by David Mack
Let’s hope that was the hard part, Marlena told herself as she struggled to keep her breathing slow and steady. She didn’t expect much trouble on the Merrimac. At worst, they might subject her and Spock’s shipping pod to a routine cargo scan, but the container’s shielding would disguise its contents.
Though she respected Spock’s desire for circumspection and caution, she couldn’t help but resent it as she contemplated the possibilities offered by the Tantalus field device. She longed for the day when she and Spock could stop hiding their power from the galaxy at large—and start wielding it instead.
11
The Shape of the Future
Sarek and Amanda’s home in ShiKahr was packed with dignitaries from the upper strata of Vulcan society, and Spock had begun to weary of the routine of introductions by the time his father led him to the room’s most distinguished guest. “Governor Tomok,” Sarek said, “allow me to present my son, Admiral Spock.”
The governor of Vulcan lifted his hand, his fingers spread in the traditional V-shaped salutation. “Greetings, Admiral.”
Spock returned the gesture. “It is an honor, Governor.” Nodding at Marlena, he added, “This is Marlena Moreau of Earth—she who is my wife.”
Tomok bowed his head a few degrees in Marlena’s direction, but said nothing. Marlena emulated the governor’s silent courtesy.
From Sarek’s side, Amanda subtly nodded in approval at Marlena.
“I have heard much of your exploits in Starfleet,” Tomok said to Spock. “I should hope to hear more of them directly from you, if your schedule permits. How long will you and your wife be on Vulcan?”
“Indefinitely,” Spock said. “The Enterprise has begun a year-long refit.”
The governor asked, “Has Starfleet no other billet for you?”
“I do not desire one other than command of the Enterprise,” Spock said.
“A curious preference,” Tomok said. “One might expect an admiral to aspire to greater responsibilities—at Starfleet Command, perhaps.”
Spock did not let his face betray his irritation at the governor’s insinuation of sloth. “In my experience, billets within Starfleet Command tend to be more political than purposeful. As I do not wish to engage in politics, I find my skills better suited to the command of a battle group.”
The governor raised his eyebrows, as if to convey his sudden comprehension of Spock’s position. “I see,” he said. “So you will have more than one ship under your command when you return to service.”
“That is the current plan,” Spock said.
Narrowing his eyes, Tomok said, “What of the news that Grand Admiral Decker’s son has been tapped to succeed you as captain of the Enterprise?”
Amanda answered quickly, “Such reports are premature. When the Enterprise is ready to return to service, my son will be its commanding officer.”
Tomok dipped his chin at Amanda. “Then it seems I spoke rashly. My apologies.” Noting Amanda’s nodded reply, the governor said to Spock, “If you will excuse me, Admiral, I have matters of state to which I must attend.”
“Of course,” Spock said. “Good night, Governor.”
“Good night.”
Dismissed with proper courtesy, Tomok slipped away into the crowd of VIPs, leaving Spock, Sarek, and their wives by a window that looked out upon Vulcan’s capital city, sparkling like a jewel in the desert night.
Sarek spoke in a confidential tone of voice. “My wife, was it necessary for you to embarrass the governor?”
Uncowed by Sarek’s mild rebuke, Amanda replied, “I won’t have him or anyone else saying my son’s command has been usurped by a whelp like Willard Decker.” With fierce determination, she said to Spock, “I assure you, when Enterprise is ready, she’ll be yours to command.”
“Most kind,” Spock said.
A ringing of chimes turned the guests’ attention to the end of the room farthest from Spock and his family.
Standing on a slightly elevated level of the estate’s great room, Professor Sebok, the head of the Vulcan Science Academy, lifted his glass. “Everyone, please join me in welcoming home one of the favored sons of Vulcan. Twenty-one years ago, he declined an offer of admission to our Academy, electing instead to pursue a career in Starfleet. At the time, he endured great criticism for his choice. But seeing how far he has come, it now seems clear his decision … was quite logical.” Raising his glass higher, he added, “To Spock!”
“To Spock!” repeated the crowd, and everyone sipped their drinks.
Before Sebok could blend back into the throng, Amanda had worked her way across the room to thank him personally. Sarek, who lacked his wife’s skill in navigating through dense crowds, joined her a few moments later.
Marlena leaned close to Spock and said sotto voce, “I know your father’s a famous diplomat … so why does your mother seem like the real power broker?”
“My mother hails from a powerful and wealthy family on Earth,” Spock explained, “one with deep ties to the Sato dynasty. Much of her influence stems from her family’s role in the development of weapons and defense technologies for the Terran Empire.”
Eyeing both of Spock’s parents intently, Marlena asked, “If your mother’s that well connected, why isn’t Sarek governor of Vulcan by now?”
Spock lifted one eyebrow. “My father was a contender for the office,” he said. “However, that was before my rise to the Admiralty. My success has earned me the enmity of the Empress, whose wrath unfortunately has landed primarily upon my father.”
“That’s beyond unfair,” Marlena said. “It’s downright irrational.”
“Such is the nature of human politics.”
Marlena nodded and sipped her drink.
Sarek returned, emerging from the crowd with his empty hands clasped before him. He motioned with a tilt of his head for Spock to step aside with him.
Cloistered in an alcove near the corner, Sarek asked Spock in a hushed voice, “My son, do you have any schedule commitments tomorrow?”
“None that I am aware of.”
“Good. Please make time for a short journey out of the city at dawn.”
“May I ask where we are going, and for what purpose?”
“Mount Seleya,” Sarek said. “There is someone I want you to meet.”
Sarek and Spock arrived on Mount Seleya as it was bathed in the first amber rays of dawn. Climbing the last of the temple’s thousand rough-hewn steps, Spock studied their surroundings. Thick stone walls and high balustrades hinted at the temple’s martial past, as one of the great fortresses of Vulcan antiquity.
A trio of robed figures emerged from the temple and drew back their hoods as they approached Spock and Sarek. The leader looked to be middle-aged, with a long nose and sharply upswept eyebrows. The men behind him were younger; one was gaunt, the other burly.
“Ambassador Sarek,” said the elder at the front of the group. “Thank you for coming. Our thanks also to you, Admiral Spock.” He gestured at the temple. “Please, come in.”
As father and son followed their three escorts inside, Sarek said, “It was no trouble, Tolik. We hope to be of service.”
The Vulcan elder guided Sarek and Spock through the high-walled corridors of the temple. They stopped at a large, secluded circular courtyard paved with concentric rings around a meditation pool filled with dark water. Kneeling beside the pool with her back turned was an adolescent Vulcan girl with long hair.
Tolik whispered something to his two adepts, who stole away into the temple’s shadowy interior. Turning back to Sarek, he said, “I leave you now.” He glanced at the girl. “Her life rests in your hands.” Then he slipped away, following his adepts into the temple’s subterranean passages.
Sarek folded his hands inside the spacious sleeves of his robe and focused his placid gaze upon the girl. He whispered, “She is the one I wish you to meet.”
Spock noted small details about the teen. Her clothes were frayed and her hair was unkempt. She seemed ill a
t ease and anxious despite her tranquil surroundings. “Her mind is troubled,” Spock said.
“Yes,” Sarek said. “She is a brilliant child, according to all the standard tests and metrics, but she has great difficulty controlling her emotions. In particular, she often succumbs to her feelings of rage. Her lack of discipline tarnishes her record of academic achievement. Unless she learns to master her emotions, she will not be able to function in Vulcan society—and perhaps not anywhere else.”
The litany of the girl’s dysfunctions sounded hauntingly familiar to Spock; it was as if he were being asked to revisit his own troubled childhood via proxy.
A flash of intuition led him to ask, “What is her non-Vulcan heritage?”
Sarek nodded. “Your insight is keen, Spock. She is half Romulan.” Reacting to Spock’s intrigued glance, he continued. “Her father was a Romulan spy who infiltrated our society decades ago. Last month he was exposed and taken into custody.” His voice took on an extra note of gravity as he added, “He died during questioning by a pair of Andorian interrogators. The girl knows her father is dead, but not why he was taken or who he was—or what she is.”
“She will need to be told someday,” Spock said.
“Perhaps. But not today.”
Spock faced his father. “Why do you wish me to meet her?”
“She needs a mentor. Someone who can understand the unique difficulties she faces, and who can nurture her immense potential. Since you and Marlena will be staying on Vulcan for the coming year, I think you are the ideal candidate.” After watching Spock stare at the girl for several seconds, Sarek added, “I cannot and will not compel you to do this, my son. But if you wish to change the shape of the future, you should start by molding those who will live in it.”
Weighing his father’s words, Spock imagined what benefits he himself might have enjoyed if he had been privileged with a mentor like himself at the girl’s age. Despite his reluctance to enmesh one so young in the complicated fabric of his life, Spock walked out of the shadows and crossed the courtyard to stand behind the girl. He waited for her to acknowledge his presence.
Finally, she turned and looked up at him. Her hair was as dark as the ocean at night, and her eyes glistened like the blade of a knife. A fearless gaze and a sullen demeanor gave her a feral beauty.
“I am Spock.”
“I am Saavik. … Are you here to make a slave of me?”
“That would be a waste of your intellect and talent,” Spock said.
Saavik rolled her eyes, apparently mistaking his praise for condescension. “Then what do you want with me?”
“I have been asked to serve as your mentor,” Spock said, electing to pursue a policy of truth with the girl. “I believe I might be able to help you.”
She bristled at his offer. “How?”
“You were born with great potential, Saavik, but unless you develop such a gift, it means nothing. You can choose to lead an extraordinary life and become part of something greater than yourself, or you can choose to live as a failure and an outcast. The difference between these two paths is discipline, and I can help you develop that, if you are willing to make the effort.”
Eyeing him with suspicion, she asked, “Why would a Starfleet admiral spend his time fixing a juvenile delinquent like me?”
“I once was as you are now,” Spock said. “Because of my half-human ancestry, as a boy I found it difficult to control my emotions. My peers treated me as a misfit and an outcast because of my temper. They tormented me because they considered me … less than Vulcan.”
Saavik’s veneer of anger began to fade. Spock sensed he was making a connection with her. She asked, “How did you purge yourself of emotions?”
“I didn’t,” he confessed. “I merely learned to hide them and to use that skill to my advantage, as you will do. Knowledge is power, Saavik—but wisdom lies in knowing how to wield power.”
She held out her hand. Spock clasped it and helped her up.
“I’m willing to learn,” said his protégée. “Please teach me.”
2271
12
Hamartia
Marlena waited in the hatchway of the shuttlecraft Surak while Spock said farewell to Saavik. In the year since he had taken the girl under his wing, she had matured a great deal. The first time Spock had brought the teen to their residence in ShiKahr, Marlena was struck by the wild intensity of Saavik’s stare. Today, as she bid her mentor safe travels and promised to continue her studies under Sarek’s tutelage, her gaze had the same fire—now tempered with a keen focus.
Saavik lifted her hand in the Vulcan salute, and Spock did the same. They exchanged whispered valedictions, and then Saavik turned and walked away to stand with Sarek and Amanda and watch the shuttle’s departure.
Spock joined Marlena inside the shuttle, and they settled into their seats. Shifting uncomfortably and tugging at the fabric of her tunic and slacks, Marlena said, “I hate these new uniforms. They look like dirty gray pajamas, but they’re not as comfortable.” Pulling at the crimson sash tied around her waist, she added, “And this stupid thing gets in the way of my knife and my agonizer.”
“Starfleet’s new uniform code permits a thigh sheath for your knife,” Spock said as he secured his safety harness. “As for access to your agonizer, that will not be an issue once we reach the Enterprise.”
“Why not?”
“Because I intend to ban their use on all vessels under my command.”
That was news to Marlena. “And how do you think Starfleet Command will feel about you countermanding a general order?”
“We will see,” Spock said.
“Can you get us better uniforms while you’re at it?”
“I will convey your request to the Admiralty.”
She let out a derisive huff and rolled her eyes. “In other words, no.”
A tall Vulcan woman wearing a Starfleet uniform stepped inside the shuttle, sealed the hatch, and sat down across the aisle from Spock. Marlena noticed the woman wore the rank insignia of a lieutenant commander. As soon as the Vulcan woman had secured her safety restraints, she leaned forward and said to the pilot, “Lift off when ready, Ensign, and seal the cockpit.”
The pilot acknowledged the woman’s orders and closed the door between the cockpit and the passenger cabin. The shuttle’s thrusters engaged, and within moments the craft was airborne and on its way out of Vulcan’s atmosphere.
Marlena admired the receding view of ShiKahr until she heard the Vulcan woman say, “Good morning, Admiral. I am Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn of Starfleet Intelligence.”
“Good morning, Commander,” Spock replied.
“The reason why the seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason,” T’Prynn said.
Spock answered, “I have no words—my voice is in my sword.”
Confused and alarmed, Marlena said, “Did I miss something?”
“Recognition codes,” Spock said. “Prepared between myself and Sarek.”
Marlena looked at T’Prynn, who nodded at her and then said to Spock, “I have served your father for many years, Admiral. He informs me you have temporary need of my talents aboard the Enterprise.”
“I do,” Spock said. “If you succeed, I will have more tasks for you.”
“If I may inquire, sir … why did you ask for me?”
“Because of your personal history, Commander,” Spock said, his voice resonant with implied meaning.
Though his reply was cryptic to Marlena, it provoked a steely glare from T’Prynn, who replied in a tense voice, “I see.”
“Before I share my secrets with you, I must confirm you can be trusted.” Reaching toward T’Prynn’s face, he added, “I must know your mind.”
Marlena snapped, “No!” Her husband looked at her, his face a cipher. Reining in her anxiety, she continued. “The risk is too great. A mind-meld will reveal everything to her. If she’s lying—”
“If she is, then she has deceived my father—no eas
y task.”
Marlena placed her hand on Spock’s arm. “We’ve only just met her. It’s too soon to show her what we know.”
“If we are to cultivate effective allies,” Spock said, “we need to begin sharing our information and objectives.” He cast a hard look at T’Prynn. “Though it would be prudent to take some precautions.” Holding out his hand, he said to the Vulcan woman, “Give me your phaser, Commander.”