Open Writing

They found the former Ambassador in a small anteroom off the main hall. The Vulcan was standing in the center of the room as they entered, and he motioned towards a group of chairs.

“Thank you for coming, Captain Picard,” he said. “And you, too,
Surgeon-General.”

Picard and Beverly took a seat. “I hope you don’t mind…” began Picard, but Spock cut him off. “No, not at all, captain. In fact, it is probably as well to have someone from the
Federation present. And Doctor Adamson can bring a medical point of view to what I have to say.”

“Please, Ambassador,” said Beverly, “I think I prefer Crusher now.” She glanced sideways at Picard. “I think I always did.”

Spock nodded and, typically, came straight to the point. “I asked to see you partly because the late Doctor McCoy and I had something in common. As his time has arrived, so is mine almost due, hence the urgency I mentioned.”

Picard and Beverly glanced at each other, uncertain of what to say, and Spock forestalled them with a gesture.

“No expressions of condolence are necessary. However, I thank you for your concern. As another of my friends, also gone from us, would have said: ‘Dammit, Spock, get to the point.’” The Vulcan gave one of his rare thin smiles, and glanced at the ceiling. “All right, Jim,” he said enigmatically, “I will.” Then he returned his attention to the two in the room, and smiled again.
“Forgive me, but I find myself becoming more self-mocking as I approach my time.”

He moved to one of the chairs and sat, then went on. “I came here not only to see you, Captain Picard, but to say farewell to a friend. As I am sure you are aware, Doctor McCoy was a longtime shipmate and, although a casual observer might have been excused for not thinking so, a friend. He and I disagreed on many, some might even say most, points, but he always had my highest regard and respect, both as a Star Fleet officer and a healer. He hid his respect for and love of life behind a façade of irritability; it was something I always found most
endearing about him, and I could forgive such a man much.”

Spock gave a small shrug, and another smile. “As, indeed, I was often required to. I am sure you are also aware that Doctor McCoy and I were the last surviving members of the crew of Captain James T. Kirk’s Enterprise; now, only I
remain, and not for much longer.”

Seeing Beverly’s look again, Spock shook his head and reiterated his previous explanation. “No, doctor, it is nothing you or anyone can do anything about, merely an
occurrence in the natural order of things. My time is up, and there is nothing to be done.”

Now it was Picard’s turn to look enquiringly, and Spock raised a characteristic eyebrow.

“Did you think, captain, that humans had a monopoly on dying of old age? I assure you, while Vulcans can live up to more than twice the normal human span even with the new developments in rejuvenation technology, we also must eventually succumb.”

“Well, yes, of course,” said Picard, “but I understood you were somehow able to preserve your…consciousness, or…”

“Katra,” replied Spock. “Unfortunately, that can only be done once, and I have already had my turn, courtesy of my old friends, in particular Doctor McCoy, who carried my essence inside himself for some time, at considerable personal cost. No, what is to follow is inevitable; however, I may have no need to preserve my Katra, and therein lies my reason for asking you here.

“Shortly before he died, Doctor McCoy asked to see me. I recognized this as an event of some significance, since he and I had had little contact for more than sixty years, and had seen one another only infrequently. Nevertheless, he seemed to regard the matter as being of some urgency; this, I can now understand, as I find myself in somewhat the same position.

“ I came here to this place a week ago, and was with Doctor McCoy when he died. His last words to me were typical. He said, ‘Dammit, Spock, you always had to have the last word. Now you’re going to be last at this, too.’ Then he looked across the room to a far corner, said, ‘Jim’, and died.”

Picard, studying the Vulcan’s face, could almost have sworn he saw a hint of moisture in the deep, dark eyes. Almost. Then Spock continued. “But before Doctor McCoy died, he gave me something, which I now wish to entrust to you. He was unaware of my condition, and I saw no reason to burden him
with that knowledge.”

Spock reached into the folds of his robe, and brought out a small disc.

“This was his private log, more of a journal, to be exact, of a mission he and I, along with several other members of the old Enterprise’s crew apparently undertook shortly before Captain Kirk was lost. Later, of course, you found him in the place you
called the matrix, returning together to defeat the madman Soran and save the fourth planet of the Viridian system from destruction.”

Picard and Beverly greeted this revelation with puzzled silence, and Spock went on. “This journal is the only record of the mission; for reasons which will become clear as you study it, no official log was ever kept, nor was any report filed on its
completion. Indeed, I was unaware of the journal’s existence, or even of the mission itself, as I am sure were the others, until Doctor McCoy informed me of it.”

Picard, more puzzled than ever, said, “I don’t understand. How could you be unaware of a mission you say you were a part of? And who are the others you refer to?”

“They were the other surviving members of the crew of the Enterprise,”

replied Spock. “As well as Captain Kirk, myself and Doctor McCoy, the mission included Captains Pavel Chekov and Nkolo Uhura, Engineering Captain Montgomery Scott, and
former Federation President Hikaru Sulu, who was also a Star Fleet Captain at the time.”

Spock paused, then went on. “There is something else you ought to know, captain. While you and your officers and crew were being evacuated from Viridian Three, after the downing of your Enterprise and the death of Captain Kirk, I went to the spot where you buried him.” Spock looked gravely at Picard. “The cairn of rocks that you fashioned was opened, captain, and it was empty. Jim Kirk’s body was gone.”

Picard stared at the Vulcan, uncomprehendingly. “Again, I’m afraid I don’t understand. I

placed Captain Kirk’s body there myself. How could it be gone? The man died, Spock. I saw, I felt him go.”

Spock nodded. “I do not doubt it; nevertheless, the grave was empty.”

Spock handed the disc to Picard. “That question will be answered when you read this journal for yourself, captain. For now, let me say only that several other questions will also be
answered; questions which, I suspect, you have wondered about for some time now.”

Picard and Beverly both began to speak at once, but Spock silenced them with a gesture. “As I have said, all of your questions will be answered in due course. What is on the disc explains a great many things, and provides some fascinating
insights into the nature of time, and of the universe itself. But now I must leave. There is a Vulcan shuttle waiting to take me back to my home world. I suspect it will be my last such journey.”

He drew the robe closer about himself. “I feel my ancestors are near,” he said mysteriously, glancing around the room, “ and some old friends as well. I trust they will approve of what I have done here today.” Then he added musingly, half to himself, “Perhaps I will yet be found worthy.” He looked once more at Picard and Beverly, and gave another of his rare smiles.

“I know humans are, in general, ambivalent about the spirit world; being half human myself, I can certainly understand their point of view. However, I can assure you both that it is a world that is very real, just as real as is my knowledge that I will soon be joining them.”

Then he stepped towards them and, placing a hand on each of their shoulders gave a genuine smile, one which showed, at last, the humanity that he had striven for all of his long life to conceal. “Do not concern yourselves,” he said again. “It is simply my time. I have lived a full and…. interesting life, and if what McCoy’s diary contains is the truth, then it is by no means over.”

He pointed at the disc. “It is all there, captain; Kirk, McCoy, Ripley, the others…”

Picard frowned. “I’m sorry, I don’t know that last name. Ripley, you said?”

“Read the disc, captain.” Spock smiled again. “As, if memory serves, they used to say in old-fashioned earth melodramas, all will be revealed.” He looked at them both, and
nodded, smiling. “All,” he repeated. Then he stepped back, and touched a hidden communicator. “One to beam up.”

As his image began to glisten and dissolve in the transporter field, Spock raised his hand in the Vulcan salute, and they heard, for the last time, his words of farewell.

“Live long, and prosper.”

Then, with a final glimmering glow, Spock, last survivor of the original USS Enterprise, was gone.

***