The Pon T'Keshtan

CHAPTER FOUR:

Captain Kirk didn't know to say to Sarek, even on the secure channel, so he was somewhat relieved when Nevada Communications told him the Vulcan Ambassador was unavailable. "I would be happy to connect you to the Ambassador's private link, Captain Kirk," the young man, dressed in cadet-red, with a silver com-link bud in his ear, said in a crisp tone.

"That would be great. Thanks," Kirk replied.

"One moment, please."

ONE MOMENT flashed on the screen for a few beats, and then was replaced with: INTERSTELLAR COMMUNICATIONS, NEVADA BASE RENO, PRIVATE LINK. SAREK, AMBASSADOR, ID 45-8372.3. THE RECORDING WILL BEGIN WHEN YOU START SPEAKING.

Kirk sat for a moment, still uncertain what to say, so he started with, "Kirk, Captain James T., USS Enterprise. Good day, Ambassador Sarek... I hope you and your fellow Vulcans are comfortable in Nevada, although I'm sure you're... anticipating a return to New Vulcan sometime in the near future. I'm... I'm calling you, sir, because something has come up regarding your son, Commander Spock, and I would like the opportunity to discuss it with you privately. I can make myself available to you at any hour. Please contact me at your earliest convenience. Thank you for your time. Kirk out."

There was a pause and the view screen pronounced, END TRANSMISSION.

Kirk switched off the view screen and sighed, "One down. One to go." Locating Spock's former teacher, Sa'aat, would be somewhat more difficult. Sa'aat had not gone to the Nevada settlement with the priests, mystics and other Fonn Vuhlkansu, instead he had gone off on his own in his vessel: the Haulat. The general had promised to stay in contact with Spock, but Kirk didn't know if he'd kept that promise or where he might be at the moment. Therefore, the captain had instructed Communications Specialist De'Vrille to keep broadcasting a hail to the Haulat, and told him to keep the channel open until Sa'aat responded. Thus far, Sa'aat had been silent.

Spock stood before the closed door for several seconds, sternly admonishing himself for being indecisive before he activated the door's chime. As he waited for a response, he tugged down the hem of his Science-Blue (1) over-shirt to make it align more uniformly with the waistband of his trousers, and smoothed a wrinkle from the sleeve. The door opened, and Dr. Andrew Surrey (2), the ship's chief psychiatric doctor, stood there.

"Right on time, Mister Spock. Thank you," the doctor said without looking at him. He typed rapidly into a PADD. "Come on in. Make yourself comfortable." Still typing, the doctor stepped aside so Spock could enter his office. Spock walked in with his hands clasped behind his back.

Surrey closed the door, engaging the narrow communications panel on the outside that read "QUIET PLEASE. IN SESSION," in a variety of languages. He passed Spock, still tapping away at the PADD's keys, and said, "It'll just be a minute. I want to get my thoughts down before I forget them."

"Take your time, Doctor," Spock said.

The doctor noted that something in the voice wasn't exactly terse, but it wasn't exactly polite either. He had heard of Spock, of course. The Vulcan's almost legendary reputation in Star Fleet had preceded him; and the doctor admitted to more than a little exhilaration at the prospect of having Spock as a patient, even if just for a "routine psych eval". While Spock perused the room, Surrey looked covertly up from his PADD to watch him.

Standing in the center of the room, Spock noted that the doctor's office appeared to him in much the same manner as the doctor did himself: somewhat colorful, eclectic, and in an apparent state of disorder. Dr. Surrey, a middle-aged Human with dish-water-blue eyes and an almost apple-cheeked complexion, always appeared as though he was distracted and disheveled. Although he had recently put a comb through his hair, it was a mass of silvering curls that seemed to have a will of its own; and he hadn't had a chance to shave again that afternoon, so his chin was covered with a fog of gray stubble. He wore the standard-issue black trousers and boots along with a short-sleeved black pullover shirt, but on top of the pullover, he wore an unbuttoned, short-sleeved, white cotton garment with what looked to be tiny green monkeys all over it.

The main furniture in the office, a desk, two chairs and a small couch were all substantial pieces that appeared to be made of real wood, however, none of it matched. The wood of the desk desk was honey-colored, but the chairs were dark, like mahogany. One chair was tartan plaid and the other solid blue. The couch had a sandy-colored suede-like finish, accessorized with a scattering of primary-colored pillows. Crumpled throws were tossed over the backs of the chairs, and the carpet was matted in places. PADDs, open bound books, and an unfinished lunch of what looked like some kind bean soup and crackers littered the desk. A large rubber dragon lounged across the computer monitor.

An odd assortment of children's toys and miniatures (3) including starships, gates, houses, churches, bridges, pocket-sized people, planetary bodies, animals of all sorts, trees and hedges, a few wells, faux flames, rocks, jewels and even a tiny jail cluttered the shelving units lining the walls. Spock stepped up to a unit as Surrey continued to type, and looked at the tiny figurines there. They were mostly Human of both genders, all colors and ages, but there were also Klingons, Andorians, Gorns, Romulans, Orions, and Vulcans among others species. Even a Horta.(4) Most were piled in a haphazard fashion: males on top of females, Orions on Gorns. One Klingon was standing on his head. Spock extricated a handful of Vulcans from the mess and set them on their feet in a parade line across the front of the shelf.

On the next unit over, a female figure stood, imperious, her arms crossed over her chest, amid a bevy of demons, phantoms, skeletons, salt-sucking vampires, brain-cell-like parasites, Denebian slime devils, cannibalistic plants, and other nightmarish things. She was larger than the other figures; tall, thin and severe-looking, dressed in black and purple robes. Spock picked her up, careful not to disturb anything around her. The high collar around her neck was open in the front, and at her throat was a huge red jewel. A black cowl covered her head and on top of the cowl was a gold crown with five points. A large white pearl decorated the center point. What had attracted Spock to her, other than her incongruent placement on the shelf and her size, was the fact that she looked somewhat Vulcan. She had black, arched eyebrows, but because of the cowl, Spock couldn't tell if her ears were pointed.

"Is this creature representative of something?" Spock asked, holding the figure out so Dr. Surrey could see it.

"Well," Dr. Surrey said, finally setting his PADD aside to focus on Spock, "I could give you the whole psycho-babble business about her being representative of whatever it is you think she represents, but... She's actually Queen Grimhilde from the 1937 animated film adaptation of the fairy tale of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves (5) on Earth. She's also called The Wicked Queen or The Evil Queen..."

Spock scowled slightly at Grimhilde. "Do many of the evil characters from Earth's animated films looked like Vulcans?"

"She looks like a Vulcan to you?"

"Vaguely. But you did not answer my question."

"The answer to your question is... sort of."

"That is acutely inexact."

"I know. I'm Human. We're like that. Actually, in some instances, the evil characters in the films could look either monstrous or exceedingly beautiful. Sometimes, they could shape-shift between the two. It depended on the tale being presented."

Spock returned the queen to her shelf.

When the Vulcan didn't speak further, Dr. Surrey said, "So, Dr. McCoy tells me you've been having some sleeping issues - "

"Then the doctor has a proclivity for understatement."

"Oookay. Do you want to tell me about that?"

"If I do not, may I leave?"

A smile played at the side of Dr. Surrey's mouth. He had been warned that Spock might be resistant to the therapy process. Usually, when Vulcans were having such difficulties, they sought other Vulcans for assistance - and in the past sometimes participated in a rite known as the Fulara (6) to help them bury traumas and the debilitating emotions that went with them. Since Spock had relinquished his Vulcan citizenship, after being brutalized for standing in defiance of the Ek'tevan Prerogative on New Vulcan, however, his options for assistance from other Vulcans were probably greatly curtailed. And Dr. Surrey wasn't sure if there were any Vulcan priests or mystics who even knew how to perform a Fulara anymore. So, Spock was stuck with being evaluated and treated by a Human he didn't know. For him, that must really suck, the doctor thought.

Two of Dr. Surrey's colleagues, who had done psychological evaluations on the Vulcan in previous years, had also noted in Spock's chart - alongside their praise of his mental acuity and decidedly ethical character - that Spock was "exceedingly intelligent", "challenging", "unyielding", "perceptive", "adroit", "often evasive" and "somewhat egocentric". Surrey was rather delighted to find that, for the moment, Spock seemed to be living up to at least some of their estimations.

"I amuse you," Spock said in response to the doctor's half-smile, his tone and expression flat.

"No, Mister Spock. I was smiling because I love my job. Please," Dr. Surrey said indicating the chairs, "Have a seat."

"I would prefer to stand."

"Okay. Do you mind if I sit?"

"It is your office, Doctor. You may do as you wish."

"Well, thank you." Dr. Surrey took a seat on the tartan chair, and watched as Spock went to the opposite side of the room, placing himself precisely between the doctor and the door. Surrey speculated that if he measured the space, he would find Spock was equidistant from both the exit and the still vacant chair. Surrey thought, he's trying to decide which way to go: out the door or into the process. Getting the Vulcan to move either way was the first obstacle. Spock seemed to have planted himself both physically and mentally.

Spock presented himself to the doctor as Vulcans usually present themselves: clean, poised, expressionless and somewhat aloof. Humans often misinterpreted this aloof quality as "ego". As individuals, Vulcans were rarely self-centered and, as a species, they lived by the codices of their renowned philosopher Surak: "Spunau bolayalar t'wehku bolayalar t'zamu il t'veh,(7)" and "Pulau na'vathular k'nuhk."(8) Surrey admired this quality in them. He also admired their keen insight, often brutal honesty, and general courtliness which played out, for the most part, through a system of intricate body postures. Although Vulcans didn't hug, or smile, or pat others on the arm, their stance and hand placement often articulated their intentions or their feelings about those around them.

Surrey knew Spock's current stance, his hands clasped behind his back, was generally perceived, among Vulcans, as a sign of respect: a promise not to invade another's personal space or touch another's property. To Humans, however, this same posture could be seen as either an indication of relaxed confidence or submission; leaving the front of the body unprotected and open to attack. However, Spock had also turned in such a way as to present his side to Surrey, rather than his front, so he had to look at the doctor from over his shoulder. Vulcans often offered a side-view to strangers they perceived as weaker than themselves, so as not to appear intimidating. The stance was meant to reassure, but also implied the Vulcan felt he was superior. From a Human standpoint, however, setting one s shoulder between yourself and another was often perceived as off-putting or defensive. Surrey wondered which perceptions best suited Spock.

The Vulcan's breathing was controlled. His brown eyes - unusually large for a Vulcan, and more reminiscent of his Human mother, Amanda - were intent, but softened a bit by earnestness. His uniform was meticulously clean right down to the spit-polish on his boots. His hair was so sleek it gleamed with reflected light from the overhead fixtures. These observations spoke volumes to the doctor, too, but they were, frankly, the superficial stuff that often bored him.

Surrey knew Vulcans sometimes suffered from a buildup of squelched emotions or repressed memories, and could experience severe shariv t kae (9) as a result, but he'd never had the opportunity to treat, or even examine, a Vulcan in such a state before. The idea that he himself might be able to assist Spock through this process was what excited the doctor the most.

"So, Mister Spock", Surrey said. "Explain to me what you meant about Dr. McCoy's proclivity for understatement. You're having nightmares - ?"

Spock's focus seemed to internalize for a second, before he looked directly at Surrey, cocking his head slightly as he spoke. "You have no doubt acquainted yourself with my file, and know why I have been ordered to attend an appointment with you, Dr. Surrey," he said.

Surrey sighed a little bit and leaned forward. He thought a moment before speaking candidly. "You know, this session may go a little bit more smoothly and productively if you'd not approach it as though it were a chess match, Mister Spock. I'm not trying to best you. I'm not trying to win at anything. I'm just here to help you."

"I was simply pointing out that I see no logic in wasting valuable session time rehashing what you already know," Spock replied, his tone somewhat conciliatory.

"Well, actually, I don't know anything about your case, Mister Spock, because you haven't told me anything yet," the doctor said. "I mean, I know the stuff the medical staff has already written about you, and I reviewed your past psychological evaluations -"

"Intelligent, challenging, unyielding and egocentric," Spock said. "Yes, I am acquainted with them also."

"What did you think of them?"

An eyebrow raised. "I suppose they accurately reflect the psychologist's viewpoint."

"Do they accurately reflect how you view yourself?"

"I perceive myself as both challenging and intelligent, yes. But the terms 'unyielding' and 'egocentric' are quite inaccurate - in my view, Doctor."

"That's helpful. Thank you." Surrey sat back. "I, uh, I also read a report from a lieutenant... What was her name? U'Bulu or something like that?"

"Lieutenant Uhura." Spock corrected him. Surrey noted the slight sound of annoyance (at him) and great admiration (for the woman) in Spock's voice.

"Uhura, right. She said you had a hallucination during love-making."

Spock said nothing, averting his gaze to the floor.

Vulcans don't like to talk about sex. "So, tell me about it..."

Spock looked back up at him.

There it is: a challenge in the eyes.

"About what?" Spock asked with a clipped tone.

"Anything you want. Sex, McCoy, your job, the captain, your girlfriend, your mother... It doesn t make any difference. Talk about anything."

Spock's eyebrows knit in the center of his forehead.

That caught him off guard.

"I beg your pardon?" the Vulcan asked.

"Everything's intertwined, Mister Spock. Everything about you, everything that happens to you, everything you think, feel and fear: it's all interconnected. Explore one thing, and the rest starts unraveling around it. Once the unraveling starts, we can pick out the parts you need to deal with, and explore ways to manage them. So, just start wherever you want to, and we'll eventually get to where we're going."

"That would result in a rather circuitous route toward a diagnosis, would it not?"

"There are no straight routes in psychotherapy. It's like a big spiral staircase that doubles back on itself. Ever see Escher's symmetry drawings (10)? It's kind of like that; all convoluted yet somehow recognizable; different things jumping out at you depending on how you look at the whole. What seems like a bird may actually be a lizard. What seems like regression may actually be progress. Although it has a basis in cognitive behavioral theory and processes, therapy is at its heart very intuitive, and subjective, and idiosyncratic, and messy..."

"Much like your office."

"Yeah, exactly."

"I see. Now the clutter seems to serve a purpose."

Dr. Surrey smiled again. "Does everything have to have a purpose, Mister Spock?"

"Is that a rhetorical question, Doctor?"

"I'm just trying to engage your mind, and get you to start talking."

"What subject matter will result in an abbreviated stay in your office?"

Dr. Surrey chuckled. Tough cookie, he thought. Good for him. "Sorry, it's not that easy. You're scheduled for a ninety-minute session with me, and you'll be here for the ninety minutes even if you don't say another word. Keep in mind, though, Mister Spock, I won't sign off on your release for duty, until I'm satisfied what happened in Lieutenant Uhura's quarters doesn't happen again - and I'm not talking about the sex, I'm talking about the hallucination."

Spock's dark eyes shifted back and forth, almost as though they were tracking the thoughts running through his mind. He looked behind him at the door for a moment.

Dr. Surrey pursed his lips. Damn it, he's gonna bolt, he thought.

But Spock didn't leave. Instead he muttered, "Very well," and stepped over to one of the shelving units.

Still avoiding the chair, Dr. Surrey noted. And Spock's back was toward him, now. In Human terms the stance usually indicated displeasure; a way of shunning or dismissing another person without telling them to "buzz off". For Vulcans it usually meant privacy was required. Spock needed a moment to himself, and Surrey was more than willing to allow him that.

His back still to the doctor, Spock asked for clarification. "I may speak of anything?"

"Anything at all. Without thinking for a second - and I understand that's difficult since Vulcan minds are usually thinking about several different things at the same time - tell me the first thing that pops into your head."

As directed, Spock quieted his thoughts for a moment, and then said, "This room is disquieting."

"Why is that?"

Spock turned away from the shelving unit to look at the doctor. "The disorganization is distracting. Its chaos is not conducive to contemplative thought." "You don't function well in chaos."

"Chaos is the bane of logic."

"Are you in chaos, Mister Spock?"

"I believe I was referring to the room, Doctor, not myself."

"I thought we weren't playing chess, Mister Spock."

Spock's eyes went completely hollow, and his bottom jaw dropped a fraction behind closed lips.

I've insulted him. Dr. Surrey changed his tone, and said more considerately, "Everything's connected... Remember? How you relate to the room may be a reflection of how you relate to yourself and your present state of mind..."

Spock said nothing, but his dark eyes were moving again. Dr. Surrey remained quiet for several seconds, not wanting to rush the First Officer; deliberately keeping a gap open in the conversation he hoped Spock would try to fill. He did not. Instead, he looked up from his thought process at Surrey, his composed features showing a bold front.

He's not ready to release the insult yet. Surrey leaned forward again resting his forearms against his thighs, his cupped palms facing up with just the tips of his fingers intertwined. The gesture was meant to be both affable and reassuring; offering help without implying Spock needed help. "Can you stipulate to the fact, Mister Spock, that you first have to acknowledge chaos exists before you can address how to correct it?"

"I believe I have already acknowledged the chaos in the room, Doctor."

"Okay... Then how do you suggest we address that chaos?"

"Clean the room," Spock stated frankly.

"How exactly? Describe the process to me."

Spock's eyes narrowed slightly. "You are now attempting to draw correlations between the tidying up your office and the tidying up your patient," he said flatly.

"Yes, I am," Surrey said. The honesty startled him; but he respected it. "Does that correlation irritate you?"

Spock's tone changed somewhat, becoming less confrontational and more conversational. "I am Vulcan. Irritation is a Human condition."

"You are half-Human, aren't you?"

"You know well that I am," Spock said.

"But you refer to yourself as a Vulcan."

"I am a Vulcan," said Spock. "I was born on Vulcan. I was raised on Vulcan. My father is a Vulcan. I have Vulcan blood, Vulcan organs, and Vulcan features. I am a Vulcan."

"So, if I'm to deal with you on a doctor-patient level, do I deal with you as a Vulcan, or as a Human?"

Spock was quiet for a few moments and then said, "Everything is connected, is it not?"

And to that, Dr. Surrey had to laugh out loud. "Yes, it is, Mister Spock. Who knew you would have a sense of humor - ?"

Spock gave him a puzzled look.

Captain Kirk was in the Captain's Mess on Deck 2 finishing up his log entries and dining on a chicken salad sandwich and hot coffee when he was interrupted by a com-link call from De'Vrille. "Bridge, to Captain Kirk."

The captain wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin as he stood. He walked across the room, swallowing a mouthful of coffee, and activated the view screen. De'Vrille, a Human whose crew-cut, pure white hair made him appear more frigid and crusty than he actually was, flickered onto the screen. De'Vrille was about ten year Kirk's senior. The fact that almost his entire crew was older than he was by at least a few years; some by decades, was something Kirk had found somewhat difficult to deal with when he first took command of the Enterprise. Everyone was professional and courteous, naturally respecting the chain of command, but on his worst days, when his inner critic was trouncing him, Kirk wondered if his crew still saw him as a brash cadet right out of the Academy.

"What do you have for me, Mister De'Vrille?" the captain asked.

"The captain of the Haulat is returning your hail, sir," the crewman answered.

"Excellent! Patch it down here, will you, on a secure channel - "

"Aye, Captain."

The view screen went blank for a moment, and then lit with the Sa'aat's image.

Sa'aat seemed to be in a diner or saloon of some sort. There were walls covered with electronic graffiti behind him, and a crowd of beings - mostly Klingons by the looks of them - talking and cavorting in the background. No longer a Kahr-Lan (11), Sa'aat wore none of the formal designations of his former rank. Instead, he was dressed in a pale yellow, high-collared shirt and a black leather overcoat with dark lapels that seemed to sop up the light from around his face, making him appear shadowy and dark. He was, otherwise, as Kirk remembered him: a tall, thin Vulcan with handsome features (even by Human standards) and piercing eyes. Although he wore his hair in bangs as did most Vulcans, Sa'aat's signature long, thick black hair that fell down to the end of his spine was no longer braided, since such a style was reserved for officers in the Vulcan Military, but hung instead in a sleek, straight ponytail. It was, however, decorated with the white-gold ribbon filaments that denoted his skill at k'a'sum'i (12). In a room full of Klingons, displaying such skill, even on an ornamental level, was quite daring. It begged someone to challenge it. No one bothered Sa'aat at the present, however, and he appeared composed and very still.

"How may I assist you, Captain Kirk?" he asked, somehow speaking over the noise behind him without raising his voice.

"Hello, Sa'aat. I'm glad we were able to contact you. I wasn't sure where you'd gone off to." Sa'aat remained quiet, waiting for the captain to answer his question. "Something has come up concerning Commander Spock," Kirk said.

Sa'aat leaned closer to the view screen at his end of the conversation. "Is there some difficulty?"

"Since returning from New Vulcan, Spock has been plagued with recurring nightmares. And just the other night, he was also hallucinating."

Sa'aat looked down for a moment, then looked back up at the view screen, his features impassive. "That is usually an indication of the reemergence of a repressed memory."

"Yes, that was our initial assessment as well. And in relation to that, we'd like to talk to you about the readings you took from our medical tricorder on the day Spock was subjected to the chemically induced plak-tau on New Vulcan."

"Indeed," Sa'aat said. He looked away again, this time for several seconds. When he looked back toward the view screen, he said, "That is something which should not be discussed over an interstellar com-link."

"I agree. I'd prefer to speak to you about it in person, if possible."

"What is your ship's present heading?"

"We're on our way to the Federation Starbase on Jagusch-McGillis. We'll be putting in there for about a week's worth of shore leave and general ship's maintenance."

"I am familiar with the planetoid's location. I can rendezvous with you there in -" Sa'aat paused to do the calculations. " - twenty-three hours, forty-seven minutes."

"Great, I'll look forward to seeing you then. Oh, um, in the meanwhile - "

"Yes, Captain?"

"Would you mind transmitting the tricorder data to my Chief Medical Officer, Dr. McCoy? You remember him."

"Quite."

"He'd like the opportunity to review the material before we meet."

If the request caused Sa'aat any trepidation, nothing showed in his face. "As you wish. I will instruct the Haulat to initiate the transmission."

"Thank you. Kirk out." Kirk said, switching off the visual. "Well, that went easier than I thought it would," he muttered aloud.

In the saloon, poised in front of the portable view screen Sa'aat could still hear the captain's voice. He said plainly, "Captain Kirk - "

The blank screen answered with Kirk's disembodied voice. "Uh, yes - ?"

"The channel is still open."

"Crap - " Kirk's voice muttered before the channel closed and END TRANSMISSION blinked on screen before it went dark. Sa'aat leaned back, bringing his glass of Vulcan brandy toward his chest with one hand at the same time. He knew the Klingon was coming up from behind before the brute said a word, and already had his other hand at the hilt of the lipitah (13) at his waist.

"How do I know if my translation is accurate?" Spock asked Dr. Surrey.

Surrey and Spock both sat in the chairs in Surrey's office; the doctor in the tartan plaid chair and Spock in the blue chair. They faced one another, leaning forward as their discussion continued. It had taken Surrey over half the session just to get the Vulcan to sit down, and he didn't want anything to interrupt or interfere with that bit of progress. He kept talking to keep Spock engaged.

"Your gut will tell you - " he answered, knowing, even as the words left his lips, that Spock would find fault with them.

"One's instinct and emotions are not very reliable resources when conducting empirical research," Spock said, frowning slightly.

"Sometimes, it's all we have to go on, Mister Spock..."

"As something of an expert, could you not guide me in my translation?"

"It's generally not possible for anyone else to tell you what your dreams mean, Mister Spock, because the imagery in the dreams comes directly from you, from your own unconscious and your own experiences, and is therefore unique to you," Dr. Surrey said. "For example, the image of a mountain in a dream may represent an irrefutable fact to one person, an obstacle to overcome to another person, and yet may also represent to you the seat of Vulcan mysticism or sacredness, as in Mount Seleya. If a more formulaic approach to dream interpretation will be easier for you, however, I would suggest you read 'Inner Work' by Johnson(14). It will help you generate a modus operandi for better recall and recording of your dreams, and come to a deeper understanding of what they may mean to you. If afterwards, you'd like to share your interpretations with me, you can, but you're not obligated to do so. Dream interpretation is a very personal endeavor."

"But sharing the interpretation may be construed as 'sharing the burden', may it not?"

"In one sense, yes, I suppose that's true. Do you not like sharing your burdens, Mister Spock?"

"I do not. But I have been informed that doing so may prove beneficial."

"Really. Who told you that?"

"Lieutenant Uhura."

"She sounds like a very smart lady."

"Indeed, she is."

"Is that what you like about her? Her intelligence?"

"That. And the fact she perceives me without presupposition or judgment."

"Not being judged is important to you. Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't you vacate your invitation to the Vulcan Science Academy because you felt your biracial heritage was being judged by the Ministers as a 'disadvantage'?"

"Star Fleet offered me more opportunity for exploration and advancement," Spock said in correction, and to avoid a subject that made him uneasy.

"Fair enough." Doctor Surrey understood the conversation was slipping into the kind of personal realm that made the Vulcan uncomfortable, so he refocused it back on the processing of dreams. "...Don't be too quick to construe your nightmares as a burden, though, Mister Spock. They can often be a source of true enlightenment. And, we Humans believe dreams, even the bad ones, are a necessary for the maintenance of a healthy psyche and a deeper understanding of the Self. There's an old Earth saying that goes something like, don't free the camel of the burden of his hump or you might free him from being a camel.(15) It indicates that - "

"- That we require our burdens in order to be that which we are intended to be; or that we are the sum of our experiences, even the distasteful ones."

"Pretty much, yeah."

From the doctor's desk a bell-like chime rang softly: once, twice, three times.

"Our session has concluded - " Spock inferred.

"Yes," Dr. Surrey said, making no effort to hide his disappointment.

Spock rose, tugging down his over-shirt to remove the wrinkles from it. Dr. Surrey was grateful the Vulcan didn't make a bee-line for the door. He was truly surprised, however, when Spock extended a hand for a handshake. Surrey took Spock's hand and shook it as he rose to his own feet. "It was a pleasure, Mister Spock."

"Thank you, Doctor. It was not entirely disagreeable for me."

Surrey chuckled.

"And I am again a source of amusement for you," Spock noted.

"No, not exactly. I'm just showing my appreciation for your honesty. It's very refreshing."

Spock gave the doctor a slight bow of the head in acknowledgement, then neatly extricated himself from between the chairs and went to the door. It opened silently, but Spock paused. "Do you have enough information in order to make a determination on my case, Doctor?"

"Well, I - "

"- For if you do not, I would not be averse to participating in a supplementary session."

"I think another session would prove valuable, Mister Spock. With your permission, I'll coordinate your next appointment with the captain."

"Thank you, Doctor," Spock said again. He left the office and walked away.

As soon as the door closed, Dr. Surrey's face gleamed with a bright grin.

That evening, Captain Kirk entered his quarters too amped up to go to bed, so he called to galley for the dinner menu. He ordered a medium-rare steak, potatoes au gratin, and a vegetable medley, asking for it to be sent up as soon as it was ready. He called back a few seconds later, requesting a beer. Kirk had a small replicator device in his cabin, but he hated the thing. It never seemed to work properly, and even though Spock had assured him several times that what came from the replicator was the same as what came from the galley, Kirk swore he could always taste the difference.

He checked the com-link for the saved messages and reports. Most of them were things that didn't require immediate attention, so he bypassed them. He was surprised when he saw a request from Dr. Surrey for more sessions with Spock, however. "Computer - " Kirk said. "Can you tell me if Dr. Surrey has retired yet?"

"Surrey, Doctor, Andrew P. is currently in his office," a female computerized voice answered.

Kirk hailed Surrey's office, and smiled when the doctor's image appeared on the com-link's view screen. Surrey was still wearing the monkey-decorated white cotton shirt. "That's not exactly standard issue, is it, Doc?" Kirk asked.

"Hey, it's Darwin's birthday. I had to wear something to commemorate it," Surrey answered with a grin.

"Darwin's birthday is in February..."

"Oh... Well..."

Kirk chuckled. "I see you've asked for more sessions with Spock. How did you manage to get him to agree to that?"

"Well, technically, he's only agreed to one more session. And it was actually his idea. But I thought I should clear his calendar for the additional ones just in case. Hope springs eternal,(16) and all that."

"How is Spock doing?"

"Now, come on, Captain. You know I can't discuss my patients with you without their written authorization."

"But you can tell me, as his captain, if he's able to return to his regular duties - "

"In my professional opinion, I would strongly suggest he remain off-bridge for the foreseeable future. I'd also like to wait for Doctor McCoy's reports on Spock's physical status, so we can see how that might factor in, before making any final determinations."

"Okay... Can you... Doc, can you tell me what can I do to help him?" Kirk asked, sincerely concerned.

"I know he's your friend, Captain. And I know you re anxious for him to get through this and be well, but... Everyone processes their crap differently. Just... provide Spock with the time, and space, and privacy to go through whatever process he needs to go through. Don't rush him, and don't make him feel like he has to hurry up and get better just to please you. For any therapy to work, Spock has to be willing to accede to the process himself and for his own reasons. Hwa is thet mei thet hors wettrien the him self nule drinken."

"What - ? What was that, Haliian(17) or something?"

"No. Old English, 1175. Who can give water to the horse that will not drink of its own accord."

"You mean, you can lead a horse to water, but you can't make it drink."

"Exactly."

"Show off. You might have just said that in the first place."

"Then how will you ever learn anything new, Captain Kirk?" Surrey quipped.

"Good night, Doctor," the captain said with a smile and shut off the link.

Kirk then kicked off his boots and tugged his gold-colored over-shirt over his head, tossing it into the small laundry pile on the floor. Heading toward the bathroom, he removed his black pullover and dropped his pants as well, kicking them off beside the commode. He was about to step into the shower when he heard the com-link ping in the adjoining room. Believing it might be Surrey again, and not bothering to redress, he walked into the other room and activated the view screen. "Kirk, here."

The view screen on the com-link alighted with a female face. Communications Specialist Johannes was on the night-duty shift. A crackerjack linguist, she was second only to Uhura in her skills; proficient in dozens of languages and dialects; third in her class at the Academy. And she's unattached and damn gorgeous, Kirk thought. Unfortunately, Kirk's reputation for being a cavalier party-boy had preceded him to the Enterprise, and as a result, most of the female crewmembers that were attractive to him were more than a little reticent to allow him to... drop anchor, as it were. When Johannes saw the captain was undressed, she gave him a look a disapproving mother might give an unkempt child, and then politely lowered her eyes.

"I have Ambassador Sarek for you, Captain."

"Thank you, Johannes. Um... Could you put him on hold for a second while I go put something on?"

"I would be more than happy to, sir."

As the view screen flashed ONE MOMENT, Kirk rushed to the dresser in the bedroom, grabbed a shirt from one of the drawers and tugged it over his head. He realized, as he hurried back to the view screen, that the shirt was on inside out and backwards and the white label was sticking out in front under his chin. He pulled the shirt off, turned it right side out, and pulled it back on again, mussing his hair in the process. "Okay, Johannes. I'm set."

"Connecting you now, Captain."

The view screen flipped once between blackness and the placard reading INTERSTELLAR COMMUNICATIONS, NEVADA BASE RENO, PRIVATE LINK. SAREK, AMBASSADOR, ID 45-8372.3, before the image of Sarek appeared. As always, regardless of the hour, Spock's father was impeccably dressed and coiffed. He sat at the desk in his private study at the temporary Vulcan settlement in Reno, Nevada, his hands folded in front of him.

"Captain Kirk, I trust I am not intruding on your privacy," Sarek said in a baritone voice that oddly enough, was both soothing and intimidating.

"No, course not, Ambassador. Thank you for returning my call," Kirk answered. He reached out and grabbed the rolling steno chair nearby, pulled it toward him and sat down as he continued with: "I hope that things are going well for you and the Fonn Vuhlkansu, all things considered."

"Better than expected, Captain. Over the past several months, a new Transitional Council has been ensconced on New Vulcan. Unlike their recent predecessors, this Council seems dedicated to the reunification of the Sects on our planet. As a matter of fact, I and several other elders have been invited to return to there in four week's time in order to negotiate for an open seat on the Council ourselves."

"That sounds great! I'm glad to hear that some real progress is taking place there again. And, uh, what about Semuk and T'Pau? We'd heard that they'd both disappeared; is that right?"

"Yes, Minister Semuk's disappearance came on the heels of the Fonn Vuhlkansu's exodus from the planet. There have been rumblings suggesting he was assassinated, but no body has yet been located. Minister T'Pau was... shall we say, 'encouraged' to vacate her post on the former Council after her rather unfortunate decision to declare war on the Federation. She had retired to her villa on the edge of the city, but then disappeared approximately three months ago. Although we can find no indication that she ever left the planet, her whereabouts are as yet unknown... However, Captain Kirk, you did not initiate this conversation to learn about the aspiring government on New Vulcan. In your earlier transmission, you indicated to me that an issue had arisen which involved Spock. Please, elucidate."

"Well, it's kind of a sticky subject, Ambassador. I don't really know where to begin or how to say what I have to say to you."

"Speak frankly, Captain. That is usually the best option."

"All right." Kirk rubbed his lips with his fingers for a few seconds in thought and then said, "Spock has been suffering from recurring nightmares since his chemically induced plak-tau on New Vulcan. He also recently had a hallucination..."

"That is usually indicative of a mind-storm, what we Vulcans call a shariv t'kae."

"Yeah, we understand that they're usually seen in conjunction with the recovery of a repressed memory or as a symptom of post traumatic shock. Now... we were under the impression that the chemically induced plak-tau resulted in a sort of blocking of short-term memory, so that the male who went through the plak-tau wouldn't remember the details of what happened to him."

"That is so, Captain. I myself was subjected to the inducement, but remember very little of the experience, and have suffered no lingering ill-effects."

"Is it possible that because he's part Human, Spock may have retained more memory about it than the average Vulcan?"

"That is a faint possibility. But why pose the question? Did something happen during the Spock's plak-tau that was out of the ordinary or might have caused him additional distress?"

"You know that Spock was coupled with five females during his plak-tau."

"Yes. The number was extraordinary, but I had been informed that several of the younger females had just come into season, and the Council did not want to lose the opportunity of having them bred as quickly as possible."

"What would you say if I told you that we had evidence that suggested that Spock was actually subjected to six females and one male?"

Sarek's folded hands seemed to clench more tightly together on the desk, but his features remained expressionless. "I would wish to see this evidence, and to know how it came to be in your possession."

Kirk's faced pinched against the ugliness of what he was about to ask. "I suggest to you that your son was raped, Ambassador Sarek, and your first response to me is: prove it? What the hell is that?"

"Captain, Vulcans do not leap toward judgment. We collect and study facts, weigh the value of whatever evidence is presented to us without emotion or hysteria, and then arrive at a logical decision based on the validity of the fact pattern. If you are telling me that six females were mated to Spock, rather than the afore reckoned five, I wish to see the evidence that supports that. If you further contend that my son was subjected to a sexual assault by another male, I likewise require proof before I can determine the next course of action. Do you have the evidence required, or do you not?"

"We think we do."

"You 'think' you do? Your are unsure?"

"Our medical scanners seem to conflict on the issue - mostly because we believe one or more of them were tampered with. We also believe that Kahr-Lan Sa'aat has more precise information on the subject which he downloaded from one of our medical tricorders before he returned it to us, purged clean of its data."

"You suspect Sa'aat - ?"

"Not of the assault, no, Ambassador; not at all. We just know that he has data that we don't. And we think that you yourself may also have some vital input on the subject."

"I do not understand."

"When Spock returned to the Enterprise, immediately after the induced plak-tau, you and Nurse Chapel took him to his quarters."

"- So that he could release himself into the po-zung, yes."

"And before you put him to bed, you helped him shower."

"Yes."

"Ambassador," Kirk said frowning. "I'm asking you if you recall seeing any visual evidence on your son's body that may have inferred that he had been... violated by another male."

For a few seconds, Sarek's eyes lost their direct focus as he recalled the events of that evening so many months ago. When he finally started speaking again, his voice was very low. "When I brought my son into his quarters and set out to bathe him, his body was a digest of contusions, scratches, abrasions and bite marks which spoke of his ordeal. His skin was drawn, dehydrated, and viscid with saliva, and tears, and the leavings of mating. And there was blood and male fluid upon him, but I had assumed it was his own." Sarek looked up again and focused on Kirk through the view screen link. "If you have evidence to the contrary, I wish to see it."

"We'd be willing to share it with you, sir, but... We would like to pool our information and witness accounts here aboard the Enterprise, and then present them to Spock, all at one time."

"He is not yet aware of your suspicions?"

"No. We thought it best not to get him all worked up over something like this, until we felt more sure of our facts, and had established a support system for him should he need it "

"That seems wise, Captain Kirk."

"We've already invited Sa'aat to rendezvous with us at the Jagusch-McGillis space station. Would it be possible for you to meet us there, as well?"

"It will take me several days travel, but, yes, I would be willing to meet with you. I will have my steward make the arrangements, and will forward you my itinerary as soon as it is available. I will also be contacting Sa'aat, and will encourage him to cooperate with you fully on this matter."

"Thank you, Ambassador, and... I'm sorry. This conversation, I'm sure, was very... uncomfortable for you."

"- And for you, Captain. Good evening."

"Good evening, Ambassador. Kirk out."

When the com-link went off, Kirk leaned forward in his chair and put his head in his hands. He rubbed his whole face with his palms and sighed deeply before he finally got onto his feet again and went to the bathroom to shower.

Spock sat at the head of his bed with Nyota in his lap, curled against his body. She was sleeping the deep sleep that came on the heels of sex. It had all been for her tonight; Spock had felt little. His mind was so occupied with dreams, visions, dialogs and decisions that he could barely make a space in for anything else.

Humans often found intercourse a distraction from woes and uncertainty, but to Vulcans, the body required concentration. With their mental abilities, Vulcans could squelch pain, stave off hunger and thirst, probe the thoughts and emotions of others, and successfully transfer the living essence of a dying Vulcan into the "vessel" of another until a final resting place could be secured. Even in the po-zung (18), the mind was busy locating damaged cells; managing the focus, strength and direction it took to make multiple repairs simultaneously; wrapping ugly memories in a cocoon of thick silence; issuing streams of curative hormones to balance the inequities in the brain and organs; enhancing the immune system; sorting through information: which was immediately important, which was not... all the while allowing the body to rest restoratively. In that sense, the po-zung was more like deep meditation than sleep. There was no such recuperative sleep for Spock this evening, however, and the sex had been neither enjoyable nor reassuring for him.

He assumed Nyota had found some pleasure in it. He successfully brought her to a bright and gasping climax, during which she had pulled his hair, kissed him fervently, and told him that she loved him. But even that small accomplishment gave Spock little personal satisfaction. In fact, he felt somewhat ashamed; he had lost focus with her, had not given her the service of which he was fully capable, and had therefore failed her as a mate. Failure, no matter how small, never settled well with Spock...

Using a strength he seldom used with Nyota for fear of damaging her, he lifted her dozing form and set her aside on the bed. She stirred a little, making small sounds in the back of her throat before smiling in her sleep and settling down again. He pulled his robe on as he exited the bedroom.

He knew his quarters well enough, and could see well enough in the darkness to make his way around without stumbling or bumping into anything. He went into the main room, which, like the other rooms in his suite was tidy and somewhat Spartan. On the walls, there was an artistic representation of a Vulcan IDIC along with some hand-painted panels of Vulcan calligraphy. A worktable with a computer array and an ergonomic chair were the only furnishings. Spock sat and brought up the writings of Johnson that Doctor Surrey had suggested.

"...The first step in Active Imagination is to invite the creatures of the unconscious to come up to the surface and make contact with us. We invite the inner persons to start the dialog...(19)"

Spock read the book through to its end, taking mental notes of the ideas he thought would work well for him, and those that he could reject because they were geared more toward Human minds. He was already adept at lucid dreaming for example, and could therefore forego some steps and techniques Johnson suggested in that regard. But, all in all, the read was a quick and interesting one... albeit on a subject which, by its very nature, was all but bereft of logic.

Spock pulled up other works by Johnson from the ship's library. He had started on the second book when the com-link binged at him.

Spock tapped on the console to answer the call without visuals. Specialist Johannes was manning the Communications station this evening, and he had recently become uncomfortable with the way she looked at him. It seemed, more and more often lately, the female crewmembers looked at him differently than they had before; or perhaps he had not noticed it before. But it seemed, now, as though many of them eyed him like a specimen in a stockyard. They watched how he walked, how he carried himself, how he was groomed. Some leaned toward their friends and giggled at the sight of him; and one crewmember had remarked under her breath that he had a "powerful ass". She had no idea, apparently, that he could hear her; and no one else but her friend had heard the remark, still... It was entirely inappropriate.

"Commander Spock?" Johannes prompted.

He responded in a tone loud enough for Johannes to hear him, but not so loud as to awaken Nyota. "Spock here."

Johannes informed him that he had a private call from a transport cruiser called the Ram-Kid (20). The vessel's name was unfamiliar, and Spock was not expecting any calls. Nevertheless, he was curious. And instructed Johannes to patch the call through to him.

When the view screen lit up in front of him, Spock was astonished at sight of the Vulcan male on the screen. He had shoulder-length hair, a full beard - and grinned at Spock profusely. "Hello, Little Brother!"

"Sybok - ?" Spock uttered.


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(1) Author's Note: In Trek, blue-colored shirts are worn as part of the uniform for the "science" fields (general sciences, psychiatric, medical, etc.) ; red-colored shirts are worn by the "services" fields (security, communications, engineering, etc.); and gold-colored shirts are worn by the "flight crew" (captains, navigators, pilots, etc).

(2) Dr. Andrew Surrey: he's my own creation and was not a part of Trek. In the original drafts of this chapter he was Dr. Murray (named after my college Composition instructor), but I changed his name to Surrey for two reasons: I didn't want two doctors in the story whose last name started with "M" because I thought that might get confusing for readers; and the name "surrey" implies "carriage" and "transportation". As Dr. Surrey is going to be "carrying" a lot of Spock's emotional baggage for him, I thought the new name suited him better.

(3) The doctor's "toys": These are actually "sand tray - " or "play-therapy" miniatures used to assist therapeutic clients who find it difficult to articulate what they want or need, what they fear, or what they think. I believed these would be most beneficial to Dr. Surrey, as a psychiatrist on a starship, because he would often be dealing with patients of other species who didn't necessarily speak Federation Standard as a first language, and/or would assign their own individual and cultural significance to the toys. Rather than communicating with the doctor through static verbalization, they could use the miniatures to metaphorically describe their concerns, problems, goals, desires and thought processes. For example, whereas a Human might select a gun from among the miniatures and say it represents aggression or a threat of death; a Klingon might view the same object as something desirable - an extension of his or her own military prowess; something to be achieved rather than feared. And Dr. Surrey could then base and/or adjust his diagnosis and treatment plan on that information.

(4 ) Horta: a sentient, silicon-based life form found on the planet Janus VI that looks vaguely like a blob of lumpy pizza

(5) Snow White and the Seven Dwarves: This refers to the 1937 animated film adaptation of the story done by Walt Disney, NOT the original stories written by the Brothers Grimm in 1812 entitled "Snow White" and "Snow White and Rose Red". Disney's Queen Grimhilde ranks #10 on the American Film Institute's list of "50 Best Villains of All Time".

(6) Fulara: The Fulara was an ancient Vulcan rite, administered by specially trained priests, to assist Vulcans with repressing traumatic memories and the emotions that go with them. The rite also erased from the recipient's mind the fact that the rite had ever taken place at all. Very often, the repressed memories eventually reemerged, sometimes forcing the Vulcan who initially went through the rite, to go through it again, or to face the trauma and emotions and deal with them openly. By the time this story takes place, the rite has become "obsolete".

(7)Spunau bolayalar t'Wehku bolayalar t'Zamu il t'Veh: translated from the Vulcan it means, "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one."

(8)Pulau na'vathular k'nuhk.: translated from the Vulcan it means, "Reach out to others courteously."

(9)Shariv t'kae: from the Vulcan, it means "mental storms" or more literally "storm of the mind"

(10) Escher: This refers to the artist M.C. Escher most noted for his drawings of intertwining staircases.

(11) Kahr-Lan: the Vulcan word for "general". Sa'aat had resigned his commission when he defied the original Transitional Council on New Vulcan and assisted in the escape of Spock and the Fonn Vuhlkansu from the Ministry Cathedral.

(12) K'a'sum'i: a Vulcan martial arts form which focuses on deadly force.

(13) Lipitah: A kind of Vulcan dagger.

(14) Inner Work: refers to the book "Inner Work: Using Dreams and Active Imagination for Personal Growth" by Robert A. Johnson. (1989) You can get your own copy through

(15) "Do not free a camel of the burden of his hump; you may be freeing him from being a camel." The quote is attributed to G.K. Chesterton, British writer and journalist, (1874-1936)

(16) "Hope springs eternal" is a quote attributed to Alexander Pope, 1732, in his "An Essay on Man". It's now considered proverbial on Earth. It generally means that despite the odds, one can always hope for the best.

(17) Haliian: The language spoken by the people of the planet Halii.

(18)Po-zung: literally translated from the Vulcan means "after-exhaustion"; term used to describe the stuporous sleep after the completion of mating during a chemically induced plak-tau. The males only enter this state after being injected with a counteragent that extinguishes the effects of the artificial plak-tau. The po-zung can last anywhere from 10 to 32 hours, but usually lasts about 14 hours. This gives both the mind and the body time to recover from the chemically induced plak-tau effect. [[Author's note: This condition is my own creation and is not based in Trek canon.]]

(19) A quote from "Inner Work: Using Dreams and Active Imagination for Personal Growth" by Robert A. Johnson. (1989) , page 166.

(20) Ram-Kid: Vulcan for "yellow feather"