Spock engaged the privacy seal on the door of the quarters he was using, and sat down at the desk. He pressed 'play' on the little recorder, and sat impassive as Lieutenant Larssen's even voice said:
"Mission Log, Lieutenant junior grade Corrina Larssen, Stardate 3916.4, Ser Etta Five.
On Stardate 3874.2, I beamed down as second ranking officer with Commander Spock, Yeomen Shimona and Brand, and Ensign's Bai'tin and Grenwood, to Ser Etta Five at a sight where sensor scans had indicated the presence of metal consistent with a Starfleet shuttle."
A brief squeal as Spock ran the recording forward, and then:
"I made the suggestion, to which Commander Spock agreed, that Ensign Robert Grenwood should be included in the team of three undertaking the journey to the research base. This suggestion was based on the assumption that Mr Grenwood's youthful resilience would outweigh his inexperience, and he would deal well with the rigours of the journey.
That assumption was proved false. Tested beyond his endurance by the rigours of the journey, Mr Grenwood became unable to continue, and I was unable to adequately carry out my duties as second ranking officer to care for the health and morale of the crew under me. Mr Grenwood died as a result of this failure on my part."
Another squeal, and Larssen's voice again, less steady:
"I have no excuse for my conduct, which I now see was unbecoming for an officer, and evidence of unsuitability for my current rank. Had Commander Spock not prevented me, I would have endangered his life and the completion of the mission."
His eyebrow raised, Spock ran the recording forward again, and heard:
"After assisting me to the research base, Commander Spock brought the base communications relay on line and boosted the power with the dilithium source installed for the medical equipment. He transmitted a message for relay to Federation HQ informing them of the significance of the Realgar system. Commander Spock then carried out his duties to safeguard the welfare of his crew by ensuring I received appropriate medical care despite his own condition. His conduct at all times was in accordance with his responsibilities as ranking officer."
Spock stopped the recording, and sat with his hands steepled, deep in thought. Above and beyond Lieutenant Larssen's description of a mind meld as 'appropriate medical care', there were a number of things about her mission log which did not accord with his own recollections.
They were, however, in agreement with the bare facts of the events, if the differences in personal interpretation were taken into account.
It was the personal interpretation which gave him pause. If that mission log were submitted, the captain would be required to act on its content. Even if he, Spock, were to report that Larssen's conduct had been in line with her duties and responsibilities, Kirk would be forced to order a psychiatric evaluation of the Lieutenant, which would be placed on her record. And if the results of the evaluation were inconclusive, or even problematic - given that it would be Dr Leonard McCoy administering the examination with the aid of the crude machines humans used to measure mental health, Spock was far from certain that any evaluation would reach the right conclusion.
Larssen's career could be damaged, even ended. And what could Spock do? Starfleet would not accept his assertion that the mind meld had given no evidence that Larssen was less than competent, even if Jim would.
He reached out, and pressed 'erase', and then picked up the recorder and went in search of Larssen.
He found her in the biomedical laboratory, cataloguing experiments for the recovery team.
"Lieutenant," he said, and she swung around. Seeing the recorder in his hand, she flinched slightly, and he guessed she was irrationally afraid he would change his opinion of her based on her mission log.
Humans often projected their own feelings thus, and could damage themselves and their relationships with others in the process. Spock altered what he had been about to say, and went on: 'Lieutenant, the recorder seems to have malfunctioned. When I attempted to replay your mission log, the memory was empty."
She was really very easy to read, in the way Vulcan children were.
Sudden relief, and then apprehension at the thought of getting up the courage to record it all over again. All she said was, "I'll try again sir."
He did not move to give her the recorder.
"Lieutenant Larssen, in case you have not filed a mission log before-"
Larssen drew breath to speak, but Spock continued implacably, giving her no chance " - it is important to remember the difference between a mission log and a personal log. There are many details of an event which have no direct bearing on the outcome of an event, and need not take up space in the ship's databank. If the captain wishes more detail on a particular event, he is able to ask for it. For example,
there was no need for me to record more than the length of time it took us to reach this base after Mr Grenwood's demise. The details are irrelevant. Do you understand me?"
The look on her face said that she understood his words all too well for her comfort. He held out the recorder and she took it mutely.
Spock turned to go, but stopped when she drew breath to speak. "Sir -
thank you, sir."
One does not thank logic, he thought of saying, wondering if any human would ever grasp that element of Vulcan thought. However, perhaps this was not the time for a lesson in interspecies protocol. He inclined his head silently, and left before she could embarrass herself further.
"Mission Log, Lieutenant junior grade Corrina Larssen, Stardate 3916.4, Ser Etta Five.
On Stardate 3874.2, I beamed down as second ranking officer with Commander Spock, Yeomen Shimona and Brand, and Ensign's Bai'tin and Grenwood, to Ser Etta Five at a sight where sensor scans had indicated the presence of metal consistent with a Starfleet shuttle. We there discovered the wreckage of the Ser Etta Five Research Base shuttle and the bodies of the research team. The team had died of cold and exposure. Commander Spock extracted information from the tricorder of Joseph Riboud concerning the manufacture of a cure for Mansinni's Syndrome from materials found on Realgar Seven. In order to transmit this information to Federation HQ, Commander Spock, Ensign Grenwood and I set out travel to the research base. Ensign Grenwood died en route, subsequent to an earthquake. On reaching the base, Commander Spock modified the communications relay to boost power and transmitted a message containing the relevant information. End Mission Log"
Larssen clicked off the recorder and went in search of Commander Spock. She found him, as she'd expected, at the communications station, coordinating data analysis with the Enterprise crew. Finding a seat, she sat patiently and waited until he was finished.
"I've finished my report, sir." she said when he closed the frequency.
"I hope you'll find it appropriate."
"Very good, Lieutenant."
"Sir, I- I wondered about something."
"Curiosity is an admirable trait, Lieutenant." he said, as she seemed to expect an answer.
"When I was thinking back to after we got to the base, sir, for my report, it seems - it seems I should be able to remember something that isn't there. I mean - I remember punching the transmit code in.
And I remember waking up in sickbay. And in between, I remember -
mountains?"
He raised one eyebrow. Damn that eyebrow, Larssen thought. I hate that eyebrow. That eyebrow is a menace and should be rated a class-A weapon only to be used in life-threatening situations.
"A range of mountains rising out of the desert, with two peaks higher than the rest, the left one twisted as if leaning towards its twin."
"Yes." she said on a long shaken breath. "I've never seen those mountains, Commander."
"They are on Vulcan, some 50 miles from my parents' home."
"Telepathy?" she asked.
"I mind melded with you when it seemed the only way to save your life." Spock told her with Vulcan directness. "You allowed yourself to sink into a state of extreme physic withdrawal, which, coupled with your physical state, made you unresponsive to usual medical treatment.
I sought to awaken your determination to live. I was unaware until now that you did not recall this." When she did not say anything immediately, he prompted: "I take it you find the knowledge uncomfortable?"
"Yes, sir." she said. "I mean - I feel like I've invaded your privacy.
And - and like you've invaded mine."
"That is a very natural reaction." he said. "On Vulcan, with the exception of healers, mind melds occur only between intimates, save in emergencies. Even Vulcans find the idea of a relative stranger having experience of their thoughts discomforting."
"It's not the relative stranger part that worries me." Larssen said.
"I'd be less -" she searched for a word, rejected 'humiliated' as too emotive, "less embarrassed if it were someone going off to the other side of the galaxy and I never had to face them again."
"Embarrassment is an emotion." Spock reminded her. "Seek to master it."
"Yes, sir."
"I do not give such advice gratuitously," Spock said with asperity.
"I have no wish to receive a request for transfer from you which is based on an illogical ground." He paused. "Lieutenant, I have undertaken more mind melds since joining the Enterprise than most Vulcans experience in their lifetimes. I have therefore had to confront a matter which does not usually arise and is not covered in Vulcan manners. How does one continue a non-intimate acquaintance with a being whom one has joined in mind, in will, in spirit?"
"How does one, sir?" Larssen asked hopefully. "It is not logical, and against the principle of cthia, to pretend the experience did not occur. I have shared your memories, Lieutenant, as you have shared mine. It is not, however, necessary to dwell on this. Your memories will fade over time, and you will find yourself less disconcerted by the recollection of the meld. This will occur more rapidly if you turn your mind away from consideration of it."
"Not think about it?"
"I believe that is what I said."
"Sir, how am I to deal with it if I don't think about it?"
"I do not mean you should deny it, Lieutenant." he said. "I believe I explicitly instructed you not to do so. You should, indeed, consider and master your reactions. However, those memories you have of events you did not, personally, experience need not form part of your consideration. Is that understandable?"
"Yes, sir." she said, and got up to leave. Something occurred to her on the way to the door, however, and she stopped.
"Vulcans don't forget, though, sir." she said. "Your memories won't fade."
He considered deliberately misunderstanding her, and assuring her that concern over his equanimity was not warranted, but discarded the impulse as unworthy of him, and of her.
"No, they will not. I have the mental discipline, and the training,
to keep them where they belong - as memories - rather than experience them as dreams. I am not rummaging through your past on a nightly basis, Lieutenant." Larssen flushed red.
"I -" she said, and stopped. "I'm not the same person as I was then,
sir." she blurted quickly, not meeting his eyes and not specifying which "then" she meant. An all-purpose, all-encompassing "then",
Spock suspected, a blanket "then" covering any incident in her past he might be aware of.
"I have spoken to you before now on the subject of shame." Spock said.
"Do you think my opinion of your performance as an officer will be affected by any knowledge I might have of events of your past? I have a comprehensive knowledge of your present, Lieutenant, and if in your past you did not act with your current integrity and efficiency, there is no shame in that. The only shame would be if you had not learnt from the experience. When one's body proves insufficient for the demands life makes upon it, it is logical to strengthen the body. So,
too, when one's mind is not equal to a challenge, it is illogical to consider this a failure of character. Rather, the rational being seeks to strengthen those aspects of the mind found wanting."
Larssen had blushed at his realistic description of her behaviour, yet one more instance in Spock's long experience of humans interpreting an impartial account of their actions as praise. "Sir, I - can I ask you a question? About the - the mind meld?"
"Curiosity is generally an admirable trait, Lieutenant. Curiosity about that which others keep private is not."
"No, sir." she said. "Reach - reach out to others with courteous hands. Accept their reaching with careful hands. The base data banks have some of the writings of Surak, sir." And she made as if to leave again, but something - considering - in Commander Spock's eyes stopped her.
For a moment the room was very still, and Larssen had the sense of something balanced, wavering, tilting one way and then the other. And then Spock leaned forward, and spoke, and time went normal again.
"What is it," he asked, very carefully, "this courtesy you wish to do me?"
Larssen went back to the table, and sat down. "In the Academy," she said, no less carefully than he, "in xenoanthropology, they told us -
when you are not sure of your ground, ask the other how to ask the question. Commander Spock, in my - recollections - of the mind meld,
I have a sense of emotions. They are recognisable. They seem similar to human emotions. I had believed that Vulcans were more different from us than that. How should I ask you about this?"
"As you have." he told her, and then was silent a long moment,
thinking. "It is not, I assume, a surprise to you that Vulcans do have emotions. The teachings of Surak to use logic to master passion make no sense if there is nothing to master. However, you should not assume, on the basis of the mind meld, that such emotions are similar to your own. Firstly, because I am not wholly a Vulcan, and to extrapolate from me to the entire species would be inadvisable.
Secondly, because many Vulcan scholars have argued that the sense of sharing thoughts - and emotions - in the mind meld is illusory. That a person, of whatever species, can only interpret the data they have through their own filters, and that these filters include the endocrinal and hormonal reactions which constitute 'emotion'. Such reactions, such physiological systems, differ between species.
Therefore, full understanding between species is not possible."
Larssen looked a little shocked. "That two people of different species can never understand each other?"
"Lieutenant, perhaps two people of the same species can never fully understand one another. It is a human failing to assume that understanding is a necessary prelude to acceptance." Spock thought of his own experience, of Jim Kirk with his sometimes transparent and sometimes baffling reactions, and the sense he sometimes had that Jim understood him completely, and at others that there was a gulf of incomprehension between them that could never be bridged. And yet,
even then, his captain's acceptance never wavered, even when Spock knew Jim felt he was flying blind without a chart in the dark of Vulcan idiosyncrasies.
It was, however, neither necessary nor appropriate to explain the idea to Lieutenant Larssen using his own experience as an example. "It is more accurate to suggest that acceptance is the necessary prelude for understanding, whether partial or complete. This is of a piece with Surak's admonition to accept emotions before they can be cast out; and to accept the reality-truth of the universe before reacting to it. If perfect understanding were common, there would be no need for Vulcans to remind themselves to celebrate infinite diversity in infinite combination. Such a reminder as IDIC presumes that understanding is not always possible. When it is not, the very lack of understanding is a difference to be rejoiced over."
Larssen was frowning slightly, but Spock did not think it was in disagreement. "I have to think about that, sir."
"I should be surprised," he said dryly, "if you did not. Although I suspect from your remarks about tal'ath'at you will have less difficultly than many."
"How d'you mean?"
"Without tal'ath'at, one simply is where one is." he explained. "In such a state, one merely accepts others' behaviour without seeking to create a consistency with past actions and thus predict future acts.
Is that not so?"
"I- I'm not sure. That's something else I think I need to think about."
"Indeed." Spock paused, and then continued slowly: "Lieutenant. If I wished to ask you about your home world, and the lack of value placed on tal'ath'at there, how should I do so?"
His careful courtesy made her smile, suddenly aware that to him she was the alien.
"Only like that, sir." she said. "It's not an issue private to me,
or to our culture. I come from Initar, one of the colony worlds lost from the Federation in the early years. When a scoutship re-
established contact, Initar had a primarily agricultural economy, with such light industry as the agriculture required. The climate is very good, there, long growing seasons and a cold winter but a short one.
Initar had developed some - unusual - social structures, but the primary effect of the climate and the economy was to reduce the need for much planning. After the initial loss of contact with earth,
Initar society divided between those who wanted to commit all the efforts of the population to re-establishing contact, upgrading industry as fast as possible, and those who felt that doing so was dangerous, and unnecessary. They quoted the human bible: 'Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.'"
"I have heard the saying."
"Well, the Initari who wanted to restore contact, sacrificing the labour of generations for the imagined future, didn't win out. And their mind-set, the idea of envisioning something far off and striving for it, without regard for the present, was discredited. The Initari who gained control of the government, and the education system, and the rest of it, were pretty clear in their ideas that such thinking wasn't appropriate for Initar. It didn't take many generations before children were learning at their mother's knees that the most important thing you could do was pay attention to where you were, and that thinking about the future was a waste of time - after all, when the future gets here, you can pay attention to it then. That's a pretty loose interpretation of the official histories, sir. "
"There is a balance between tal'ath'at and the knowledge of where one is in the universe," Spock said, "that Surak wrote must be achieved.
Too much of one, and cthia is forgotten. To much of the other, and forethought is abandoned. Is this Initari disregard for tal'ath'at the reason so few from Initar join Starfleet?"
"Yes, sir. Initari make better crewmen than officers. Most of the Initari who apply to the Academy are - are zidar, sir. As I am."
"Zidar?"
"Motherless children. One of the unusual social structures Initar developed during its isolation is rigid matrilineage. My mother -
she died in childbirth, rare enough, but it still happens,
particularly in colony worlds. A child without a living mother has no family, on Initar. Since Initar re-entered the Federation, there have been some changes to the way that zidar are treated - we're allowed school, now, and there are orphanages for zidar to live - but still,
the zidar are the ones who aim for the Academy. Paying attention to where you are is less - useful - for a zidar than for other children."
Her words met and matched the stray memory in his mind of being a young girl, beaten by other children for daring to enter the schoolyard, but persisting because of a determination, a fierce hunger for the stars.
"I see." he said. "Thank you, Lieutenant, for satisfying my curiosity."
"Thank you, sir, for satisfying mine." Larssen laid the recorder on the table and stood. "When will they beam us out?"
"It seems likely that the atmosphere will clear enough for safety tomorrow."
She nodded, and turned to go. Watching her walk away, still limping slightly from the damage frostbite had done to her feet, he had a moment's understanding of the fierce tal'ath'at that had driven her through years of difficult schooling and driven her again, here,
through the storm. An imperfect grasp of logic, certainly, that had buckled beneath the strain of Grenwood's death: but she was human,
after all, and spoke a language that contained words which had no modern Vulcan equivalent. Martyr. Suicide. Such words could send a pulse of irrational xenophobia through even the most urbane and sophisticated Vulcan. Spock wondered if he would ever truly understand them, and if he would be in a fit state for anything but the mind healers of the Vulcan Institute if he did.