Title: Dance of The Shields Author: Istannor Series: TOS Part: 13 Rating: [PG13] Codes: Summary: This continues the story of Spock's education at Gol. Dance of The Shields Darkness existed as a force that pushed him down into the stone floor. Only the sound of his slow breaths and the occasional groan of the living rock settling beneath him marred the silence. A ripple of current stirred the air and he looked up to see T'Par standing in the door of his cubicle. He had not felt her approach. "Spock," T'Par motioned towards him, with a efficiency of movement, "follow me." She turned and walked away without a glance backwards. Her steps were muted on the carved stone tiles of the winding corridor. Fine glowing filaments ran through the blood red rock walls and glittered against the darkness of Gol's inner passages. Ancient mages had engineered a parasite to live within the rock itself and when living tissue passed the central body of the parasite, a chemical reaction ignited and passed swiftly down its embedded tendrils, lighting up the corridors with a warm effulgence. Gol was a warren of tunnels and rooms carved out of the ancient rock of the desert mountain known in Vulcan as Guardian of the Well. A well of fresh water sprung from the center courtyard of Gol and gave life to the dry desert landscape. The mountain defended Gol and the walls of Gol encircled the mountain. In ancient days legions had lived in and protected the walls of Gol. In ancient days, at Gol and Gol alone, all tribes were given welcome, all outcasts were tested, and some accepted. Those who failed the tests of Gol disappeared into its depths and were never seen again. Those who passed manned the walls and defended Gol with their life's blood. Those who could not inherit, those who were barren, those who had lost their Bondmates, those who were too dangerous to the tribe, those who were mind-blind, all were welcome at Gol, did they survive the journey and the trial. Now, Gol was different, and much the same. Spock trailed his hand along the cool walls and tried to accept his new home, his new reality. T'Par strode in front of him, her aura glowed in his mind's eye with a frisson of power and wisdom. Layers coalesced around her, slowly expanding and contracting. Those glowing layers were the sign of her immersion in A'tha, the all-encompassing Vulcan perception of the Universal life force, unseen and only slightly sensed by mind-blind humans. Jim had never seen the auras of others, but Spock had seen his Captain's aura. It glowed with life, intelligence, and a confusion of vulnerability, danger, sensuality, and humor. It had taken him many months to separate out the component parts of the Human's aura. Now, he would never sit and marvel at its colors again. It was a thing Vulcans did not tell to Humans. It was a tool Vulcans did not share with the mind-blind. Kirk knew. James Kirk had stripped him of all of his secrets, save the last one, his departure for Gol. T'Par led him to her central chamber and bade him to sit on the floor. There were few chairs at Gol and none for Acolytes. She took the only chair in the room. She slowly smoothed her wizened hands across her robes until they flowed to her exact specifications. Spock felt himself being calmed, smoothed by each languorous stroke. Her voice seemed to float out of the air on waves of heat radiating out from the always-lit fireplace, which dominated the Great Hall. "Spock, it is time for thy learning to begin." He lowered his head to the floor. Part surrender, it was an inappropriate show of subservience. It proclaimed him as chattel, and this he most certainly was not. "I am unworthy, T'Sai," he replied between lips cracked from the heat and dehydration from his refusal to sip any but the barest of fluids. She pursed her lips and stared at the youth kneeling in front of her. His shoulders slumped in dejection and his aura pulsed with a dull gray of despair. She took a deep breath to strengthen her resolve. "Illogical. What thee are is damaged. We shall begin to rebuild what has been injured. Look at thee -- born of the desert test and taught to abhor the dry death, thee waste thyself before us. Thy water is low and thee seek to give blood to the sands before thy time. What purpose would thy death serve the clan? Without purpose, willed death is meaningless and forbidden. Thee drive thyself past endurance and this continued course serves no purpose. Thy parents have established a parental Bond with thy Captain and he has returned to Earth. His mind and body are intact. Thy continued self-reproach borders on indulgence. Thee will cease now and return to thy rightful senses. We have allowed thee all the shifting sand we can." "T'Par, T'Sai, you do not understand." Spock's voice was the faintest of whisper, the slow glide of a Le Matya moving over stone. "You cannot understand what motivates my actions." The air thickened and her form loomed over him, larger than life and full of threatening power. It cast a huge shadow in the flickering light of the fireplace and swallowed the kneeling man in a cloak of darkness. Her voice filled the room, echoing off tapestries over one thousand years old. "Do not presume to tell us what we do not understand. We have seen 263 turns of Eridani. The Katras of all that ruled Gol live within our mind. We understand thee better than thee knows, Spock." Spock stared, first in disbelief, then with increasing astonishment as she revealed the depths of her understanding. "Does thee think thee are the first Vulcan to attempt to mindrape or to physically rape another?" Her voice hissed at him. "Does thee think thee are the first Vulcan to love? Thee are neither original nor instructive." "Forgive my ignorance, T'Sai, I am unworthy." He leaned forward and touched his hands to the floor in supplication. Her aura was a throbbing purple that made his head roar. "We learn naught from thee. It is thee who does not understand. Thee are here to learn and learn thee shall. Silence and obedience is thy lot until thy ignorance abates. " "I hear and obey, Teacher." His head hit the floor in front of him and it was not a completely intentional act, but instinctual. She allowed her presence to recede. "Thy manners are improving . . . slightly." Spock looked up with a question in his eyes. She decided to allow it. "T'Sai, May I make a request?" he whispered. She nodded her assent. "How did you know of the mindrape? I have not sensed you in my mind." "We know thee better then thee knows thyself. Child, thee are not a new creature at Gol." He peered at her in acceptance. "Then you know I am an abomination." She sighed. "We know many things, Spock. Shall we tell thee how he looked to thee, shining with an aura that often threatened to blind thy sight? Shall we tell thee how thee knew always where he was, felt his thoughts running under the surface of thy mind, heard his presence like a low hum in thy soul? Thy dreams became filled with his dreams. His mind's voice could be heard through the din of hundreds. His successes made thy heart fill and his failures made thee ache. The rage built within thee and thee fought with the last ounce of thy strength to not destroy any who threatened him, even when the threat was not physical. Thee found thyself appraising any who came near him, to ascertain the risk of allowing them to approach. Thee walked at his side, always scanning, inserting thyself between him and strangers. Finally, thee were driven to dive into his mind, into his soul and become lost in him ... and he resisted, threw thee off, forgiving even in the face of thy attempt to destroy him. It was his acceptance of thy weakness, his forgiveness of thy faults, which rankled thee more than all else. Thee decided to rid thyself of all else within, which called for the cardinal sin, the one thing thy Captain could not countenance, the loss of his will." "Heya!" Spock sat back on his heels and stared at her in shock. "What are you, T'Par to know these things?" "Thy history and thy future." Spock wiped the thin trail of sweat from his face and licked it from his fingertips. Sweat was water. Water was never wasted at Gol. T'Par waited patiently for him to reclaim his liquid. "You have read my list of failures which serves to magnify my shame. No one has honored me as James Kirk did. Yet, I attempted to make him my chattel, enslave him to my mind. I told myself I only wanted to keep him safe. I lied." He turned away and T'Par watched as he struggled with his admission and the curse of Vulcan memory which recalled every incident, every word, and never allowed the peace of forgetfulness. She allowed him time. They sat in silence as his pain flowed across the room and enwrapped her in its tendrils until even she felt the need to end the hemorrhage of remorseful ruminations. "Spock, he forgave thee. Why is it thee will not forgive thyself?" Spock slowly looked up and T'Par's head begin to throb. She silenced the pain. Too old, she thought. We are too old for this. "Answer me, Child." "T'Sai, given contact with him again, I would do the same." "Ah, the truth, at last. Good." Spock turned away in disgust. "Good. Now you make sport of me, T'Sai." "Hardly. Now, we have a vision of a possible resolution for thee. Tell me, thee did not violate him sexually, did thee?" "No!" The rapidity of his response was rewarding. She pursued the quarry. "Why not? Thee are unbonded." An eyebrow raised as he pondered his response and T'Par saw the ghost of Sarek in his son. "For that, I think he would have killed even me." "Why would thee think he would forgive the attempted mental rape, and would not forgive thee sexual rape?" Spock closed his eyes and lowered his forehead to the floor. "I request that I be allowed to not answer this question, T'Sai." "We do not honor no's here, Spock. Tell us or we will take the information from thy mind." Her voice lowered to the faintest of whispers and Spock felt it more than heard it."There is no mercy at Gol." He raised his head and stared; his look shouted defiance. He wanted his secret, so she allowed him a taste of her power before she withdrew. His head blossomed into a firestorm and he fell outstretched on the floor, writhing in agony. "We are waiting." Her voice was a calm island in a sea of agonized moans. "Why ask, if you can take the information from me?" he yelled. "What of my right to privacy?" "Thy right?" She raised one elegant eyebrow. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. We are not human. They subscribe to privacy as a right, not Vulcan. Thee have no right to withhold that which we desire to know. In Gol, even the walls are ours to take." She eased her pressure slightly. "How thee voice thy reasons is equally as important as the words thee say. Speak." He gasped as T'Par sent another jolt towards his mind. She followed with a cool caress, a promise of safety, rest. Then she withdrew from his mind and waited. Spock turned towards the flames and stared in silence until T'Par began to wonder if she would have to ransack his mind for her answer, if for no other reason than to demonstrate her will. His head fell to the floor and she got no satisfaction from the sight. "May my words give you no satisfaction." He gasped out. "Child, we never make requests out of prurient interest. Tell us because thee trust us with thy news, and its use." Spock continued to look at T'Par while he made his decision. Reluctantly, he spoke. "As a child, he was in the massacre on the planet Tarsus. He was forced to watch as three members of the Kodos' Commando Force killed his uncle and his two youngest cousins, then raped and killed his aunt and oldest female cousin." Spock fell silent. "We are waiting." He faced her and T'Par felt a twinge of regret. Her visage revealed nothing. "It is not my story to tell, T'Par. Please, T'Par, grant me privacy in this only." "Needless repetition. It is in our power to ask or to take. Which do thee desire?" She watched her grandnephew begin to rock slowly back and forth. This battle would last for ages, and for seconds. He needed to tell and he hated to tell. Such was the lot of Vulcan, need and want, enmeshed in each other until nothing maintained its integrity. "I have nowhere to go. I have no one to turn to. If you force me to betray this last trust, then I have erred in coming to Gol. I will die here and now before I say another word. Take what you must and what you can. I will resist." Ah, so he did have a point at which he would go no further. She acted as if she needed to contemplate her decision. It did no good to let the child know she had searched for his chinks and his strengths. "Thee have given thy sworn word?" "Yes." "Thy word breathes life." The ritual words were older than Surak, from the days when truth or lies were decided by touch and mendacity led to instantaneous death. She gathered herself. "Let us speak truth. They repeatedly sodomized him. They stood over his beaten and bleeding body and told him they would keep him as a toy until they tired of him, then kill him. They told him, and allow us to quote the savages: 'If you don't keep us happy, pretty boy, we will cut your sorry balls off and let you wander the streets like a scumbag lowlife cur until someone puts you out of your fucking misery'. Crude words for crude men." He rocked back on his heals and stared at her in open shock. She finished the tale. "The Human boy became a berserker and killed each and every one who had taunted him. The last one died screaming for mercy . . . to no avail." She tilted her head and looked at him quietly. "Need we go on?" Spock formed the word no, but she began again before he could give voice to his answer. "He killed and killed . . . and killed, until he was covered with the sickly sweet smell of human blood. He changed into something . . . different. Only the children were safe near him. Those he protected with the blood lust of a wounded Sehlat. He killed any Guard who came near. When the Enterprise finally arrived, he slipped away into the night and refused to be found. His own father was sent to bring him in, to stop the killing. He had killed what he hated and when he came to his senses he was what he hated. They physically restrained and finally sedated him to keep him alive. He desired the cleansing of the final death for his sins. His father held him and soothed him until someone was found to help him heal. The memories of the depth of his depravity still plague him and the concept of loss of control terrifies him." Spock blinked like a great night bird of the desert, unable to believe the accuracy of the words he had just heard. "T'Sai," he whispered ", how did you know?" "In the time it took to touch his body and succor him, we knew his soul. There are no secrets in Gol." Spock pondered this new information. "Therefore, you already knew my answers since you have touched me. Why did you bother to ask me?" "It is important for us to know thy limits." She watched him as he digested the new insight and recognized her manipulation. His face hardened and his mental shields roared back to life. He was not giving up, yet. She almost smiled and continued her conversation as if she had noted no change in his demeanor. "We find it notable he could recover from such a trauma and still command a Starship." "He is a notable man." He watched her warily. "Does he still blame himself for the deaths of the guards?" "No," Spock rolled the word over his lips. "No, it is more . . . he is saddened by the loss of life and the view of how low one can sink, especially his own fall into the depths." "Tsk. Now, he also knows what a Vulcan can do. Who is worse, they that proclaim their guilt and do wrong or they that proclaim their purity and do wrong? Thee have killed many on his word and for thy own purpose, yet no rape has occurred, physical or mental. You have defended his honor and his person and abandoned thy reputation to defend his own. Thee have given almost everything thee had to him. Still, thee will not forgive thyself. How illogical thee are. Explain thy reasoning to us, perhaps our mind is too old and frail to see it without assistance." Spock sighed. "What would you have me do, T'Sai? Shall I return to him and attempt to force his mind again?" "Did thee also voice a desire for physical congress with him, which he refused?" Spock threw his head back and clamped down on an exclamation as he wagged his finger in negation. "You do not fully comprehend this particular human's psyche, T'Par. Sex he would toss to anyone like the leavings from a table, if it served a purpose. Mutual pleasure not withstanding, sex is a tool, a weapon, a form of entertainment for him. He does not hold it to his soul as a Vulcan does and must. He does not see me as a primary sexual object, yet he offered me his service for Pon Far, my due as his T'hy'la. Had I required his services, he would have fed my body and out of ignorance, starved my soul. That. . . I will not countenance. Had I solely required physical intercourse, I would be with him still. Humans rut and sweat, and never achieve in a lifetime the intimacy the Bond requires, the ecstasy the Bond delivers. I wished to lose myself in his essence and force him to live long into our twilight years, never risking his safety again. I wanted something that had no precedence in his Human mind. I wanted him to remain himself and yet become me, in the way of Vulcan." T'Par bowed her head in silence for long minutes. "A Vulcan male requires grounding. A Vulcan male requires another's mind within which it may find rest, solace. Why did you not tell him this after T'Pring became chattel?" "I . . ." the tension in his body spoke more that his words. "James Kirk fought a God to remain free . . . and won. What did I offer him but a loss of self, all that he most feared and hated? He is a very private man, and would have no more privacy. He is independent by choice and inclination and he would become dependent by design. He is a man who has never submitted and he would be forced to submit. I could find no resolution. I was faced with paradoxes that could only be resolved at Gol. I made the correct decision; it was the logical choice." She sat quietly as he continued. He was somewhere else convincing someone else. "I wished to take his command of self away from him and make him submerge himself in a Vulcan Bond. I wished to take him on the one journey he would always resist. " "Tsk. It that all you wanted?" Spock could not keep the surprise from flitting across his face. He bowed his head to hide it. T'Par continued, "Thee have much to learn, Spock-kam." "Teach me, T'Sai, " he whispered. "I have nowhere else to go." "That is always the case for those who seek Gol, Spock. We shall begin." He slumped forward and nodded, the embodiment of exhaustion. "Thee are aware of the seven levels of meditation and able to control thy bodily functions in an acceptable fashion?" He nodded again. "Thee have a great deal of experience with the meld?" Another nod. "It is well. Since thee know the skills of a child, we will begin to teach thee the skills of a Vulcan adult." She looked at the top of Spock's head and fought the desire to stoke the soft black hair and soothe the wounded soul that slumped so dejectedly on the floor. "Sit up, Child," she said softly. "We wish to see thy face, not thy hair or thy heels." She waited for him to comply before she continued. "Tell us why thee feel forced to bind thy Captain." Spock hung his head again, "Because I am an abomination." She fought to not pull his head up. "Face us, Child." She waited until she saw his eyes again. "That term is non- descriptive, over-emotional, and incorrect. Make another attempt." His hands spread out before him. "There is no biological reason to bind him. He allows me to share his mind and dissipate my . . .weaknesses. He has been supportive of me in all things. I do not truly wish him as chattel, and there is no logic to my desire to bind him. If all I desired was a True Bond, there is a possibility he would have agreed. In that, he would be an equal. I sought subjugation, total domination and his surrender." Spock shook his head from side to side. "What I tried to do to him is an abomination. I do not understand anything, Teacher. If this is what Humans call love, it is an ugly thing, possessive and destructive. I would be rid of it." "It is only the beginning of the tale." Spock searched her face and she felt his need for hope and his fear of hope. She felt her mind flow back to a time when she, too, feared the loss of self. Gol was and had always been a place of heritage and ancient memories. Minds had called out from the dead to threaten her sanity and her individuality in her youthful days; now they bowed to her will. She stood unconquered, as had all but two of her predecessors. He would do no less when challenged . . .or he would be killed. There was no mercy at Gol. Her voice changed and the flames leapt from the fireplace to wrap around her ankles and slowly weave a pattern, a dance macabre on the high stone walls. "What we say to thee, once was knowledge even a child would possess." The stones of Gol echoed with her words and the deepest recesses of the room seemed to brighten for the briefest of moments before darkness and shadows claimed them again. "In the before time, Vulcan was a world of warriors with spirits towering as high as the mountains. We battled and died for glory and passion. In those days, our people could only be led by the Ah'Hrak. The Ah'Hrak could channel our passions and subsume our drives to achieve greatness. The Ah'Hrak required the one: the one to tell him no; the one to hold him to the path, the one to remember the way. This thing is as old as Vulcan. Hear me." "A'tha rules the Desert's Well C'Thia found to tell the tale We burn Quench the flames around us In the Bond, it frees us We Burn Ah'Hrak is the heart of Flame Akweth'an, the one to tame We Burn Vulcan Heart Vulcan Soul We Burn for thee We set thee free" "Free." The whispered word seemed to come from behind and above Spock, in voices nothing like T'Par's. An illusion, nothing more, his logic told him. "Child, it is thy *Vulcan* half that seeks to Bind Kirk. Thy Human half is a pale shadow that would be satisfied with closeness. All in thee which is Vulcan must force him to submit or to take his rightful place as thy Ah'Hrak. Human rule is not enough for Vulcan. He must bind thee to him with his mind and thee must acknowledge his dominance or he is not thy Ah'Hrak." Spock sighed and shook his head slowly. "I do not understand your meaning. Ah'Hrak is 'The Forge', and A'Kweth-ahn is 'The Hidden Weapon', archaic terms from the days when Vulcan waged war. Why do you speak of these things? These are terms with no meaning for me. I walk Surak's path. This cannot apply to my Captain and myself." "Incorrect. Thy soul has decided thy first duty. It is to Kirk. Not to thy clan, thy parents, or to the Federation. It is to Kirk. Thee must walk the Vulcan path now. He must assert his dominance to complete the circle. His will must be the greater, or thee may not serve as his A'Kweth-ahn, his Shieldmate, his Hidden Weapon. Thee must meld, Spock, and do battle in the world of A'tha. Thee must do the Dance of the Shields. One must win, or both will perish. " His confusion remained and T'Par wagged her finger at him in frustration. "Are thee blind? He seeks to command thy loyalty and duty as he would a human. It will not do. In this, thee are Vulcan. We are telepaths! Dost thee not understand the difference? If thy soul chooses him as Forge, thee must become his Ore. Thee must enter the flame. Thee must be tempered by it, formed by it, until thee emerge a sword, a weapon, and a shield in all things. Thee have been willing to die for him and thee are willing to kill for him, without shame, without hesitation. Is this not true?" Spock held his hands out in supplication and shook his head to chase the question from his hearing. "Why are you saying this? Why? What has Vulcan taught me? What has my Father taught me? My own Father made me No-Son because I choose Starfleet and the way of the sword. Over and over again, I have been taught killing is to be avoided at all cost. Now I am to be honored for being a willful murderer. Are you saying my exile was pointless?" "We are the one who asks questions here, Child. Answer us, do not ask us. What do we care of thy Father or thy past teachings? We are thy water. We are thy well. Thee will have no other drink here save from us." Spock bowed his head and then obviously remembered he had been forbidden to do so, because it shot back up. T'Par watched his eyes glaze as the memories hit him. "My water drains through the sand." Her mind ran on ahead of her words. Answer child, burn you, my patience grows thin. Finally, he spoke. "I have killed for him. I have lied for him. I have betrayed for him. I have played the roles he chose. I have hunted down those who have harmed him and made them suffer. I freely admit to my own corruption. What can you do to me than is worse than I have done to myself, Teacher? I am a heretic and you know this." "Thee have no idea what we can do." She waved her hand to dismiss his proclamation. "And thee have no concept of true heresy. Let us speak to thee of heresy. Do thee know why humans and Vulcans turned away from each other after the Romulan war?" He blinked rapidly at the change in direction, then his earliest training reasserted itself. Spock responded as if by rote. "We were named heartless betrayers. They split from us after the battle of the Outer Shield. "Tell me what Vulcan did in that battle, Child." "The Vulcan fleet Commander, S'Talnes refused to obliterate the Romulan survivors as had been the directive of Admiral Ballal, the Human fleet Commander. Vulcan felt the loss of life to be illogical." "So say the records. The truth, Spock; shall thee hear truth?" "Yes, Teacher." She stared for long minutes. Spock's head drooped towards the floor as he visibly fought to look up and maintain the correct attitude of receptivity. "Not now. Stand up." He did slowly, taking a moment to still the trembling in his legs. "Return to thy room. Eat. Sleep. I will come for thee, when I sense thee are prepared." He bowed and left. She sat and watched his retreating back. Men, shades, phantoms of those who had left the hall in the distant past floated around him. She blinked and they remained to fill her sight. Warriors, kings, tribal chieftains, traders, betrayers, all had come to Gol to find an answer and had left through the same door. She sighed and leaned back in her chair. Fatigue fell over her like the weight of great rock settling into soft sand. Age was no longer a blessing. Time was no longer a friend. Solitude was no longer hard to find. When had the storm turned? She no longer was certain. A cloak rustled behind her and she asked without turning, "What think thee of our new charge?" "We have fallen far, to allow one such as he to suffer in this manner. This was not my goal." "The words of a prophet are often corrupted beyond understanding. Thee were warned of this." "So I was." The voice was calm and sure. She turned and looked at her visitor. He was tall, with dark olive skin and the patrician ears of a highborn Vulcan. His pitch-black hair was webbed with gray, but he held himself with the grace and strength of a young warrior. The air did not move his robe and the flames did not cast shadows against his face. "I ask forgiveness. I believed what I proposed was far better than the slaughter of a world. That did seem to be the most likely outcome of the conflict, especially once the adepts became embroiled in the wars along clan lines." "Perhaps, but it is useless to attempt to clean old sand. What would thee have me do differently? Thee are here for a reason, say it." "His pain was loud enough to pull me back. Who is this Human of whom thee speaks?" "The same one the Chosen brought to our attention." "Ahh. The Warrior King." "Yes." T'Par leaned back in her chair and wearily rubbed her forehead. She had no concern if this one, above all, saw her fatigue. "The Child contemplates ending his existence, little Matya. Do not allow it. He must heal the bleeding wounds." "Agreed. He will be unable to carry out his plans. That has been anticipated and he remains under constant surveillance." He came and stood near her, almost touching. "Are you so tired, you now welcome joining me?" "Life is . . ." she sighed audibly, "we are fading out. Soon we shall be as thee are and this is no longer undesirable to us." His hand stretched towards her face. She felt the faintest feathery light touch as his finger passed through her cheek. "He needs you, T'Par, my little Matya. Any other would have rejected him for his willful blindness and stubbornness. You will gentle him, as you once did with wild Sehlats, until his choice becomes obvious even to him." T'Par sighed again and looked down at her cloak. She smoothed out the non-existent wrinkles as she gathered herself. "We once knew what it was to love as deeply as he. We no longer have that luxury. It is all we can manage to not beat him over the head with a cane for his foolishness. Had his Captain been a woman, this would have been decided long ago and in our favor. No woman could be as foolish as a man." The man laughed. "I know you think men to be . . ." She interrupted him. "Insane, prideful, stubborn and only good for one thing. No, two things." He laughed again. "You were ever full of flame." She raised a gray eyebrow. "How wouldst thee know? Were thee a voyeur even in my youth, Surak?" He grunted softly and faded slowly from view without an answer to her question. She smiled with the corners of her eyes and stared at the flames in silence for hours. The next day she sought her new student.