"Sylak" Lisa Masterman, Copyright 1994. Copy it, distribute it all you want. Remove my copyright notice or tamper with it in any way, and I'll have a Klingon friend of mine break your legs. As for selling it for profit, the prospect of it better not even speculate about the merest possibility of crossing your mind. -- Lisa Masterman -- lmasterm@cs.uml.edu * WORK - my summer address -- 95lnm@cs.williams.edu * SCHOOL - the rest of the year ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ "Sylak" "We were many," she said gently. There was grief in that simple sentence; she mourned for the lost presences that she had once never been without. "Now I am one." She silently remembered telling Dhyle: I am the one survivor of my people. --Aeia, from "Aeia" "When you are out there, you walk a very narrow path. On the one hand, you must become one of them to know what they know, to experience what they experience. On the other, you are merely an observer. You cannot act, cannot change things. You must not use your abilities to manipulate those who you study, or the study is forfeit. Above all, you must not interfere. You must never interfere." --from "Obedience" CHAPTER ONE "Captain, I'm receiving the distress call again." Kirk half-turned in his chair. "Let's hear it." Uhura reached out a slender, dark finger and pressed down a button on her console, still holding her listening piece against her ear. The distress call leaped into the air of the bridge. "-some sort of...main power is...senior crew all down...need medical...I repeat, we need medical assistance...life support failing. Any ship...respond." "That's the best I can do, sir." Kirk frowned. "Can you raise them?" "No, sir, I've hailed them three times. All I'm getting is the automated distress message." He changed the angle of his chair a bit and addressed the science officer. "What's their status, Mr. Spock?" The tall Vulcan was leaning over his equipment, his eyes illuminated with an eerie blue glow from the readouts. "Life support is functional, but failing. They still have oxygen and gravity." "Estimated time to failure?" "The degradation is not serious enough to be severely dangerous at this time, Captain. I am not certain when this will change." "Life signs?" "Indeterminate." "Let's find out what's going on down there. Bones, assemble a medical team. Spock, you're with me. Scotty...you have the conn." He stood up and strode towards the turbolift, joined by Spock and McCoy. The ride down was quiet and swift. McCoy headed towards Sick Bay first, calling over his shoulder, "I'll be right with you, Jim..." and a few red-shirted ensigns appeared and stood ready for orders. Kirk walked into the transporter room and addressed the engineer at the station. "Where can you put us?" "I have coordinates for their main control room, sir," replied the young man at the controls. Kirk turned to Spock. "Where were the...'indeterminate' life signs?" "As far as our instruments could tell, Captain, they were in the control room." "Excellent," he said as he stepped up onto the transporter pad, three young ensigns automatically taking their place behind him. As Spock joined them, McCoy whooshed in with a few of his own people, and with a brisk nod from Kirk, they also took their places. "Energize." They materialized in a dark, slightly smoky room. Spock immediately activated his tricorder and began to move away from the group, waving his instrument back and forth. Bones crouched next to a prone man stretched out almost at their feet. Kirk squinted at their surroundings and tried to look around. Nothing seemed scorched. There were no fires; the smoke must have come from elsewhere. He moved off across the room looking for clues, but found none. Partway to the wall he almost tripped on another prone body. "Bones." The doctor stood up and walked over to crouch next to the form. He passed an instrument over her, scowling at the readings. "Are they dead?" he asked the doctor. "No, but I can't make heads or tails out of these readings, Jim. There must be about ten of them in this room, all unconscious. What *happened* to these people?" "Bones-" McCoy glanced up from his instruments with a snap, his eyes settling on the line of the cheekbone under Kirk's hand, and followed its sweep to where he was pointing: her ears. Her very Vulcan ears. "Vulcan," he grumbled. "Figures. Well, that explains *some* of these readings, but still... Okay, put her with the others and beam the lot of us straight to Sick Bay." He stalked off to glare at the ensigns gingerly lifting the injured and moving them to the center of the room. "Take us up, Scotty," he muttered finally. Kirk turned and strode across the dimly lit room to where Spock was bent over a console. "What have you found, Mr. Spock?" "The main computer appears to be damaged, Captain. The transmitter whose signal Lieutenant Uhura was picking up is functional, but barely. However, life support is stabilizing, and gravity should be effective for another hour." "What happened here?" he asked rhetorically, echoing McCoy. "Unknown, Captain. The radiation levels I am detecting in the lower tiers of the complex are both alarming and mysterious. This radiation is not of a type I have encountered before." "Dangerous?" "My findings are as of yet inconclusive." "Keep at it, Spock." "Understood." ----------------------------------------------------------- The third medibed from the left held a large, stockily-built man whose barrel-like chest rose and fell evenly. The man opened his eyes slowly. His first awareness was of the soft boom, boom that told him he was stretched on a medibed and a scanner was positioned over his head. He squinted, bringing clarity with a rush of nausea, and a moan rose ghostlike from his chest. Dr. McCoy heard the moan, and approached. "Good morning," he said in his most cheerful tone, flashing his best country doctor smile. His patient licked his lips. "Where am I?" "Sick Bay, USS Enterprise," replied the doctor. "Doctor McCoy, Chief Medical Officer." "Lieutenant Ty Kim in charge of Operations of the Tulan mining outpost," said the large man hoarsely. "How are the others?" "No casualties, though whatever happened down there gave everyone quite a whollup. You're the first to wake up, and since your computer was damaged, and we haven't heard yet on our database query, we haven't any idea who any of you are. Except you, now, of course." Lieutenant Kim moved his head carefully, glancing from one side to the other. He began identifying his comrades with small pointing movements: "Ensign Julia Fire, Chief Robert Graham, Lieutenant Catherine Kline--where's Sylak?" "Who?" "Dr. Sylak, our medical officer..." "There are a few others in the next room. If you will describe what he looks like, perhaps I can help you..." "*She* is a Vulcan woman, Doctor. Can't miss her; she's the only Vulcan we've got." McCoy sputtered. "A Vulcan Doctor??!" The stocky man smiled, showing a row of large teeth. "We were kind of surprised ourselves, at first. She takes some getting used to. But she's a real gem." "You can't be serious!" "I most certainly am, Doctor. How is she?" The doctor tried to collect himself from the surprise. "Well..." he started, "she seems to have been hit harder than any of the rest of you, but she'll be all right." Kim nodded, looking relieved. "Glad to hear that. I feared the worst when I came to and didn't see those black eyes peering coolly down at me. She's not one to shirk her duties--that probably comes with being a Vulcan, I guess, but it's certainly true with her--and I knew she would be with her men when they were down unless something awful strong was stopping her!" McCoy was staring off into space and didn't answer, so Kim prompted, "Doctor?" "Hmm? What? Oh. Right. Well, you get some rest. I'll be back." And McCoy walked off, muttering to himself. ----------------------------------------------------------- Kirk leaned across the conference table. "Bones?" "Everyone's come 'round now except that Vulcan doctor of theirs. She seemed to suffer the worst of it." Spock steepled his fingers. "The question is, the worst of what, Doctor?" "Far as I can see, they all got a dose of that radiation we detected downstairs. It played havoc with their biological clocks, you could say." "Meaning?" Kirk prompted. "Meaning their clocks all spun their hands for a while. It varied on the metabolism of the individual and their exposure, but all of them aged physically at an accelerated rate for a short time. Apparently, the stress was too much for their systems, and they blacked out." "How far did they age?" asked the Captain. "It's hard for me to tell without a starting point. None of them say they look or feel any older, though, so it has be less than five years in all cases. Judging from the tail end of the effect, I suspect most of them only aged a few minutes or a few days. But it varied wildly with the different metabolisms, like I said." "Like the Vulcan's?" "Exactly. I have no idea how far it took her." "Anything more?" "Yes, Captain," broke in Mr. Spock. "Doctor McCoy, acting on a hypothesis, tested some of his medical personnel who were with the away team for the effect." "And?" The doctor cut in. "And we all had it, Jim. I compared the new scans with ones from before the away team went down, and most of us have aged just a little bit more than we should have." Kirk shifted in his seat. "Are we in any danger?" McCoy shook his head. "Hell, no. We're just a few minutes older than we should be, thatÕs all. Our exposure was so slight the entire effect lasted only seconds. We're all back to normal now. But I *would* like permission to check the rest of the team. Just in case." "Permission granted--now Scotty, what's the word on the outpost?" The Engineer shook his head. "It's a wreck down there, sir. I don't think it's salvageable. Some of the equipment, maybe, but I don't think there's anything left to mine." "What happened to it?" "The Tulan Mining outpost," Spock interjected, "was only a temporary establishment built for the purposes of mining a small but rare vein of Tulite ore. The entire vein seems to have been consumed in some sort of explosion." The captain turned to his first officer. "Any theories as to what caused the explosion?" "None as of yet, Captain." "Well, keep working on it. I'll contact Starfleet Command and find out what they want us to do with the survivors." He stood up. "Dismissed." CHAPTER TWO Doctor McCoy peered down at the unconscious Vulcan. Her pale skin was as smooth and unperturbed as pale green marble, and looked as cold. Her breathing was so imperceptible, an almost imagined flicker across the stone, that he glanced at the readouts above her head every few seconds to reassure himself that he was not seeing things. Then, to further make certain, he drew out his tricorder and passed it over her again. Her hand moved more quickly than his eyes could see, and suddenly his wrist was immobilized. The marble-like eyelids snapped open and a pair of onyx eyes focused on him. Her grip, though not uncomfortable, relaxed. "What is the condition of my crew?" McCoy extracted his wrist from her hand and rechecked his readings as he spoke. "I thought worrying was a human emotion," he muttered. His patient remained nonplused. "It is my duty as their physician to concern myself with their physiological condition, Doctor. I would like a report so that I may resume my responsibilities." "You aren't going to resume anything," he bristled. "I don't care how hardy you Vulcans are; you've been unconscious in my sick bay for two days!" The Vulcan considered for a moment. "I assure you, Doctor, I have completely recovered. But, for the moment, I would be satisfied with a report." McCoy grumbled. "Stabilized and recovering. No casualties." She assimilated the information. "What ship is this?" "USS Enterprise." A slender eyebrow arched for a moment. Her shoulders lifted off the bed a little and then paused. "May I sit up?" McCoy grumbled as he put away his tricorder. "I suppose you'd argue with me if I said 'no.'" "You are my attending physician, for the time being. I will not argue your prescribed cautions." The doctor widened his eyes a little. "That almost sounded like courtesy," he jibed. His patient did not respond. "Very well, sit up. You seem to be right; you are fully recovered. That damned stubborn Vulcan constitution..." The Vulcan woman pushed herself up to a sitting position and looked around her. "Forgive me for contradicting your conclusion, Doctor, but my recovery had nothing to do with stubbornness. I simply did not have a strong enough exposure to the radiation to be affected beyond my system's ability to recover." McCoy frowned. "What do you know about the radiation?" "I was the one who detected the gaseous leak from the fuel generator in the new drill. I hypothesized that, if it were allowed to mix with the oxygen in the air and be in the vicinity of the ore when one of the beams struck, it would cause a massive explosion. I called for an evacuation of the lower levels. After the predicted explosion did occur, and before we were able to seal off the lower compartments, I detected massive amounts of radiation leakage. I am aware of no other plausible reason for my prolonged state of unconsciousness than my exposure to that radiation." "You remember more about what happened than most." "Of course, Doctor. I am a Vulcan." McCoy bristled again. "Well, I'll go fetch Spock and tell him you're awake. He'll have some questions to ask you." He turned around swiftly and began to head out of the room. Halfway to the door, he spun on his heel and stopped. "Don't you go anywhere!" he snarled. "Of course not," replied the young woman serenely, and the doctor left. /Welcome back./ *It is good to be back,* she observed. /I'm so glad you're safe! We didn't know whether we should come after you or not./ *I _told_ you not to.* /But Sylak, your life was at serious risk!/ *And you respected my wishes.* /Yes.../ *Thank you.* She smiled inwardly. *Do you realize what this will mean to my research?* /You mean Spock?/ *Yes. Vulcan and Human, in one being. Imagine the insights he could offer.* /Your stay here will no doubt be short./ *But there is much to learn. Thank you for leaving me.* /And after?/ She paused, not answering. /You must decide, Sylak. It is time. You cannot walk this narrow path forever. You cannot spend the rest of your life as neither a Vulcan nor one of your own people. You must end your research./ *I am young to retire,* she observed. /You were young when you started,/ he countered. /You have been among the Vulcans for most of your life. No one debates the results of your work or your suitability for it, but in all honesty, my dear sister, we are loosing you to them. Mother misses your mind-touch, and the others are jealous that only I can be heard by you now./ She stiffened defensively. *That was necessary. I cannot be *logical* with all of those loud, emotional voices in my head.* He was quiet for a long pause. /You sound like a Vulcan, sister./ *After a lifetime of work, brother, I will take that as a compliment.* /There has been no expert on the Vulcans like you. Your place is reserved here among the teachers,/ he persevered. /But you must choose soon. It has been so long./ *Yes... I will decide. But not now. Someone is coming.* /We will touch later, my sister.../ *Later, my brother.* ----------------------------------------------------------- Dr. McCoy looked up from his desk just in time to see Spock leaving after his interview with Sylak. "Oh, Spock..." The Vulcan stopped in the doorway, but did not turn. "Yes, Doctor?" The doctor smiled as he stood up. "Could I just hold you for a moment, Spock? You're the last one from the away team that hasn't been examined, you know." "I assure you, Doctor, there is no need." McCoy walked up behind the Vulcan, his charm becoming more forced. "Nevertheless, Jim agreed that all of the away team should be examined. Please come inside; it will only take a minute." The tall form tensed. "Doctor," he started, a little louder than he intended. He stopped himself, paused, and his shoulders sagged a little. "Very well," he said, and turned, re-entering Sick Bay. A few moments later, the doctor was frowning at the readings above the medibed. "Conclusion, Doctor?" prompted Spock from his prone position. McCoy hesitated. "I can only conclude from your silence," said the Vulcan finally, "that my supposition was correct. It has arrived." "Spock, I understand your desire for privacy, but you should have told me if you suspected anything!" The doctor scowled. "I don't know how, but your clock sped up several years where the rest of us were only affected by minutes. You're right on the edge of that blasted Pon Far again." Spock tensed as he sat up, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed. "And we are two weeks' travel from Vulcan." McCoy deepened his scowl, frowning at his patient. "You won't last that long." "I am aware of that, Doctor," spoke Spock a little too quickly on the end of the doctor's sentence. The lanky Vulcan looked away. The doctor pressed a button on a communications panel. "Sick Bay to Bridge." "Yes, Bones?" "Jim, could you come down here for a moment?" The voice on the other end of the communication paused, hearing the seriousness in the doctorÕs voice. "On my way." He turned back to his patient. "We'll think of something." "I sincerely doubt that, Doctor." McCoy was silent. He turned and walked into his office, Spock on his heels. A few moments later, Kirk came striding into the office, a concerned frown already settled on his face. "What is it, Bones?" The doctor slumped against his desk, his eyes going from Spock to Kirk. "It's Spock, Jim. Like the Vulcan from the colony, he was affected much more than the rest of us." "How far?" Spock, whose eyes were downcast and boring holes through the floor at his feet, spoke with difficulty. "I have once again attained the state... of Pon Far, Captain." Kirk's face bleached a little. "How long do you have?" "A few days. We cannot reach Vulcan in time." The captain quailed. He waved vaguely in the air, searching for words. "But we have a Vulcan female here-" "-Who is not in Pon Far herself," the Vulcan interjected. "She cannot help me. Sir, I request that I be restrained." "Spock-" "Please, Jim. When I last achieved this state, I tried to kill you. I do not wish to be a danger to you or the crew." "But you'll die!" said McCoy. "You'll kill yourself trying to escape." The science officer was silent for a few beats, his face taut with effort. "Then leave me... on Tulan III." "What??" "I think I understand, Bones," said Kirk. "A class M planet, plenty of edible vegetation and natural shelter..." "But he will be in no condition to take care of himself, Jim! Not alone! And the condition will still probably kill him!" "I could not request anyone to accompany me," said Spock stiffly. "It would be too dangerous." "Then I volunteer," said a firm voice from the doorway. All heads turned to see Dr. Sylak standing squarely in the entrance to the room. She wore a blue jumpsuit, the field uniform of Starfleet science personnel. Its rough outline was well-suited for working in a mine, but did not entirely hide the woman underneath. She was marginally taller than both Kirk and McCoy, with a strong, but slender form. Her shoulder-length, raven-black hair, cut severely even for a Vulcan, was tied back from a striking face whose jawline looked sharp enough to be used as a weapon. She met the eyes calmly. "Do you *mind*??!" snarled Dr. McCoy. "This is a private discussion!" "Dr. McCoy," said Spock in a terse voice. "I would assume that Dr. Sylak is aware of my condition. However, I must insist that I be allowed to go down to Tulan III alone." "And I must insist that you listen to my proposal, Commander Spock," spoke the woman as she stepped into the room. "I can help you." "And how do you propose to do that??" Sylak turned without hurry to address McCoy. "I am a student of over ten distinct and separate mental disciplines, Dr. McCoy. I believe that I can help Spock to overcome the condition of his body and to survive." "Can you do it on board this ship?" asked Kirk. "No. I must have no distractions. The proximity of so many other minds, so many untethered thoughts and passions, aboard this ship would make even a physically sealed-off room unsuitable. The third planet in this system is an excellent location." "You...must not...get in...volved," spat out Spock. Sylak raised a dark, slender eyebrow. "I have considered the options, sir. It is not logical to allow you to die." Spock's hand swung forward, clenched, stopped in mid-air... and returned to his side. His friends watched silently. "What you propose," said Spock finally, "has never been done." "Nor has it been tried, in the manner which I am considering. I am highly confident of my chance for success," she responded evenly. "I may kill you." Spock looked her straight in the eyes. She was entirely unaffected by his stare. "You will not," she said. "Dr. Sylak," interrupted Dr. McCoy, "pardon me for interrupting, but how do you know?" "Spock will not attempt to harm me unless his mental faculties are impaired. That same impairment will make his attempt considerably less effective. He has a marginal strength advantage over me, but will be operating at a mental and therefore tactical disadvantage. Therefore, I believe he does not pose me a serious threat." Kirk said quietly, "We do not appear to have much choice in this matter...Spock?" The Vulcan seemed closed in a world of his own. "I cannot decide this," he said darkly. "I fear my ability to reason has already been...hampered by my condition." Sylak watched him closely. "We must begin immediately, Captain, if I am to have any chance at succeeding." Kirk's eyes shifted from the Vulcan woman to his first officer to his chief medical officer. He walked over to a communications panel. "Captain to Navigation." "Chekov here." "Lay in a course for Tulan III. Proceed immediately." "Aye, sir." Kirk released the button on the panel. He turned to Spock, who looked considerably paler than usual. "It will be all right," he said to no one in particular. ----------------------------------------------------------- It was a boiling sea of hazy color, bright flashes illuminating in jagged streaks the dark, charred hull of the ship. Slowly, the Enterprise turned, so slowly, so tenderly, heading away from the crackling wreckage of another ship. All around there was pain, such terrible pain, and on the Enterprise there was such despair. Every mind on the bridge strained, like a person trying to run in a nightmare, but the Enterprise could not get away. "No," croaked a voice laced with a frightening hatred, a voice emanating from a bloody face. A man held himself up with weakening arms. "No, you can't get away... From Hell's heart, I stab at thee... For Spite's sake, I spit my dying breath at thee..." And with a flash of unendurable power, the Enterprise was destroyed. CHAPTER THREE Sylak steadied herself with one hand and breathed deeply, clearing the vision from her mind. Her thoughts settled, sliding back with familiar ease into the patterns they had known for many years. Her face showed no sign of what she had felt. She picked up the medikit Dr. McCoy had given her and walked out of Sick Bay, heading with precise, measured steps towards the turbolift. She allowed the iciness to flow around her as she strode through the hallway, cool, detached, collected, and... Disturbed. /You are troubled./ *I have Seen,* she responded, frowning behind the cool Vulcan facade. He moved back a little from her mind and seemed to think. /Because of him?/ She struggled to hide a flush. *I am not yet certain, my brother.* He seemed to smile a little. /If he is your lifemate, I will be happy for you./ *Will you?* she asked, remembering their earlier conversation. /You walk the tightrope now, sister, between our life and theirs. I only wish that you put an end to your research, and be one or the other. Mother will understand. We will all understand./ *Thank you,* she said in a mental whisper, and released her brother's touch as she stepped into the transporter room. Kirk turned to her as she arrived. There were supplies already set out on the various transporter pads, including cooking equipment, bedrolls, two tents, and extra clothing. Everything was set, and yet he seemed troubled. She walked briskly to the captain. "I am prepared to leave, Captain Kirk." "Yes... The Enterprise has been ordered out of the system for an emergency. We are the only ship who can respond... We will not be able to maintain radio contact with you..." "I will not require communication with the Enterprise, Captain. In fact, it is better that we do not speak again for the next three weeks. I want no disturbances." Kirk seemed only slightly reassured. "Very well," he said, almost reluctantly. "Good luck, Doctor. Take good care of my first officer." "I will do my best, Captain," she said as she turned and walked in long steps up to her place on the pad. She picked up a bedroll and held it in her arms, studiously avoiding looking at Spock. "Energize," she said, and the transporter room faded from view. They beamed down onto a soft forest floor. It was midday, and the system's strong sun filtered down through the leaves of tall trees stretching high overhead. Spock squinted a little and craned his head upwards, observing the fingers of sunlight reaching down to the crushed leaves beneath their feet. Sylak moved quickly a few paces to one side and spread out the bedroll she carried. "Lay down," she commanded. Spock moved his dark eyes to her. "I assure you, Doctor, for the moment I am quite fine." "The treatment must begin immediately," she responded resolutely. "You surrendered yourself to my care. Follow my instructions." Spock walked over and lay stiffly on the bedroll. Sylak kneeled at his head. "May I inquire what you will do?" he asked. "No," she said firmly. "You will understand." And with that, she placed her fingers on his face. His eyes fell shut as he awaited the joining of their minds. It did not come. After several beats had passed and no contact had been made, he began to wonder. What was she planning on doing? And then he sensed it. At first it was so indistinct, he did not notice it. But there was a presence. Not another mind, not another being; this was... a thing. A form, of some sort. Like an image, but... much more complex. He tried to focus on it, but it was too vast, too complicated. It had dimensions he could not begin to comprehend. Just as he was beginning to get frustrated with this form, something else came to him. It was an equation--no, a system of equations. They floated to him from somewhere... and presented themselves to his mind. Without even thinking, he solved them. They were of a level so simple, it was almost insulting to his intelligence to bother with them. And then, as he finished the last part, something changed. One dimension of the form resolved itself into clarity. He tried to grasp this form again, but it was still beyond him. He just knew that there was one aspect of it that had suddenly shifted, and he could understand it. But the remaining hyperdimensionality of the form was still daunting. Then the second system arrived before him. It was slightly more complex than the first; there were more unknowns, more equations. It took him half a second longer to find the answer, but as he did, the shifting occurred again, and a new part of the form came into his understanding. The systems were keys. Each time he arrived at the solution, it decoded a part of the form. The matrices grew infinitely more complex, and time began to pass strangely. As the form evolved, it seemed to envelop him. He became it, saw through it, breathed through it, felt through it. When the last piece fell into place, it was beauty beyond imagining. A mathematically perfect, infinitely complex hyperdimensional construct--and he understood it. He was within it; he was part of it. They had become one. He opened his eyes and was surprised to find blackness around him. He sat upright, for a moment still seeing the world around him through the beauty of the form... and then it left him. With a tinge of sadness, he regarded the clearing beside him, where a small fire crackled. The provisions had been stacked and stored, and one tent had been erected. Dr. Sylak sat cross-legged, a tin of food on her lap. She looked up and regarded him with eyes that reflected the dancing firelight. "It is time for dinner," she said. He paused. "How long have I been asleep?" "You were not sleeping," she said as she rose smoothly, picked up another tin, and took it to him. Warm metal rested in his hands. "You were in a state of deep meditation. Eat now, relieve yourself, and then I will treat you again. Then you will sleep." He opened the tin and accepted the utensil she handed him. "I have many questions about the method you used." "You will have time to ask them later, once I have established a framework of control." He ate quietly for a few minutes, regarding the campsite. "May I inquire where you put the other tent?" "We will not be using two tents," she said as she put away the empty containers from her dinner. "I require close proximity to you to be effective." "I do not believe that would be wise, Doctor." "Nevertheless, it will be the way we will proceed. Prepare yourself for sleep." Spock did as he was instructed, and ended up back on his bedroll, now moved inside the tent. He noticed other bedroll alongside it, but said nothing. He lay down and closed his eyes. The form returned, as mysterious and incomprehensible as before. He greedily soaked up the keys and decoded it, eager to return again to the state it had induced earlier. Once attained, he did not notice when meditation ended and sleep began. ----------------------------------------------------------- The sea boiled with the heat of hate and fear. The Enterprise turned slowly and fled the other ship, but it was too late, too late...the Enterprise could not get away. "No...No, you can't get away..." And the Enterprise was destroyed. ----------------------------------------------------------- Being Vulcans, they fell into routine amazingly fast. Even after the 'controlling framework' was established, Spock was usually up and about only to eat and relieve himself. At first, these periods were slightly longer, but as the Pon Far began to reach its height, the lasting effects of the meditation grew shorter and shorter. A couple of times, Spock would explode at her over dinner, or suddenly start up out of sleep, soaked in sweat and blinded by the feverish urges of his body. Each time she reacted quickly, efficiently, and brought him back to rest. As she had predicted, there was little real danger. For herself, Sylak enjoyed most the hours when she left Spock to rest, his mind beholding the form. She would sit endlessly beside him, watching him at peace. She could not look at him this freely when he was awake; he would not understand. It was difficult for her now to avoid staring at him as he walked or admiring his long form as he bent over the fire. He did not have a conventional attractiveness, but it captivated her nonetheless. The lanky nature of his movements, the shape of his shoulder under the blue uniform he still wore, the angular nature of his long fingers, all of these things were inexplicably endearing. Her appreciation of him went beyond the logical feelings of simple attraction, and by this she came to know that he was the one. And yet she showed no part of this revelation, perhaps the most difficult thing she had ever tried to conceal in a lifetime as a Vulcan. /Then he is your lifemate./ *Yes,* she responded, her knees curled up against her chest as she watched him sleep. She felt a surge of happiness within as she mentally voiced the affirmation. She had come to completion. /And yet you hide your feelings for him?/ She paused. *I sense that now is not the time,* she said, and her throat constricted a little. She pushed the vision out of her head. He asked delicately: /What have you Seen?/ *His death,* she said quietly. /We all die,/ he soothed. *Something is not right about this death,* she responded darkly, but had no more to say on the matter. They fell silent. ----------------------------------------------------------- Space was colored, hazy, cloudlike. Dreamlike. No, nightmarelike. The Enterprise moved too slowly, trying to get away. Why were they moving so slowly??! The faces on the bridge were strained, trying to run in the nightmare, trying to run away. Faster. Faster! And the Enterprise was destroyed. ----------------------------------------------------------- Sylak awoke in a sweat. She focused on the surface of the tent above her, breathing deeply, relaxing, relaxing... She could not allow herself to be disturbed. Spock was still in a crucial time; she still needed to help him. But the vision persisted behind her eyes. Damn this Sight! She known of those of her people who could see across the barriers of time, perceiving the dim moments of overlap of a large portion of the infinite possibilities, drawn to that moment through some strong focal link. She'd never had the skill before, but apparently life had seen fit to curse her with it now. She rolled over and regarded Spock. Well, at least soon she'd put it behind her. She knew what her decision would be now; when she surrendered herself completely to being a Vulcan, her abilities would dim. She closed her eyes and shut out the emotions that swelled at the floodgates. She would be all Vulcan soon, and in that surrender she would find peace... ----------------------------------------------------------- Spock stood on the cliff overlooking the waterfall, listening to the crashing water. This was his second extended period of waking, and he had walked nearly a mile from the camp. He was recovering, and all was well. He found the mental construct she presented him to be more and more fascinating as he regained his analytic ability. He was most curious about the nature of this discipline and its origins, and he was growing more and more intrigued by the doctor. Despite their close work together, Sylak remained full of mysteries. The connections they shared were entirely unidirectional, never offering him the slightest insight into her, and somehow she always managed to avoid his direct questions in the waking state. It had become a most perplexing situation. He wandered back, although he had little reason to. He also had little reason to stay. His surroundings were pleasant, but relatively uninteresting; Sylak, however, was a fascinating topic to explore, and she had remained at the campsite. He was still several yards from the camp when he heard a shrill sound that stopped him in his tracks. He would have thought it a predator, but they had not encountered any in the nearly three weeks they had been there. He paused and listened, and over the sounds of the forest, he heard a woman's sob. He approached the camp quietly. As it came into view, he saw her sprawled on the ground, moving feebly. Her jumpsuit was dirty, her face darkened with the dirt she was pressing it against, and her hand bloody from where it had apparently struck the structure of stones that made up their fire ring. Some of the stones had scattered. She thrashed a little on the ground. "Stop it..." she moaned. He knelt beside her. "Doctor?" he asked quietly. She sobbed again, causing tears to streak through the dirt on her face. "Make it stop..." He reached down to take her arm. The jolt that passed through his hand was instantly identifiable. Electricity crackled, and the heat that had been cooled to comfortable embers within him flared. He fought it back. "Doctor," he said gruffly, hauling her off of the dirt. He lifted her and carried her into the tent, placing her on her bedroll. "You must... regain control." "I can't..." she said, her eyes wet. He lay down beside her, struggling every moment to hold on to the inner, icy calm that she had worked so hard to accomplish. He laced his fingers in hers. "I will help," he said. She tried to pull back. "I don't want to..." "You must." And he began a mind meld. It was dangerous in their states, but it was necessary. "Your mind to my mind, your thoughts to my thoughts...." She resisted mightily, but something gave way. A piece. Something was shoved towards him. The form. He grasped it, drew it forth, shared it with her. He coaxed a matrix out of her, and they solved it together. A piece of the puzzle slid into place, and they both became a little calmer. They moved to the next. They solved the form together. The completed form became a plane, and they stood upon it and regarded each other. Calmness flowed around them. She regarded him with her mind-eyes for several seconds. "My system had not yet slowed down completely from the effect of the radiation," she began. "I did not foresee the effect that working so closely with you would produce." "How long have you been in this state, Doctor?" "A few days," she said quietly. "I thought I could control it." "That was a rather foolish assumption." "You did not select the most logical reaction to finding me here like this," she said stiffly, deflecting the criticism. Her emotions, so strong and yet so foreign, repressed as they had been for all these years, washed over and through her. The calmness of the form held her almost beyond their reach, but their pull was still strong. "There is no logic in taking a woman who is in no position to give consent." Her mind-image stiffened with contradictory impulses. She fought back her anger and frustration, pushing it within, closing the door on it. Anger was a foreign impulse; it did not belong in her. It was not what she truly felt. *Now is the time,* she told herself. She advanced at his mind-image and proffered her hand, extending the first two fingers towards him. He raised his own, and touched the two fingers with his. Sensation exploded up her arm and she drew in a sharp breath, unsure if she could keep her knees from buckling even in this dream-state. "You have my consent," she said quietly. "Are you certain?" he asked in a soft voice. There was richness behind the words, a warmth she had not heard from him before. She wondered where the mind-state ended and reality began, whether they touched only in thought, or in actuality as well. "I am certain," she said, her voice dropping low. She moved her fingers against his, tracing his soft, cool skin with her fingertips. When she reached his palm, she rotated her hand and brought her fingers to the top of his hand, tracing the back of the extended fingers back to their tips. His lips parted a little, and she could feel his reaction through their link. She resisted the foolish urge to smile. She stepped forward again, bringing her dark eyes before his. She put her free hand on his chest and felt his breathing beneath. They were almost exactly the same height, and now her lips were only inches from his. She had stopped caring what was real and what wasn't. He leaned forward then, closing the distance, and met her in a cool, sweet kiss. An arm encircled her and drew her in, and they both surrendered. CHAPTER FOUR The faces on the bridge were straining to get away... One face caught her attention. His face. It was an older him, wearing a different uniform, but it was still him. His features were clearly visible, the flashing static from the screen reflecting in his dark eyes. Deep lines were drawn across the stony expression. It flickered with a moment's hesitation, and then settled into resolve. He stood up and strode quickly away. And the Enterprise was destroyed. ----------------------------------------------------------- Spock and Sylak materialized slowly. Kirk stepped forward as soon as they were solid, an expectant, pleased grin on his face. "Spock! Good to have you back." "Thank you, Captain," replied the Vulcan as he stepped forward stiffly and stood before Kirk, hands clasped behind his back. Kirk quelled the urge to hug Spock to him and smiled instead, turning his eyes to Sylak, who now stepped off the transporter pad as well. "Thank you, Dr. Sylak, for returning Spock to us. He appears... unharmed," he said cheerfully. "Mr. Spock is physically in perfect condition," Sylak replied. "And thanks are unnecessary. My action was merely-" "Logical, yes, I know," interrupted Kirk. "But you have my thanks anyway." He clapped his hands gently and rubbed them together. "Now we're to take you and the men from the outpost to Starbase 34, where you'll await reassignment. Spock, Dr. McCoy wants to check up on you to make sure you're all right. Dr. Sylak, the yeoman here will show you to some guest quarters." "Thank you," she said crisply, and followed the yeoman out of the room. Kirk followed her with his eyes as she left. "Nice-looking woman," he commented quietly, turning questioning eyes to his friend. Spock's gaze was, as usual, direct and unperturbed. After a long pause, he finally commented, "She is not unattractive, Captain." Jim Kirk chuckled and decided that was all he was going to get out of Spock, and headed towards the bridge. ----------------------------------------------------------- Spock's face, lit by the flashes from the viewscreen, hesitated for a moment. His gaze was unfocused. What was he thinking about? Then he stood up and strode quickly off the bridge. And the Enterprise was destroyed. ----------------------------------------------------------- Sylak shivered in her night clothes, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her. She rubbed at one hand, massaging the injury that was no longer there. She had thought for a brief time that her happiness would fill her to the exclusion of all else, but the vision persisted. It was too powerful to avoid. She had come to believe that there was some reason why it kept occurring to her. Something she wasn't seeing. She closed her eyes. ----------------------------------------------------------- Spock's eyes regarded something that was not on the bridge. Something far away, and yet very close. He hesitated. He must not hesitate! What was he looking at? Her mind screamed at him in the vision, the frustration welling within. His eyes changed direction--no, she changed perspective. The eyes regarded her. He was looking at her. And the Enterprise was destroyed. It was then that she knew. ----------------------------------------------------------- Sylak strode quickly down the hallway, but not quickly enough to keep McCoy from following. "Dr. Sylak, would you *please* come down for an examination?" "No examination is necessary, Doctor. I am in perfect health." "I'm sure you are, but the Starbase wants a physical from me for their records! Dammit, Sylak, I think I am going to spend the rest of my life trying to convince Vulcans to submit to examinations! You're required to pass a regular physical and you're long overdue." Sylak stopped, unseen frustration flowing within. *I cannot avoid this.* /We cannot help you./ *Then he will know the truth.* /You will have to trust him, sister./ She turned to Dr. McCoy with an inaudible sigh. "Very well, Doctor. If only to be free of your pestering, I will relent." And she followed him to Sick Bay. ----------------------------------------------------------- Leonard McCoy checked his readings a second time. There was no mistaking things. "Oh my..." Sylak sat upright in a fluid, precise movement, and swung her legs over the medibed. "You have finished your exam, Doctor. It is time for me to leave." McCoy's face stretched into a knowing smile. "But don't you want to hear what I have to say?" "That is quite unnecessary, Doctor. I am fully aware of the nature of your findings." McCoy's smile vanished and he bristled. "Is that why you didn't want to come in here? Because you didn't want me to find out?" "Quite correct, Doctor." "But why didn't you want me to know??" "Because," she explained matter-of-factly, "I did not desire to burden you with the knowledge when it would be difficult for you, a human, to avoid informing Mr. Spock." He nearly exploded. "And why wouldn't I tell Spock??! He's the father, isn't he? Unless there was someone *else* with you on the blasted planet...!" Sylak's face remained completely placid, ever like the greenish marble he had once compared it to. "You have an overdeveloped sense of the importance of paternity, Dr. McCoy. Spock's contribution to my offspring was minimal. I am not his wife, nor will I be. If the child has no claim to Spock's family or his heritage, there is no logical reason why he should be aware of it. The subject is therefore closed." "Not for me it isn't!" He waggled a finger at her. She stood up from the medibed. "On the contrary, Doctor, it is. A level two physical only requires you to report whether or not there are any encumbrances to my performing my duty. A pregnancy at this stage does not account for such an encumbrance. You are not therefore required to include this in your report; and physician- patient confidentiality demands that you not reveal this to anyone else." "Dammit, you cold, mechanical, green-blooded..." He paused, unable to find an appropriate term. "Why??!" She remained as placid as before. "Spock frequently makes the mistake of attempting to explain his logic to you," she said quietly. "I will not duplicate his error." McCoy looked like he was about to explode. "You will not betray me," she said, heavily lacing the statement with a mental command. The doctor backed off a little, and she strode away quickly, before he could recover from the impact of the imperative in his mind. /We are so sorry, sister./ *Prepare for my return,* she said in a mental voice choked with the anguish she held behind her cool Vulcan expression. /I will tell the teachers,/ he said, and gave her a small mental embrace before parting. ----------------------------------------------------------- Sylak walked as fast as she could toward the transporter room. It seemed like she never walked slowly anywhere any more... Several decks away, Spock was ringing at her quarters. She was not scheduled to leave the ship for another day, so he expected to find her there. She knew that. She saw him there in her mind, standing patiently before the door that would not be opened... /He was going to ask you to be his wife./ *I know,* she said. *I know...* /You are certain, then, that this is the answer?/ *It is the only way,* she asserted. *I cannot interfere. I cannot be responsible for his hesitation, for changing what should be. That is not our place. I... don't ask me to question my vows, brother.* She withdrew, unable to continue. The other voice was silent as she stepped through the door into the transporter room. "Beam me to the Starbase," she commanded in a level voice she drew up out of somewhere to the red-shirted man behind the console. "Dr. Sylak?" said the man, identifying her from her ears, mostly. "I wasn't told you were beaming down today." "I had a change of plans, Lieutenant. Please comply." Just then, the door opened again, and Spock came in. "Dr. Sylak," he said briskly. "I thought you were not departing until tomorrow." "I have matters I wish to attend to, and the Starbase would better suit my needs," she said icily. She watched him quietly, stood by while his intentions slid behind his facade, while her hopes for happiness were shut away. "Very well," was all he said. He lifted one hand and parted the fingers. "Live long and prosper, Doctor." "Peace and long life," she answered, holding her hand aloft as well. The transporter room faded from view as she silently added, *my love...* ----------------------------------------------------------- It was a boiling sea of hazy color, bright flashes illuminating in jagged streaks the dark, charred hull of the ship. Slowly, the Enterprise turned, so slowly, so tenderly, heading away from the crackling wreckage of another ship. All around there was pain, such terrible pain, and on the Enterprise there was such despair. Every mind on the bridge strained, like a person trying to run in a nightmare, but the Enterprise could not get away. "No," croaked a voice laced with a frightening hatred, a voice emanating from a bloody face. "No, you can't get away..." And with a flash of unendurable power, his ship exploded. And the Enterprise soared away, safe. EPILOGUE "Humans make illogical decisions," commented Spock. "They do indeed," replied his mother, smiling gently. "I understand," said a third voice, "that it can be one of their better qualities." Spock turned and looked at the form in the doorway. Amanda also turned, startled. A tall humanoid woman with sharp features and thick, waistlength black hair that was beginning to gray stood there. "Forgive me for intruding," she said. "The door was open." Spock stared openly at the woman as he walked away from the computer console, which still flashed the question, "HOW DO YOU FEEL?" across its screens. He steepled his fingers and frowned. "Do I...know you?" She smiled a little, the modest yet sincere smile of a woman who does not waste facial expression. "Yes, Spock, we knew each other well, once." Spock raised a dark eyebrow. "I am afraid I do not recall our acquaintance," he said. She advanced into the room. "I am told you do not recall much these days," she said evenly, "but that is quite all right. I take solace in the fact that you are alive." She turned to Amanda. "It is a pleasure to meet you," she said with a polite bow of her head. Amanda regarded the woman closely. She had seen the stranger's eyes light upon her son, and had seen within them a certain light... The kind of regard no mother could possibly have missed. She returned the polite nod, wrapped in her own thought. Who was she? And whom did she remind her of? "May we talk?" the woman asked Spock. He walked forward and gestured towards the side door. She glided through it before him, and he followed. They stepped out into the mid-afternoon sun on the dry, reddish rock of Vulcan. "Like you, I am supposed to be dead," she began. "I could not appear exactly as you once knew me, or there would be confusion. It is nearly two decades too late for *me* to come back from the dead..." She turned to him, stepped close. "But I had to see for myself," she added in an urgent, almost passionate voice. "You are alive." "Your sentences are disjoint and confusing," he remarked dryly, keeping his distance. "You will understand," she said, and reached out her hand, two fingers extended. He hesitated, but something in the gesture seemed strangely familiar. A memory, perhaps, from his ravaged mind, from long ago, before... He reached forward with his own hand and touched her fingertips with two of his own. Quite unexpectedly, their minds joined. "Sylak..." he breathed. "I am here, Spock. I will always be." "The transporter accident, on the starbase..." "I had to leave that life behind," she whispered, and then stopped herself. She blocked his mind from hers, pushing him away from the secrets within. He frowned and struggled against the barrier. "There will be time, Spock," she said quietly. "You still have destinies to meet." She released the contact. "They begin with your human, illogical friends." He nodded, a certain warmth receding from his eyes. All he could remember now was a name, and a vague feeling... "I will go with them," he agreed quietly. She nodded, smiling just a little, and then turned and walked away. *Remember me,* said a voice in his mind. *We will meet again, Spock....* THE END