Title: Gol 
Author: Istannor 
Series: TOS
Part: 1/1
Rating: [PG13]
Codes: Angst alert
Summary: Kirk, Spock, and the Enterprise have successfully
completed the historic five year voyage. Suddenly, in the
midst of the celebration, and Kirk's war with Nogura to keep
his ship and his command team, Spock resigns and leaves
for
Vulcan.

Disclaimer: These are the characters of Paramount and
Viacom, they own them, I only check 'em out from the
library. I promise to bring 'em back.
Feedback to Istannor @Aol.com

Gol

Hot sand  burned the soles of his feet through his boots.
Above him, the air was still. Crystalline pink skies spread out
towards the endless horizon. Cloudless, they offered no
protection from the brutal Vulcan sun.  He trudged onward
towards the stone wall floating in the distance.  A point of life,
fleeting, ephemeral, meaningless  against the backdrop of
the great gray rocks of the rose-colored desert.

Above his head flew silver birds, achingly beautiful, floating in
the updrafts and eddies of the upper reaches of Vulcan's
skies.  They mated for life and when one died, the other fell to
the ground beside it and died in the heat and hostility of the
bleak terrain.  When one failed, the other died.

Even in the desert, irony flourished.

He reached the giant metal gates as the sun finally settled
behind the farthest hills.  The door was a furnace of heat, with
only one marble knocker plate that was safe to touch. It was
defense against intruders.  The heat of the door would scorch
any  hand of flesh that touched it after a day in Vulcan's sun.

He approached it solemnly and knocked with all the force he
could muster.  The sound echoed through the walls of the
enclave, like the knell of the Klingon claw hammer of
judgment hammering out the final sounds of his sentence.

The door swung ponderously out, and he entered into his
place of exile.

The sun beat down on his back and made his entire skin
tingle slightly in response.  A slight charge flowed through his
system.  It was 4 days, five hours, and 26 minutes since he
had passed into the courtyard of Gol in silent appeal for
acceptance as a subject.  They had passed him by, specters,
not seeing him, not speaking to him, not even avoiding him.
He did not exist.  He waited.  There was nowhere else to go.
Nowhere else could heal him of his failings, his weakness, or
his shame.  They would accept him or bury him. Which it
would be was of no consequence.  All that he valued was
behind him.  The only hope the future held for him was the
deadness of controlled non-emotion, or the oblivion of
insanity or death.

Someone came and brought him a small container of water
while he meditated, along with a container for his waste. He
never was able to see them as they brought the items,
ghosts, floating past.  Such was the power of their non-
emotion.  Nothing affected them, not even gravity.  They
moved through Gol without being seen or heard, the heart of
Vulcan's mysteries.

His mind played back the history of Gol.  "Gol, largest
fortress on the planet Vulcan. It spans 2371 meters in
breadth, towers 443 meters above the desert surface, and
was constructed of 4,194,181 stones.  Built before Surak in
the middle of the great Vulcan desert, a millennia past, over a
deep rock spring of freshwater.  It took 53 Vulcan years to
complete the construction of the fortress. 2371 Vulcans died
in its construction and untold numbers had died in its defense
before the face of Vulcan changed and Surak finally laid to
rest the clan warfare that had scoured the planet's surface.

Gol, holder of the final mysteries. The last independent
Vulcan kingdom in the epicenter of the great Vulcan desert.
Here, at last, he would lose those parts of himself which had
shamed him, and learn to control the part that had doomed
him.  Whatever was left of Spock would have to suffice.  He
cleared his mind, slowed his respirations, slowed his
heartbeat, and fell away from the desert into the floating
nothingness of meditation.  Release all, know nothing, be
nothingness, release.  He wondered briefly what death would
be like. Would he even realize when he had crossed over?
His Katra would be lost to Vulcan, but perhaps that was also
for the best.  Lost, no one would know his shame.

He floated and an eternity passed.  Ghostly laughter echoed
down the immense corridor of his mind and hazel eyes
flashed in welcome.  He turned away and fled deeper into the
All. Auras: blazing gold, warm blue, with tinges of red, colors
of the rainbow, muted and roaring in fiery intensity.  All the
beings he had ever met were born, lived, and died to merge
into nothingness, or all.  It was beyond understanding.  He
went deeper in search of oblivion.

"Spock.  Come."  A voice commanded him, venturing deep
into the universe he traveled.  It was imperious, irresistible,
and he was dragged out of himself like a naughty child pulled
from his hiding place.

"Come, Child."  The voice called him again, and he awoke to
the courtyard of Gol.  A hooded acolyte stood motionless in
front of him.  He tried to rise from his knees, but his body
betrayed him and he fell face downward into the red dust.
The acolyte came forward, reached down, and lifted him to
his feet as if he were an infant.  When it seemed he could
remain standing, the robed figure turned and walked away.
Spock moved slowly, stumbling step-by-step to follow.

Finally, they passed into the cold darkness of  Vulcan stone
and mortar.  There was no adornment, no color, nothing for
the eye to dwell on: utility, efficiency, and  the triumph of
function.

He followed his guide down a corridor that reached towards
the center of Gol.  He was led to the presence of T'Par, ruler
of Gol, the second most powerful person on Vulcan. She was
ancient and her mind was more puissant than any other
single Vulcan he had ever approached.  She looked at him in
silence and he felt like a child being chastised. He bowed his
head and turned his eyes away from her in respect. She
crossed to him and he caught the faint whiff of her smell:
sulfur, and flames.

"Give me thy thoughts, Spock."  T'Par reached out her thin
fingers and held them against Spock's temple.  The touch
was cold and her entry into his mind gave him no comfort.
He felt her sift through his inner motivations and the secrets
of his being like the fingers of a giant hand parting to allow
the sands to fall through. The truth and fears he held most
dear, all that he had illogically cherished, were appraised and
Spock knew he had been found wanting.

"Why have thee come here?"

"I seek the wisdom of Gol to master myself, Teacher."

"Thee flee, Spock, from things that chase thee in thy mind.
There is no illusion here.  There is no refuge here.  This is not
the place for thee.  Go and find thy purpose elsewhere."

He felt the room close in on him. The realization hit him, even
this last place would be denied to him.  Rage began to build
in him, but he had no one to direct it towards save himself.
Anger was quickly replaced by despair. Who did he fight
against now? He had his answer and it was...  no one.
Without a target, or a goal, all he was left was despair. If the
teachers of Gol would not have him, then he was truly lost.
His head dropped in soul deep final acceptance of defeat. "I
can not go.  Bury me where I lay. I have no where else to go."

"I await my fate and no longer fight against it."

She looked down at him without any trace of compassion.
Cold appraisal radiated from her, filtered through a logical
decision process.  "Should we let thee die here now, or do
we offer thee an opportunity to die with us, later?  Why have
thee come here, Spock?  Do not dissemble.  If thee do not
reveal to us the entire truth immediately, we will walk away
from thee and never turn our face towards thee again."

He rushed to try to say enough to decide his course.

"I have become an abomination.  I come to seek control and
to renounce emotion.  My lack of control threatened to
destroy all that I had accomplished and valued.  I seek to rid
myself of attachment, desire, anything that would lead me to
the destruction of the one thing in my life that had value,
T'Par.  Without your assistance, Teacher, there is no hope for
me.  I will do whatever it is you require in order for me to stay
here and learn from you.  I am unable to go back to who I was
and there is no hope for me to remain who I have become.  I
must become someone else and Spock must die.  This is the
only way."

She watched him silently through hooded eyes.  Her
expression said nothing.  Her mind spoke no words to his
mind.  They stood in front of each other as T'Par appraised
him for truth.  "Go with this brother.  He will show thee where
to cleanse and feed thy body.  After thee are refreshed, we
will talk again.  We have not made a decision yet."

Spock bowed to her and followed the acolyte out into the
corridor.

He slept.

"Spock, do not do this.  This step is an overreaction and
irrational."  Sarek's voice taunted him in his dreams.  "You
disappoint me once again, my son.  Why  do you insist on
grabbing defeat from the jaws of victory?" There was no
understanding from  Sarek. Father, accept me. No, that was
not possible for Sarek.

"Spock, my son, do not run from life.  You are my only child.
Forgive me my humanity; I love you and must speak. Do not
do this." Mother, he pleaded.  Accept me.  Mother, see me.
Accept me, he pleaded.  I do what I must.

"Damn you, Spock.  If you leave now, you'll destroy him. Just
put a fucking phaser to his head, why don't you?  I should've
known your attempt to have a heart was a lie.  How dare you,
you unfeeling bastard?  He would slit his own throat for you,
and you're sneaking away like a coward." Doctor, I do what I
must.  You do not understand.  You never will.  Accept me.  I
do what I must to save him.  Accept me.

"Spock, I told Nogura, no.  You should have seen his face. I
demanded he give us another ship. We'll walk if he tries to
separate us.  We can go anywhere in the galaxy.  Anywhere
we want to go, Spock.  We're famous; we're unstoppable."

"Anything, I can do anything with you at my side.  Life is so
sweet and it will only be sweeter. Watch, you'll see." All that I
am, all that I have ever been, only you accepted me.  This is
your reward.  I leave, flee, because I have no choice.  I leave
in the night, alone and silently, because you would never let
me go.  You would forgive me and that I can not accept.  I am
an abomination. I am an abomination." He repeated the
phrase as a litany in his dream.

"It is time, Spock."  A voice shattered his nightmare's hold on
him and he awoke to the darkness of the cold room.  Cold, a
form of penance in the desert for those who relished the heat.
Cold stone, cold air, no light; the dark and cold were hell to
those who were born of the desert.

He stood and finished what little he must prior to exiting the
doorless cubicle to join the figure waiting in the corridor  for
him.  They walked in silence.  Their feet made soft thuds
against the worn stone floor.  An occasional hiss of
movement reached them from a branching corridor, or a flash
of movement as someone moved away, always away from
them.

He was led to solid rock doors that swung inward with a
touch of the  hand of the acolyte.  It moved silently, a
testimony to ancient engineering prowess.  T'Par sat in front
of the flame that roared from a fireplace larger than Spock's
cabin on the Enterprise.   "I was right," McCoy's voice came
to him out of  his depths.  "I knew it, Spock. Vulcan and
human hell, one and the same."  He sat where he was
directed and ate what was placed before him; water, and a
single piece of dry wafer.  He finished, and knelt to await
T'Par's will.  She continued her meditations in the heat of the
room.  First cold, then heat greater than Vulcan's desert.

There was no zone of comfort to be found in Gol.

He drifted off into his own meditations in pursuit of oblivion.
A rustle of cloth and a whisper in his mind drew him back.
T'Par sat facing him.

"Why are thee here?"  The voice was as cold as the rock, as
dry as the flame. It raked his mind and his ears
simultaneously.

"I seek to kill the Spock who was."

"Why?"  No mercy, there was no mercy at Gol.

"I sought to take what was not mine.  I had become insane."
He hoped that would be sufficient; it was not.  "A link,
voluntary and desirable, was formed between myself and he
who I swore to follow and defend with my life and honor."

"The human, Kirk."  The voice whispered in his brain.  She
answered the surprise in his mind. "Yes, Spock, even here at
Gol, we know of you and Kirk.  Proceed."

"I became... protective of him.  I sought to protect him at all
times."  He stopped.  Please, his mind pleaded, allow me to
keep this silence.

"Proceed."  No mercy; there was no mercy in Gol.

"I entered his mind without his permission. I altered his
memories to spare him pain."  He hung his head in
surrender. The road begun must be traveled until its end.  "I
was a fool.  He knew almost immediately and in his anger he
pushed me away, shut down the link, and sealed his thoughts
to me. He had become the center of my existence.  I had
pledged my essence to his defense and for his use as he
would.  I sought to spare him and in my presumption I drove
him away. He was angry with me, and I wanted nothing more
than for him to never turn away from me again.  I found myself
in his cabin.  He was asleep.  My hands were stretched out
towards his temples."  His eyes looked up to T'Par seeking a
single glimmer of pity.  At this point, he would accept pity if it
would allow him silence.  Her face was obsidian.

No pity; there was no pity in Gol.

"I would have taken his mind, T'Par.  I could not stand his
anger. I meant to take his mind and make him forget his
anger, to make him never turn away from me again."  He
moaned as his shame overwhelmed him.  "He would have
died for me and I repaid him with an offer of mental rape."

"He sensed my presence and awoke. I was standing over
him poised to destroy his life, his will to resist me."

Spock's eyes closed and his body flexed back, rigid with
shame and despair. The time was a vivid memory locked in
his mind.

"What's the matter, Spock?"  He asked. "Here, sit down on
the bed and tell me what's wrong." He moved aside to make
a place for me.  He never failed to make a place for me.  "We
can talk about whatever is bothering you; you  know it will
never leave this room." I could not breathe.  His mind was so
open to me, no barriers, no fear, only concern and friendship,
and a longing for closeness.  He burned in my mind, and I
wanted his mind to be mine.  I had never felt such longing
before in life; it caused me pain.  It took my hands back
towards his face. They were strangers on the ends of my
arms."

He turned in supplication.  "Is this not sufficient; must I go on?
"  She did not deign to answer.

There was no hope in Gol.

A soft hiss escaped his tightly clinched lips.  "He came closer
to me and apologized for his anger and  his withdrawal from
our link.  He said he knew I had done it for the right reasons
even if I had made the wrong choice for him.  He swore to
never back away from me again.  "My fault, Spock," he told
me.  "You know the human male ego is not always a pretty
thing and mine is uglier than  most.  I just couldn't stand you
taking control of my pain, or deciding for my life.  I have
realized how selfish that sounds.  I trust you, Spock.  I guess I
always have and always will.  I know you wouldn't intentionally
hurt me, so let's forget it ever happened.  All I ask is the next
time you want to play with my memories, ask me first.  Deal?"
I agreed.  What else could I do?  I could not tell him the truth."

"My Captain closed his eyes, tilted his head forward, offered
me his mind and his trust.  After I had violated it once, had
stood over him while he slept to do so again, he offered me
his trust.  I left the room. The next day I lied to him. I told him I
had heard him call out to me from his sleep and  had only
come to ascertain his well-being.  Do you understand, I, a
Vulcan, lied . I told him my protectiveness was an
embarrassment. I assured him I had fled his room to spare
our dignity. He smiled at me, touched my arm, and sent
thoughts of reassurance and trust to me. He turned away,
never realizing that his worst enemy now stood at his side."

His voice dropped to the barest of whispers.  "I am an
abomination."

He had no pride left. "I have come to kill the part of me
capable of doing such a thing."

"The part of thee?  Explain,"  she commanded him.

"My human half," he answered.

He was surprised to hear an explosive sound, similar to... no,
that was not possible.  There was no laughter in Gol. He
looked at T'Par and was shocked to hear her make the
sound again.

"You are misinformed about the reality of Gol, young one.
Where do the criminals, those who assault, and the
murderers from our society go?"

"They are sent for rehabilitation, under the care of healers,"
Spock felt on unsure ground.

"If thee have killed 14 young men and reveled in their torture
while thee drank in their minds' cries, would thee think a
healer held the key to health? We have one such acolyte
here. He performed this deed at the age of 19 years. He is
full Vulcan."

"Another here raped 2 women after first slaying their mates.
He waited for the women and their partners to become lost in
the throes of Pon Farr. He raped them on beds soaked in the
blood of their Bondmates."

"We have two females who killed to attain the favors of the
men after whom they lusted. They allowed the men to go into
plak tow while holding their Bondmates captive. After they
had finished with the men, they killed their captives. They
stole passion and tasted forbidden fruit. Didst thee think
these illnesses responded to conventional healing?"

"I had..." he stumbled.

"Assumed?"

"Yes."

"Thy assumptions are invalid.  They are sent to Gol to gain
control of the part of them which is pure Vulcan. Gol is home
to those who are overwhelmed by pain, perversion, insanity,
fear, inadequacy or...emotions. Only the rare few seek this
place as zealots, in pursuit of pure logic. It is not the human in
thee that drives thy wish to bind thy Captain; it is the Vulcan.
Thee wish to complete the circle of Ah'Hrak to A'Kweth-ahn
and you both are too ignorant to do so."

"I do not understand."

"Obviously, Spock, or thee would not be here.  Ah, what else
has Sarek neglected to teach thee in his mindless pursuit of
the ideal Vulcan? Thy Father has made an error in judgment.
The fire that is Vulcan's heart can never be bred away or
ignored. Always it will flare and rage. It is the desert, shifting
and indomitable.

The truth: Vulcan is deadly to all who are unwary.  Thee thinks
thy human half to be thy source of abomination, and think
nothing of that in thee which is Vulcan?  Vulcan is hostile,
deadly, intense cold, towering flames, and possession. We
live our lives fighting that which would return us to our
beginnings when war raged for 5634 years. Thy human half is
a mere shade.

We, at Gol, have very long memories.  The ancient ways and
beliefs live in us still.  Thee were an un-bonded male who had
no deep personal loyalties, not even to thy betrothed. Thee
floated Spock, refusing to land. Thy mind sought attachment;
thy soul sought completion.  Thee are a telepath and thee
used thy skills to dwell in his mind. Obviously, what thy soul
required was found within his being. Thee found thy purpose.
Why do thee seek to deny this?  Thy mind was drawn to his
and hearing no response, its search became more insistent.

This is the way of ancient Vulcan.  This is the Way of The
Warrior. Thee must meld with him and enter the world of All.
If he is to remain thy Commander, he must  bind thee there. If
thee triumph, it is possible he will serve thee in all things."

"He would die first before he surrendered to another." Spock
answered with a sense of desperation.

"There is that risk." Her words offered no hope. She showed
no interest in which outcome was reached.

"He is human, T'Par.  What chance can he have of winning
such a contest?"

"Will is the deciding factor, Spock.  He either has the
stronger will, or he does not.  Humanity, or even skills as a
telepath have no effect on the outcome."

She felt his doubt and continued. "5643 years ago, the
greatest Ah'Hrak of all lived and flourished at the foot of Mt.
Selaya.  Sha'rien, he who took the name of the blade. He
could not even initiate a meld without assistance, yet, his
army circled the globe.  It was he that commissioned the
construction of Gol and then freed it so that all of Vulcan
would always have water. We defend the last refuge in the
desert. We defend the water, the life of Vulcan. If all else
failed between the clans, the survivors would always have
water and a beginning here at Gol. Thus, we have remained:
neutral, clanless."

"Gol is a creation of will. Life is a creation of will. Ah'Hraks do
not require mind skills. They wield their will and with will alone
they force submission. Go, leave Gol. Tell thy Captain the
truth and continue thy life's journey at his side where thee
belong."  She rose to leave.

"Wait," he pleaded. "Tell me what happens if his will is
broken?"

She stood with her back to him as she answered.  "If he
chooses surrender, he serves; if he is broken, he dies. If thee
persist in thy plan to abandon him, it is also possible he will
die. An Ah'Hrak whose will is broken is a dead man.  He dies
and thee become his replacement, or thee must seek
another Ah'Hrak to fill his place."  She began to walk away.

"No, I will never seek another. Tell me, will he survive if I
sunder the link?"

"If he is strong and forms another attachment, it is possible
he will go on. He is Human; nothing is known of how they
react to the loss of their Shield, or a link such as yours."

His decision was made. Jim was certainly strong, and would
easily find another. Spock admitted to a certain bitterness on
that subject. He felt in his soul that he was replaceable in
James Kirk's life. Jim would go on. Jim's pain would be
soothed quickly and eagerly by those who hoped to bask in
his presence. He would have many friends in a short time.
The Spock Jim had befriended, would be gone. Perhaps the
pain and loneliness would disappear with him.

Spock stood. "T'Par, I wish to stay.  I will not risk his life at my
hands.  I will not return to his side at the cost of his life.  Teach
me to kill that which drives me; teach me to burn away my
need.  You do not understand what is at stake here.  My
Captain must live. Therefore, I must remain here."

She turned and stared at him with relentless appraisal.  He
felt his mind being searched.  He took the vital piece of
information he sought to never reveal and attempted to hide it
away, deep in the darkest recesses of his soul.  She
snatched it from him, read it, and cast it back. He could keep
his secret, for now.

Power, unimaginable power, radiated from her. He knew
resistance was irrational, futile.  Finally, she turned to him and
spoke.

"Stay then, Child.  Learn from us what thee will.  Thy answer
is not here, but thee must learn this for thyself. Never forget
what the word Gol means, Spock."  He watched her leave
and sank down to the floor in relief and... grief. He would die
here at Gol and James Kirk would live.

"Never forget what the word Gol means," he echoed. He
whispered the definition to the emptiness around him that
would become the emptiness within him.  It flashed across
his mind, as it was uttered.  Gol meant pain.  Gol meant pain
beyond the ability to endure. Gol meant the pain that
transformed. Gol meant death.

"Good-bye, T'hy'la,"  he whispered and waited for death to
claim him.