earth from time to time."
"Are you more Vulcan or more human, Mr Spock? Which do you prefer? Earth or Vulcan?"
"It is not a matter of preference. I was raised as a Vulcan."
" And yet you live amongst humans. I went to Earth once. I did not like the way people looked at me there. I look like a Klingon. Perhaps on Klingon I could gain acceptance, but if what my father says about his people is true, I am not sure that I could accept them. That is strange is it not, to be a product of two worlds yet belong to neither?" Spock looked at the boy feeling a stab of recognition. He had no words of comfort to offer.
"At least your parents' people are not at war with each other, at least they don't hate each other. My father says that one day Klingons, humans, Vulcans, we will all be the same, and I believe him. All we need are more bridge builders, like my mother."
Spock nodded soberly, thinking that the young Klingon was wise beyond his years, but also naive.
"I came to ask you to join us for supper, that is, if you are feeling well enough. I have gathered some berries and fruit for you. Mark says that Vulcans find animal flesh distasteful."
"Thank you." Spock answered, "I will join you." T'Sorf grinned. Spock watched him as he left the tent, seeing now that he had been mistaken before in assuming that there was nothing human about the boy. There was much about him that reminded the Vulcan why he had chosen to live amongst Humans.
Kort and Hunter welcomed him when he stepped outside the tent. He accepted their hospitality and listened to their cheerful conversation. There was no further mention, Spock noted, of the Curie, or of Hunter's claim that he was the reason for its destruction. It would be necessary, and soon, to hear Hunter's story but for the time being, Spock was prepared to wait.