Open Writing

There was, of course, one more member of Kirk’s old crew to be contacted, but before the admiral could begin the long and involved process of placing an interplanetary call, the Enterprise’s former science officer contacted him.

Kirk was still in his study, checking codes and protocols for placing a call to the planet Vulcan, when the ’phone’s soft voice announced an incoming transmission. Kirk activated the screen, which cleared immediately, and he found himself looking at the unsmiling, well-remembered features of his friend.

“Spock!” he exclaimed, not attempting to hide either his surprise or his pleasure.

True to form, the Vulcan showed neither emotion. “Admiral,” he said, “I apologize if I am disturbing you.”

Kirk waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “No, of course not, Spock. As a matter of fact, I was just about to call you.” He grinned at his old friend. “And just once, can’t you call me Jim without my having to ask you? After all, we’re both civilians, now. Couldn’t you afford to relax just a little?”

Spock remained stone-faced. “Forgive me, admiral, but I fear that levity is not on my mind at the moment.” The Vulcan paused, and Kirk wondered why he appeared so diffident. Then, in a strangely halting voice, Spock continued, and the answer became immediately clear.

“I have called to inform you that my mother has…passed away, and to extend to you an invitation to her funeral, to be held here on Vulcan in three days’ time.” Spock paused, then went on. “I know that she thought well of you, and that she also enjoyed your respect.”

These words were spoken in the same flat, unemotional tone with which Spock delivered all of his statements. Kirk, watching his friend’s face, had to marvel at the control the Vulcan was exerting. Kirk’s own features softened in pity.

“Of course I’ll come, Spock. I’m very sorry for your loss. I know how much she meant to you. Please convey my condolences to Sarek.”

Spock nodded stiffly. “Thank you, admiral. My father is….indisposed at present, but I’m sure he will be on hand to greet you when you arrive.”

Kirk watched his friend’s face for any sign of a crack in the veneer, but apart from the momentary hesitation, nothing showed through. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll catch the first available ship to Vulcan.“

“That will not be necessary, admiral. The High Priestess has most kindly placed one of Vulcan’s diplomatic shuttles at my family’s disposal. It is on route to earth now, and will arrive at Star Fleet headquarters later today.”

Kirk nodded. “In that case, I’ll be there to meet it.” He paused, then said, “Spock…I don’t wish to intrude upon your grief, but there is a matter I would like to discuss with you when I see you. After the funeral, of course.” Spock raised one eyebrow in the characteristic gesture that Kirk remembered so well, and the earthman said, “It’ll keep. I’ll see you in a day or so.”

Spock’s features relaxed minutely. “I will look forward to that, admiral, and I will pass on your kind words to my father.”

Kirk nodded, and Spock’s image faded from the screen. Kirk switched off the videophone and sat for a few moments, staring at its blankness. Then he rose, and headed for his bedroom to pack for the trip.

*

After thirty-two hours at warp five, the shuttle carrying Kirk and the other human passengers, mostly relatives of Spock’s mother, reached Vulcan. Kirk stepped from the craft on to the reddish soil of earth’s sister-planet, but he had little time to take in the world he had not seen in almost six years. That had been the occasion of their rescue of Spock, its aftermath involving the journey to earth’s past, and the affair of the humpbacked whales. He and the other passengers were escorted quickly through the spaceport under the planet’s orange sun to a waiting transport, and were whisked away to their accommodations.

Kirk was taken directly to the house of Spock’s family and was shown to his rooms. The house was a sprawling collection of rooms, all connected by corridors, and Kirk’s quarters were typical. There was a large, comfortable-looking bed, a bathroom, and sitting room containing comfortable chairs. Since he would only be there for a couple of days, it was more than adequate. Once he was unpacked and settled in, he activated the room’s vidscreen. The Vulcan who answered told him that Spock would see him in two hours. Meanwhile, if there was anything else the admiral required…?

Kirk declined with thanks, and stretched out on the bed. It had been a boring trip; he had forgotten how much he hated being a passenger in space, having become accustomed to being in command of any vessel he traveled on. Consequently, or perhaps because there had been nothing for him to do, he found he was very tired. He closed his eyes, and was asleep in seconds.

While he slept, Kirk was visited by a dream he had not had for more than three years, since he had retired. He dreamed of his son, David, killed by Klingons on the Genesis planet. Kirk had believed he had come to terms with David’s death, and had made his peace with Klingons in general. But the intensity of his dream surprised even his subconscious self; obviously, there were some deeply buried feelings that refused to go away.

He awoke with a start, perspiration on his face, his heart hammering in his chest. The dream was already fading, and as he tried to hold on to its last fragments the door chime sounded. Kirk swung off the bed and hurried to the small bathroom where he splashed water on his face, then crossed the main room to the door. He touched the control and the door slid aside; there on the threshold stood the friend he had not seen for three years.

“Spock,” he said, a smile briefly creasing his features. “It’s good to see you again. I just wish it were under happier circumstances. Please, come in.”

He stood aside, and Spock entered the room. Kirk ushered the Vulcan to a pair of armchairs, and when they were seated, again expressed his sorrow at his friend’s loss.

“I didn’t know your mother as well as I know Sarek,” he said, pouring them each a goblet of non-alcoholic Vulcan wine, “ but I do know she was a special lady. To do what she did, to give up her life on earth, travel to a strange world and marry a Vulcan…that took a special kind of courage.”

Spock inclined his head. “Thank you, admiral. You are most kind. I will pass your words on to my father. I know he values your opinion.”

They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two, then Spock said, “When we last spoke, you mentioned another matter you wished to discuss. Would this be a convenient time?”

Kirk shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well….wouldn’t you rather wait, at least until after the funeral? You must have a lot on your mind right now.”

Spock, sitting rigidly to attention on the edge of his chair, his drink untouched beside him, shook his head. “Thank you again, admiral. I assure you I am quite capable of considering whatever it is you have to say.”

Kirk shrugged. If he had learned anything in the twenty-five-plus years that he had known him, it was to take whatever Spock said at face value. The half-human Vulcan was the most literal being Kirk had ever known.

“Very well,” he said, and began outlining the call he had received from Star Fleet HQ, which in turn had led to him making the calls to his former shipmates. Spock was silent throughout the entire narrative, his unreadable face giving nothing away. When Kirk was finished, they sat in silence for a few moments, then Spock said, “I must confess, admiral, that I have found time weighing heavily on my hands since my retirement from Star Fleet.”

In an odd reversal of their normal positions, Kirk found himself raising his eyebrows at what was, for Spock, a startling admission. The earthman took another sip of his wine as his friend went on.

“I have attempted once again to achieve Kolinahr, the ultimate Vulcan expression of pure logic, and once again I have failed. And now, your news arouses in me feelings I had thought no longer existed, if they ever had: anticipation, eagerness, a ‘stirring of the blood’, I believe Mr. Scott would have called it.”

Kirk smiled fondly at his old friend. “Excitement, Spock. It’s called excitement.”

Spock regarded the earthman gravely. “I should have thought you of all people would know what an alien concept such an emotion is to me. I am not accustomed to feeling ‘excited’, although I must admit to gaining a small amount of pleasure from the sensation.” He paused for a moment. “However, it does not sit too well with me, particularly at this time.”

Kirk nodded in sympathy. “I understand, old friend. I know what it
means to lose a loved one, someone close to you.”

“Yes, admiral,” replied Spock. “You have more experience in these matters than I. Both of your parents, your brother and your son are dead.” Kirk winced inwardly at the Vulcan’s customary bluntness, although he knew from experience that Spock meant nothing malicious by it. It was the only way he could express himself, and Kirk supposed he ought to be accustomed to it by now.

“For humans,” continued Spock, “I suspect this is a natural part of the aging process. As you grow older, so do those close to you, and you lose them. But I am a Vulcan. I will live for more than twice your lifespan; normally, such a loss should not occur for many decades yet. But because my mother was human, I have been forced to face this experience far sooner than expected. I must confess, I was unprepared.”

Spock looked away, then said, “I could not say this to anyone else, admiral, not even my father, but I am experiencing emotions I have never felt before: sadness, longing, and a profound sense of loss.”

Kirk, uneasily aware that he himself had felt these same emotions when they had lost Spock at the creation of the Genesis planet, tried to explain. “But Spock, such feelings are normal. You’ve just lost your mother, for God’s sake!”

Spock regarded Kirk somberly. “Normal for you, admiral, not for me.” They were silent for a moment, then Kirk remembered something Spock had said earlier. “What about Sarek? I noticed he wasn’t at the spaceport when we arrived. You said he was indisposed. Just how indisposed is he?”

Spock looked at the floor, then back at Kirk. “I confess I do not know. He has shut himself in his rooms, and will see no one.”

There was nothing to say to that, and Kirk quickly changed the subject. He spoke of the others; McCoy, Scotty and the rest. They talked of the old days, their time in Star Fleet, and Kirk tried not to notice how much they resembled two old men on a park bench, reliving their glory days while the world passed them by. He pushed the analogy aside; his days were not past, and his time was not over. One more mission, he had asked for. Well, he had it, and who was to say it would be the last? The way that made him feel, he could almost believe that his days might go on forever.

*

The funeral of Amanda, nee Grayson, wife of Sarek and mother of Spock was a solemn affair, full of Vulcan drama and ceremony. In a small enclave surrounded by acolytes bearing torches, a bier had been raised; on it rested the body of Spock’s human mother. Kirk watched in the flickering torchlight as Spock and Sarek approached the funeral pyre, the only sound a low chanting from the Vulcan priests. Father and son stood before the mound, each of them an impenetrable fortress, lost in his own thoughts. Sarek, although he had recovered sufficiently to attend the funeral, still had not spoken to Kirk. Privately, the earthman thought that Sarek was embarrassed by the emotions he was feeling at the loss of his wife, and did not want an outsider to see his pain.

The chanting stopped, and the two Vulcans each took a burning torch from an attendant. Together they approached the raised pile and touched their torches to its base, then stepped back. The flames rose quickly, and the bier was engulfed. Kirk watched his old friend for some sign of emotion, but Spock’s face was impassive. He glanced at Sarek, but the stern visage of the elder statesman of Vulcan politics was carved from stone, betraying nothing.

What must it cost them, thought Kirk, to keep it all inside like that? What damage are they doing to their psyches, bottling their emotions up, and not allowing themselves an outlet? They are not that much different from humans, he thought; we need a safety valve, and it seems inconceivable that they do not. What will be the ultimate cost of holding it all in? What price will my friend pay for this exercise of will?

Kirk looked fondly at the alien who had been his friend for more than twenty-five years, ever since Kirk had stepped aboard the Enterprise as its new captain, to take over from Captain Pike. He had expected some resentment from its first officer then, whom he had thought might have expected his own command, but had encountered only courtesy and honor. It had taken a longer time, however, before he felt he had the trust and respect of the Vulcan, and it was not until the terrible events that had followed the forming of the Genesis planet that Kirk had finally heard it from Spock himself. With his dying breath, the Vulcan had declared “I have been, and always shall be, your friend.”

Now, in the harsh light of the flames from his mother’s crematory pile, the resurrected Spock was firmly in control of his emotions. That he had them, Kirk was in no doubt, having seen the evidence for himself, first hand. He only hoped that it wouldn’t take another death to bring them out again.

***