STAR TREK: Starfleet Academy - TOS #1: Crisis on Vulcan

by Brad

  “Not yet,” Spock insisted. “Cha, permit me to say that the warfare in the Marathan system has been illogical. Over the centuries, many thousands of your people have died in battle, and many millions have died indirectly from warfare. It is illogical for a species to destroy itself. Now the treaty has offered your people a way out of [100] their hostility and hatred. Why has your clan and that of the rebels turned against it?”

  “I cannot speak of such things!” Cha’s face wore a baffled expression. “You can’t possibly understand. Some things are not permitted—”

  “The same is true here,” Spock pointed out. “By finding you, I have violated my father’s wishes. Yet I have the hope that finding you can produce a greater good.”

  For a moment, Cha seemed on the verge of some confession, but then he half-turned and stared at the ground. “A Marathan man may not speak of certain things,” he muttered. “It is forbidden.”

  Silence. From the hidden mouth of the alley, murmuring voices as small groups of people walked past, unaware of the two young men around the corner. The sky overhead was a sullen orange red, the shadows in the alley deep and purple. Spock said slowly, “May I point out, Cha, that neither of us is technically a man? Back on Marath, on the last night at Bel T’aan, you told me the story of Volash and Hamarka. You said you were not yet of age, and so you could tell me that.”

  “That is not True Lore,” Cha maintained stubbornly. “The secrets of our belief—those I can never reveal to an outsider.”

  “You are an outsider.”

  Cha flashed him an angry glare. “All of my clan are outsiders!” he snapped. “Thrown off our world by those who disagreed with our beliefs, our customs. You don’t know what it’s like.”

  Spock put a hand on Cha’s shoulder. “You are [101] mistaken,” he said simply. “I know very well what it is to be an outsider.”

  Cha wrenched his shoulder away, as if Spock’s touch were painful. “You can’t.”

  “But I do. The two of us, Cha, do not belong. And yet we need to belong. I suggest that you could do your people more good than you know by sharing with me the secret cause of your clan’s vendetta against my father.”

  “Your father betrayed us!”

  Spock shook his head. “That would not be my father’s way. You do not know him, but I do. Cha, once on Marath you trusted me. Trust me again. If there is anything that my father can do to set things right, he will try. You have my word on it.”

  For a moment, Cha stared into Spock’s eyes, uncertainty flickering in his expression. He licked his lips. “Spock,” he said hoarsely, “there is a homing device in my blade. I activated it when you returned it to me. For your own safety, leave now.”

  “No.”

  “You don’t understand! My people are sworn to kill you—”

  “Then you will have to persuade them not to kill me.”

  Cha glanced anxiously toward the angle of the alley. “I am not yet a man,” he muttered. “I have not yet undergone the Ceremony of Bonding. Perhaps—but it is True Lore you ask me to speak of!”

  “I will never reveal it without your permission,” Spock said.

  “If I tell you, will you go?”

  [103] Spock nodded.

  Cha leaned close and whispered. Spock tilted his head, listening as if he were a confessor listening to a repentant criminal’s plea for forgiveness. A momentary expression of surprise flashed across his face and one of understanding. “I see,” he said at last. “But, Cha, you have been misled. The one who must be behind this is not my father, but—”

  “Cha!” The harsh voice whirled them both around. Karos Mar Santor, wearing no disguise apart from a brown hooded cloak, stood behind them. He raised a stubby weapon, a device like a silvery test tube, closed and rounded at both ends.

  “No, Father!”

  Spock saw circles of energy leap from the end of the weapon, bluish expanding ripples in the air rushing toward him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the disruptor beam took him in the chest. Spock felt himself slammed backward. Everything happened too slowly, like actions in a nightmare. The toppling Spock stared straight up at the orange-red sky, then saw it darken and recede. He felt himself falling backward, down into a dark, bottomless pit. He struggled to breathe, but his lungs would not work. Everything around him, colors, sounds, faded. Spock wondered when he would stop falling.

  He passed out before discovering if he ever would.

  Chapter 10

  An eternity of drifting in a gray void, struggling against nothing. Is this death? Spock wondered, almost too empty to care. But something told him it was not, and something made him struggle, like a swimmer far below the surface desperately trying to rise again and gulp life-giving air.

  Then something, a blurry light place in the thick, dark fog, and a voice from somewhere faraway, speaking his name. He tried to answer and found he could not. Tow-kath. The Vulcan term floated into his mind. It described a trance state. Badly injured Vulcans could enter Tow-kath, go dormant, allow their body’s defenses to repair damage at peak efficiency. It was a learned skill, not an instinct, but Spock had learned it. Now he fought to break the trance, paying for his attempt with sudden, wrenching pain.

  [105] He groaned, and he must have made a sound, for the blurred face was back, hovering over him in the grayness. “Spock?”

  “Fa—father,” croaked Spock. He forced his eyes to focus. Sarek, yes, and Amanda beside him, both leaning over Spock. The young Vulcan realized with a shock that he was at home, his own room.

  “Oh, Spock,” Amanda said, her eyes wild with worry.

  Sarek placed a hand on his shoulder. “You were attacked by a Marathan wielding a neural disruptor weapon,” his father said. “Fortunately, the security sensors picked up the discharge of energy, and the authorities captured the two assassins before they could fatally injure you. They—”

  “Codicil,” groaned Spock.

  Sarek frowned. “What?”

  “Father, you must add a codicil to the Marathan treaty.” Spock raised up in bed, gripping is father’s arm with terrible urgency. Sarek, with a flash of distaste, pulled back, away from the emotional display. Spock spoke in a tumble of words: “You were betrayed on Marath by Hul Minak Lasvor. He was to tell you of the importance of certain ancient religious sites on the planet. He did not because he wished the civil war to continue. He has dreams of conquering Marath from space, of restoring his clan to the leadership of the entire system.”

  “Calm yourself, Spock.” Sarek’s voice had a faint, displeased note, a stern tone that he almost never used. “I do not understand what you are saying.”

  [106] Spock sat on the edge of his bed, his head spinning. He closed his eyes and forced himself to speak slowly, rationally. “Father, the Marathans have strong, ancient religious taboos. On the planet there is a high plateau called P’ik Ban Aldor. It is a shrine, the center of all Marathan religions.”

  “I have never heard that.”

  “Because of the religious taboos,” insisted Spock. “The Marathans may not mention their beliefs to outsiders. But their priests did delegate one man, Hul Minak Lasvor, to communicate their desires and demands to you. He did not, and so in the treaty you did not mention complete and free access to P’ik Ban Aldor for all Marathans.”

  Sarek sank into a chair beside Spock’s bed. “I see. And his motive was to prolong the war?”

  Spock nodded. “He blamed you. The off-world colonists could not refuse to sign the treaty that they had negotiated, or they would lose face. But once away from the planet, Minak convinced the others that the planet-dwelling Marathans had bribed you to omit guarantees of religious tolerance. The opening of P’ik Ban Aldor for all believers was to have been the symbol for that tolerance.”

  Sarek rose. “I will question the captives,” he said.

  “Father!” Spock’s weak croak stopped Sarek in the doorway. “Cha and his father—were they taken?”

  “They are captured and the other member
s of their clan as well. None of them were seriously injured.”

  [107] “Do not let them know where you learned this,” said Spock. “Otherwise Cha will become an outcast.”

  Sarek nodded, and as he turned, Spock sank back on the bed. “I am very tired,” he said.

  He felt Amanda’s hand, cool and soft, on his forehead, and he drifted to sleep again.

  A time of healing and slowly returning strength followed. A dazed Spock woke only long enough to take a little nourishment, and then he sank back into the depths of Tow-kath, the healing fever. Drifting dreams disturbed him. He saw himself on the Enterprise, grimly trying to avoid some kind of catastrophe but failing because he could not move fast enough. He was on the grounds of the Vulcan Science Academy, witnessing an attack on Sirok, but when he tried to run to his cousin’s aid, the pathway turned to mud and made him stagger forward in nightmare sluggishness. He saw himself speaking to a group of students at the academy, with all of them murmuring, “Not logical. You are not logical.”

  But finally a day came when he opened his eyes, searched for the pain, and found it had vanished. He rose and dressed, and he met Amanda in the doorway. “You are better,” she said, and impulsively she embraced her son.

  “How long has it been?” he asked.

  She led him to her room, made him sit in a chair. “You have been asleep, more or less, for a week. So much has happened.”

  “Sirok. I dreamed of him.”

  [108] “Sirok is well. He has recovered, and he will be back at the Vulcan Science Academy within a month.” Amanda shook her head as she studied her son’s face. “A neural disrupter set to kill is a terrible weapon,” she said softly. “It destroys major nerve junctions, and they cannot be restored. You were very close to death.”

  “I know. The security officers saved me.”

  Amanda smiled. “No,” she said softly. “Your friend saved you.”

  Spock raised an eyebrow. “I do not understand.”

  “Cha,” said Amanda. “He threw himself in front of the disrupter beam. His father dropped the weapon, certain that he had killed his son. Marathans are even more susceptible to disrupter effects than Vulcans.”

  “Their neurons are not as well shielded as ours,” Spock said.

  Amanda almost laughed. “For whatever reason. When the security officers arrived, Karos Mar Santor was holding his son’s body. The nerves of his lower spine were badly hurt by the disrupter. He could not move his legs, and he was in pain. They took Cha to the House of Healing, and fortunately the damage was not permanent. He will walk with a limp for a long time, but he’ll recover full use of his legs eventually.”

  “I see. The treaty?”

  “Sarek is planning to return to Marath in six weeks, as soon as Cha is well enough to travel. Santor’s people—”

  “Mar’s people,” Spock corrected. “The Marathan family name comes second.”

  “Very well,” Amanda said. “Mar’s people have taken [109] Hul Minak Lasvor into custody. They will try him according to their laws. Sarek believes that he can negotiate a treaty that will allow all sides free access to some site on the planet that seems very important to them.”

  “I am sure he will succeed.”

  “Aren’t you happy for him then?” asked Amanda.

  “Mother!”

  Amanda chuckled. “At least you show some emotion. I believe I shocked you that time!”

  Spock considered. “I was not shocked. I was surprised at how illogical you can be.”

  Days later, Spock stood beside Cha, who had walked a little for the first time since his father had tried to kill Spock. Cha, thinner, exhausted, sat in a hover chair in the solarium of the House of Healing. Through a huge curved window he looked out across the city, toward the west. The dry landscape of Vulcan rolled away to the horizon. Hot afternoon sunlight poured in. “Your world is like Marath in some respects, but it is very different, too. Not as much water, different colors, a strange sky. And yet it has beauty of its own,” Cha said.

  “I wanted to thank you,” Spock said softly. “You saved my life.”

  Cha twisted away awkwardly, not letting Spock see his face. When he spoke, his voice was gruff, full of feeling: “Friends do that.”

  “Yes,” Spock said, considering. “I suppose they do.”

  For some minutes the two sat together without speaking. Then Cha cleared his throat. “I will celebrate my [110] birthday on the way back home, Spock. As soon as we arrive at Shakir, my father and my uncles will join me to perform the Ceremony of Bonding. Then I will be a man.” He glanced at Spock. “Everything in my life will change from then on. No more childish disobedience. No more sharing secrets with alien friends.”

  “That will be a loss,” Spock said. “But in accepting adulthood, you will gain much as well.”

  “I hope to be a leader of my people in time,” Cha said. “You Vulcans have much to teach Marathans. We are a violent and illogical people. Perhaps we can learn [111] from you to control our hurtful emotions. To get along with each other. I wish I could help all Marathans learn that lesson.” With a grin, Cha said, “It would be wonderful if I became the chief counselor of the Marathans and you the ambassador from Vulcan.”

  This time Spock looked away. “Only time will show if that is possible.”

  “Thank you, Spock.”

  “On the contrary. Thank you, Cha.”

  Weeks passed. Cha and his family, Sarek and his aides, left Vulcan for Marath. Before long, Sarek called home to tell Amanda and Spock that the treaty had been successfully amended. “Working out the language was very difficult, because we had to refer to things that cannot be named, but somehow we have succeeded. Now all sides can at last agree,” Sarek said. “And Marath will become a member of the Federation.”

  “And Vulcan?” Spock asked. “Has the crisis passed here, too?”

  Sarek nodded. “An acute question. Things have changed because this problem has been successfully resolved despite the warnings of those who fear outsiders. The power of the opposition party has waned. Vulcan will not close itself off from other worlds. More logical minds have prevailed.”

  “That is good.”

  “I think so. I must prepare for the return voyage now. Amanda and Spock, live long and prosper.”

  [112] Spock raised his hand in the ancient Vulcan gesture of greeting and farewell. “Live long and prosper, Father.”

  When the screen faded away, Spock stared into the distance for a long time, not really seeing anything.

  More weeks passed. Sarek returned home. He spoke to his son of the coming year when Spock would enter the Science Academy as a full-time student. Spock listened gravely, nodded, and kept his trouble to himself. After a morning spent reviewing the subtle language of the successful Marathan treaty, Sarek looked at Spock for a long time before saying, “You will make a fine diplomat one day, Spock. Study your science if you must, but realize that you have a higher calling. It is an infinitely varied galaxy, with much trouble in it. You can help to end hostility, to make the universe a more rational place as I have done.”

  Spock hoped that his face did not show the turmoil in his heart.

  On a warm afternoon not long after, he found Amanda working in her garden. The sun was low, and the heat of the afternoon was pleasant in his bones. He helped his mother with an exotic, Earth plant, and she spoke of it as they watered and pruned. “It’s called a century plant,” she said.

  “Why is that?” asked Spock.

  “There’s a legend that it blooms only once every hundred Earth years.” Amanda took a step back. “Well, it seems to be adapting nicely to Vulcan conditions.”

  “Does it?”

  Amanda glanced at him. “Does it bloom only once a [113] century? No, actually it doesn’t. It’s more like once every twenty years or so.”

  “An illogical name,” Spock observed.

  Amanda laughed. “Well, we humans are an illogical species.”

  Spock looked around the ga
rden. “This is a very harmonious place,” he said. “You have planted species from forty-nine different worlds. It ought to be a jumble of competing forms and shapes, but it is not. There is a sense here of ...” His voice trailed off. “Of completeness,” he finished at last.

  “Thank you, Spock.”

  “I am reminded of the Enterprise.”

  Amanda laughed again. “The connection escapes me.”

  On the horizon the sun sank. Soon the chill of night would come, the thin air releasing the heat of the day. Spock looked up. High in the darkening sky, wispy ice clouds caught the rays of the vanishing sun and glowed a brilliant scarlet. Beyond them was the darkness of space. Slowly, Spock said, “The Enterprise crew was not made up exclusively of humans. There were Centaurians, at least one Andorian, and a Betazoid as well. And one of the crew’s parents were a Deltan and a human.”

  “Oh,” Amanda said. “I see. They were many alien species all planted in one garden. Is that it?”

  “Not planted, for they are all sentient,” Spock said. “The Vulcan Science Academy, by contrast, is a garden filled with varalinths.”

  “Weeds?” Amanda shook her head. “Now you have lost me.”

  [114] “A varalinth is not a weed,” Spock said. “It is a Vulcan plant.”

  “I know, Spock,” Amanda replied. “It branches roots far and wide, and wherever they approach the surface, they send up shoots that become clones identical to the parent plant. But to tell you the truth, varalinths are not particularly lovely specimens. They are adapted for harsh conditions, but they crowd out other plants.”

  “And so do the students at the Science Academy.”

  Amanda led him to the sheltered seat. “This is a more serious conversation than I thought,” she said. “Tell me everything, Spock.”

  For the better part of an hour, Spock told her the whole story. He spoke of how he had felt like an outsider at the Science Academy but as if he belonged aboard the Enterprise. He told of Christopher Pike’s surprising offer, of the fascination it held for him. To be the first Vulcan officer in Starfleet—that was an intriguing goal. “And it is logical,” Spock said slowly. “Father has struggled to forge closer ties between Vulcan and the Federation. To have Vulcans in Starfleet can only help both Starfleet and ourselves.”