Ch 9: Distractions

The sounds of a strangled cat echoed in the ship's recreation room. Seeing as there were no animals allowed on the Enterprise, surely the sounds weren't coming from an actually strangled cat. No, the horrible screeching sounds came from a violin, played by an unskilled Captain James T. Kirk. Kirk had never taken a single music class as a child, and thus didn't even know how to play the recorder. Still he pulled the bow across the strings, attempting rather poorly to play Baa, Baa, Black Sheep. He didn't strum the violin so much as make a pitiful sawing motion. Before long, a string broke on the violin for the third time in only half an hour, mercifully putting the violin out of its misery. Kirk ceased the sawing motion and sighed at the deceased violin. He found himself lucky that there were an abundance of violin strings to replace those that had snapped, but decided to leave that task to someone much more skilled than he.

Despite the total butchering of the poor instrument, Kirk carefully placed the instrument in its case and closed it. He slinked over to a nearby padded chair and slumped into it. Nothing in the recreation room had managed to distract him for long. Most of the games involved at least one additional person to play. A 208 card pyramid stood on one of the tables, defying gravity. None of the other instruments caught his interest, and the violin he had attempted to teach himself how to play merely turned into a victim of his sheer musical ineptitude. He tried reading through the many books that were available on the book shelves, but couldn't read past the first page of any of them.

He let out another sorrowful sigh. He checked the clock on the wall to see how much time he had managed to burn through. Only another half hour since last he checked. He had only been able to get four hours worth of any kind of enjoyable distraction from the recreation room, which sadly relied on the presence of many more people to be of any use.

Fingers drumming on the arms of his chair, Kirk desperately tried to think of more things he could do to distract himself from thoughts of Spock. He could use the exercise room and work out a bit. Perhaps a little sweat and pain could distract him longer than the recreation room did. After all, you don't need other people to exercise. He pictured himself running on a treadmill, his skin glowing with sweat. He saw Spock walking in on him, watching him as he ran. He saw himself turning to the Vulcan and wanting to find another way to physically exert himself…

Kirk smacked himself in the head. Exercise didn't seem to be a good idea. He then remembered that there was a theatre room on the ship as well. He could always pick a movie and put it into the projector. That would easily burn another two hours, assuming he only found one movie he wanted to see. He could pop some popcorn and go sit alone in the dark theatre, enjoying whatever he wanted to see without other people heckling or making out. Actually, he was usually the one doing the heckling or the making out. And if Spock were with him, he'd definitely be making out…

Another smack in the head. Movies were out too it seemed. The only thing he could think of that would effectively distract him and not lead to any dirty thoughts was ship maintenance. But what maintenance could he perform on a ship that had been maintained by Starfleet mechanics? It wasn't as if the ship was flying out in space, so there were no real readings or levels for him to monitor. But then again, he wasn't entirely familiar with how the Enterprise ran, so if nothing else, he could simply look at the multitude of documents the ship's computer stored and pour through them. It wasn't a particularly inviting idea, but it did seem like the most inane thing that could eat up hours and hours of time. If it didn't, at least it could put him to sleep for long enough.

With great reluctance, Kirk vacated the very comfortable chair he had plopped into and made his way to engineering. If there was ever a place to find a wealth of knowledge that could actually keep him somewhat interested, it'd be there.

Spock sat cross-legged in the center of the room, completely motionless. Breathing slowly and deeply with eyes closed, he made hardly a sound. If you didn't know that Spock was meditating, you would think he had fallen asleep sitting up. Just as he had practiced with Spock Prime, he relaxed his body and his mind. Upon doing so, he concentrated his emotions into a ball deep inside himself and focused on consolidating them into one. When his mind and body were fully at ease, he took gradually thinned the consolidated ball of emotion until it evaporated away into nothingness. Satisfied with his completion of the first half of his meditation, he proceeded to submerge himself further into his subconscious.

A bright light shined through his closed eyelids. Tentatively, he opened them. Before him wasn't his room on the Enterprise, but solid white light. There was no distinction between the ground he sat on and the space above his head. Uncrossing his legs, he stood up and surveyed his surroundings. The white light surrounded him in all directions as far as the eye could see. Beneath his feet was no sign of a shadow; it was as if he were floating, save the flatness of his feet on what should have been solid ground.

It looked as though he were all alone in the vast whiteness until he heard a voice. Spock… The voice was soft and familiar. Where had he heard that voice before? He looked around, expecting to see someone, but saw only more whiteness. Again, the voice called. Spock… Again Spock looked around; still, no one could be seen. The voice reverberated all around him as if he stood in an auditorium.

Perplexed by the disembodied voice, Spock responded. "Who's there?" he asked, unsuccessfully masking the apprehension in his voice. As if on cue, Spock felt a tug at the bottom of his tunic. Relieved that there was finally a physical presence to go with the haunting voice, Spock looked down to find a young Vulcan boy looking back up at him with round, dark eyes. The boy appeared to be about seven or eight years old; after closer inspection, Spock recognized the little boy as himself.

The boy called his name again. "Spock," he said in the formal tone which was mismatched with his youthful voice. "Why are you here?"

Spock kneeled down to bring himself eye to eye with the younger version of himself. He was beginning to understand how Prime felt when they first encountered each other. Uncertainty in his voice, Spock said, "I am here to merge the two conflicting halves of myself into one so that I may have an unyielding domination of my emotions. It would be logical to presume that you are one of the halves I wish to merge."

The boy shook his head. "I am indeed on of the halves which comprise your inner self. However, what you aim to achieve is impossible as you are now." An eyebrow rose on Spock's face, but he said nothing, knowing his younger self would explain himself if given the time to do so. The boy continued as expected. "There is much you need to come to terms with before you can even dare to hope to resolve the internal divergence you currently are experiencing."

In the back of Spock's head, he was wondering how Vulcan children could have been forced to sound so adult at such a young age. It was disorienting being told words of wisdom from one who had not yet met puberty, but Spock reminded himself that this was not a mere Vulcan child, it was half of his inner self. It was natural for this seemingly young Vulcan to be speaking from experience because in reality, they were the exact same age.

Since it was apparent that the boy knew much more about himself than he had realized in his conscious life, he asked, "And what are some examples of the issues I need to 'come to terms with' before I can successfully merge you and my other half into one?" The young boy's gaze was steadfast as he said bluntly, "Your love for Captain Kirk."

Spock's face remained emotionless save the increase in size of his eyes. Playing stupid, he probed, "My lovefor Captain Kirk?" In a very un-Vulcan manner, the boy rolled his eyes at Spock. Letting his formal tone slip into a more casual one, the boy retorted, "You can't seriously be unaware of what I'm talking about, Spock. You may try to ignore your emotions and push them aside, but love is one emotion you have never been able to push away and hide. You couldn't push your love away for your mother, and there's no way you can push your love for the Captain away either."

"Your other half and I have been at war about this subject for longer than you realize," the boy explained. "You may be disillusioned to the idea that Prime's mind meld with both you and the Captain was the onset of your internal conflict, but it has been a rather touchy subject since we first met him in the assembly before Starfleet. You didn't call him out on his cheating because he had gone against everything the test stood for; you did it because you wanted to test him on a more personal level. You wanted to see what kind of man would deliberately go against you. And when you found out, you found yourself intrigued, far more than you should have been. Far more than you were with Nyota."

The calm expression in Spock's face weakened as anger flushed his cheeks. "You are implying," he said with a deadly tone, "That I prefer that hard-headed lummox over Nyota, a woman who has grace, elegance, intelligence, and control?"

An uncharacteristic scoff came from the young Vulcan's lips, catching Spock off guard. "You think just because she's a woman she's a better match for you? Don't fool yourself into thinking that she has more control than the Captain. If you pay any attention to her actions at all, you know just as well as I do that when it comes to you, she has little to no control. The way she flings herself at you when you're alone, both emotionally and physically, is disgustingly contradictory to what she portrays to everyone else. That elegance and grace you speak of is abandoned as soon as she has the chance to shower you with her affection. The only thing you're left with then, is her beauty and her intelligence, which may not be a bad combination in a woman, but for you to compare her to the Captain, you'll need a far better argument than that because there are plenty of beautiful, intelligent women in Starfleet that you've ignored completely."

"Captain Kirk is unlike anyone you've ever encountered and you know it," the Vulcan boy said, his words cutting into Spock like razors. "He's a true force to be reckoned with, and you would be a fool not to realize how much like yourself he really is simply because you're scared to love another man, or because he's your superior, or whatever flimsy excuse you can derive from that vast intelligence you inherited from your parents. Prime said it himself: you two need each other. The extent to which you need each other goes further than your duties to Starfleet and this ship; you need each other emotionally too, and to deny yourselves that would be self-destructive. You can attempt to fight what you know all you want, but soon enough, when you least expect it, your guard will slip and there will be no denying what you already know is true."

As the boy spoke, Spock did a stunning impression of a goldfish. The boy stared at the man's face in amusement, lifting a small hand upward to close his jaw. With a precious smile, he said, "This is one of the more immediate issues you need to resolve before we two can become one. There is much more, but for now, tackle this one obstacle so that you can see the others that obstruct your path to inner peace." He took a step back and vanished.

Spock stared in stunned silence before standing up straight and adjusting his tunic. He closed his eyes and felt himself rising upward. His eyes opened, and before him were the familiar surroundings of his room. He blinked rapidly and held his head with his hands. The emotions he had strived so hard to dissipate where coursing through his veins once more. He looked at the clock on his wall. He had meditated for three hours straight. Impressive considering the circumstances, but a mere drop in the bucket compared to how much time was left of shore leave. There was still no word from Kirk and he had to find some way to stay out of his way and to also keep himself occupied until Kirk was comfortable enough to approach him about the subject.

His inner self had been right though. The one emotion he felt more than anything else at that moment was the love he felt for Kirk. It frustrated him that he couldn't simply go up to Kirk and talk to him about everything, but he knew pushing the matter would only cause more problems. With a deep breath, he rose from his seated position and walked out of his room. What better way to keep oneself distracted than by performing extensive, strenuous mental tasks in various sections of the Enterprise?