Five sets of brown eyes flew wide open at the sight of the latest visitors. A cardiac monitor's beeping frequency increased 12.4 percent. Except for the nurse moving to turn down the monitor's volume, the room went silent.
"Momma!" finally said the 8-year-girl standing next to bed where her brother lay. "Is that really her?"
The 11-year-old boy in the bed, who had managed to act grown up in front of the preceding sixteen groups of visitors, could not help his own smile—as much as he could between labored breaths.
This was the fifteenth room on their route. Nyota and Spock had settled into the routine and the expected interactions. Most had focused first on Spock, understandable because of his appearance and direct role in saving Terra. But these children's attention was on Nyota.
"Go and find out, Baby," the mother laughed, her expression silently asking Nyota for her indulgence.
Shyly, the girl approach Nyota, who bent over to meet her at eye level.
"Are you Lieutenant Uhura?" she asked.
"Yes, I am," Nyota smiled. "What is your name?"
"Akeela!"
Swenson, Allen, and Spock remained quiet behind her. Spock, though he would not admit it consciously, was relieved at having the attention shift from him to her. Fortunately there was a time limit for each visit, as some of the trick-or-treaters as well as several parents had been extremely eager to meet him once he entered the room. A couple kids forgot the "never touch a Vulcan" rule and hugged him before he could diplomatically discourage it. Unused to attention and interaction at such a personal level, he gained a new respect for Sarek's ability to navigate similar situations. However, he found the children's honest reactions refreshing—there was no subterfuge there—and, after some mental preparation, the physical contact had not distressed him unduly. The emotional waves of the children's happiness and curiosity had been manageable, and, with Nyota's prompting, he returned their hugs gently, if only briefly, grateful that there were few witnesses to these encounters.
"I am very glad to meet you, Akeela." Nyota walked to the bed, making sure to greet the patient as well. "And what is your name?"
"…A-me-ry…," he breathed out as best he could.
The nurse punched in a change to a medication drip on a touchpad. "There, that should help you breathe better," she said to the boy, then nodded to Nyota to continue.
"Amery and Akeela…what fine names!" Nyota exclaimed, making a point to smile at the parents as she said this.
"They are our pride and joy," said the father. "Amery, tell Lieutenant Uhura what you want to do when you grow up."
"Star-ship…doc-tor…," the boy rasped.
"And you, Akeela…tell her!"
The girl stood up straight. "Communications officer!"
"Excellent goals!" Nyota smiled, then turned her head. "Don't you think so, Commander?"
Spock was getting used to her cues. It was time for him to say something. "Indeed, most commendable, Lieutenant," he agreed.
"That's all they talk about," the father said. "They heard you have to study hard to get into Starfleet Academy. Amery's ahead two grades, and Akeela's in the school's Andorian language immersion program. Noses to their PADDs, all the time! Once Amery gets over this lungworm, he'll be back at it. No two kids work harder than mine!" he said with pride.
Nyota smiled at the kids. "It sounds like you're doing what it takes. Just keep it up."
"Do you mind if I take a holopic?" the mother asked. "Of everyone? Is that's all right…?"
"Absolutely," Nyota said, motioning Spock over. "Commander…"
Spock took a place to Nyota's side and struck a practiced pose perfected after hours of Starfleet PR photo sessions. Nyota positioned Akeela in front, next to her brother's bed, then did the same. After three pictures, Nyota and Spock moved off to the side while Allen and Swenson engaged the children in the trick-or-treat ritual. The mother continued to snap more pictures as her children received their chocolate and glow balls.
Nyota approached the father, making conversation. "They're great kids. I hope that we see them on a starship someday."
"Our family has always served," the father said, "and we're glad the kids want to follow family tradition. Their uncle was on the Yorktown."
The Yorktown, along with much of the fleet, had been destroyed during the Battle of Vulcan. "Oh, I'm so sorry. My condolences to your family," Nyota said.
"Yeah, my brother…it was hard," the man replied. "Not as hard, though, as it was for others…" He glanced toward Spock, who stood near the doorway watching Allen demonstrate how to activate the glow balls to the children. "These days we can't sit back. We have to be prepared, and we have to have the best people. For now, that's you. A few years from now, that will be my kids. We pray that Starfleet will only need them as explorers, not as soldiers."
Nyota nodded. "I'll join you in that prayer. Exploration is why I joined, why most of us did."
"Thank you for your service," he said, taking her hand and shaking it.
Spock's attention went from the Halloween interplay between Swenson, Allen, and the children to the man shaking Nyota's hand. His eyes met the man's.
"And thank you for your service, Sir," the man continued. "I am honored to meet you."
"We are honored to serve," said Spock, respectfully repeating the phrase for the fourteenth time in the past hour.
"Thank you!" Akeela exclaimed. She had finished receiving her Halloween favors and jumped next to her father's side, then faced Spock and, after a moment, calmed herself. "Dif-tor heh smusma," she said in a quietly reverent voice with as little inflection as she could manage, raising her hand in the Vulcan salute.
Akeela impressed Nyota with her quick transformation from excited Terran child to Vulcan composure. The child had been taught well, was gifted with languages, or both.
Her parents raised their own hands in the salute, as did Amery from his bed. Allen, Swenson, and Nyota were touched by their display of respect.
Though most would not have noticed it, Spock's eyes had softened a bit at their gesture, and he raised his own hand in return. "Sochya eh dif," he replied.
Swenson's PADD alarm went off. It was time to move on.
"Have a wonderful Halloween, everyone," Swenson said.
"Happy Halloween!" chorused the family, who had practiced it with so many groups before this one. Even Amery managed to say it all in one breath.
-o0o-
"So, where to next?" Allen asked once Group #17 was back in the hallway after their thirty-third patient visit. After two and a half hours of visits, they were all tired, but it was a rewarding kind of tired. There were only two rooms left on the route before the group proceeded to the auditorium for a bigger party for the ambulatory patients.
"Room 413," said Swenson. "It should be just around this corner…"
They found the room, but they also found the members of Group #16—two volunteers dressed as a frog and a princess as well as Wild Blister lead singer Azure Angel—standing outside.
"What's up?" Swenson asked the princess.
"The boy needs a blood draw, so we have to wait."
From inside the room, a child wailed.
"That doesn't sound good," said Angel. "Poor kid."
"This might end up being a short visit," said the princess.
A nurse exited the room. "You can go in now," he said, nodding to the frog.
The frog put on a positive face. "Let's cheer him up," she said brightly. She went in, asked for Group #16's permission to enter, then beckoned to the rest.
Group #17 waited patiently outside the door. Unfortunately the wails grew louder, despite Group #16's best efforts to change the child's mood. Two minutes later, Group #16 was out the door.
"I see that our work is cut out for us," Swenson said to the frog.
The frog shrugged. "He's about 4 years old, and I think it's getting to be nap time. Good luck," she said as her group started down the corridor to the next stop.
Swenson turned to the rest. "Ready?"
"I am, but I'm not sure our trick-or-treater is," said Allen, listening to the child's whimpering from the room.
"Hmmm, I'll try to tread lightly with this one," said Swenson. He entered the room, and the child's cries ceased for a moment. The rest of the group remained outside the door.
"Good afternoon…," Swenson said quietly. "Is it all right for trick-or-treat?"
"I think so," answered a female voice. "He just had a blood draw and is still a little upset."
"Awww, let's help him forget that," Swenson replied. "May I invite my friends in?"
"Oh, please!" pleaded the harried mother. "…Hey, Ben, look! A lion!"
Swenson beckoned the rest to come in. The child, in his mother's arms, nuzzled his face into her upper arm. He was shy, but curious, stealing surreptitious looks. Still overwhelmed and slightly confused, however, he burst into another bout of tears.
"Oh, my!" gasped the mother when she saw who their visitors were. "Oh…my…!"
Unfortunately the mother's excitement did not transfer to her child, who now wailed in a cycle of pure frustration and crabbiness. Some of the shrieks hurt Spock's ears. Even Allen winced.
"He needs a distraction," said Nyota, remembering how her mother quieted her younger cousins when they stayed at the Uhura home. "Would he like to hear a song?"
"No, I'm sorry, he's not a song kind of boy," the woman answered apologetically, grabbing a tissue to wipe the tears off his face.
Allen made a few funny faces, but Ben, who seemed determined to stay in his bad mood, howled even louder despite his mother's efforts to quiet him, burying his head deep into his mother's shoulder.
Spock looked at his uncle quizzically. Did Allen really think that contorting his face in that manner would do anything other than annoy the child? Swenson seemed to think so, as he now joined Allen in the endeavor. Nyota tried maintain a positive expression, even with her teeth held in a tight smile as her patience ebbed as another high scream overloaded her superior aural sensitivity.
"Bbbbbbbblllllllllllrrrrrrr," said Allen after another minute, blowing air through his lips, making odd noises to augment his expressions.
Unmoved and unimpressed, Ben's own face contorted into an even tighter mask of pure frustration.
At this, Spock's own patience began to ebb at the illogic of continuing this course augmented with ridiculous sound effects when the child, who was now shrieking even louder, clearly was not responding positively to the irritating stimuli.
Spock's encounters with young Terran children were few, and he had little experience to draw upon for calming one down with a tantrum in progress. So, what made them happy? He considered his observations during the few walks he had taken through San Francisco's tourist district and the children he had seen there. Street performers often engaged their attentions successfully with simple exercises of manual dexterity and hand-eye coordination. There was an 86.65 percent chance that this child would respond similarly.
Reaching into Allen's basket, he took out three balls before Allen could protest, activated them, then tossed up one ball into the air, then another, and finally the third until he had a 3-ball cascade pattern going.
Ben had just drawn in another breath ready to let out his loudest wail yet, eyes squinting in preparation when suddenly they widened. The three balls' glow and motion captivated him as Spock juggled before him. Instead of a wail, he exhaled a delighted squeal. His face no longer reflected torture, but delight.
Turning around to see what had grabbed the unhappy tot's attention, Allen and Swenson's mouths dropped. Nyota put her hand to her mouth in surprise. Ben's mother breathed out a sigh of relief as the hellchild transformed into her treasured son again.
"I didn't know you could do that, Commander," Nyota said slowly, smiling, noting the revelation of another of her beloved's hidden talents this week. First his culinary skills with pumpkin-based dishes, and now juggling…what else did he have hidden? A new sense of determination took over briefly as she considered ways to find out.
"It is a common exercise among Vulcan children to promote coordination and dexterity," Spock said matter-of-factly, as if he did this every day.
"You're telling me that all Vulcans can do this?" Allen asked, trying to mentally picture his brother-in-law, Sarek, doing the same. "Will wonders never cease?"
"Ben here seems to be enjoying it," said Nyota brightly, breaking from her plotting, refocusing Allen from teasing Spock to entertaining the child. "Do you like the glow balls, Ben?"
Ben, concentrating on the flying orbs, nodded, still somewhat shy as his eyes cleared of tears.
"Would you like one of your very own?" Allen asked.
Again, Ben nodded.
"Then let's get your trick-or-treat bag," Allen suggested.
Ben's mother picked up the trick-or-treat bag and held it out, as Ben seemed to have difficulty moving his hands to grip the sides. "What do you say?" Ben's mother asked.
"Trick or Treat," Ben said softly.
Allen canted his head toward Spock. "I think you should do the honors."
Spock sent one ball up, higher than the others, into a graceful arc that sent the orb right into the child's bag. The other two balls stopped neatly in his left hand, which he deactivated and put back into Allen's basket.
Show-off, Allen thought.
"Thank you," said Ben, unprompted. Things were looking up.
"You are welcome," Spock replied, satisfied that he had discovered a protocol that effectively dealt with an upset child. There was also an odd satisfaction that he, without Nyota's guidance this time, had found a solution to a challenging Terran social interaction, though he would never admit that.
Fortunately the child seemed as eager to receive the chocolate candy from the lion as Swenson repeated the ritual. His trauma now forgotten, Ben even smiled when a nurse snapped a holopic of the entire group. His mother was delighted by time Swenson's PADD alarm signaled that it was time to proceed to the next child, and the group exited with the humans' enthusiastic waves and a slight bow from the Vulcan.
"Mission accomplished!" Allen quipped once the group had left and was down the hallway out of hearing range.
"It's tough out here on the front lines," Swenson joked. "But fighting doom and gloom and crying children is our business."
"No doubt," said Allen, marveling at how much volume an upset child could generate.
As they approached the next room on their route, a nurse met them outside the door and stopped them before they could enter. "Hello," she said, taking them aside. "Before you decide to go in, I need to tell you about the patient."
This was different. In all the years he had done this, Swenson had never been met outside a patient's room like this. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.
"Well, yes and no…," she said. "Our patient's name is Marni, and we do not know how much longer she will be with us. The fact is, we are surprised that she is still conscious. Her parents, the Valdezes, are trying to give her the best quality of life for the time she has left, and they believe that letting her see the celebrities and volunteers is better than having her spend her last hours listening to monitors. She cannot speak, but it's OK to speak to her—she does follow you with her eyes."
The nurse continued. "This is upsetting to some volunteers, so we warn you beforehand so you can choose whether or not to go in. If you are not comfortable with this, please do not feel obligated or the least bit bad about not going in."
"I see," said Swenson, looking at the members of Group #17. Working at the hospital, he was used to dying patients, and he was at peace with assisting them. "I will go. If the rest of you want to wait out here…"
"No, I'll go with you," said Allen. "I'm not very interesting to look at, but I can lend my support."
"I will go, too," said Nyota. She had been through much worse. This was something that she could do.
Normally Spock would have preferred to leave the family attending a dying family member in privacy. Looking past the nurse and into the room, he saw the girl lying amidst several monitors with her parents both sitting at her bedside. For reasons he could not discern, something about the young girl, who appeared to be in her early teenaged years, was drawing him.
"I will accompany you also," he said despite his confusion.
"You can leave your baskets with me," said the nurse. "Go right in."
Swenson led the group in, keeping his eyes on the girl. "Hey, there. I'm David, and this is Allen. The good-looking folks behind us are Nyota and Spock. They're in Starfleet, but I'm sure you know that already. And you're Marni, yes?"
Nyota stepped up. "Hi, Marni, I'm so glad to meet you."
Just as the nurse said, Marni followed Swenson, then Nyota with her eyes as they spoke to her.
"Mr. and Mrs. Valdez?" Allen walked over and held out his hand. "We're pleased to meet you, too."
"Thank you for coming in to see our daughter," said Mrs. Valdez, shaking Allen's hand.
"We are honored to do so," said Allen.
Marni's eyes took in all of her visitors. Swenson's lion costume had grabbed her attention at first, then Nyota had engaged her. Her eyes darted over to watch Allen and her parents shake hands and exchange greetings. Then they stopped once they found Spock—and they stayed.
Help me…
Spock heard her voice in his mind, and his eyes met hers. Her stare was intense, and he matched that intensity in return. Her mental cry was unexpected. He reasserted his shields as the two continued to stare at one another, their exchange now somehow palpable to everyone else in the room.
"Commander?" It was Nyota. "Is everything all right?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Valdez, what is your daughter's psi rating?" Spock asked, keeping his eyes locked with the girl's
"She tested psi null," Mrs. Valdez said worriedly.
Marni's body was weakening—the monitor readings bore testament to that fact—yet her mental pull was strong. Spock closed his eyes. "Nevertheless, her mind reaches mine." He paused. "She calls for you."
"How can that be?" Mr. Valdez asked.
"I do not know."
Mr. Valdez turned to the girl. "Marni, what do you need?"
Please…
Marni's eye beckoned again, and Spock received a wave of desperation—the girl needed him, was pleading with him to come closer.
To understand what she wanted, he would have to touch her. The prospect was disconcerting, and Spock was reluctant. Except for Nyota, he was unaccustomed to touching anyone, and when he did, often it proved to be painful or disturbing. His grief and stress since the destruction of his home world had compromised his resistance to emotional overload. Though he had resolved several issues in the past few days, his mental disciplines remained unsettled as he continued to heal.
Mommy, Daddy, please…
Her desperation intensified as she called out to her parents, the same degree of desperation that he himself had felt during Vulcan's final moments as he tried to rescue his parents and the elders.
Mrs. Valdez looked down at her daughter, tears beginning to form. "I've felt that she's holding on, and she won't go."
So, her mother had sensed her emotional upset as well. Unless Marni could connect with her parents one last time, Spock believed the girl's katra would not depart in peace—for now it clung desperately to its host even as Spock sensed the greater universal force beginning to extend its tendrils, exerting more force to pull it away. If he touched her mind, perhaps he could bring her some relief.
No, this breach of privacy is not proper, his Vulcan reflexes admonished him. These people are not of your clan. You are not a healer. Leave, and do not disgrace yourself or them!
He paused again, catching himself, angry at the admonishment. The girl called for his help, even as her katra was being pulled from her. Could he refuse her request being made at the brink of her death? Something inside him refused to rest, and it burst into memory. His mother's words. "If you can help, then you help," she said.
A directive. A mission. An ethic. He reflected on those words and upon the woman who had spoken them. Even on a convoluted and unexpected path, today he had followed her footsteps here, participating in the acts of aid and comfort as she had, responding to her innate nature that Spock had always admired in her. Turning away now would dishonor her example, her dedication to the deeds she had performed here decades ago. She had been part of this place, as her father had been, as had many Grayson family members. He realized that all of this was a part of him—his Vulcan heritage demanded many things of him, but he had a heritage here, too.
Spock approached the girl and looked at her more closely. Her eyes looked less desperate, filled with a relieved hope as he came closer. The knowledge that humans saw things differently tempered his thoughts, extinguishing the restrictions of cultural upbringing. He made his decision.
"Miss Valdez, I can establish telepathic communication with you. Do you wish my assistance?" he asked her formally, as Vulcan standards required.
Another flicker of relief crossed the girl's expression. Spock recognized it, as did her parents.
He looked up at the Valdezes. "Physical contact is required. May I have your permission?"
"Will she be able to talk to you?" Mr. Valdez asked.
"I believe so."
He looked to his wife, who nodded, losing the couple of tears that had been brimming at the bottom of her eyes.
"It won't hurt?" he asked with some trepidation.
"No," Spock said.
"OK."
Allen and Swenson remained standing off to the side, fascinated. They did not know what to expect next. Allen had seen examples of telepathy between Sarek and Amanda, then Spock and Nyota. Something about this, though, felt different.
Nyota looked on, concerned, but did not interfere. She stepped back to give Spock more room.
Spock looked back down at the girl. "Relax. Open your thoughts," he said quietly, nearly at whisper level. He spread his fingers to touch the psi points at her temple and on her face, then closed his eyes in concentration. "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…"
Except for the quick clicks and occasional monitor beeps, the room was silent. The Valdezes stood close to one another, wordlessly trying to support each other as they waited.
Spock drew in a breath. "…Mommy? Daddy?... please … What about Dweezil…take care?..." His voice was higher-pitched, and there was more inflection in it than usual.
The Valdezes looked at each other, surprised.
Mrs. Valdez snapped out of it first. "Yes, Sweetie, we're going to take good care of Dweezil. …" A sharp intake of breath, she gave up trying to contain the tears that had been running freely anyway despite all efforts to maintain composure.
"Dweezil?" Allen whispered to Swenson.
"Our cat," supplied Mr. Valdez, who had heard Allen's query, his own eyes filling with tears. "Don't worry, Baby. We will love him as much … as you do. He's going to be just fine."
Spock's eyes remained closed, his brows furrowed in concentration. "…I don't want to go…"
"It's OK, Marni, it's OK," Mrs. Valdez cried. "It's time…"
"…your daughter…can't leave you, not now… no…" Spock breathed out.
"You will always be our daughter," her mother's voice caught. "…Always…you will always…be…" She could not go on, clutching at her husband.
"Baby, we are so proud of you. Never forget that. You put up a good fight, a damn good fight," Mr. Valdez tried to soothe, his voice trembling. "We love you… Now… now it's time…to rest. Sweet dreams, Baby, sweet dreams…. We'll see you in Heaven." His throat constricted, and he could say no more as the tears ran down his own face in torrents.
Spock remained quiet for several seconds before gently pulling his hand from the girl's face and slowly opened his eyes. Marni's eyes opened halfway, she looked toward her parents for the last time, then closed them slowly. Her breathing shallowed as the monitor readings changed, beginning their slow descent.
"She wants you to hold her," Spock said calmly, his voice slightly rough. "Her mind has calmed. She will depart peacefully." He stepped back, then took in a few calming breaths to regain emotional equilibrium while the Valdezes each reached for a hand to comfort Marni on her final journey from consciousness.
Allen, Swenson, and Nyota stood still, respectfully. Although they normally would have left the family alone for such a private moment, it did not feel right to leave. The Valdezes seemed to draw strength from their presence. So they stood in silent witness, quiet support for the next six minutes as the machinery slowed, the clicks and beeps more infrequent until they trailed off into final stillness. With one quiet exhale, their Marni stilled with them.
-o0o-
Group #17 walked quietly toward the auditorium, their tour of patient rooms complete, each contemplating the quiet departure they had just witnessed.
The Valdezes had thanked them profusely, though restraining themselves in deference to Vulcan sensibilities when they approached Spock. Paled by the strain from the physical and emotional strain of telepathic contact, he graciously and respectfully accepted their gratitude, knowing that it was a necessary ritual for Terrans, and he wished them peace before leaving the room through the small group of doctors and nurses whose own tear-streaked faces indicated that they had also witnessed Marni's last moments from the doorway. They looked at him in awe as he strode from the room followed by the rest of the group.
After a couple minutes, Nyota noticed that Spock's color was beginning to improve. He had not retreated into a Vulcan shell, so she believed that he was not unduly upset. Unlike the rest of them, he seemed at peace.
They neared the auditorium entrance and the general Halloween party for the ambulatory kids. Before they got there, Nyota had to stop. She could not stand it any longer.
"Could we pull over for a second?" she asked Swenson.
"Do you need a moment?" he asked sympathetically.
"I need to make sure that we're all OK," she said. "Is there somewhere more private?"
Swenson saw an empty exam room. "Here," he ushered them in, closing the door behind them.
Spock looked at Nyota with a hint of concern.
"Let me feel you," she said in Vulcan.
"Why?" Spock said.
"I need to ascertain your mental state."
He took both hands and pressed his forehead to hers as he briefly connected their thoughts. All she felt was serenity. It was not what Nyota expected, and she looked up at him for explanation as he separated consciousnesses.
"Everything all right?" Allen asked, feeling uneasy himself.
"I, I don't know," Nyota replied, somewhat upset. "Maybe this has affected me more than I know. Spock, how were you able to do that?"
His concern for her remained. "I do not understand."
"When we were standing there, watching her die, I couldn't help thinking about everyone we've seen die… It hit me harder than I expected. I thought I could handle it. How can you…?"
Spock could not express his sense of peace in words. He took her hands and pressed his forehead to hers again, drawing her into his decision, following a part of his mother's nature that he realized was part of his own, and the completion he felt as he honored Amanda's teachings and example. She felt his sense of place, a fulfillment of mission as he guided a young girl's katra to release itself to tranquility. His calm came less from an ordered mind, more from something else. It had felt right.
When Spock released her, Nyota understood.
Author's Note May24-2010: Vonda N. McIntyre, in her 1986 novel, Enterprise: The First Adventure, suggested that juggling was a common activity among Vulcan children to promote hand-eye coordination. Made sense to me, so I gave nuSpock that skill as well.
