Title: Arise Author: Istannor Series: TOS Part: 15 Rating: [PG13] Codes: Summary: "Open the door, child." "Arise." T'Par's voice shattered his sleep and gave no room for any response. Spock surged to his feet. He dressed while she waited silently for him, allowing no privacy. When he was through, she directed him to take a sip of liquid and a bite of wafer. He did so, and she turned to walk down the corridor as he followed. Gol surrounded them. Gol echoed about them until each foot rose and fell 1,241 times as they wound their way through the neverending corridors and halls of Gol the Great, Gol the Ancient. They entered a great room, with light filtering through a crystal window set far above their heads. The room was easily as large as the hangar bay of the Enterprise, and scores of Vulcan men and women, some far older than any Spock had ever recalled seeing, sat and spoke quietly among themselves. Each turned and briefly nodded at them as they passed, before returning to their discussions. Questions burned in Spock's chest, but he knew it was not the time to ask. They exited on the other side into a corridor that began a slow winding course down into the bedrock of the planet. They saw more silent figures of all ages moving towards their own private goals, dipping in and out of side doors and darkened corridors. All bowed their heads towards T'Par and T'Par only. Spock was treated as if he were invisible. Finally, they reached the end of the sloping corridor and a massive metal door stood in their way. No visible lock or handle was to be seen. No one guarded it as it stood in silent defense over whatever stood on the other side. "Open the door, child." He turned to her, waiting to see if instructions followed. Hearing none, he approached the door and began to inspect it slowly. No knob, no handle, no depressions, no pivot point, no pulley, no electronic hum, no buttons, no window, no point of entry could he see in the seamless metal. A riddle: he had left his home, his T'hy'la, his purpose in life, his science, to face a riddle at Gol. He almost laughed at the irony. T'Par went and stood against the stone wall. Spock pushed at either side, to no avail. He attempted to tilt the bottom back. Nothing. He pounded on it to sound out hollow recesses. It was solid. He stepped back until his back hit the rock of the opposite wall, slid down the wall to sit on the floor and stared at the closed and stubborn door, in silence. He did not look to T'Par for guidance. None would be forthcoming. He tried everything he could think of for 2.6 hours and the door remained shut. Even a door mocked him. It was totally in keeping with the irony of his new existence. T'Par gave a soft flick of her hand, turned and walked from the room, leaving him there to continue. Three hours later, an acolyte brought him food and drink. Five hours later another came and showed him where he could relieve himself. He slept in front of the door all night. In the morning T'Par returned to check on his progress. A male trailed behind her with a seat. He placed it to her specifications and departed. "You are still here." She sat down and rearranged her robes until they suited her. "The door is still closed, T'Par." "I see. Perhaps you are being too logical, Child." Spock's left eyebrow lifted and he pursed his lips and turned to renew his focus on the door. Finally, he approached the door. "Door, open." He shouted. Nothing. Spock heard something suspiciously close to a snicker from T'Par. He turned and she gazed at him with expressionless eyes. He fixed his gaze on the reluctant door again. "There is no mercy in Gol," he shouted. The door stared back at him in silence. He tried every permutation he could imagine, to no avail. Once again, T'Par departed. She left the chair behind. He ate and slept in front of the door again. As he slept, he dreamed. The blue and red lights of his viewscreen pulsed rhythmically. Details about space density, solar winds, particle decay, and radiation spectra from the quasar, Murasaki 312, streamed across his screen. It was the same quasar which had reflected off the harsh rocks of the planet, Taurus II, making the sky glow a cold, reddish- yellow color. It had been an inhospitable world populated by a disagreeable and savage people. He had been sent to investigate the quasar and had failed. His entire away team had almost perished on Taurus II. Two of his team had died. His crew had almost mutinied. He had killed another sentient being. They had left their dead crew behind for the Taurus II humanoids to find. The away team had demonstrated superior technology in front of primitive people. He had unilaterally committed an act of desperation and risked all of the lives of his crew. One of the only two shuttles the Enterprise carried was now lost. All of the proximity readings on the quasar had been destroyed in the shuttle-craft's flaming re-entry into the planet's atmosphere. Spock sighed, softly. His Father would have stared at him in silence and retreated to his private meditations. No doubt, Sarek would have pondered and then rid his mind of the unworthy thoughts regarding the inadequacies of his only child. Jim had . . . smiled. Then, he said, 'Welcome back, Spock. Damn, I'm glad to see you'. Spock knew they still needed to talk. His captain would help him understand what had gone wrong on his first solo command; his first time commanding the exploration of a new world; his first violation of the prime directive. Together, they would compose the letters to the families of the dead, and much later, he, Spock would help his captain mourn the loss of life. Even later, he knew he would have to come to terms with his own guilt. It would be difficult especially in light of the fact that his guilt was illogical. He would have to add that to the list of his transgressions. He, a Vulcan, felt guilt over his failure to prevent the loss of his crewman. What is, is. Yet, somehow, someway, he should have performed at a higher level. He should have protected his crew. He took a deep breath and savored his recent rescue. He was safe . . . home at his station, his role still secure. His captain had done the only logical thing. When Galactic High Commissioner Ferris had ordered Kirk to continue in his mission to Makus III with the critical medical supplies, Kirk had followed orders. Yet, Spock was safe, rescued from a disintegrating ship after a totally and almost unbelievably rash act of logical deduction. He had known his Captain would leave; any other choice was unacceptable. He had also known his Captain would find a way . . . if he, Spock, could come part of the way. The sense of surety he had then was nothing next to the sense of completeness he felt now. He had someone on whom he could depend and the realization was rich, tart, the taste of summer Cimrom fruit pulled ripe from the ground and eaten in the first rays of daylight. He felt his captain nearby and turned to confront the teasing he knew the Human had to indulge in to relieve his tension. A smiling James Kirk leaned towards him and Spock felt his eyebrow rise in response. "Mr. Spock, someone might say your act was not logical at all. Some might say it was an act of desperation, a very Human act of desperation." "Actually, my action was very logical, Captain. I had deduced it was the logical time for an act of desperation. You must admit, it succeeded." Kirk laughed and grabbed his shoulder firmly before he turned away. The Human's touch conveyed his joy at having won . . . together. Spock looked into his viewport to hide the smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He listened to the laughter of the bridge crew and his Captain, and enjoyed the sound. When he awoke in Gol, he almost expected to see James Kirk smiling at him. The metal door of Gol greeted him. He sat and stared at the door until T'Par returned. He did not acknowledge her presence. Finally, he stood and walked to the door. Then he turned to face away from it and walked directly towards the opposite stone wall, pushed against the wall . . . and the unmarked stone swung slowly away from him to reveal a huge cavern beyond. When T'Par joined him he was still standing, awestruck. Stretched out before him, for as far as he could see, was a sea of fresh water carved out of the rust colored bedrock of Vulcan and lapping against the sand shores of Gol. In the distance, a cascade could be barely seen through the mists of vapor rising towards the distant rock ceiling. It roared as it tumbled down into an even deeper reservoir somewhere deep below the giant cavern: the wealth and power of Gol. "I never knew. I had always assumed Gol protected an allegorical well, not a true one." "Thee were not intended to know. Thee shall never tell anyone either, for such is the mystery of Gol. We are the guardians of the inner sea." "Why have you shown me this, T'Par?" "Thee needed to see the essence of Gol. We are the holders of the mysteries and the Guardians of the Well. See the well, it never runs dry. It has flowed under the deserts of Gol for millennia. Gol is the soul of Vulcan. On the surface is the Formaji, unforgiving sand and death for the unwary, while beneath the surface is the water of life, deep, pure and cool. But the water is not what I have chosen to show you, child. It is only dust on the rock." T'Par closed her eyes and a fine mist began to arise out of the middle of the great cavern. A dull rumble, more felt than heard, vibrated through the soles of Spock's feet as a glowing light formed dimly in the water's recesses. The light became brighter second by second as the mist deepened, and then solidified over the water's center. A geyser of steam and fluid erupted from the water's surface and built into a dome, rising higher and higher in the air. The shining mist became so dense in the center of the cavern that it blocked Spock's view of the other side. The rumbling continued as he spared a backward glance at T'Par's shuttered eyes. Finally, the sound and vibration stopped . . . and the mist cleared. Hovering, gleaming with an ageless glory, was a Vulcan World Breaker Ship. "No. . . ." Spock exclaimed, "it cannot be. They were all destroyed." "Then what is that, pray tell?" T'Par's quiet question silenced him for a while as he walked over to the water's edge and devoured the sight hungrily. In front of Spock floated a ship from the mists of time; from the time of the Sorcerer Kings; before Surak's age of Reason, before the Sundering of kin from kin and the Founding of Romulus. "It must be over 5000 years old." "5237 years to be precise; still it flies as if newly tooled. There is a fleet of 17 beneath the waters of Gol, updated with the few advances we have made. They are here: should Vulcan ever go to war, Gol is ready." He turned and no longer tried to hide his wonder. "How?" "When Surak converted the last of the Sorcerers to the way of Logic, and kept them from destroying Vulcan, they gave their ships to Gol telling all others that the ships had been destroyed. It was a time of terrible uncertainty. We had power beyond thy understanding. We conferred with ancient katras in the glare of the open formaji and drew strength from their knowledge. An adept could pierce a man's brain with a glance from thirty paces and kill a child in the womb with a flick of the hand. War was an art practiced with all the skill and dedication Vulcan brings now to peace. As ever, we were efficient and we died in numbers too great to survive as a people . . . and used power we did not have the wisdom to leave in silence. Surak sought to teach us balance and to give us life. This he did to a certain degree, but nothing could ever erase the flame, burning in the heart of Vulcan. War was and is inevitable for Vulcan, no matter how loudly we proclaim our pacifism. For the right cause . . . for the right one . . . we will fight. As it was in the beginning, so it is now and will always be. "The Sorcerers knew, Gol knew, we would need the ships again. Now . . . thee know." "Why have you told me this, T'Par?" "It was necessary. If thee ever require them, the knowledge of how to call them will be there for thee to use. War is not the Vulcan Way, but War is the way of Vulcan." "I do not understand." She sighed. "Only when we can accept all we are and can be, will we truly be alive. We are changed and we will change again." Spock stared at the ancient and brightly gleaming vessel floating above the roaring Well of Gol. It was the size of a Federation cruiser. Its outer skin glowed red as T'Kuth and was incredibly smooth. The ship was shaped like the Ariglit, a desert bird, which glided endlessly in the thermal updrafts of the Formaji, never touching ground, except to die or birth its young. Ancient script flowed around the vessel and named it: "Sha'rien's Soul". His hands itched to touch the controls and feel the deck vibrate as it soared at the command of his . . . stop. He had no one to share this with. Spock cleared his voice and silenced his soul. "I am honored by the sharing." "Do not be, child. We do this so thee will learn the dichotomy that is Vulcan. War and Water: Life and Death. It is the nature of the Vulcan soul to always wander the path between the two extremes. Never have we learned true balance, the path of the center." She went to the edge of the water and motioned for him to join her. "We will begin our lessons here, at the edge of the Well of the Deep. Here is where Surak rested before he rode out to meet the tribes. Here, Sha'rien retreated to rethink his purpose when his world was crumbling. Here, S'Alea and Sha'rien were wed to T'Sala and T'Pren, and their tears of joy flowed into the sea and circled the world. Here is the place where thee shall learn and be strengthened." Spock knelt at her feet and assumed a position of expectant waiting. "Shssh. My bones are old. Go out and bring me a chair." When she was seated she continued her tale against the sound of lapping water. "We will begin where we last concluded our discussion, at the Battle of the Outer Shield. "Vulcan battled beside human against the Rihannsu invasion. We were tempted to use the World Breaker, but we resisted, because we feared unleashing Vulcan's wrath upon the Galaxy. Vulcan died beside human until that battle. "Earth sent their Fleet Admiral, Mercutio Ballal, to the front. He was brilliant, emotional, and intuitive -- not unlike thy Captain. The war with ch'Rihan was at a standstill. Both sides had heavy losses. The human developed a plan with no logical chance of success in the eyes of Vulcan. S'Talnes withdrew because the plan was illogical. Alone, the Human Admiral executed the illogical plan brilliantly, and drove a wedge into the Rihannsu fleet, dividing it and allowing his reinforcements to decimate them. When Vulcan saw the plan was succeeding against all rational expectations, they joined battle, but not before the Human's flag ship was destroyed, along with Admiral Ballal. "In their lust for revenge, the Human fleet sought to obliterate all the remaining Rihannsu ships. We refused to allow them to do so. This second decision allowed the remaining Rihannsu ships to reach home. We were named traitors, disloyal, and without honor. To us the Humans were animals: blood thirsty and irrational. What we had built together as Vulcan and Human was stretched to the breaking point. Only the faintest of alliances remained until T'Pau was offered a seat on the Federation Council. Thee knows she refused." She bowed her head slightly towards him. "Spock, thee are the first Vulcan to serve, voluntarily, in or with Starfleet since. As you know, in the earlier days of our dealings with the Humans, we mandated observers on some of their ships, but it was not something any of our youth sought. Did thee never question why this was so?" "I had deduced we had refused to serve because of the militaristic overtones of Starfleet. That is also what my Father told me. You tell me we abandoned them during a battle with an act bereft of honor. Why are you telling me this? I have not contemplated such an act toward James Kirk." "Thee deny thy ability to betray Kirk. Yet is not thy presence here a betrayal, child?" Spock's eyes flashed. "Teacher, I am here out of the desire to not betray James Kirk." She turned out stared silently out over the Well. A flick of her hand and the ship settled slowly into its watery berth. They watched it sink in silence before she deigned to answer him. "The Human does not know this. Thee have not seen fit to inform him." "He would have insisted on our 'working it out'. I saw no need to engage in a fruitless endeavor." "Thy logic informed thee of the hopelessness of the situation?" Her voice was without inflection. "Yes." "Thy logic was flawed." She turned and looked at him and he fought a rush of embarrassment. "Thy opportunity to resolve this issue without resorting to Gol was lost. Thee, like thy forefathers, bathed in the sea of logic and were drowned by its waters. Thee are no different than the ones who abandoned the Human Admiral. Had we followed where he led, our cousins would no longer be a threat. Weakened, Vulcan would have absorbed them and our family would be intact. Strong, they infiltrate our outer worlds, spy on our home world, and seek to destroy us. Our logic was flawed." She watched as he absorbed the implications of her statement. When it was clear she had his attention again, T'Par nodded slowly. "So, thee have finally arrived at the crux of the issue. Tell us, Spock, why did thee follow a Human? Thee are Vulcan: stronger, faster, more intelligent, telepathic, and superior in almost all things to a Human, are thee not?" "I am all except one of those things. His intellect is different than mine and no less valuable. I have some abilities which are superior to a human's." "Thee have given an incomplete answer. Why did thee follow him?" Spock paused to look into his soul for the answer. "I did what I must. He demanded loyalty. He created possibility out of nothing. He never surrendered. He used logic or intuition as easily as he breathed. His mind burned for me as a beacon in the night. I was drawn to his light." "Thee use past tense as if thee are no longer drawn. Thee have seen it, yet do not recognize it. Thee are mind-linked to the Human and thee wish to shed this as if it is molted skin. Thee do not understand the Human. We abandoned the Battle of the Outer Shield because we could not understand the Humans. They were mind-blind, and fearful of the meld. We could not sense their Will. The Flames of Vulcan bend to Will. We will fight to the death for one we have forged a Link with and we had none with the Humans we fought beside. We fell back on Logic and Logic blinded us. This must change and did change with thee. Mind-linked, thee were bent by the will of the Human and thee went willingly past logic. Logic was only the beginning of Surak's quest." She saw his eyes flash before his controls could stop them. "If Logic is only the beginning, where does it end, T'Par?" "In the before time, when war waged on Vulcan, our flames were overwhelming, our passions made Human rage, fear, and desire look like the merest flicker from a dying ember. A village, a clan, a nation, could be melded into a force sufficient to destroy worlds, or turn a world of water into a desert. The powers of our minds outstripped the wisdom of our souls. We were animals, cruel and arrogant. Surak was necessary. We needed control to avoid total annihilation. But the absence of emotions is the road to the death of the Katra. Only the truly insane seek or require such a goal. Vulcan required control and the appropriate use of our drives. What is life without attachments? What is a Bond without desire? Emptiness. What thee sought from Gol was emptiness and the death of thy Katra." She watched the waves and the slow susurration of the water lapping over the deep red sand centered her. "Thee have given thy pledge to do anything we desire in payment for thy captain's healing?" He nodded once. "We have decided thy payment. Thee will learn to control, and to learn to control thee must first accept truth. " He bowed his head. "My word in my bond." She pointed one long thin finger straight at his heart. "Who are thee, Spock?" Spock's face shut down as he tried to run from the question. T'Par waited. She had nothing but ages stretched out before her. Time was her ally. She watched him ponder the question. "I am Spock, cha Sarek, cha Amanda Grayson. I am a direct descendant of Surak and the inheritor of all my Father's lands. I am half human and half Vulcan. I belong nowhere." "Ha, more self-serving, pitiable, mouthings from the blind and deaf." T'Par her pursed her lips in disapproval. "Repeat thy attempt. Who are thee, Spock?" He took a deep breath. "I am Spock, cha Sarek, cha Amanda Grayson, First Officer of The Starship Enterprise." He looked at T'Par defiantly. She sat in silence. " I am a scientist." Still she said nothing. "I am T'hy'la to Captain James T. Kirk of the Starship Enterprise." T'Par said nothing. She sensed his frustration. "What would you have me say, Teacher?" She did not reply. "This is senseless. I have told you who I am." He jumped up and walked over to the edge of the water. "Who am I? I have told you. There is nothing else about me to tell." He turned and T'Par sat with her eyes closed, as if she were asleep. "I left because I would have destroyed him." Her voice was in his mind, yet T'Par's lips remained quiescent. "Are thee certain of the outcome? Are thee certain thee did not leave because he might have destroyed thee?" "You jest!" He spit the words out. "Ego." Her voice fell into his mind again. "He is Human!" "Ego." Her lips moved. "He is almost Mind-blind!" His voice reverberated off the walls of the cavern and repeated into the darkness. "Heya, thee dare raise thy voice to Gol?" Her eyes opened and fire spewed from them. He fell silent. "Now, it is all clear to me, child. It explains how he was able to sustain a two-way link with thee, scream psychically so all at Gol could hear him, and draw thy mind to his." "Sarcasm," Spock retorted, much more softly. "Thy ego rules thee. Has it not dawned on thee, Spock: he may be the stronger? Is it so offensive to thy Vulcan male mind for thee to submit to a Human male, that thee would destroy thyself before allowing it? Are thee not trained to submit to a female in thy time? Are thee not ruled by clan ties, familial ties, parental ties, and the Matriarch? He is Human and thee reject his sovereignty over thy psyche -- or do thee draw away for another reason? Who do thee protect: Kirk, or thyself?" "He is Human!" "He is Fruit of the First Humans, Spock. He is the sum of all possibility. He is the one thy Mind calls out to serve, and thee resist -- out of care for him, thee proclaim. Liar! Thee are full of fear. What. . . do. . . thee. . . fear?" "T'Par, do not." He shook his from head side to side. "This is Gol. We rule. Answer us." Spock hit the wall of the cavern and sent a shower of dust to the smoothed sand floor. He stared, amazed at his own outburst. "Answer us." He turned marched over to the door. His stride stopped mid- step as T'Par froze him with a thought. He fought against her and she waited. Her strength was the sum of the 127 rulers who went before. He was a mere child. She left him speech and was rewarded with his answer. . .2.67 hours later. "T'Par, I came here for help and you humiliate me. You leave me nothing!" "Child, thee came with nothing. Thee will leave with less." "He will reject me! How can you not comprehend this? I offer him bondage, servitude and a lifetime of loss of his individuality! I offer him nothing!" She released him and he slumped to the sand. "I offer him nothing," he repeated softly. T'Par sat back in her seat, eyes closed in triumph. "Finally. C'Thia." They sat in silence and her voice was soft when it began to speak. "When has he ever rejected thee, Spock? He knows he requires an anchor. He knows he needs thee to be the anchor. He is trained to serve his anchor as thee were suppose to serve thy Forge. He can not reject thee; it is not in him to do so. Thee never asked him. Thee never gave him the choice, because thee feared both answers. If it were yes, thee would be forced to serve and submit in all things. If it were nay, thee would have lost thy T'hy'la. Thee are here out of fear alone. Admit it, or we cannot go on." Spock looked up in slowly dawning realization. "You know about James Kirk and the Fruit of Humanity?" "We know many things, Spock. We have watched thee since before thy birth. We were approached by the First Humans after thee survived thy Kahswan. They wished to establish a familial link between thee and a Human. It met with both of our needs, Vulcan and Human. It was unsure which of the Fruit would survive to maturity, so we delayed and let fate decide. Your Father desired the betrothal to T'Pring and it was permitted. If you were the one we awaited, we knew the betrothal would not suborn your fate. "Of 152 Fruit of the Chosen born the year of thy birth, sixty made the transition and eighteen survived it. One has disappeared, Kirk's brother was one, the third married a Betazoid and the Family has secured four on Worlds where they are well protected. All the rest are unaccounted for by us. We assume the Chosen have hidden them too well for even Vulcan adepts to locate them. Kirk was the last to cross the coals. His Father and Mother wanted a normal child and believed Samuel would be the Fruit of The Chosen. They hoped to give their second born a normal life and counted on their anonymity. Many enemies knew of the Fruit and their importance to Vulcan and Humanity, but none knew of the Kirks. The Fruit of Humanity are hunted like beasts; the Chosen are avoided at all costs. It is said the Chosen surpass our greatest Mages of old." "I have no reason to doubt the power of the Chosen, but I have seen no evidence of any unusual powers in James Kirk. Perhaps they are lost to him." T'Par's eyebrows raised slightly. "Thee have seen no evidence because thee refused to look. His psychic screams outside our walls made our teeth ache. Thee are incredibly and willfully blind. How Vulcan." He nodded in calm acceptance of her barb. "Perhaps." Spock knelt back on the floor and contemplated these newest revelations. Suddenly, he shielded his face with a muffled cry. The realization had hit him. He had left his T'hy'la unprotected. "Captain Kirk never told me he was in danger as the Fruit of Humanity. I had concluded his only danger came from his being the Captain of the Enterprise... and from me." He looked at T'Par with a sense of urgency. "Who are his enemies?" "None thee know. There have always been Humans and Vulcans who served their own purposes: wealth, power, influence, subtle control of the markets, sowing divisiveness and confusion as they move. Their goals have been at cross- purposes to the Chosen for millennia and the players changed over time. Those who moved the Eugenics Tyrants were puppet masters who remained off stage. The Chosen removed them quietly and the Tyrants fell. The men and women who began the Rihannsu Wars, using lies, innuendoes and well-placed sabotage to implicate both sides, were different players, with equally perverse goals: war, avaricious wealth, unwise power, malignant influence." "Why have they not yet killed him?" "Where better to hide than in the open? His transition occurred on Tarsus, away from monitoring. They do not know he exists. Our enemies think him to be only Human, for what fool would allow a Fruit of the Old Ones to walk and rule in the open? A brilliant and dangerous gambit, to be sure. His family is not known to aught but Human. His enemies search for a flawless man or woman with inhuman skills and strengths. Thy Captain has flaws visible to the blind. Also . . . some are foolish enough to attribute his entire success to thee." "They are fools if they discount him. Is he. . .?" Spock begin and then paused in confusion. "Is he what? Aware? Thee know the answer. Is he only Human? He is more Human than any other thee have ever met, and it is why thee are required. His defects are monumentally human, as are his best qualities. Thee temper him and he frees thee. It is an almost ideal relationship. It would have been best if one of you had been female. The resulting. . ah, what is the Human term. . chi. . . would have been even more formidable. " "Explain?" "Male/female; yin/yang: es'ka/es'ko. All concepts to describe the drive to create life from within the all soul, A'Tha. In the Warriors' bond this drive is sublimated into service, duty, sacrifice; it would have driven and overflowed a True Bond. Your children would have ruled Vulcan and Earth." "I do not seek rule, for myself or my progeny." He shook his head slowly from side to side. "I am a complete fool. All this time, you knew about him and never told me." She flicked her hand in his general direction. "Why should we have done so? It would have resulted in thee rebelling, feeling coerced. What thee and thy Captain built, you built independent of our designs. We allowed you access to each other. All else was your doing." He stood in silence. His next whisper was soft enough to make her heighten her hearing. "T'Sai, I can not and will not be his hidden weapon. I am no longer able to say no to him. I am not strong enough. Choose another." "Ah, we approach the final truth." She stood. "Thee will learn, young one. There is hope. Leave us now." Spock rose smoothly. "T'Par, he will not wish to serve with me again. There is no going back. My mind is certain. Find another." "Then you both will live life out alone and in sadness." "Sadness is illogical and I have anticipated the inevitability of personal solitude. I do not believe he is a man who will be alone for long." He began the walk towards the door and stopped. T'Par waited for what she knew would follow. "But, what if...?" He opened his mouth again and silence issued forth. "Ask it, child." "What if I decide to return and . . ." he took a breath before he continued. ". . . he allows me to serve, but refuses the Dance of the Shields?" "If he welcomes thee back and refuses the Dance, you will kill each other, or separate again." Spock nodded. "I see few options." "You have few." She decided to explain. "He may choose the Bond of T'hy'la and offer to serve thee only during Pon Farr, if thee do not Bond another as shield and forge. It is his right, child. If you complete the Dance of the Shields and survive, your Bond will fill you both with more ecstasy than the pleasures of the flesh could ever satisfy. Thee will not care if he has sex with wild Sehlats, as long as he returns home to thy mind." "I doubt it." Spock's ears turned a darker shade of olive and T'Par tried to hide her amusement. "Wild Sehlats are not the issue and I do not wish to be turned into a voyeur." "The Forge will do what he must for his own sanity. Thee are Needed. The paradox will be resolved. Perhaps thee will have him for the Bond alone and another will have his body. If the flesh is important to thee, learn how to pleasure another, or learn how to pleasure yourself first. We can procure thee an instructor in sexual techniques from those adepts who have demonstrated skills in those arenas." She tilted her head. "We have a wealth of knowledge at Gol and the old ways taught much of great interest. Mind . . . thee must also learn sexual control to lessen the severity of Pon Farr and thy control will assist thy Forge. We do not know if Kirk will welcome physical pleasure in thy form, and we are not sure it is required." "Why do you not urge me to return to his side now? You wanted me to when I first arrived here." "The circumstances have changed. When thee took a different path through the desert, the dunes shifted to cover thy tracks. We have spoken with the Chosen. It is Kirk's time of testing. He must relearn independence from thee and he must develop control over his primal side, which was released prematurely. If he does not, he will use thee as a tool when thee return and begin a reign of terror to boil the marrow." Spock rose up. "Jim would never..." She snorted and the sound shocked Spock. "Do not speak of what thy Captain would never do. In many ways, he fit himself to thy expectations. His abilities are almost limitless and largely unplumbed. He is able to subjugate a world, the Federation, and Starfleet out of his own sense of righteousness. He will say it is for the greater good and thee will become his dutiful slave. Did thee think his brother recruited thee to watch over a mischievous boy? One thing and one thing only can control a descendant of the Chosen: the love of others who reject the path they would otherwise tread. It is why they are endlessly tested and ruthlessly weeded." She waited for her information to settle before she continued. "If he succumbs to the temptation of ultimate power, he will be killed without hesitation. If thee attempt to defend him, thy death will follow." T'Par folded her hands and laid them on her lap. She stared at her hands in silence. The reflected waves cast a glow on her skin. "It is the way of the Chosen and the way of Gol," she whispered. After a time, she refocused on Spock, who stared at the waves in utter dejection. "Understand us. Think of the times when thy captain has been ruthless, and thee excused it because of the situation. He is, in reality, ruthless, an assassin, a magnificent angel of death and life, and so very passionate about them both. In his younger days, he controlled himself out of respect for Starfleet morality. Then, thee and Doctor McCoy arrived to moderate his excesses. He required you to anchor him and allow his inner self to be free. He knows this. Thee and McCoy have set him adrift." Her words mobilized him and Spock leapt forward. "If you are right, he will do something horrible. You and the Chosen must stop him." "This we cannot do. If he survives the trials and tribulations to come, he may come to full maturation. If so, he will finally know himself and learn to accept what must be, as thee thyself must do." Spock turned back to stare over the waves that lapped against sand the color of human blood. "What will he become?" "If he survives, he . . .and thee, will become the ones who may save us all." "How, T'Sai?" He whispered. "It is not information thee are required to know. Thee will inquire no more." "Teacher, I request your indulgence." She raised her hand. Closed and palm up, it invited speech, but did not say the answer would follow. "Do you think James Kirk will survive?" The child's need was too great to deny. This once, she told herself and not ever again. She opened her hand: enter and receive water. "His short term survival is highly probable." "T'Par, you have given a gift without logic or rational worth. Forgive my need of such a gift and my show of emotions." He knelt and kissed the hem of her gown. "I hear your words, but he must choose another. I will stay at Gol so he may be safe from me, at least." T'Par closed her eyes and honestly considered shaking the child. "Leave us, child. We have much work to do with thee." She dismissed him with a gentle mental push and watched him leave. His soft tread echoed against the stone walls and the backdrop of the gentle lapping of waves. "So much to do. So far yet ahead." She sat back in her chair slowly relaxed her muscles one by one. She felt the weight of her 223 years settle on her like a heavy cloak while the ghostly voices of the rulers of Gol flitted through her consciousness. She finally settled on the one who had first devised the plan with Surak. T'Pren's voice rose through the others to speak above the din. *It goes as planned, Sister, do not stray from the path.* She sent reassurance to the Katra and felt it fall silent, satisfied. A sigh and a small rub of her forehead with fatigue did not help. This process would have been so much easier if Sarek and Amanda had birthed a female, as planned. One day she would be sure to chastise them thoroughly for the transgression. At least there was one clear pool in the child's muddied mind: his ability to love. It was as pristine as the deep sands of the Great Formaji. Agape, the Humans called it, the love without judgement: he gave it and had been offered it, only to walk away from the offer. Now she would have to teach him to welcome it. She would use him -- his strengths and weaknesses -- without mercy, to bring him through to the other side, to sanity. Another sigh. A sigh was such an indulgence, yet the occasion warranted it. The child was . . . difficult. Any unbonded Vulcan female would have been so much easier to deal with. Simple love had become a difficult concept for all of Vulcan, but the males were far worse than the females. Vulcan males had learned to fear Pon Farr, fear the loss of life and limb if women rejected them and drove them into Plak Tow; feared passion, which confused their Bonds and drove them insane outside of their time. In the past, passions soared, flamed, and possessed the souls of men and women alike as they reveled in their pleasures and killed for their lusts. Now they had logical relationships and hid their passions in the privacy of the Bond. They were fools. Vulcan females thrived on their inner circles of passions, bonds of T'hy'len and consorts, escaping the flames of Pon Farr. They often looked coldly on the men who came to them in their hours of need, and sometimes only ritual and obligation forced their cooperation. Often, they were bonded to men they did not love, and loved men and women to whom they were not bonded. Women knew the two could be completely separate. But, modern Vulcan males were. . .pah. . .children. She pondered Kirk's dilemma and felt a twinge of regret. Kirk would never be able to stay with a human non-telepathic female, and he showed no signs of desiring human males, telepathic or not. He could, potentially, find completion in a female First Human. No, the Old Ones would never allow it. The union of a First Human and a Fruit of Humanity could result in a cataclysm. The resulting child could quite possibly destroy the Human Earth. It was obvious to all with eyes: only a telepath could absorb Kirk's psychic onslaught and remain intact, with a distinct personality. Kirk's need to merge made him overwhelming to the vast majority of non-telepaths. Any Earth-normal liaison he achieved in the coming time ahead would fail with a probability of 97.67%. Perhaps the First Humans should have told Kirk years ago and forced him to stop his senseless search for a mind-blind to love him. She gave the slightest of shrugs. Kaadith. Gol would use Kirk when Gol could, but Spock would be used now. She would rebuild her sister's Grandson into someone who would survive despite the 58.46% probability that Kirk would die first. As Spock was now, even at Gol and with a partially broken link, he would die with Kirk, and that was unacceptable. T'Par returned to her seat in the Great Hall and rang for Cha. While she waited, she reviewed the possibilities. The path was clear. For the greatest assurance of success, Spock must survive Gol and live at least 53 Standard years more, preferably 79. Unfortunately, the model did incorporate a significant probability Spock would predecease Kirk. If so, they would have to begin again -- but the next time Kirk would be presented a Vulcan female to replace Spock, if she had anything to say about it. The model predicted he would accept a female telepath in his grief and his need and Bond her. He would have no choice but to Bond her to stop his psychic hemorrhage. The call would be irresistible. A part of her wanted to place T'Pring in the role as mate . . . and chattel to a Human. It would be suitable revenge, a lesson for her in humility, but she knew Kirk would reject her outright. In truth, T'Pring held a special place in her heart. T'Pring had acted from her own truest wants and desires, which in a Vulcan-- any Vulcan-- was noteworthy. She shrugged her shoulders a mere centimeter. Spock was hers to train. Kirk was her sister's problem now. There truly was no mercy in Gol. What would be, would be. Her eyes closed and she meditated on her days ahead. Silent feet moved across the worn stones of the floor and a cool cup of Cha was placed in her hands. She grasped it without looking to see who had brought it. She nodded once in dismissal. At last, she looked around her hall. Shadows flickered across the towering walls. Somewhere, she heard remembered voices calling out to friends and mates, as children laughed with voices high and playful. It was a long ago memory of Gol, someone else's, not hers. That hall was filled with warriors, scholars, and children, so many children. It now stood empty, except for her. The Vulcan race was dying. Their cousins the Rihannsu would die without Reunification. Their unchecked aggression and supreme arrogance would assure their destruction -- most probably at the hands of the Klingons, who outnumbered them 10.34 to 1. The Vulcan rate of reproduction had always been a delicate balance, a legacy of the sand of their birth, and the water they had battled for, day after day. Now, modern Vulcan Culture viewed a family with more than two children as water hoarders, profligate wasters of resources, and somehow, subversive. Large families had become an act of defiance. They had almost sealed their own doom with such defeatist practices. She could not allow her people to vanish. Vulcan would change and Gol would lead the revolt. This plan had to succeed, or what Vulcan had wrought over the past millennia would be as so much dry and lifeless sand, blowing in the desert with no one to witness its trail.