Spock closed his eyes, and opened them again. Especially here, deep within the rock chambers of Gol, there was no appreciable difference in what penetrated his obscured vision with that movement. Closing his eyes and opening them was marked by the sensation of his eyelids pressing onto his sclera and irides, and then exposing them to the colder and more gentle sensation of air reacting with moisture. The word redundant passed through his mind. As they were, his eyes were almost totally redundant, a useless vulnerability in his face.

He closed his eyes again and let the heat of his eyelids settle on them. He had been doing this for a long time; opening and closing his eyes and finding no appreciable difference. Often it was not the sight that he missed; it was the lost opportunities for independent existence. But those lost opportunities would not be affected by an emotional response. They existed. He could address them with technology, with further adaptation and an increase in his skills. They would never be totally overcome, but – there was no logic in the shroud of regret and frustration that seemed to follow him through his daily life.

'You are progressing, Spock.'

He barely controlled a start. He had been alone in the room until very recently – of that he was certain. This was a voice he did not recognise, but the woman obviously recognised him. She was standing in the doorway, a few metres away on his left.

'T'Lan,' she said at his obvious confusion. Her robes rustled and swept on the floor as she moved closer to him, bringing with them a faint scent of the fabric, and of the body that filled them. 'Solek has consulted me about your treatment, but we have not yet met.'

'You have observed me,' Spock pointed out. She must have been in his presence before to be able to sense the improvement in his condition.

'Yes, Spock, I have observed you,' she nodded. 'I am k'lyath. My presence was useful to Solek on occasions.'

Spock nodded slowly. The word was familiar to him, since his own mental abilities were approaching the level of this woman. K'lyath designated those who had such abnormally strong mental powers that they found it difficult, without strict training, not to constantly sense the thoughts of those around them. Spock, when he was younger, had been tested for the condition, but although his telepathic ability was strong, it did not fall into the same category. T'Lan would be able to stand in the next room to him and sense his thoughts without him ever being aware of her presence. It was undoubtedly a useful ability, but most Vulcans who possessed it chose to cloister themselves in Gol rather than expose themselves to the risk and distrust of living amongst thousands of less disciplined and less able people.

'You have a meditation statue,' T'Lan said after a pause.

Spock moved his hands minutely on the blood-warm placard of stone under his hands. He had been given the statue very early on in his blindness, while still on Earth recovering in hospital. The stone was an inorganic metamorph, a crystal with the ability to change its shape according to the emotional manipulation of the person touching it. Until T'Lan had startled him the stone had been perfectly flat, like a slate under his palms. It had taken him over an hour to settle his thoughts, and the stone, into that inert position. Now he could feel slight ripples and peaks under the sensitive skin of his palms and fingers as he, and the stone, reacted to this unexpected presence.

'Yes,' he nodded. 'Solek intended that I try the v'ahnak bell. I was interested in a comparison with the efficacy of the meditation statue. I admit I am not accustomed to use either.'

'Yet you brought the statue to Gol?

Spock's eyebrow quirked.

'A human trait, perhaps,' he said, at ease admitting that while the relaxation of meditation was still in him. 'There are a number of items that I carry with me when I travel away from the ship. This statue has been with me for only a little less time than my blindness.'

'A souvenir of a catastrophic alteration in your life,' T'Lan said, the puzzlement clear in her voice.

Spock shook his head. 'No,' he said mildly. 'A reminder that there are alternatives – and a reminder of those people around me who – care – about my predicament.'

He pressed his palm flat over the meditation stone, then felt for the small bag he had carried with him, and slipped the stone inside. The v'ahnak bell had long since stopped vibrating, and he reached out for it, but his hand touched only air.

'I apologise – I picked up the bell to examine it,' T'Lan said, placing it in his hand.

Spock took it from her, a brief suspicion running through his mind that she had, in fact, picked up the bell to test his perception.

'You are correct,' she said. Was that a hint of satisfaction in her voice that she had read him correctly? 'I wondered how dulled your awareness had become due to your meditation. I came with another objective than simply checking your progress, Spock. I am given to understand – in fact, I can tell quite plainly – that you have an abnormally high esper rating.'

Spock nodded succinctly. 'That has been proven in tests.'

'I know that you use that ability to enhance your awareness of your surroundings,' she nodded in return. 'To me, it is quite obvious, although hidden to most Vulcans and psi-null beings. I can help you to hone your ability, should you wish me to do so. I am not experienced in the disadvantages of blindness, but with close melding we should be able to achieve a great deal. I can teach you how to make awareness a subconscious process.'

'I would be gratified,' Spock nodded.

'Then we can begin now. I have spoken to Solek and gained his permission to help you in this way. Are you amenable to starting now?'

'I have little else to do,' Spock said, raising an eyebrow. 'I have made no arrangements for further instruction with Solek today.'

She sat beside him, and began. 'Open your mind, Spock. Let yourself become aware of the air around you. Become aware of the subtlety of sound, the currents of the air, the currents of the minds in proximity to yours.'

Spock sat and allowed himself to open up into a deeper awareness of everything that surrounded him. He could feel T'Lan's mind close to his own, her thoughts running like ripples. She was shielding only very lightly. It was like sinking into water and feeling it envelop every part of his body. He could feel that this was going to be a strange and valuable experience, and one that could not compare to anything that he had been taught before.

The process took time, and time seemed to melt away until he was unaware of its passing. But as the woman continued to instruct him through the contact his awareness of the space around him seemed to unfold like a flower opening in the sun. At one point during the process the minds of all of the residents of Gol seemed to make themselves felt like pinprick stars in the darkness, until T'Lan helped him gently to fold his awareness in again and restrict it to his immediate surroundings.

When he rose up from the contact with T'Lan he felt light, almost as if he were floating. The walls felt like shadows around him, and the body of T'Lan was a nebulous presence almost like a half-glimpsed figure in the darkness. The air felt alive, the ground more real. It was as if the volume had been turned up on everything around him.

'I thank you, T'Lan,' he said, inclining his head towards her. 'This has been very beneficial.'

She nodded, and he was aware of her nod by more than the slight sound of the movement.

'Shall we walk back to your room, Spock?' she asked, and he assented, gathering up the bag containing his meditation stone and slipping the v'ahnak bell inside. He found he had no need to take her arm and extended his cane largely by habit. In the quiet calm of these underground rooms he could extend his awareness to its fullest extent, and felt preternaturally aware of the locations of walls and the undulations of the ground.

'Do not rely too heavily on your new-found awareness, Spock,' T'Lan warned him. 'It will be harder in more cluttered situations, and it is not infallible.'

'No, of course,' Spock said, letting the tip of his cane touch the ground. It would be foolish to trust his field of awareness too far.

'You are not staying here many more days, are you, Spock?' T'Lan asked him as they navigated out of the room and back up towards the outer chambers.

'Another three days,' Spock said reflectively. 'Solek believes that I am close to achieving that which I desire.'

'A deeper attainment of kaiidth,' T'Lan said. 'What is your understanding of that term, Spock?'

'Mastery of the unavoidable,' Spock replied instantly.

'I am of the opinion that that is conceit,' T'Lan told him. 'If a situation is unavoidable, it can hardly be mastered. You may exist alongside it. The implication of mastery is that one can effect change.'

'Then – acceptance of the unavoidable,' Spock offered.

'That is more precise,' she nodded. 'A great deal of your basic mental discipline stems from that philosophy. You may master your emotions, and master your physical reactions. But pain, for example, is something which must be accepted rather than suppressed. You may bring your thoughts away from the pain, but you cannot alter it merely by thought. You ignore it.'

'That is true,' Spock nodded.

He touched a hand meditatively to his leg. Only that morning he had walked without warning into the sharp corner of a low table. If he allowed his mind to dwell on it he could still feel the dull residue of the pain in his thigh where a bruise was probably developing. He had not caused the pain to cease to exist. He had merely accepted the sensation, dismissed it as unimportant, and moved his thoughts onto other things. An increase in occasional bruises and minor cuts was something that he had learnt to accept in his sightless state.

'Acceptance,' T'Lan said. 'You are very close to achieving that which you desire.'

Spock walked on beside her, aware of the sound her robes moving around her, the heat of her body, the sound of her loose hair moving a little as she moved. His awareness was so intense that it was almost overwhelming. Acceptance seemed to be around him and in him. T'Lan was right. There was no mastery of the unavoidable, only acceptance.