Sand and Stars

by Diane Duane

  Amanda was aware, faintly, of the presence trying to touch her mind, but she had gone too far to turn back….

  From where?

  She had no idea where she was, where she was going. All around her was darkness, shot with strange colors, hues that even Vulcans had no names for…. She regarded the colors with passing interest, but continued to move. Was she walking? Floating? She did not know. All she knew was that shewas moving.

  Spock…she realized, recognizing the presence that was questing after the tiny spark that remained of Amanda Grayson. She felt a rush of love and warmth for her son, but she could not halt and let him catch up to her…she knew only that she must keep moving, that she had no choice.

  For a moment she wondered where she was going, but rational thought did not seem important to her anymore. Only the need to quest, to seek…to move…

  Seek?she wondered, vaguely. Yes, she was seeking something…or was it someone. And that someone was…

  Sarek. She wanted Sarek. He was here, somewhere, he had to be. Her husband had been part of her mind, part of her universe for so long…he must be here, somewhere.

  Was she moving toward Sarek?

  She must be, Amanda thought. Spock’s presence was far behind her now, and she did not let him distract her any more. She could not turn back, she knew that instinctively.

  Sarek?she thought.

  Amanda had a vague impression that she was moving faster. For a fleeting moment, it occurred to her to wonder justwhere she was going, but that did not seem important, either. Only one thing still linked her to her Self, the essence of Amanda Grayson…and that was Sarek. He had to be here, somewhere….

  Sarek?

  Something was near her. What? She had no fear of it, whatever it was. It loomed closer, closer…

  Suddenly, as she sped along, another presence was with her, enveloping her with its essence. Joyfully, Amanda recognized it.

  Sarek!

  He was with her, beside her, around her, within her…he surrounded and pervaded her with the sense of his presence.Sarek… she thought, happy that they were together.My husband…

  But she was still moving…Sarek was not the destination. He could accompany her only partway, for a short while. With a faint pang of regret, Amanda felt him drop behind her. She was moving too fast for him….

  Moving…rushing, now. Hurtling. Where did not matter. There was no fear, no pain, no weariness. There was…peace. Peace and movement…

  Peace…and nothingness…

  The last spark of individual identity that had been Amanda Grayson Sarek surrendered to the peace, losing herself, expanding beyond Self, beyond…everything….

  “Sarek?”

  Spock’s eyes snapped open in amazement at his mother’s whisper. She sounded suddenly younger, almost girlish. As he watched, her cracked lips parted in a loving smile, as though she saw something he could not. “My husband…” The words were barely discernible…a final, soft exhalation. Amanda gasped sharply…then her chest did not rise again.

  I failed,Spock thought desolately, as his eyes automatically went to the monitors; there he read what he already knew. It was difficult to believe that his mother was dead. He let his fingers slide down her temples to her throat…nothing. No pulse.

  Spock stood there for a long moment, trying to assimilate what had happened. It seemed inconceivable that Amanda would never open her eyes again, never smile, or speak. Never…the word had an awful sound. Something struggled inside him to break loose, to achieve expression, but he repressed it sternly. He was a Vulcan.

  Gently, Spock placed her limp hands on her breast atop the coverlet. His mother’s eyes were half-open, and, automatically, he reached out and closed them. His hand lingered for a moment on Amanda’s cheek; then, resolutely, he stood up. Healer T’Mal, he thought, would be here any moment, having seen Amanda’s readings from the monitoring station in the med center.

  The Vulcan debated whether he should draw the sheet up over his mother’s face, but decided not to…she appeared very peaceful the way she was. Her face even bore traces of that last, faint smile.

  Spock turned and walked to the door, hesitated, glanced back. There seemed no reason to stay any longer, but he could not decide what he should do. Healers, aides, and patients passed him in the corridor, and it seemed incredible and somehow unconscionable that everyone and everything should go on so normally, when there had been such a loss….

  Spock realized with one part of his mind that he was not reacting logically, but, for once, that did not seem important.

  T’Mal came toward him, halted. She was a small, graying Vulcan, who wore a blue-green medical tunic and trousers. “Captain Spock,” she said, in the most ancient and formal of Vulcan dialects, “I grieve with thee on the death of thy mother.”

  Spock nodded, wondering whether his expression betrayed any of his inner turmoil, but apparently it did not, for T’Mal’s face did not alter as she gazed at him. The Vulcan nodded, then said, matching her formality, “We grieve together, Healer T’Mal. I thank thee for thy care of my mother these many days.”

  T’Mal gazed up at him, and some of her formality vanished. “Go home, Captain Spock. Rest. We will place her in stasis, until your father returns, so he may see her if he wishes. Tomorrow will be soon enough to arrange for the memorial service.”

  Spock nodded. “Thank you, T’Mal. I will contact you…later.” Turning away, he headed for the med center’s transporter unit.

  Alone in the small room on Deneb IV, Sarek of Vulcan struggled, sending his mind out, striving to reach his wife, never knowing whether he had succeeded. And then…he felt Amanda die.

  One moment her presence was there, a warm spark in the back of his mind, a tenuous link stretching between them—and then the link snapped…the warmth was gone, leaving an aching void.

  Sarek leaned his head in his hands, feeling grief engulf him past any ability of his to control it.Amanda…Amanda… he thought, as though her name were some kind of litany or spell that could call her back. But no…she was gone, truly gone, and he would be forever poorer for her loss.Amanda…

  Alone, in the dark, Sarek of Vulcan silently mourned. His world seemed to have tilted out of alignment, losing its focus and color. Amanda, dead? For the first time, the Vulcan realized how much of his strength, his legendary calm and wisdom had come from his wife’s presence in his mind. And now…gone…

  Forever.

  The word was too large, too all-encompassing for even a Vulcan mind to grasp. Sarek rejected the idea. Logic might dictate that his time with Amanda was ended, but…one’s logic was uncertain at times, when family was concerned. Someday, somehow, he would touch the essence of his wife again. Sarek knew it.

  But…what was he to do until then?

  The answer to his question returned him swiftly. He would do his job…his duty. He would gain freedom for the people of Kadura. He would complete these negotiations. And then, he would do what he must about the Freelan threat. He would do his duty, as he had always done. Amanda would expect that of him, as he expected it of himself.

  Rising from the table, the ambassador straightened his formal robes, and his shoulders. Then, his expression calm, remote, he walked slowly back to join the others around the conference table.

  Spock materialized inside the mountain villa. He could have gone to the house in ShiKahr, which was within walking distance of the med center, but there he would have had to take calls, talk to people, accept expressions of condolence and inquiries about the time of the memorial service. Here, his solitude, should he wish it, could be complete.

  Spock wandered through the empty house, noting that someone had made his parents’ bed. The Healer’s aide, probably. The Vulcan’s fingers trailed across one of Amanda’s woven hangings, and he pictured her weaving it, as he’d seen her at her loom as a child.

  Remembering something, he took out his communicator. “Spock toEnterprise sickbay,” he said.

  “Sickbay,” replie
d Leonard McCoy’s voice. “McCoy here.”

  “Doctor…she is gone,” the Vulcan said steadily.

  “Spock, I’m sorry,” McCoy’s voice came back.

  “Please inform the captain of my mother’s…” He searched for a human euphemism. “…passing, and tell him that I will speak with him soon. There will be a brief memorial service when…when my father returns. I will inform you as soon as a time is determined.”

  McCoy hesitated, then said, “I understand, Spock. Do you want me or Jim to beam down?”

  “No, Doctor. At the moment, I would prefer to be alone.”

  “I understand,” McCoy said. “Spock…I grieve with thee.”

  McCoy’s High Vulcan was very weak, but Spock appreciated the gesture. “Thank you, Doctor,” the Vulcan replied. “Spock out.”

  Some random impulse drove him out of the house. It was the middle of the night here, on this side of the planet, and Amanda’s garden was quiet and serene. Spock sat on the bench, facing The Watcher, gazing around him at the beauty Amanda had created. The well-ordered paths, the graceful desert trees and shrubs from a dozen worlds, all complemented the natural stone formations that had been there when the villa had first been built. She had done this, much of it with her own hands….

  Spock remembered working in this garden with her as a small child, carrying colored rocks that she would arrange in swirling designs, remembered helping her rake sand into graceful patterns….

  Something inside the Vulcan loosened, relaxed, and this time he allowed it to surface for a brief moment. Spock leaned forward on the bench, arms crossed over his belly, as the pain of her passing filled him, engulfed him. Hot tears welled in his eyes as he sat there, but only one broke free…and fell, to splash the soil in his mother’s garden.

  Five

  Journal in hand, Sarek seated himself at the desk in his cabin aboard the transport vessel. The negotiations had been completed yesterday; Kadura was, at last, free, and he was headed home for Vulcan.

  Alone in his cabin, he placed the journal on the desk and, opening it, located the place where he had left off the night before. His wife’s handwriting, symmetrical, flowing, and refined—a schoolteacher’s elegant cursive—traveled over the white pages, bringing back memories, almost as though she were here, speaking directly to him. Yesterday he’d read her account of their first meeting and their courtship, up until the point where they had left Earth together. Now, seeing the date at the top of the next page, the ambassador braced himself for another onslaught of bittersweet memory.

  September 16, 2229

  Within the hour we will be in orbit around Vulcan—my new home. It hardly seems possible that so much has happened in such a short time!

  I am alone in my cabin, as I have been throughout the trip…even though I am a married woman, by every law on Earth. But my husband follows traditional Vulcan ways, and insists that we wait until after the Vulcan ceremony before consummating our marriage. In the four months since that first walk on the beach, the first time he kissed me, Sarek has allowed me to see deeper into his mind and heart than I could ever have imagined. Not that he has been exactly…forthcoming. But I have learned to read even the tiniest change of expression on his face, learned to recognize every faint alteration of tone and inflection…learned to interpret meaning from what he doesn’t say as much as from what he actually says.

  And today, in anticipation of the Vulcan ceremony this evening, there was the Bonding.

  How can mere human words describe what no one on my homeworld has ever experienced? Physically, it was simple, undramatic. Sarek gravely invited me into his cabin (for the first time in our week-long journey), and solemnly poured a glass of some dark, heady-smelling brew into a cup carved from a single crimson stone veined with dull gold. He added several pinches of herbs, then gestured me to a seat, all without speaking a single word….

  Sarek watched his betrothed sit down on the low couch in his cabin, arranging her long, pale turquoise skirts carefully. When they had taken ship for Vulcan, Amanda had adopted the traditional garb of his homeworld for the first time, commenting that they would take some getting used to after the short skirts and trousers she was accustomed to.

  With a grave, formal gesture, the diplomat passed her the cup. “Here, Amanda. Drink.”

  Gazing up at him over the ornate rim, she took a hesitant sip. “Oh…” she breathed, staring mystified at the contents. “That feels like liquid fire…but it’s not liquor, is it?”

  “No, it is not ethanol,” Sarek said. “The drink does have a relaxing effect, but not an intoxicating one.” He paused, watching her sip again, then continued. “Amanda, you know that, on my world, husbands and wives are bound by more than law and custom.”

  “Yes, Sarek,” she replied. “They are linked telepathically.”

  “We call it ‘bonding,’ ” Sarek said. “No marriage would be complete without it. This evening my world, my people, will witness the ceremony that will make us, as your people express it, ‘one flesh.’ By tonight we shall be married, under the laws and customs of both our worlds. But first…first there must come the bonding. That is something done in private, between the betrothed pair—either when they are children, or before the marriage ceremony.”

  Amanda hesitated in her turn, then said, “Is it difficult? Can we do it now?”

  Sarek gazed at her, intent, profoundly serious. “It is not difficult for Vulcans,” he said finally. “But it has never been attempted with a human.”

  “I am not telepathic,” she reminded him. “You know that.”

  “I know. But I do not believe that is necessary. Our bond will not be the same as that shared by a Vulcan couple, but I believe it will be as lasting, as deep, in its own way.” The Vulcan raised his hand slowly, ceremoniously. “Will you let me try, my wife-to-be?”

  “Yes,” Amanda said, evenly, though he could see her pulse jump in her throat. She took a deep, final draft of the cup, then set it aside.

  Sarek gave her the faint smile that he reserved for her alone, pleased by her courage. “It will seem strange to you,” he warned. “My mind will merge with yours, in a very deep meld. It may feel…invasive. But I would never harm you, Amanda, remember that.”

  “I will,” she said, her voice still calm—but she licked her lips, as though her mouth had gone dry.

  Holding out two fingers, Sarek extended his hand toward his wife-to-be. Slowly, steadily, she raised her hand to meet his.

  Sarek sent his consciousness questing outward, and felt his mind brush Amanda’s. He shared her awareness of him, of the first stages of the meld; the heat of his touch against her hand…the seeking tendrils of his mind touching the outer fringes of her thoughts.

  He went deeper, cautiously, carefully, anxious lest he cause her pain. Her love and trust surrounded him. She opened to him, like some alien flower spreading its petals to the sun. Slowly…very slowly…he eased deeper, strengthening the meld.

  Raising his other hand, he spread it against the contact points on her face, feeling her cool flesh against the warmth of his. Deeper…deeper…

  Amanda was now aware of him stirring in her mind, coming to life, the fibers of his being joining to hers, linking, bonding, melding: her mind was becoming sealed to his in a joining so profound that it could only be broken by a High Master—or death.

  Sarek could feel her instinctive need to pull back, away—and could feel her fighting it, forcing calmness and acceptance. He send a wordless reassurance that she would not lose her individuality by this bonding, then felt her relax. He felt a wave of pride; she was brave, this woman he had chosen. Such a deep meld was enough to make even a Vulcan resist…but she strove for wholehearted joining.

  Surrounded now by her mind, Sarek experienced Amanda’s goodness, her intelligence—and her heartfelt love for him. The awareness moved him as nothing ever had. The bond he had shared with T’Rea had been a pale shadow compared to this, a travesty of intimacy.

  Now he was comp
letely within her, and the sharing they experienced was more intimate than anything either of them had ever known. He felt the last of her fear melt away, experienced her joy in their union. Amanda had longed to be one with him—and now, after so many months, she was. Her happiness suffused him, bathing him in unaccustomed emotion—but Sarek did not retreat from that emotion, here in the privacy of their joined minds. It was appropriate for a bonded couple to share such closeness….

  Their mental sharing was so complete, so total, that by the time Sarek withdrew his mind, his fingers encountered moisture. Tears streaked Amanda’s face, and she grasped his hand tightly when he moved it away. “Oh, Sarek…” she whispered. “That was…wonderful. Will it be this way from now on?”

  He nodded. “It will,” he promised. “We will always be conscious of one another. We will be together as long as we both live.”

  Raising his hand to her lips, she kissed him gently. “Thank you,” she said, softly. “I wanted to be part of you…and now I am…. ”

  She shook her head, put her hands up to her temples. “So many images,” she murmured. “Things I never saw before are now in my mind. Those are your memories, aren’t they?”

  “Yes. The infusion may be…chaotic…at first, but it will sort itself out, given time.”

  “Faces…conversations…so much to absorb…” she whispered softly; then her expression tightened. “Wait a minute.” She sat up straight. “There’s an image…Sarek,who is she?” she demanded, in a tone that brooked no opposition.

  The Vulcan had an uncomfortable notion that he knew what she was talking about, but he said only, “To whom are you referring, Amanda?”

  “This woman. The one in your mind. Lovely, delicate features, masses of black hair. You…desired…her. It’s in your mind. You…you…” She groped for a word. “You wereintimate with her.” Amanda’s eyes flashed cobalt.