Chapter Two
Pain jabbed at his bare feet as Tobias sprinted through the cool Vulcan nightscape. There were creatures that prowled in the dark—strange alien creatures with sharp claws and poisonous fangs. There were plants that caught hold of people and ate them. Other things lived in the sand, sucking victims down into nests, killing them, eating their innards and laying eggs. The healer had told him so.
On and on he ran, trying hard to ignore the dangers, trying hard to forget the frightening thoughts shown to him by T'Sora. She wanted sexual relations. Not at all like Dorian, but with an animalistic violence that he did not understand.
What was it she had said? Spock knows.
Gasping, he pulled up and heaved a bitter sickness from the pit of his stomach. For a while he just bent double, holding his knees, struggling to catch his breath. Spock knows.
Aimlessly he limped on. A beast howled in the distance, and he picked up his pace. Oh, how could he survive out here all alone?
"Spock," he moaned aloud. "Spock, help me…"
Astonished at the workings of his mind, he stopped short. He had called upon Spock. The Other. And for once the thought of having an Other nearby was comforting. Letting go a little more, he opened himself to the rival strength and shared some of the distress he was experiencing. Amazingly, the Other did not immediately reject him, but seemed to be analyzing everything in that calm, steady way of his.
Help me, Tobias repeated hopefully. Tell me what to do.
Silence answered. Then came the unwelcome reply, Go back!
Bitterly disappointed, he refused the Other's advice and began walking aimlessly again. Surely it was better to be a moving target than remain stationary. Or would moving attract more attention to himself? He came to a jumble of boulders left by a hillside avalanche, and wearily sat on one to rest his bleeding feet. The first glow of dawn was brightening the eastern sky. Soon it would be daylight. He needed shelter, and this place seemed as good as any. Slipping between two rocks, he managed to pull all of his body into a sandy hollow. There was just enough room to curl up, and feeling safer, he gave himself over to sleep.
oooo
T'Sora railed at the fading stars. Standing under the sky, she railed at the unfairness of Vulcan life, at the relentless force driving her to madness. She cursed the sand under her slippers, kicked at it, and threw great handfuls because it was there, part of the great wilderness keeping a mate from her. She cursed all of Vulcan until her voice gave out and she collapsed in despair.
It had happened too fast, this time. It was barely a year since her bondmate died, and she had prepared poorly, staking her life on a frail network of assumptions. She had thought the healing link would be enough to draw Spock when the hour came. Spock's mind was trained in Vulcan ways, so her need should have brought him to her bed by now. She had thought Tobias would succumb to any sexual invitation. Well, she had been wrong. Dead wrong.
oooo
A pure, sweet note sounded somewhere in Spock's mind. Music? Another note. Perhaps the grandfather clock that his mother kept in the hall.
The sound came again. Spock fought a heavy tide of sleep, and becoming aware of pain, opened his eyes. He blinked against a shaft of red light streaming between some boulders. Though feeling tightly closed in, he sensed movement, and the opposing sensations warred in his mind as he held still. He heard the distant note again, and recognized the call of a dawn bird. Ever so slightly he turned his aching head, so that his eyes were out of the sun. Now he saw his situation clearly.
Beneath him, the sand stirred.
Spock's heart gave a sickening lurch. Hardly daring to breathe, he quickly glanced about for a suitable exit. Tobias—the fool—had managed to get in here. But how?
The sand's movement became more intense. Near his arm, it began to churn wildly.
Spock lunged for the likeliest opening. His upper body was squeezing through the passage when something cool brushed his bare ankle. Jerking away, he attempted to scoot a bit farther while the equally determined sandclaw scraped the inner surface of the rocks, probing for a meal.
A tentacle touched his left thigh and coiled, instantly sinking its barbs through the fabric, deep into his flesh. Pain tore through the leg as the sandclaw pulled at him. Spock did not resist. Once fully inside the cavity, he grasped the barbed rope of muscle and tugged with all his strength. Blood streamed from his wounded hands, but the tentacle only clamped tighter. Then slowly, inexorably, the predator sank into the sand, dragging him downward.
Spock fought an encroaching panic. Heart slamming, he clawed at the rocks, searching for a handhold and finding none. Then his fingers closed over a loose stone. Swinging it down on the tentacle, he sheared off a few barbs and beat the vulnerable area to a pulp.
The injured tentacle held firm. Bending double, Spock sank his teeth into the tough flesh, tore loose a mouthful, and spat it out. Then again. Thick, vile-tasting serum welled up. A shudder passed through the coil of muscle, and its grip weakened noticeably.
Looking around, Spock found another, sharper rock and knifed the wound with it. More liquid seeped out. Little by little, the tentacle relaxed its death-grip and slid back into the sand.
Spock stared at the spot where the creature had disappeared. Slowly he released the stone and began to tremble. How could Tobias have placed him in such danger? The ignorant nirak!
But now to extricate himself. A second, more thorough search revealed an opening better suited to accommodate his body. He quickly slipped out and found a small spring-fed pool nearby. High overhead, a pair of birds circled peacefully, their silver wings bright in the morning sky.
Perching on a boulder, he rolled up his bloodied pant leg and examined the barb-gashes above his knee. Green blood flowed steadily from the circle of wounds, but by concentrating he was able to slow the loss. The cuts on his hands and feet were less serious.
He would require bandages. First, he limped over to the pool and checked for predators. Then he rinsed the foul sandclaw taste from his mouth and bathed his injuries. Still shaky, he pulled off his undershirt and ripped it into three sections—one for his leg and the others to protect his feet. Then with a growing sense of urgency he set off to find T'Sora. This time he clearly sensed her direction, and shortly after noon sighted the healer's camp through a shimmer of heat waves. There was a thrill of anticipation as he thought of T'Sora awaiting him. More than sympathy, more than empathy, it was a biological need as binding as any he had ever experienced.
Spock was no longer aware of pain as he walked a slow path to the cabin. Opening the door, he stepped inside and shivered in the dim coolness. Yes, the healer was nearby. Very near. And knowing it made his mind flame and his body burn.
Stop, warned the inner voice. She is only using you!
An ironic complaint from Dorian Wren's plaything. Whether or not Tobias lent his childish approval should not matter now. He, Spock, commanded this moment, and the healer would die without him. But remembering her counsel—for her sake alone—he purposely lowered his resistance to the Other's objections.
Doubts immediately rose up. Stopping outside T'Sora's bedroom door, he listened to the outcries of Tobias and for once they corresponded with his own burgeoning suspicions. Surely she had known that her Time was coming. Had she established a mental link for just this purpose? Had she prearranged all of this for her own benefit?
Anger stirred at the thought, and he boldly opened the door and saw her lying upon her bed. Was she about to betray him? Their eyes met and suddenly all doubt fled, for in that telling moment he saw her heart laid bare and realized that she had not used him, but loved him. Even as he now realized that he loved her. And in light of that simple truth, the Other likewise yielded, and they approached the healer T'Sora with but one thought in mind.
oooo
During his life, Spock had awakened like this enough times to recognize the state and call it by name. But always before, the fever of pon farr had been his own. Through it he had drawn a mate to himself. Until now, he had never been so intensely beckoned by a female. It was a new and quite pleasant sensation.
He forced himself to move, rising from the disheveled bed by slow stages until he stood on tender feet, favoring his injured leg. T'Sora continued to sleep as he gazed down upon her, feeling deeply possessive. Tearing himself away, he limped into the lavatory and quietly shut the door. His swollen fingers felt clumsy as he removed the soiled bandage from his leg, exposing the angry hook wounds. He took a long, soothing shower in the sonic booth, then wrapped a towel around his hips.
Going quietly into the kitchen, he opened a container of imported peaches and ate them all. Yesterday's ordeal in the desert and all that followed had left him hungry. Finished, he went into the common room, lay down on the sofa, and gazed out the window at a clear crimson sky. Little by little he felt the need for release mounting again. He wondered how it would be to lie with T'Sora in the calmer moments that followed every mating crisis. He wondered how it would feel to hold her when their minds were perfectly clear.
He heard movement in the house. Then the sound of the shower. A few minutes later, she walked down the hallway and paused just inside the common room, wearing a flowered wrap, her smooth black hair in a single braid on her shoulder. Spock's heart sped as she continued toward him, coming to stand over the sofa, eyes glowing with desire and much affection.
He warmed in response. For the first time he told her, "I remember you as a child. Even then you were beautiful."
Sitting down beside him, she tenderly touched his face. "And I have long taken an interest in you, ashayam."
Their fingers briefly interlaced and then they kissed with sudden urgency. And for a time there was no further need for words.
oooo
More sleep followed, and other awakenings. At last Spock found himself covered with a blanket. The green woven fabric was soft and smelled of night-blooming svai. Still sleepy, he turned onto his back. The movement brought scattered twinges of pain and a slow steady throb from his leg. Reaching under the covers, he touched the injured area. It was bandaged now—not carelessly, but with a disinfectant spray dressing.
"Your leg will soon heal," came T'Sora's gentle voice.
Spock looked toward the sound. There was just enough daylight to see her standing in the doorway. Dawn? Dusk? He had lost all track of time. And in the process, both he and the healer seemed to have passed beyond the seven year crisis.
"You might have been killed out there," she said, coming closer.
Spock pushed himself up in bed. He felt remarkably well. It was more than the relaxing of sexual tension. There was a feeling of wholeness that had been missing for a long time. He almost laughed with the pleasure of it, and did not even try to hold back a smile.
"You have healed more than my body," he told her. "I am…very much at peace."
T'Sora graced him with a gentle smile of her own. "Yes, that which had grown apart is now back together. You may not remember the exact moment of integration. It is lost somewhere in the turbulence of these past days. Perhaps a moment of honest giving, a letting go of deeply buried conflict. A selfless, healing surrender…"
"To thee," he finished, reaching for her hand.
oooo
That night, as T'Sora slept beside him, Spock gazed into the corners of his mind, intrigued by the strange new elements he found there. It was already becoming difficult to distinguish the Other's memories from his own. Easing his leg into a comfortable position, he forced sleep on himself.
Dreams came.
…He was in a warm, safe place, but he was hungry. In a corner all by himself, he sat staring at the dark places beyond his transparent enclosure. Dorian should have been here by now. It didn't matter if he had done something wrong and she would punish him. He wanted her company. He wanted the food she brought. He wanted more of the pleasant touching…
…He was running barefoot along a beach. Though it was cloudy and dark outside, it was not too dark for him. He had learned how to work his eyes at night. He could see the long line of purple surf washing across the sand. The restless sound of the water made him want to run on forever…
…The lights were much too bright here at the police station. Wrapped in a blanket, he took another sip of a hot bitter drink. Two men dressed in blue uniforms stared down at him. He could feel the annoyance in their eyes, hear it in every question they asked. Though he gave them his name, they kept calling him "Spock". He told them that he lived with Dorian and they asked, "Where?" At Dorian's house, he kept saying, but they grew so angry that he fell silent. "You tight-lipped Vulcan bastard," one of the men snapped. "Doesn't look like Starfleet material to me," said the other man. "And what about that blond hair and those blue eyes? Maybe it really is a mistake." He was wondering what it all meant when a door opened and Dorian walked in, looking pale and upset. Such a thrill of relief tore through him that he leapt to his feet…
Spock awoke with a gasp. These were more than the sensual dreams that often followed pon farr, more than his abrupt withdrawal from a medicinal herb. It was the assimilation of the Other's—his other—brief but turbulent life. T'Sora had warned him to expect an ongoing period of mental adjustment.
Rising quietly, he donned a robe and decided to pass the remainder of the night in meditation. Over the past weeks he had sorely neglected the harmonious Way of Kril'es, but now felt a redoubled need to increase his awareness of Oekon's presence through a'Tha. More than ever, he wished to experience the Creator as someone more than the emotionally detached entity of Vulcan deists.
He found it most pleasing that T'Sora encouraged the effort. From the beginning, she had promised to teach him about the living spirit. "Healer's knowledge", she had called it, but it was more truly a gift of mystical insight. She saw Oekon—or God—as a caring Father wishing very much to commune with His children. And even more remarkable for a Vulcan, she saw God as the source of ashaya—the source of love.
oooo
The cooling breezes of tasmeen were bringing relief to Shi'yon'Kahr Preserve. In this welcome season of change, Spock's healing was deemed sufficient and his medical leave revoked. At dawn, he quietly dressed and packed his few belongings in preparation to board the Enterprise. Feeling no desire for breakfast, he drew a deep, steadying breath and walked into the common room. The windows were open wide. Wearing an intricately embroidered dress, T'Sora stood gazing out at the morning.
"And so we must part," the healer spoke softly, without turning her head.
"You know I have no choice in the matter." He awaited a reply, and when there was none he went to the message center and requested passage to the nearest transit station. A skimmer was in the area, ETA twelve minutes. Though they had already discussed the issue, he asked T'Sora one last time, "You will have no need for transportation?"
The dark head shook ever-so-slightly. "I will remain here for a time."
Spock finalized his arrangements and then faced her, counting off each second as five minutes crept by. He did not know how she would receive his next words, but speak he must, before it was too late.
"T'Sora," he said at last
She turned to him, one hand raised in a gesture for silence, her lovely gaze sad and penetrating. "There is no need for you to say anything. I took great liberty as your healer. The fact that it was a successful healing does not necessarily mitigate my actions. That is for you to judge. Later, away from here…with a mind that is fully clear."
He took one step toward her and paused before closing the final distance between them. Looking deeply into her eyes, he said, "My mind is clear enough. T'Sora…you have entered my heart."
"An impetuous assertion."
"To the contrary," he replied. "This past week I have thought of little else."
"Yet only now you speak?"
Reaching out, he grasped her delicate yet knowledgeable hand. "I am not skilled in such matters…and…I dared not hope for a positive response. My career consumes so much of my time."
"As does mine," she concurred.
Losing himself in her violet eyes, he asked, "Am I alone in hoping that the bond between us will remain…and even strengthen?"
She graced him with the gentlest of smiles, and the link between them further opened as she softly began the age-old formula of Vulcan mates. "Parted from me and never parted…"
His grip tightened as he gladly finished, "Never and always touching…and touched."
With a demure look she quietly informed him, "I am carrying thy son beside my heart."
There was astonishment. And then sudden, profound joy that drew the corners of his mouth upward, displaying even white teeth. In an instant his entire life had changed. There was no time for a clan gathering at the ancient grounds, or for that matter, even the inclination for it. Taking her by the shoulders, he urged, "Come with me to the city. This dress of yours will make a fine wedding robe. We can call ahead to a local priest or priestess and arrange a simple validation of our bond. Then after I board the Enterprise, return here if you so wish."
She was, on every point, quite agreeable.
All too soon, the skimmer arrived and its door opened while the pilot waited at the controls. In the privacy of the cabin, Spock tenderly kissed T'Sora's forehead. Then taking his luggage, they hurried outside and climbed aboard, seating themselves as far as possible from the other passenger. In a swirl of dust, the skimmer lifted back into the sky and carried them away.
oooo
"Well damn," McCoy muttered as he studied the fresh circle of scars above Spock's knee. "We didn't turn you over to that grim-eyed Vulcan healer to be sliced up by a sandclaw!"
"I am healed in every way," Spock said less than patiently, for he disliked hearing T'Sora belittled. "As for the accident, she cannot be held responsible for the careless behavior of my replicate."
"Says who? And I bet the bill she's sent Starfleet could choke a horse."
Ignoring the seemingly inane remark, Spock came off the examination table and pulled on his slacks. "Enough poking and probing, doctor. It is time that I return to my duties."
McCoy stubbornly placed himself in front of the exit. "In one hell of a hurry, aren't you? Just because you put on a uniform, it doesn't mean that you're fit for duty. I'd be a lousy medical officer if I turned you loose on the basis of a preliminary exam. Not after everything you've been through."
Spock briefly entertained the idea of knocking the frail-looking doctor across the room. He calmed himself with the realization that McCoy could not possibly know "everything he had been through". Since there was no way to escape a CMO's scrutiny, the best course was to simply comply.
Grudgingly he said, "I see you are determined to have your way. Shall we get on with it?"
Looking very self-satisfied, McCoy directed him to another examination area, where Doctor Chapel was already at work on a patient. She glanced up. Her eyes fleetingly met Spock's before she turned aside in embarrassment. It was a relief when she left the room.
After the day's testing, Spock met Jim Kirk for dinner in the admiral's quarters. There had been no way to gracefully decline the invitation, no logical reason to delay the inevitable private conversation. Awkward greetings were exchanged, then Spock took his place across the small table from his longtime friend. Jim gazed at him, seemed about to say something, then took a bite of his steak instead. The meat looked scandalously good to Spock. He could remember—as Tobias—eating animal flesh at Dorian Wren's home, and later when he overindulged to the point of sickness here aboard the Enterprise.
Picking up his fork, he tasted the vegetarian entrée Kirk had thoughtfully provided.
"Spock."
He looked up.
"Spock, it's really good having you back with us. Why, the last time I saw you…"
"It is good to be back," Spock agreed. Lowering his eyes, he took another bite of food. More memories crowded in, more than properly belonged in a single lifetime. It was a peculiar sensation.
Kirk spoke again. "I talked to Bones. So far the test results look fine. I don't think you have anything to worry about."
"I am not unduly concerned," Spock replied. He took a drink of his Altair water. Across the table, Kirk lifted a glass of wine the same pleasing color as T'Sora's eyes.
Kirk put down the wine and gazed at him intently. Impressions of curiosity penetrated Spock's mental shields, and he suspected what was coming.
"Spock. I don't suppose you want to talk about what happened on Vulcan."
Indeed, he could never disclose such deeply personal matters. But toying with the stem of his glass, he considered divulging the news of his marriage.
"Of course, I understand if you'd prefer to keep it to yourself," Kirk said in the subdued way that meant he did not understand at all. He resumed eating, and for a time the only sound was that of his fork and knife against the plate.
Spock wavered between maintaining strict Vulcan privacy and opening himself to a friend.
And then Kirk muttered, "I never trusted that quack."
Somehow Spock's water overturned and spilled across the table. As the admiral stared at him, Spock pushed his chair back, and rising in a tautly restrained state of anger declared, "I am not at liberty to discuss the manner of my healing. It will have to be enough for you just to know that I am healed…thanks to T'Sora. Let me never hear another word spoken against her." Abruptly he turned and walked out the door.
oooo
Kirk hesitated outside Spock's quarters, not at all sure if he should disturb the Vulcan. He could not stop thinking about the unpleasant scene at dinner and feeling that it was his own stupid fault. He should have realized that Spock would be touchy when it came to his healer. Well, once McCoy gave the go-ahead, he would officially recommend that Spock be promoted to captain of the Enterprise. What better way of showing full confidence in his friend?
He pressed the door chime once, then waited, but there was no response. Working up his courage, he triggered the door, and finding it unlocked as always, peeked in. A single light shone from the living area.
"Spock?" he called softly.
From his position, Kirk saw a black robe lying on the floor near Spock's meditation alcove. He had never known the Vulcan to leave clothes strewn about, at least not in his right mind. Concerned, he stepped fully into the cabin and found Spock slumped in front of his computer, head resting on his arms. Now Kirk was truly alarmed. Slowly he walked over and found an image of the healer T'Sora displayed on the screen.
Don't tell me that creature still has a hold on him.
Kirk was about to speak when Spock suddenly awoke and looked him straight in the eye. Kirk smiled in relief as the Vulcan sat up in his chair, one slanted brow rising in the old, familiar way.
"I…didn't mean to disturb you," Kirk explained. "When you didn't answer the buzzer, I…"
Spock switched off his computer. Though it had made no sound running, the room seemed quieter now. Too quiet. The Vulcan's gaze did not waver as he admitted, "The day tired me more than I had realized."
Kirk felt foolish enough without mentioning anything about dinner. Starting to back away, he said, "I'll let you rest, then."
"No, Jim," Spock said decisively. "I would rather you stay. There is something more I want to tell you…in regard to my healer."
Kirk warily sank into a nearby chair and awaited what was sure to be an unpleasant revelation about the woman he so disliked. Or would this be yet another defense of her arrogant ways? "Alright, I'm listening," he said.
"I truly hope you are," Spock began, as serious as Kirk had ever seen him, "for I have taken T'Sora to be my wife."
oooo
His first message awaited her, ready to view. T'Sora's heart rejoiced at the line revealing the sender's identity. "S'chn T'gai Spock. U.S.S. Enterprise." Slashes of sunlight cut across the screen, but she did not adjust the blinds of her university apartment.
Her joy fading to uncertainty, she went to the window and gazed out over the quad where medical students sat studying in the open air. How fine and clean everything looked, compared to the wilds of Shi'yon'Kahr Preserve. But it was those same rugged wilds that had brought her a new husband. What, now, would she find in his heart?
Her eyes sought out a hedge coming into flower by a side entrance. Soft yellow mist in a land of fire and stone. Surviving, even thriving. Would she survive as well?
A chill crept over her as she turned back to the computer. What if Spock's healing was not as stable as she first thought? Would he regret their hurried marriage? Would he disown their unborn child? Or worse yet, attempt to take the boy from her?
Speculation was illogical when the answer lay so close at hand. There was no time to waste. Down in the quad, students were getting up and heading to their classes. How strange that she—like Dorian Wren—was a university professor…and due at a lecture hall in ten-point-five minutes.
Hands trembling slightly, she ordered Spock's message to appear.
Resplendent in Starfleet uniform, he spoke their native tongue. "T'Sora, I was very ill when I first came under your care. I cannot remember all of that period, and some of what happened later, I would prefer to forget. But never thee. To think, aisha, that I might have died in the sandclaw's grip and never known the depths of thy love…or my own. I can only be grateful that circumstances brought us together, and I look forward to every moment as lifelong bondmates and parents to our son."
In conclusion, he added a tentative stardate for his next visit, courteously inquiring if she found it agreeable.
Her heart overflowing, T'Sora reached out and touched his beloved image. It was then that she noticed it. The insignia on his uniform was now that of a captain. Captain!
There was the best evidence of his condition, evidence more telling than anything else Spock might have said. Only the fittest of Starfleet officers were promoted to that rank. Yes. He was truly well and would remain her lifelong bondmate. And with that precious knowledge, she blacked the screen and started for the door. Her students would already be assembling in the lecture hall. She must not be late. There was so very little time each day, and such a vast store of knowledge to pass on to the future healers of Vulcan.
oooOOooo