STAR TREK - TOS - 44 - Vulcan's Glory

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“YOU HAVE A WAY OF

ASKING DIFFICULT QUESTIONS,”

SPOCK SAID ...

T’Pris nodded, quietly acknowledging the fact. “So my parents said, and so said my husband. But now I

amT’Sai T’Pris,Aduna Sepelkiran. For humans, a widow. For Vulcans, free to choose a new mate.”

She turned to look directly at him. “Or a lover.That is a difficult question to consider.”

“I am betrothed,” he said softly.

“But not wed,” she said as softly. “Not yet.”

Spock studied her for a long moment, considering what he knew of her, what he felt for her, the

surprising emotions she called up in him. And he remembered what he knew of T’Pring, what he felt for

her. The only emotions T’Pring brought forth in him were duty and obligation laid on him by others.

Slowly, he reached out his hand to T’Pris.

Lightly, gently, almost fearfully, their fingers touched and caressed.

POCKET BOOKS

New York London Toronto Sydney Tokyo

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons,

living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

AnOriginal Publication of POCKET BOOKS

POCKET BOOKS, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc. 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New

York, NY 10020

STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures Corporation.

This book is published by Pocket Books, a division of Simon & Schuster Inc., under exclusive license

from Paramount Pictures Corporation.

For information address Pocket Books, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

ISBN: 0-671-65667-8

First Pocket Books printing February 1989

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

POCKET and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster Inc.

Printed in the U.S.A.

For Herb Wright

and David Gerrold,

with love and thanks

for being there.

Contents

Chapter One.7

Chapter Two.11

Chapter Three.16

Chapter Four20

Chapter Five.24

Chapter Six.31

Chapter Seven.36

Chapter Eight42

Chapter Nine.49

Chapter Ten.55

Chapter Eleven.61

Chapter Twelve.68

Chapter Thirteen.75

About the e-Book.80

Chapter One

THE SUNSET ATKa’a Beach was glorious. Pink streamers and golden-bottomed cumulus clouds

floated serenely above the orange glow that still tinged the distant dark horizon line of the sea. Thick

tropical foliage in a range of vibrant green tones cloaked the flank of the steep mountain that rose behind

the secluded beach, and several birds soared lazily on the gentle breeze off the ocean. The waves were

soft, surprising for a late December day; and they crept in ever-extending laps farther and farther up the

sand as the golden sunset slowly began to fade.

Spock ignored it all, sitting on the beach staring at his naked toes half-buried under the yellow-white

sand. His boots, socks carefully folded inside, stood primly beside him. He had come to Ka’a for its

quiet and its privacy, both of which had been zealously protected by Kauai’s local government. The

northernmost gem of Hawaii’s necklace of islands maintained[10]its right to preserve its natural beauty

and had managed to do so for three centuries. Spock had been drawn to the Garden Island by its

extreme contrast to his home planet.

He pulled his Starfleet jacket more closely around his shoulders as the wind off the sea rose slightly. He

disliked cold weather of any kind; indeed, his personal quarters were always kept well above levels most

humans appreciated. Vulcan would never experience such a cool wind as the one that now ruffled his

hair. No lush vegetation ran such a riot of natural growth as on this tropical island, untended by nurturing

hands. There were wide parklands around every Vulcan city and town, carefully maintained by squads of

volunteer gardeners who felt a truly civilized society must spend some time among the tranquillity of

growing things. But every tree, plant, vine, grass, and flower that grew in the parklands had been either

botanically created by careful mutation and hybridization or imported from off-world sources.

Much of his planet was desert, relieved only by the ragged hulks of mountain ranges and the great

blood-red oceans. Hardy succulents, gnarled and tiny-leavedisuke bushes, andkaranji —similar to

Earth’s barrel cactus—constituted much of the wild flora of Vulcan. The flame-leavedinduku trees

clustered in the oases that had originally dotted the deserts—except, of course, on Vulcan’s Forge.

Nothing grewon the Forge, that immense blistering range of hellish sand and rock into which no

one—not even the most toughened and experienced Vulcan—ventured willingly, or for long.

Spock reflected briefly on his own taste of the Forge,[11]images flickering in his mind of the ritual

kahs-wan ordeal every Vulcan child underwent on his or her tenth birthday. It was a rite of passage, an

endurance and survival test of the individual’s strength, courage, and logic. (A tiny, ironic smile tugged at

the corners of Spock’s mouth. Intelligence was a foregone conclusion for a Vulcan child.)

There had been so many peculiar incidents tied up in his ownkahs-wan that he sometimes thought of it

as the single most important turning point in his life. He clearly remembered every event leading to and

involved in his test, including the fact that he had set off for it unauthorized, alone, and ahead of schedule

in order to prove himself a true Vulcan and not—not—an Earther.

He recalled his stubbornly determined march into the Forge, an impulsive act brought on by his father’s

stern admonition that hemust learn to behave like a Vulcan. Spock had known Sarek was correct.

Spock was subject to anger then, often fighting with Vulcan boys who taunted him about his half-human

blood, and even giving way to tears of disappointment and frustration. It was a weakness that would not

be tolerated in an heir by his noble clan. Spock had known he must conquer it, and forcing thekahs-wan

had been his solution—even though doing so in such an impulsive way was another demonstration of his

human heritage.

Fat old I-chaya, his petsehlat, had lumbered after him into the Forge, refusing to turn back even after

Spock had firmly ordered him to go home. And it had been a good thing the loyal old beast had followed

him[12]so relentlessly, because I-chaya had saved Spock from an attackingle-matya. The agingsehlat

had charged and parried thele-matya’s attempt to get at the boy, until Speck’s cousin miraculously

appeared to finally subdue the great tigerlike beast with a skillfully applied neck pinch.

His cousin Selek had had an explanation for how he had discovered Spock had gone alone into the

Forge and how he had followed the boy. It had seemed plausible at the time, and Spock had been

desperate to get help for I-chaya, who had been wounded by thele-matya’s poisonous claws. There had

been Spock’s anxious hurry to reach and persuade a healer to come to I-chaya’s aid, his grief over

I-chaya’s terrible suffering, and, finally, the decision required of him—to allow the healer to ease the

sehlat ’s agony by a painless and merciful death with dignity. Somehow, thinking back on it, Spock had

never been quite certain of the logic of Selek’s explanations. His parents’ relief and pleasure over

Spock’s passing of thekahs-wan had diverted his attention from it, and Selekhad shown him exactly

how to execute the Vulcan neck pinch, a technique that had eluded Spock to that point. Still, he looked

back every now and then and pondered the unusual set of coincidences that had provided him with such

a perceptive cousin exactly when he needed him. Several years later, Spock had idly investigated the

many branches of his family tree, but he could not seem to find exactly the right combination of “distant

relatives” with those names who had a son named Selek. Somehow the information never seemed to be

urgent enough for him to launch a thorough search,[13]and in time he was far too busy to think about it.

The most important thing thekahs-wan had accomplished was that it left Spock with the firm resolution

that he would follow the Vulcan way, as his father and tradition demanded.

Spock sighed and shook his head. Denying his human heritage was a denial of his mother, and he could

not dishonor her that way. Instead, he had gone on to strengthen those human qualities most like a

Vulcan’s and had learned to sublimate the more embarrassing ones.Mostly learned to sublimate, he

reminded himself. He still remembered I-chaya proudly, but always with a swell of grief that put a lump in

his throat.

Spock wiggled his toes. It had been an impulse to remove his boots and socks and sink his feet into the

warm, fine sand. His mother had told him she had always enjoyed doing that. “Walking on a beach in

your shoes is a joyless experience, Spock,” she often said. “Put yourself in touch with the land ... feel its

life .”

A soft hiss and slap of water on the sand brought his head up. The tide had lifted a gentle froth of white

foam nearly to his feet, leaving a dark, moist mark as it slid away again. Dusk was already pulling down

the shadows, darkening the tropical growth behind him. Above the last faintly glowing light of the sun on

the horizon, the stars had begun to appear, glittering with icy white and pale blue points. Spock freed his

toes and brushed his feet free of sand. Quickly pulling on socks and boots, he managed to scramble out

of the path of the next wave before he got damp. The[14]temperature had dropped farther as the wind

rose again. He pulled his jacket edges together and sealed them with a brush of his hand up the join. As

he started to walk back toward the path through the undergrowth to the road, he realized he had not

gotten all the sand off his feet. The grains shifted and bit into his flesh as he strode along toward the

parking area where he had left his ground car. He ignored the discomfort but mildly cursed the impulse

that had caused it.

The short-hopper whisked Spock from the Lihue shuttle field to Honolulu’s spaceport. He carried only a

light trip valise containing the few items he required for brief stays, plus two uniforms and a traditional

Vulcan robe. Captain Daniels had ordered him to take some R&R after he signed off theArtemis, and he

had gone with few possessions. Everything else would be forwarded automatically to his new ship.

“Spock, you work too hard,” Daniels had said. “You’renot always on duty. It’s a commendable attitude

for a young officer, but it’s not practical.” The captain had softened the remark with a smile. “Take the

time to get away before you report to theEnterprise. Relax. Enjoynot having to tend to duty.”

“I do require some time to review theEnterprise’s expedition logs and equipment specifications,” Spock

had replied thoughtfully. “Especially the library computer and science station. I have not made a complete

study of the ship’s systems. ...”

“That’s not what I meant,” Daniels snapped.

Spock had raised an eyebrow quizzically, the rest of his face perfectly composed. It was his best way of

[15]responding to anything that amazed, amused, or puzzled him. “Sir?”

Daniels stood up and leaned on his knuckles on the desktop. He put firmness in his voice and bit off

every word clearly and sharply. “This is an order, Mr. Spock. You will go somewhere beautiful. You will

take no research information with you in any form, nor will you access said information from Starfleet

sources. You will relax. Swim. Walk. Ride. Lie on a beach if that’s what you fancy.But do not work.

Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir. I am ordered to relax.”

“Excellent.”

“Sir?” Daniels swiveled a wary look at him. “Captain Pike has a reputation as a taskmaster—”

Daniels interrupted sharply. “Chris Pike is hard but fair. Remember it.”

“Of course, sir.” Spock remembered everything. Automatically. Without effort. “However, I believe he

will expect his new second officer to know something more about his vessel than its basic specifications.”

“What are you getting at?”

“How many days am I ordered to relax, sir?”

“Ah.” Daniels gave the question a few seconds’ thought and then gravely replied, “You have two weeks.

Ten days should be sufficient.”

“Yes, sir. Ten days’ relaxation. Is that all, sir?”

“Not quite.” The captain held out his hand. “You’ve been an excellent third for me. I was happy to

recommend your promotion, and I was even more happy to hear of your posting to theEnterprise. She’s

a fine ship commanded by an excellent captain. Good luck, Spock.”

[16]“Thank you, sir.” Spock shook Daniels’s hand quickly, exerting an acceptable amount of pressure.

Then he dropped it, promptly clasping his hands behind his back, his usual stance when in the presence

of senior officers. He had never been comfortable with the human custom of shaking hands. He much

preferred the ancient ritual greeting used by Vulcans: “Live long and prosper.” It was both formal and

courteous and at the same time offered respect and good wishes. Spock considered it a prime example

of Vulcan efficiency to convey so much in such a brief salutation.

The landing of the short-hopper at the spaceport interrupted his musings about the start of his leave. He

collected his trip valise from the overhead storage bin and hurried out into the bustling port. He hadn’t

been scheduled to return here for another four days. Events had conspired to interrupt the ordered

relaxation period the afternoon of his sixth day on Kauai. The subspace radio message had been relayed

to him at the hostel via theArtemis: “Return to Vulcan immediately. Urgent matters require your

attention.” It was succinctly signed “Sarek.” Daniels had attached a brief message of his own: “Sorry. I

believe his orders supersede mine.” Spock had sighed and gone to arrange for his return to the Honolulu

spaceport, a connector shuttle to Armstrong Lunaport, and a reservation on a fast passenger ship to

Vulcan.

Now, as he scanned a status board to confirm that his connector shuttle would leave on time, Spock

wondered again what possible matters could be so urgent that only he personally could deal with them—

[17]and which also required his presence on Vulcan instead of being transacted by subspace messages.

It was remarkably convenient that the order from Sarek (and Daniels was correct; it most definitely was

anorder from Spock’s father) should have arrived at exactly the time Spock was free to respond.

Of course, it would have taken very little effort on Sarek’s part to discover that his son had received a

promotion to full lieutenant and been transferred to theEnterprise, with an accompanying amount of

leave time before being required to report. A Federation ambassador (even one not currently on

diplomatic assignment) had more than enough Starfleet contacts to know every movement in his son’s

career. Not that Sarek personally would have sought out the information. He would have delegated the

chore to an aide and would expect to find the data reported on his library computer with continuous

updates. Sarek might never refer to it, but woe betide the unfortunate aide who failed to ensure that the

most recent facts were there if wanted.

Yes, Spock decided, Sarek had known exactly where he was and that he could easily return to Vulcan

for whatever “urgent matters” required him. Sarek would never interfere with Spock’s duty by

demanding that Spock take a personal-time leave. But he would not scruple for a second about

interrupting Spock’s official leave.

The connector shuttle was on time, and Spock turned toward the ticket counter where a reservations

robot would confirm his place on board. Spock had hesitated briefly and then obeyed the summons from

[18]his father. Not to do so was unthinkable. Still, he wondered with just a twitch of uneasiness what it

was all about. Sarek of Vulcan had not communicated with his son by written or spoken word for eight

years—and they could have been light-years, so great was the philosophical distance between them.

The afternoon was getting on, and the hard yellow light of Vulcan’s sun stretched long shadows across

the courtyard, running in wavy ripples over the carefully raked ridges of the sand garden. As Amanda

watched, the slim shadow finger cast by the candlestick tree touched the base of the highest rock in the

group of three clustered together in the center of the garden. She could tell the hour almost to the exact

moment as the dark line slowly lifted toward the rock’s center.

Sarek would be home soon. And Spock—she sighed heavily—Spock would return to Vulcan in two

days. She knew Sarek had planned it out very carefully, calculating all the parameters and possibilities.

Two days was the maximum time it could possibly take for their son to receive the message, debate it,

resist it, give in, and take transport to Vulcan. But come he would. Then there would be the confrontation

between Sarek and Spock—not face to face, of course. Sarek had already arranged that, and Amanda

had had to agree to his plan. Her title wasT’Sai Amanda,Aduna Sarek—rendered inadequately but

closely enough in English as the Lady Amanda, Life Partner of Sarek. She had accepted the role, but the

choosing had always been Sarek’s. She had wanted him more[19]than anything else in any world that

could be named, but it had to behis choice of her that made them life partners. Amanda had given

everything she could to fulfill that role, and what Sarek had asked of her this time she would also do—but

reluctantly.

She heard the outer door slide open exactly when she expected it. The candlestick tree shadow had

touched the top of the highest rock in the sand garden. She turned toward the spacious foyer of the

house, a smile automatically lifting her lips in spite of the sadness that rode her shoulders.

The tall figure of her husband moved against the brightness of the skylit foyer, a dark silhouette until he

stepped into the large, cool main room. He wore plain, somber clothes as always, a deep forest green

suit today, the only highlight the heavy gold ring on the index finger of his left hand—the clan ring worn by

the ranking male family member.

Sarek saw her moving toward him, and his brown eyes lit with warmth. “Amanda.”

His rich, vibrant voice stirred her as it always did, and her smile brightened her face. “You’re on time.”

“I would have notified you if I were to be delayed.”

“I know. I’m teasing.”

The light in his eyes grew warmer. “A human characteristic I have never been able to fathom, my wife.”

“Perhaps not, my husband,” Amanda said lightly. “But you do let me indulge in it.”

“Analyzing it is a fascinating hobby.” Sarek lifted her hand in his, sobering quickly. “I have received

word that Spock is on his way. He has left the[20]Honolulu spaceport and will depart Armstrong

Lunaport for Vulcan at five o’clock Earth time.”

“Then he’ll arrive in two days, just as you said.”

“Of course.”

Amanda turned away, pulling her hand from his. “Why are you forcing this now, Sarek? You know it

doesn’t have to be now.”

“We have gone over the matter before, Amanda. Spock has obligations. It is his duty to fulfill them. The

family, the bonds that are in place, the traditions he has sworn to uphold as a Vulcan—alldemand he

respond now in the accepted manner.”

Sometimes Amanda hated the traditions, hated the narrow line of action they forced Vulcans to follow.

But she had accepted them herself when she accepted Sarek’s love and proposal of marriage, had

accepted the Vulcan role of life partner, had birthed and raised a child whom she knew must also abide

by the same traditions. She had made a promise to the man she loved and the house into which she

married that she would do so. She kept her promises—her own human tradition—but that didn’t mean it

was easy. This was another one of the times when it wasn’t going to be easy.

She turned back to her husband. “He has obligations to Starfleet, too, Sarek. Even you acknowledge

that.”

“What he must do here is acceptable within Starfleet. It has no relation to his duties.”

“I think you are not seeing the two in relation to each other, Sarek,” Amanda said firmly. “They are two

differentthings, and I do not believe Spock can[21]fulfill both duties simultaneously. We used to have an

old Earth saying, ‘Something has to give.’ It is very possible that Spock will have to considernot meeting

one obligation or the other.”

“Then that will be his decision. I am certain he will choose the correct one.”

“The correct one by whose lights?” Amanda asked. “Yours or his?”

Sarek stared at her, not answering for a moment. Then he turned and walked toward the corridor

leading to the bedrooms. “I will be in meditation,” he said quietly. “I assume supper will be at the usual

hour?”

“Of course, my husband,” she said formally. She watched him until he disappeared down the hall, then

she turned away toward the formal sand garden again. She slid aside the door that led to the patio and

stepped out.

Vulcan’s twilight heat pushed at her, not uncomfortable now in the winter of its year. There were times in

the summer when she could not even look out at the glare from the surface of the sand garden, but now it

lay soft and pleasantly shadowed in the last light. She sat down on the stone edge of the patio, pulled off

the light sandals she wore, and burrowed her bare toes into the warm sand.

There.In her mind, she went back through the years to the Carmel beach where they had honeymooned.

Typically, he had brought work with him, and after breakfast the first morning he settled himself at a

computer console to tend to it. She had kissed the tip of his ear, laughing, and gone down to the beach.

She[22]was on her knees at a tide pool, examining the microcosm of life assembled there, when she

glanced up and saw him approaching along the beach. He was determinedly trudging along—wearing

boots, of all things—stopping now and then, apparently to study the seaweed and kelp, the shells, and

the stones tossed up on the tawny beach sand by the waves.

She realized suddenly that she was probably “a sight,” as her mother would have put it—dirty feet,

disheveled hair, no makeup. He had never seen her like that, even in bed. Because of his innate formality,

she had taken care always to look as perfectly groomed as possible. Later, he told her he thought he had

never seen her look so lovely—slim as a gazelle, dark hair tossed by the wind, and beautiful blue eyes

that looked at him with open candor and honesty—and love.

She had chided him lightly, teasingly, about the boots. A beach like this was half wasted if one walked

on it in boots. She never did persuade him to remove them and wriggle his toes in the sand. Vulcan

dignity simply did not descend that far. She began to realize then that the traditions observed by

Sarek—by all Vulcans—were not subject to human influence, even in so light a thing as informality in

leisure time. Certainly the greater traditions that governed their lives were untouched by contact with

humans.

Her son was bound, and tied, by those traditions. Sometimes, not often but sometimes, she felt guilty

about Spock’s half-human heritage. She knew it troubled him, gave him pain, caused him grief, all of

which he buried behind a stoic Vulcan bearing. But would she have said no to Sarek’s wish for a child?

She[23]shook her head and smiled ironically. Of course not. She had desired Spock’s birth as much as

Sarek had. She wiggled her toes again in the warm sand of the garden’s edge and sighed. She had never

persuaded Sarek to go barefoot. That would have been too human.

Chapter Two

THE CITY OF SHIKAHRglittered in the heat of midday as Spock’s ground car approached. Behind it,

the black, forbidding range of the Llangon Hills thrust upward and formed a perfect and dramatic

backdrop for the sparkling city. The banding strip of parkland around it softened the transition from harsh

and arid desert to the attractive geometric shapes of the city buildings. Architecture was very carefully

controlled so that no new structure was in disharmony with any of the established buildings. The streets

were designed wide, with grass or trees running down a center strip and on the verges. There were no

slidewalks—Vulcans preferred to walk—and pavement frequently gave way to paths that wound under

the carefully planted nonnative trees that offered shade.

Spock left the ground car near the eastern gate, closest to his parents’ home, and entered the city. This

area was entirely residential, and few of the buildings were more than one story in height. Most of the[25]

homes were enclosed within walls of one kind or another. As a child, he had liked most the home of a

neighbor whose garden “walls” were carefully trimmed climbing rose brambles. In summer, the high

hedge bloomed with luscious blossoms in a pastel combination of pink and white and pale silvery

lavender. As he approached it, he noticed that the wall of his parents’ garden had acquired a vinelike

plant that grew over much of it. Here and there, a delicate trumpet-shaped blue flower peeked out of the

dark green foliage that clung to the wall. He thought that would have been his mother’s doing. His father

favored the symmetry of the sand garden, beautiful but severe.

The gate was unlatched, and Spock let himself in. Dutifully he had sent ahead a message that he was

coming as ordered and giving his arrival time. The gate made no sound, and he knew he hadn’t, either,

but the front door of the house instantly slid open, and his mother stepped out, smiling.

“Spock.” She held out her hands to him.

“Mother.” He strode to her quickly, dropping the valise. He took her hands in his, squeezing them

tightly.

She freed a hand to touch his cheek, knowing it was a human gesture, knowing he would permit it only

because it was she who did it. “Five years since I saw you at your graduation from the Academy. I’ve

missed you, son.”

“I know. You say so when you write.”

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摘要：

“YOUHAVEAWAYOFASKINGDIFFICULTQUESTIONS,”SPOCKSAID... T’Prisnodded,quietlyacknowledgingthefact.“Somyparentssaid,andsosaidmyhusband.ButnowIamT’SaiT’Pris,AdunaSepelkiran.Forhumans,awidow.ForVulcans,freetochooseanewmate.”Sheturnedtolookdirectlyathim.“Oralover.Thatisadifficultquestiontoconsider.”“Iambetr...

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