New: Amid the Great Greys
Codes: TOS; K/S; A/U
Rating: PG-13
Author: Rae Trail
Notes: Part 3 of a 4 part; Out of the Big Black, Onto the Deep Blue,
Amid the Great Greys, and (WIP) Beneath the Azure Skies. If you
haven't read Big Black and Deep Blue, you won't understand where
this trekiverse sits in my timeline or have a grip on my original
characters, though I hope both can stand alone. Check them out at
www.allslash.org/~raetrail where this will soon be archived.
Archives: ASCEM, Allslash; others ask please.
Feedback: raetrail @ yahoo . ca without the spaces, of course
Warnings: Unqualified acceptance of same sex relationships.
Apologies: Sailors and meteorologists who know what I'm lying about.
Disclaimer: Paramount and Viacom own the characters of Kirk and
Spock. I think Diane Duane invented 'Rihannsu', ch'Rihan and all
things Romulan as here-in quoted. Ma'am, I hope you forgive me, but
I think I done good with them. Otherwise, this work is my own. No
infringement is meant, and no money is made. God bless all fanfic
writers and keep us, wholly.
Out of the Big Black
My lover came back to me
Onto the Deep Blue
He will come again
Amid the Great Greys
We shall sail the sea
Beneath the Azure Skies
We will come, and come again!
Amid the Great Greys
James T. Kirk heard Mike's startled yelp and shot to his feet, following his
second mate's pointing finger to the disaster unfolding in the sky
above them. A plume of smoke, trailing behind something falling to
Earth, and burning as it fell. It seemed to be coming directly toward
the CloudDance, but at sea distances were strangely deceptive,
especially in the relative calm they were experiencing today; no large
swells, no chop, only the limitless horizon.
"Oh, god help them," he whispered, his experience and imagination
taking him aboard the doomed ship. He whirled around again. "Mike!
Mark where they fall, don't take your eyes off them. North! North!
Into the starboard boat now! Kim, get the drifter down and throw out
the sea anchor!" /Spock, alert SARSAT, there's a vessel of some sort
crashing into the sea nearby/ /At once, Jim/ Kirk was scrambling out
of the cockpit as he continued giving orders. "Kim, Andros, get rope
into the boat. Mike, you got them?" A horrible whistling noise was
growing louder in the air around him.
"They're gonna hit!"
Too busy getting over the side into the wooden skiff, Kirk didn't look
at the impact, but heard the smash, and the screeching hiss; they
couldn't be far away. "Eyes on them, Mike! Here's my hand, step
down. Take the tiller. Okay, North, pull! Andros, you and Kim get
suited up and into the other boat! Demi!" he bellowed, "Launch the
second skiff and take the helm!"
He took an oar, both he and North rowing hard as Mike steered them
toward the crash point. /SARSAT acknowledges. Vessel type and
occupants unknown. They await further information/ /Standby the
radio, Spock/ "How far, Mike?"
"Another two hundred meters. Here comes the shock wave." The
boat lifted suddenly, then dove down into a trough before settling
again into the normal swell of the ocean.
Kirk felt Spock's concern, and their twin sons' distress, through their
shared family bond. He tried to remain calm, not wanting to make this
worse for the boys than it already was.
The sea was still steaming around the small vessel. Kirk sized it up as
they skimmed toward it; half submerged, it had the look of a private
yacht, though any markings that had been on the hull had been
destroyed in the heat of its descent. As soon as the skiff touched the
blackened hull Kirk was out of the wooden boat and up on the hull of
the fallen spacecraft. The hatch was topmost; at least they'd had the
luck of landing right side up. The wheel mounted in its centre was
large and turned easily; though Kirk knew he was probably burning his
hands, his adrenalin level registered no pain. He spun the hatch lock
fast, yelling over his shoulder. "Rope! North, get a rope to me."
The end of length of ten-tonne filament snaked over the hatch even as
Kirk pulled it open. Smoke billowed up at him. He peered into the
dark interior of the little craft and swore. "Mike, stay in the skiff and
secure the rope. North, get over here and brace it, I'm going in."
"Captain! It's too dangerous, the whole thing is settling lower!"
"Shut up and get over here, North!" He slid around and lowered his
legs through the hatch, then dropped down into the ship, taking the
rope end with him. He landed in the shockingly cold water, almost up
to his thighs already and with the strong current that suggested a major
structural failure below the waterline.
He didn't have long.
The atmosphere inside was still thick with smoke, but clearing, though
the little craft was groaning awfully. Kirk, coughing, swept the small
room with his arms wide, finding the central chair, the control
consoles, but no people. Then he stumbled as something in the cold
water thumped against his hip. Reacting instantly, he pulled the body
of one of the ship's occupant up from the steadily rising water. His
hands brushed over the stranger's head as he rearranged his grip, and
he felt the definitively pointed ears.
/Vulcan!/ He felt Spock's surprise through their bond. He staggered
over to the hatch and grabbed for the rope, supporting the unconscious
alien with one arm, his task made easier by the rising water. Shifting
position, he made to tie the rope around the other's chest, intending to
secure him and search for others, when suddenly the deck below him
lurched. There was a screech of distressed metal, and the icy water
surged around him. Then, with a thud and a groan, the ship tilted and
water began to cascade through the hatch onto his head.
He was swept off his feet, one hand on the rope and the other holding
the Vulcan. Out of time. Fighting the flood from below and above, he
managed to get the rope around his own torso and tied it tightly, then
grabbed the Vulcan firmly under both arms. "Pull! North, pull me
up!" he yelled, as the water rose around his chest. He knew it was
impossible for his first mate to actually raise him, but he hoped she
could at least keep him from drowning.
She pulled like the devil incarnate. /Of course/ he thought, inanely,
/she used to haul crab pots for a living./ He felt Spock's horror, and
slammed his shield down against the pain.
It was like being sawn in half. The pressure of the rope bit into his
back and across his chest and under his arms, dragging him up against
the force of the water coming down. Before he had time to draw a
breath he was under water, the ship sinking around him, the river of
water a torrent. Kicking and flailing with his legs he tried to follow
the pull of the rope, the weight in his arms almost unbearable. Sparks
were dancing behind his eyes when the pressure suddenly eased and he
shot out of the hatch to the surface.
He drew in a great lungful of air, pulling the Vulcan's head up beside
his own, and then looked around wildly, coughing and spluttering.
Kim and Andros were pulling up in the second skiff, both in dry suits,
with Demi at the tiller. The other skiff was swamped, Mike and North
clinging to it, and to the other end of the rope under his arms. Kirk
kicked toward the second boat, the cold finally beginning to numb his
exhausted limbs. In seconds Kim was over the side, helping him to lift
his burden into the skiff, then pushing him in after, Demi hauling on
his arms. Andros had already begun mouth to mouth on the
unconscious Vulcan. Kirk sprawled in the boat, too spent to even try
getting the rope untied.
"Is he alive?" he managed. North was hoisting herself into the skiff;
she tumbled down beside Andros and felt the Vulcan's side.
"Heart's beating."
Mike fell in beside him, and then Kim climbed back over the side and
attached the other boat's painter to a cleat on the rail. "You okay,
Captain?"
"No. But I will be." He let his shields fall and sent a wave of love to
his partner. /Spock, we'll need a healer for this fellow/ /I have alerted
SARSAT. They refuse to give any information regarding his ship or
his accident/ /I wonder why?/
The Vulcan coughed suddenly. Andros rolled him onto his side and a
gush of water came out of his mouth. He began to breath on his own,
and Andros sat back with a grin. "Well, that's good. Kim, Demi, grab
an oar, let's get these folks aboard CloudDance before they all die
from the cold."
"Mike," Kirk rasped, "drop a dye marker and transponder on the spot,
and triangulate a position. There may have been others, but it's too
deep to dive. They'll need a jason to go after it."
It was a slow journey back, in an over-loaded boat dragging the
swamped skiff behind them. Mike managed to undo the rope from
around Kirk's chest and peeled it gently away; it had cut him through
his sweater and shirt, and there was blood staining it liberally. "That's
gonna be sore as hell tomorrow, Captain."
"It's sore as hell now, Mike. North, you okay?"
"Ask me after you issue the rum, Captain." She was hugging her
knees, teeth chattering. "God, I hope no one else was on board that
thing."
**
Many hands helped them lift the Vulcan onto the ship. Kirk accepted
assistance as well; he was having trouble lifting his arms and
suspected he might have popped a couple of ribs during his battle with
the ocean. When he was firmly on deck the twins grabbed a leg each,
hugging him tightly, their anxiety coming clearly through the parental
bond. Kirk ruffled their straight blond hair and smiled down into
identical pairs of hazel eyes. "I'm okay, boys. Let go, I have a lot to
do."
They released him after another moment of sending their worry and
love directly to him, and stood back as Spock regarded him gently.
"That was, perhaps, an unnecessary act of heroism, Jim. The ship
might not have sunk, had you left the hatch closed until we brought out
the portable field generator."
"Maybe. Hard to know. How is he?"
"He is breathing. A doctor should be here within minutes, to see to
both of you." Jim nodded and began to walk toward the cockpit; his
knees gave way suddenly, and he found Spock's arm around his waist,
supporting him.
"Damn. That took a lot out of me."
"Yes. And still is, by the blood on your clothing. Come below, and
let me tend it while we await the doctor. There is more trouble than
you know of, Jim. Starfleet has contacted us and they are sending
down a representative."
"For the Vulcan? Huh, I wonder what he's done!" Kirk winced as his
shoulder grazed the door of their chamber. "Did they give you any
hint?"
"No." Kirk eased down onto the bed and Spock squatted before him,
looking over the ruined sweater. "This would be best cut off."
"I agree. Last thing I want to do is raise my arms."
**
Samuel Sovel Kirk cha'Spock peered into the main companionway of
his home, then turned and touched his younger brother, James Sevek
Kirk cha'Spock. Younger by a total of 7.25 minutes, his father had
told them. Sometimes Jimmy sat still and just let 7.25 minutes go by,
and it seemed like a very long time. It gave Sam precedence in their
relationship; anyway, he always had the better ideas. Jimmy nodded
and followed his older brother out of the cabin, past the elders, and
into the side cabin that held the strange Vulcan. As he eased through
the door Jimmy glanced back, and saw his father's dark eyes on him.
"Father saw us," he hissed. Sammy shrugged.
"Father always sees us," he replied. "If it was bad for us to be here, he
would have stopped us, right?"
"Papa told us to stay put." Arnold, the ship's cat, grazed his ankles as
she made her way out of the room, and Jimmy stooped to rub her as
she passed.
"Papa worries too much." Sam tiptoed over to the bed and gazed
down at the unconscious man. "He looks like us. I mean, more than
like Father."
Jimmy joined him. The stranger had fair hair, and high pointed ears,
and a skin tone that looked like theirs from their mainly outdoor
lifestyle, tanned and recently sun-touched in a brighter hue. As they
watched, the stranger roused, and opened startlingly green eyes.
"Hi," Sammy offered. The green eyes blinked. "You're okay. Papa
rescued you."
The stranger licked his lips and his eyes narrowed. "Where is this?
Why is the room moving?" His Standard was good, with an unusual
accent.
"It's our ship. We live here. I'm Sam Kirk, and this is my brother
Jim." As was their habit, the boys used their Human names when they
spoke in Standard. "What's your name?"
"Kirk?" He looked around the small room. "This is the famous boat
of Kirk and Spock?"
"That's our Papa and our Father," Sammy replied, accepting as fact
that his parents' home must be famous. "And CloudDance isn't a
boat, she's a ship. Boats are small. What's your name?" The stranger
looked at him again and sat up slowly, then his eyes shifted toward the
door.
"Move away from the bed, boys."
Jim and Sam turned to see their papa standing just inside the room,
Father right behind him. There were others further back, but it was
Papa, with his sternest voice and fierce look that the boys paid
attention to. "Papa," Sammy began, "we just wanted to..."
He got no further. The Vulcan's arm snaked out and grabbed him,
hauling him onto the bed. Sam cried out in surprise, but not fear: in
his whole young life no one had ever harmed him or meant him ill.
His papa started forward, but froze as the stranger spoke. "Come no
closer. You will not harm me, for his sake."
The grip on his arm was very tight, and hurt. Sam turned to the
stranger and shook his head. "No one is going to hurt you. Papa saved
your life."
"Hush, child, you know nothing of the ways of your elders. Hush."
"Ambar l'Ehera, Prince Ambar," Father's voice rumbled, speaking in
flawless Rihannsu. It startled Sammy; he understood the language
instantly though he didn't recall ever hearing it before. Like how he
had understood Vulcan two years ago, when he'd first heard it spoken
while sitting on his father's lap. Worse, Sammy could hear the naked
anger in Father's voice and feel it down his bond; it made him shiver
because it took a lot to make Father angry. A lot. "Where is your
honour? You are much stronger than he is. You will damage his arm.
If you do so, I assure you I will return the favour. He is correct; no
one here will hurt you."
Sammy whimpered softly as the grip on his arm tightened, then bit his
lip to hold the sound in as the Rihannsu spoke. "I am not a child, nor
stupid. My people have signed no treaties with yours. I will
bargain with you for this little one's safety. I have not come this far to
end in prison, or to be tortured for information about my family and
my people."
Father cocked his head. "Why have you come?" Sammy could feel
the Rihannsu's fear through the tight grip on his arm. Fear, and
shame, and a feeling that he couldn't name but remembered from the
time he had talked Jimmy out of wearing his life jacket and Jimmy had
almost drowned. It made him squirm. He passed those emotions on to
his father through their family bond, and his father nodded abruptly.
"You know of me, so you must also know that I do not lie, Ambar
l'Ehera. No prison awaits your patience, nor does the Federation
interrogate refugees seeking asylum here. But if you harm my son, I
will not hesitate to kill you."
Ambar, the Rihannsu, swallowed noisily. He abruptly released Sam's
arm. Sam rubbed the sore spot lightly. "You spoke rightly; I am
without honour, to hide behind a child. Go to your people, little one. I
cannot be trusted."
"Don't be silly. You were scared, that's all." Sam climbed off the bed
and turned back to Ambar. "Are you really a prince?"
"No, child. I am nothing."
"Sam." It was Papa's warning voice. "Let the doctor look at your
arm."
"It doesn't hurt anymore, Papa."
"Now, Sam."
Sam knew better than to argue with that tone. He padded to the door,
where the pretty redheaded doctor waited. Jimmy watched him go,
and then followed silently at a nod from his father. Jimmy paused
outside the door and listened, curious about how his papa, whose anger
still resonated through their family bond, would deal with this strange
prince who wasn't a prince and had threatened his brother.
"Was there anyone else aboard your craft?"
"No. No one else."
"Good." There was a moment of silence that even Jimmy's sharp ears
couldn't interpret. "The doctor says there's nothing wrong with you
but too much smoke and not enough food. There's a head... a
washroom area, through that door. Shower, you'll feel better with the
smell of smoke off of you. Mike will find you some clothes; you're
about his size. Once you're dressed again, come out to the salon and
we'll discuss what to do next."
Silence. Papa came out the door, followed by Father, and Jimmy
looked up at them, expecting a reprimand at least. But Papa ruffled his
hair and smiled down at him. "Go tell Raven to whip up something for
Ambar, son. And tell Mike I want to see him."
"Yes, Papa. I'm sorry..."
"I know. Next time I ask you to stay put..."
"I'll stay put. Even if Sam doesn't. Yes, sir."
End Part 1 of 6
* * * * *
"At sea a fellow comes out. Salt water is like wine, in that respect.
Herman Melville (1819–1891)
Spock checked that his sons were clear on their instructions to remain
in their rooms until they had completed a study session on Humpback
feeding patterns in the area. Four Terran years old they might be, but
they were as involved with the whales as anyone aboard the
CloudDance, and mature in their curiosity and ability to understand the
cetaceans.
That understanding had come back to the forefront of Spock's mind
when he had realized, with a shock, that Sam had understood what
Spock had said to the strange Rihannsu in his own language. He had
never taught the children the cetacean languages, simply accepting that
they learned quickly, as did all children. He recalled his surprise two
years ago, that the boys had understood Vulcan without any teaching.
At the time he had put it down to their close family bond; the boys
must simply have absorbed the language that their father thought in
most frequently. But for Sam to understand Rihannsu was beyond
Spock's comprehension. He realized that there was a good deal more
to his little sons' telepathy than merely Vulcan abilities would account
for, at their age.
They seemed to be spontaneously absorbing complex patterns directly
from foreign minds, without the formality of, or training in, the mind
meld. Observing them from the door of their room, he had another
strange thought, and tested it immediately.
"James Sevek," he said in Rihannsu, "you have a shown greater
understanding of these feeding patterns than your brother. Be sure to
assist him if he fails to comprehend any of the concepts."
"Of course, Father," Jimmy answered absently. Spock blocked hard to
keep this fresh shock from surging through the family bond, and
backed quickly out of the room.
What one knew, both knew. Impossible, and yet... quod erat
demonstratum, Jimmy had answered him. It was unfathomable.
Spock and Jim had that sort of bond; the ability to understand exactly
what was being communicated in any language by either of them; thus
Spock understood Universal Bimanual Sign, basic Orion, Tellarite,
French and Spanish, and Jim understood Vulcan, Klingon, Latin,
Greek, and Rihannsu. The implications of Sammy and Jimmy having
that sort of bond were frightening to him. Frightening, distasteful, and
potentially disastrous.
They did not share a mind, he knew that, for his sons were very
different people who had different thought patterns, and who acted,
reacted, learned and played in very different ways. And yet... both
now understood formal Rihannsu, a language they had never heard
spoken before Sammy had heard it, just now, while in contact with the
alien.
Could they have picked it up from Spock at some time in the past?
Out of a dream, or during one of the odd times he had read in the
language these last years? If they had, what other concepts and
paradigms had they picked up, stored, and would someday use when a
context presented itself? Adult sexuality? Geon physics? Temporal
paradox theory?
What, exactly, were his sons?
It was time, and past time, for formal training in the mind rules,
regardless of where and how Sammy and Jimmy had learned
Rihannsu. Spock filed this resolution to discuss with his mate later,
and rejoined the adults in the ship's salon. Kirk was sitting on the
couch, leaning forward with his knees on his elbows. His scorched
hands, severe rope burns, sprained shoulders and dislocated ribs had
been treated, but he was still uncomfortable. Across from him at the
table were Admiral Felix Imhasa, Vice President Mithwendal, and first
mate North, who was nursing a tumbler-full of rum. The doctor had
departed. Ambar l'Ehera had not yet joined them.
"Spock, sit down," Jim said, nodding toward the couch beside him.
Spock settled in the indicated spot and waited. As was her wont,
Arnold immediately appeared and jumped into his lap for attention.
Spock absently scratched the cat's ears and it settled, purring. "It
seems that our visitor created quite a fuss, leaving the Empire for
Earth. The Federation has been accused of kidnapping him. There
might be trouble."
Ambar appeared in the doorway at that moment, looking rumpled but
almost Human in a cable knit cream sweater over faded denim pants.
An expression of alarm crossed his face. "I left there by my own
choice," he said, having heard Kirk's last remarks.
Mithwendal swivelled its eyes toward the youth, who visibly flinched.
Spock realized that Ambar could never have encountered a Sulamid
before. Nor a Human, for that matter. His control, given that
knowledge and Rihannan isolationist policy, was admirable.
"Ambar l'Ehera, I presume," Mithwendal chirped, its translator giving
correct Standard over its strange, piping voice. The translator voice
was mechanical, and had strange pauses while it waited for Sulamid
grammar to make sense, but Ambar seemed enthralled. "We have
received an ultimatum from the Praetor, demanding that you be
returned at once or the Federation will face a fleet designed to fetch
you back. They are massing along the border of the Neutral Zone.
That does not sound as if they believe you came voluntarily."
"I did." Spock watched the youth slump into a chair and scrub tiredly
at his face. "They will not come after me. It is just a show, a means of
rallying people to the Praetor against the Federationists back home.
Blame you for kidnapping me, and the treaty gets put back another
decade."
Spock found himself admiring the idiomatic quality of Ambar's
Standard. There was a moment of silence. Spock pushed Arnold off
of his lap and the cat, affronted, sat on the floor and licked its shoulder
at him. He ignored the animal and steepled his hands in front of him,
elbows on knees, and spoke in the youth's language. "Why did you
run away, Prince?"
Ambar winced, and responded in Standard. "Don't call me that. I am
not a prince, I cannot be. They would never have let me rule from the
Seat of Power. I'm not... I am not what they want. It is posturing,
nothing more. You will see, in a few cycles they will forget all about
me, and name my younger brother as the successor."
"Why?" Spock insisted, albeit gently. Ambar coloured a faint green,
and dropped his eyes. Spock remembered stories about this young
man as a boy, snickered tales told in half-whispers. Remembered
looks and the hisses of disapproval when the boy was mentioned, even
in private. He said a single word, and Ambar turned away even
further, colouring more deeply. Agreement. Spock looked up at
Mithwendal.
"Mister Vice President, Prince Ambar is homosexual. It is a crime in
the Empire. I believe that is the root of his reason for seeking asylum
here."
"Well, I'll be an albino Tellarite," Mithwendal hissed. The image
startled Spock. "I didn't know they were still prosecuting on that old
law. How barbaric."
"Barbaric or not, it's the law on my homeworld," Ambar responded,
almost whispering.
"You would have to marry, to assume the Seat of Power," Spock said,
more to illuminate the non-Rihannsu present than to seek Ambar's
agreement. "A forced marriage, and the requirement for procreating.
If your family was aware of your homosexuality, you would also face
a constant watch, and never be allowed a relationship with another
male that might lead to sex, much less love and romance. A life-long
subterfuge."
"Yes." Ambar looked up. "I argued with my mother about it. Long
and hard. I had a friend, you see. But she found out." He looked
away again. "I never saw him again. I don't think he's still alive. She
could not have allowed him to live, knowing my secret, which was
really not much of a secret anymore. I hate her for that. I heard that
here, in the Federation, such as me are not persecuted and outlawed,
and I wanted her to suffer for what she did. I heard... and now I know
for a fact, that even the legendary Kirk and Spock..."
"We're gay, yes. We understand that it's a biological imperative, not a
choice or a perversion," Kirk said. Spock nodded, though he
personally disapproved of the use of the adjective 'gay' to describe his
own, irrevocable and unchosen, sexual orientation. Vulcans were not,
could not be, 'gay'. He left his pondering as Kirk continued. "How the
hell did you manage to find out where we were?"
"You are famous, as I said. I... I'm not a spaceship pilot, sir. I had to
use the computer from the moment I stole my mother's yacht. I didn't
know how to find you. I just, I asked the computer to fly the ship to
the place I was most likely to find you. I hoped that you would
understand why I had to come."
"And your ship flew you within a half a kilometre," Spock finished.
"That was an excessively audacious, ingenious, and dangerous, thing
to do."
"I didn't know that." He bit his lip, and absently rubbed the tip of one
ear. "I cannot let her use this against the Federation. The treaty is so
close now."
"If you went back, you yourself could push the treaty through once
you assumed power."
"Elements, a stronger man might have that courage. You know my
mother, sir. Or at least, you know of her and have spoken to her. She
will live another hundred years. If I were to take the Seat of Power I
would have to live that long in a forced marriage, my every moment
watched. I would have to, outwardly, espouse the policy and law that
discriminates against me. And even when I did ascend, it would be as
little more than a puppet for the Senate, were my true nature known or
even widely suspected. I would have no more power then than I do
now, and my people deserve a strong hand on the reins of power. My
brother will do well; he is ruthless and clever, and also clearheaded
and able for reform and change. He will rule beside her until her
death, and take over easily. I would not even have a voice in her
councils, for she despises me already."
Silence fell in the little room. As if sensing the sadness and tension,
Arnold gave up her bath and scampered out the door. "And if you
went back now," Kirk said softly, "it would be even worse than if you
had never left."
"Prison, for whatever time she allowed me to live until she could
arrange a suitable accident, or immure me in some religious house."
Ambar agreed. "But I will not go back, not even to save a war
between her people and yours."
"Her people?" Mithwendal's eyes were twinkling on their stalks.
"Prince..."
"No. Not Prince."
"Ambar, then. Would you have the courage to record a message to
your mother, telling her what you have just told us? Will you allow us
to broadcast this message into the Empire? Even if there isn't a war,
the truth must be told or our relations with the Empire will be set back
considerably."
Spock watched the conflicting emotions play across the youthful face.
He understood well how difficult life was for those whose natures
were at odds with the rules. He and Jim had faced dismissal, disgrace,
even potentially court martial if their own relationship had come out in
the early days. Back then StarFleet had a strict policy of non-
fraternization between officers in the high chain of command aboard a
starship, and an unspoken but very real policy of excluding gay
couples from any chain of command. It had taken Jim's death and
Spock's outright and frank discussion of their relationship in his book
to explode the last of those myths, and rewrite StarFleet policy.
The Empire would be a much tougher nut to crack.
"Ambar," he said, "the revelation that even the Praetor can produce a
child who is homosexual will go a long way toward freeing others
inside the Empire. Fewer would report their neighbours and friends,
and fewer courts would prosecute. You may save countless hundreds,
even thousands, of your own people from the current policy of
castration and forced labour, if your own nature is known."
"Good god, that's never the punishment?" Admiral Imhasa spoke for
the first time.
"Hell, record that message, Ambar. And make sure you tell her that
any gay Rihannsu who seeks asylum in the Federation will be given
quick processing and preferred status as refugees from a dangerous
law, as persons whose lives are at risk. That's a shocking policy, and
it's based on ignorance and stupidity."
"My mother is not stupid," Ambar replied. "Though, perhaps,
ignorant in this area." He studied his hands for a long moment, then
looked up at Spock and nodded. "I will record this message."
"That is well." A faint noise from behind him caused him to look
around, to see Jimmy and Sam peeking around the door into the salon.
"I must assume, given your presence," he said severely, "that you have
completed the assignment I gave you."
Both little heads bobbed. Spock relaxed again. "Come in then. What
do you want?"
"We have a couple of questions, Father."
"Yes?"
Jimmy looked at his toes, then at Ambar, then straight up at his father.
"Sir, what's 'prison'?"
Jimmy nodded, and then blinked rapidly before asking, "and what's
'gay'?"
Spock heard the snorts of laughter from the other adults in the room,
and reflected that perhaps his sons hadn't pulled as much information
out of his head as he had feared. /James.../ /Oh, no, love. They asked
you/ /We will talk, you and I, later on/ /I look forward to it/ Spock
sighed deeply and stood up.
"I will explain. In your room."
**
Kirk peeled his shirt off and tossed it onto a chair in the corner. The
syntheskin around his ribs pulled slightly and he ran a hand over it, but
there was no pain and no itch there or in his hands. Good. "StarFleet
and the Federation are in discussions with the Praetor. She has
reluctantly accepted Ambar's recorded statement as authentic, and
pulled her troops off of the Zone, but still wants him back. The
President's office has asked us to keep Ambar aboard. It's safe, it's
isolated, and it's difficult to target."
"I disagree. With no skills whatsoever Ambar managed to crash his
ship within half a kilometre of CloudDance. While the boys are
onboard I consider that an unacceptable risk. If his mother should
wish to be rid of him our destruction would not be excessively difficult
for her to achieve by means similar to those Ambar employed."
Kirk watched as Spock picked up the shirt he had discarded and
moved it to its proper place, in the laundry hamper for cleaning
tomorrow. The ship had only one sonic cleaner, in the forward crew
quarters, so dirty linen sometimes collected for a day or two in their
quarters. Kirk understood Spock's objections to keeping Ambar
aboard; they mirrored his own when the request had been made, and so
he carefully outlined the steps he had taken to safeguard CloudDance.
"Planetary security levels have already been raised, but I agree with
you. And so I have changed all our logged sailplans, removed our
transponder ID, and reissued our manifest to show that neither Ambar,
nor you and I, are aboard. Officially this ship is now dry-docked in
Vancouver for a complete overhaul, we are in the South Pacific on
vacation, and Ambar is under surveillance at an 'undisclosed location'
in Northern Europe. Even you couldn't find us, and you're the best
hacker in the Federation."
He smiled as Spock flushed lightly at the sideways praise and then
gracefully capitulated. "Ambar did, specifically, seek us out. I am
certain that we can be an influence for good, and assist him in
adjusting to life outside the Empire, and his mother's court. I approve
of your safety precautions and agree."
"Thanks. I think we'll be good for the boy." He crossed the room and
wrapped his arms around his husband. /Now, something else has been
bothering you all day/ Spock tensed in his arms and Kirk drew back
slightly. "What is it, love?"
"Jim. I am concerned about our sons."
'Our sons'. Kirk didn't like the tone of that. Usually it was 'the boys',
or even 'Jim and Sam'. "What did they do now?"
"Did you not notice that Samuel understood what was said to Ambar,
in Rihannsu?"
Kirk thought back. The moment had been so tense that he hadn't
realized it, but in retrospect, Spock was right. Sammy hadn't been
confused or upset, just curious; he had definitely followed the adult
conversation. "How can that be?"
"I am at a loss to explain it. It appears that Samuel has either
subconsciously absorbed the language from me, during the few times
in his life I have had to use it in research or reading, or he simply
'picked it up' from Ambar himself through their contact."
Now it was Kirk who tensed. He really didn't like that idea. His mind
raced over the possibilities it implied, and he felt his mouth setting in a
grim frown. "Either way, that's damned dangerous. If he and Jimmy
are able to do that, to spy on another mind even unconsciously, what
else might they be picking up? Or is it just Sam?"
"It is worse than just Sam. Jimmy seemed to get it from Samuel
automatically, without effort or action. Just as you do, from me, and I
from you."
Shock rooted Kirk momentarily to the deck, and then he let his arms
fall when he realized he was gripping Spock tightly. He took a step
back, and began to pace the small room, unable to contain the energy
his sudden fear gave him. "Do you mean to tell me that they have
some sort of bond?"
"Yes. But I do not know what sort, or how deep it goes, or if they
have any control over it. I do not know anything about this sort of
telepathy. It is outside of Vulcan experience."
Outside of Vulcan experience. Damn. Kirk took another turn around
the room and stopped by the porthole. /what do we do about it?/
"I suggest that we contact a skilled Vulcan mind teacher, and ask her
to do a complete analysis of our sons' abilities. Further, it might assist
us to contact the Human esper society, PsiCorp, and request their
assistance, and perhaps enlist a Betazoid adept as well. This ability,
whatever it is, is a product of their mixed heritage and might be a
wholly new development in Human and Vulcan mental processes; it
behoves us to explore every possibility."
"I won't have the boys turned into lab rats."
"Nor would I. But I cannot fathom this alone; I am skilled in the mind
rules and the normal range of Vulcan abilities, but this is beyond me.
Unprecedented."
Kirk felt a stab of fear for his little sons. Not the first of their kind,
perhaps, as Vulcan/Human hybrids, but they were the first that were so
carefully designed from two male partners one of whom was hybrid
already. Their early months had been a constant battle by their parents
to get the researchers out of the nursery, and their moving onto
CloudDance once the boys were vocal and toddling, well ahead of
their age mates whether Vulcan or Human, had been a relief for the
whole family. "We'd have to set the ground rules, and I want every
moment supervised. Every moment."
"That can be done. Once we drop anchor in Sitka Sound we will have
several weeks during which you will be largely unoccupied."
"But I'm not the telepath in this relationship!"
"You have the same bond to our sons as I do, Jim. You will be able to
sense instantly if they are distressed. As I would be."
It was sensible. Kirk took another turn around the room, stopping at
the door to the boys' cabin. He opened it carefully and peered in at the
sleeping children. The surge of love that lit him up was familiar after
4 years, but as precious to him now as on the first time he had held the
little people in his arms and known them for his own flesh. He sighed
and eased the door shut. "I want what's best for them, of course."
"I will make the arrangements immediately. We will have one extra
cabin during the season, or if necessary the specialists can commute
via transporter."
Kirk nodded, and returned to embrace Spock. /I hope it's not... not
bad. What they can do/ /Nothing is intrinsically bad in either of our
natures, Jim/ Spock replied, /nor in theirs. Control and understanding
are required/
What a development. Kirk squeezed his mate tightly and then released
him to finish preparing for bed. He felt and heard Spock moving away
and out of the room; when Spock said 'immediately', he meant it. He
would probably have telepathic specialists on board before they
reached the Sound.
Sooner the better, he supposed. Yawning, he went to brush his teeth.
* * * * *
O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gush'd from my heart,
And I bless'd them unaware
Samuel Taylor Coleridge "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"
Ambar carefully mounted the narrow stairs that led into the cockpit of
the sailing boat, finding the motion easily upset his balance. Mike, the
second mate (how informal they all were!) had warned him to always
'keep one hand for the ship', and he was finding that advice very
useful indeed. The Element of Water didn't manifest herself this
prominently on ch'Rihan; he found the ocean intimidating in many
ways.
The boat (Ship, he remembered again. Ship) was large, he was given
to understand, though it seemed very small indeed given the size of the
rooms (tiny) and the size of the ocean (vast). Raven, the chef, had told
him that there were only 14 people aboard right now, though Ambar,
seeing them coming and going that morning from his seat in the dining
room (No, salon. Dining room, living room, meeting room, all
combined in one space.) had thought there were many more than 14.
Not surprising, he supposed, that he couldn't really tell them apart yet.
Most were Humans, and all Humans looked alike to him, especially
those of similar skin tones.
Mike, now, he was easy to tell apart, with his dark brown skin, almost
black, and his kinky black hair. And Raven had a different sort of face
than the others, with high, round cheeks. Captain Kirk, of course, was
easy to spot in the crowd, but the others were still blending together in
their brownish or pinkish skins. He supposed he would be able to tell
them apart soon, if he were allowed to stay here awhile.
Arnold, the cat, he liked. He had heard that Humans kept pets, and
was relieved that it was so. It was the most Rihannan thing about
them, though it appeared that Spock was the animal's favourite person
on board. The Vulcan couldn't sit down without the cat leaping on
him. Perhaps because of his higher body temperature. Arnold seemed
to think Ambar was a decent being, as well, and accorded him the
same disdainful attention she accorded others.
They were sailing now. He'd been alarmed when he woke up to find
the bed slanted at such an angle that he was rolled against the wall, and
to feel the forward and backward bucking motion that the ship made as
it crested each wave and slid down the next. Raven had given him
breakfast, and he had sat at the big table waiting for further
instructions until the cook had given him an odd look and asked why
he didn't go up top for some air, as he was looking a little green.
Ambar didn't point out that he always looked a little green. The
reddish-brown skinned man might have taken offence.
He poked his head up and peered around. There was a group of
Humans, and Spock, sitting in the large well that the ladder led to, the
cockpit. They were hunched over various screens, and many were
wearing earphones. Ambar wondered what relationship all of them
had to each other, and what they were listening to. Behind them
another Human stood alone, holding onto a big wheel; he realized she
was steering the vessel. Her hair was mostly grey, and she looked
competent and serious, like a senior Centurion. She nodded at him,
acknowledging his presence without censure. Heartened, he climbed
up the last couple of steps and clung to the railing, looking forward
along the deck, and then upward.
He gasped aloud at the sight of the sails. Sheets and sheets of white,
all taut in the wind, arching high over his head and all the way to the
front of the boat. They flashed and creaked in the wind and the sun.
Ambar tore his eyes from the magnificent expanse of white, and turned
his gaze to the sea.
Amazing.
They were bounding over waves as big as houses, rolling along on
either side of the ship, and the sea was glistening like broken glass in
the sunlight. Stretching his senses he tasted the air; salt, salt and
something else, something fresh and clean. Up here the sound that had
worried him last night, of the sea running against the outside of the
ship, was transformed into a rushing noise that was, strangely,
exhilarating.
He felt free. Tears sprang to his eyes. He had never, ever, in his life
felt free before, and now that he was here, a virtual prisoner on a ship,
on the oceans of Terra, among his people's enemies, he felt free for the
first time.
"Need a hand, Ambar?"
"I don't think I dare go further, sir," he said, looking up into the hazel
eyes of Captain Kirk. "The floor slants so."
"It's called a deck, Ambar, and once you're used to it you'll be
moving around up here as freely as you do on dry land. Come on up."
He accepted the invitation and the steadying grip of the Human, and
mounted the side of the cockpit to stand on the deck proper. Kirk
pointed out the safety rails and Ambar gripped one tightly. "Can you
swim?" Kirk asked.
Ambar shook his head, and Kirk turned away, called something down
into the hatch that Ambar had emerged from minutes before. After a
pause, Raven's head appeared, and Kirk leaned down to take
something from him. "I won't subject you to a full floatation jacket,
Ambar, but I want you to wear this at all times," he said, attaching
something to the front of Ambar's borrowed sweater. "It's an
emergency transporter token. If you fall overboard, it will alert the
search and rescue satellite after 30 full seconds of immersion in
seawater, and they'll beam you directly back aboard the ship. Don't
be embarrassed by it, I make all the scientists wear them all the time.
One of them goes over the side at least once a week, and when we're
sailing like this it's a long time coming about and fishing them out.
Much longer than 30 seconds, and this water is damned cold."
"No, sir. I mean, I'll remember, sir."
"Come on, let me show you my ship."
Within a very few minutes Ambar's head was spinning with all the
new words and concepts he was trying to absorb. He didn't dare
interrupt Kirk to tell him he had hit his threshold for new things in one
morning, but just stood dazed, listening and nodding now and then. A
sudden 'whoop!' from the front of the deck startled him, but Kirk
stopped talking and looked forward to where Mike was standing in the
bows.
"Land ho, Captain!" Mike shouted back to them. Kirk stared, then
grinned and pointed for Ambar's benefit.
"See that dark line under that band of cumulous clouds? That's the
outer edge of Moresby Island, in the Charlotte Reserve. Part of the
Haida/Tshimshian protected area, where Raven's from. We pass
northwest of it, and tomorrow early we should be arriving at Sitka
Sound." Ambar just looked blank, and Kirk seemed finally to realize
he was talking past his listener's understanding. "It's the stopping
point for the whale migration we're following. Actually, they're
following us, right now. We'll meet them in their late summer feeding
grounds."
Summer, Ambar understood. Horrified, he shivered and stared at
Kirk. "This is summer?"
Kirk chuckled. "We'll keep you warm enough, Ambar-kam," he
replied, obviously understanding. Ambar flushed slightly at the
familial diminutive, kam, and ducked his head.
"I don't mean to be troublesome."
"It's a bit late for that. I have to go below and check our course. Will
you be alright on your own up here for a while?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good man."
Ambar found he was adjusting automatically to the movement of the
ship after a remarkably short time, and carefully made his way
forward, curious about the ship. It seemed much larger on the outside
than it had on the inside, and the movement was simultaneously
soothing and invigorating. The slight achy feeling in his lungs that
he'd had since waking yesterday was gone in this clean, cool air. He
leaned on the railing and looked down at the way the hull was cutting
through the water, then leapt back in shock as a grey torpedo shape
loomed out of the dark blue depths, skimmed the surface below him,
and vanished. His leap backwards propelled him against something
poking out of the deck and he stumbled, losing his balance badly.
A strong hand caught his arm and checked his fall. "Whoa there,
Ambar. One hand for the ship, remember?"
It was Mike. Ambar gripped the railing again and turned to him
excitedly. "I saw something! A large grey thing, swimming, in the
water..."
Mike nodded and smiled, leaning over the side and peering down. "It's
Moresby J pod, they picked us up a couple of hours ago. We'll lose
them off the Charlotte Reserve though; they don't go much further
north than this. You'll see more of their people in Sitka Sound once
we are anchored. Sitka D pod spends most of the summer with us.
Porpoises, Ambar. Large, intelligent maritime mammals."
"Like the whales Spock and Kirk are here to study?" Ambar was
acutely aware that Mike's arm was still around his waist, but leaned
over the side as well, finding the Human's touch warmly enjoyable.
"Smaller cousins to them, yes. Lots of fun to have around, too. Are
there no marine mammals on your homeworld?"
"No. There are no oceans such as this. I have never imagined such an
expanse of water." Ambar returned the smile, and looked down in
time to see the grey shape lift into the white wake of passing water,
skim the surface, and then vanish. "What are they doing?"
"Talking to the folks in the back, mostly. And playing. They like to
surf in the ship's wake, and ride the pressure wave at her bow... her
front end. Use it to save energy, get extra speed, and just have fun.
Porpoises and dolphins love to play."
Ambar considered all of that, then turned in the Human's grip and
looked back at the rear of the ship. "They are talking to them? I don't
hear anything."
"Most of their language isn't audible in the atmosphere, not when
they're swimming like this. It's sonar clicks, groans, whistles... I can
understand it if they're not moving around and they stick their melons
out for a chat and use their blowholes, but that's just pidgin. The
scientists back there are using headphones to listen, and sound
generators to talk." Mike squeezed him gently, smiling. "Would you
like to hear them?"
Ambar's heart stuttered. To hear, and understand, another creature so
very different to himself... far more different than this Human in front
of him. To meet that strange creature, their Vice President, yesterday,
had been very exciting by itself. To meet creatures that lived
underwater... "I would like to hear them. Perhaps I can learn this
language. I speak all the languages of home, I find language
fascinating."
Mike grinned widely. "You came to the right boat, then. Come on,
it's no problem. There's always a spare pair of ears around." The arm
around his waist vanished, but Ambar's excitement in this new
enterprise made him almost not notice the loss of contact.
**
The 'whhooosh' of a whale's hot breath, followed closely by the
stench of rotten fish over the ever-present salty tang of the air, woke
Jim Kirk just moments before the excited hollering of his second mate
sounded on deck.
"They're here!" Michael yelled. Kirk rolled over and peered out the
open porthole behind him at the grey light of dawn, then glanced at the
clock. 0330 local. Spock's side of the bed was empty, and appeared
not to have been slept in at all. A quick check down their bond found
his mate on deck, earphones on. Jim slid to the edge of the bed and
pulled on his flannel boxers, then padded across to the children's
room.
The soundproofing in the boys' room was still on, and he blessed
Spock for remembering that little detail. With the whales' arrival, and
the expected appearance of several 'experts' on telepathy, the day
would be exciting enough for Samuel Sovel and James Sevik Kirk
cha' Spock. It took a minimum of 10 hours of solid sleep to produce
two reasonably mannered 4 year olds every day, and the short northern
nights didn't help. Jim peered at the two bundles in their bunks,
wrapped warmly in thermal quilts; Sam had his feet on his pillow, as
usual, while Jimmy appeared not to have moved once since they had
been put to bed at 0800 the night before. His blond hair even looked
combed, except where the little pointed ears poked out of it. Kirk
padded back out silently and engaged the soundproofing again before
getting dressed and letting himself out into the companionway that led
to the galley.
North was seated at the table, yawning over a cup of coffee and
reading a weather graphic on the table's built in screen. She glanced
up at him and turned the screen as he entered. "Raven's still sleeping,
but he left plenty of coffee. Pacific High still isn't settling back in.
We're in the cold sector of the last system still, westerly and moderate
on the outside..."
"North, do you read the stuff in your sleep? Isn't Mike still on duty?"
Kirk interrupted, pouring himself a coffee and leaning over to study
the weather map. Arnold jumped on the table to say good morning,
and Kirk pushed her off absently. The cat knew she wasn't allowed on
any surfaces that ever held food, but she was always pushing the
boundaries. "Hmmm, damp calm morning, wet and windy afternoon.
Well, summer should come back soon. We were in it all the way up."
"Ha!" North spun the screen around again and tapped it lightly, then
spun it back, displaying the weather discussion and long term forecast.
"I crabbed for years up here, remember? We were lucky last year.
Summer might never come. But it won't be rough, at least. Or... not
too rough. How's the rope burn?"
"Fine." A couple of scientists stumbled out of the forward cabins and
gave them sleepy greetings. Kirk knew he had been introduced when
they'd beamed in the previous night, but couldn't remember their
names now. They were new this year; young women out of the
University of Hawaii, dismayed at the temperature on their arrival.
Kirk grunted hello, but North returned their greeting with a polite "Did
you sleep well?"
"Not for long enough," one of them replied. "Is there anything to
eat?"
"Raven doesn't come on duty for another hour," North replied. "Until
then there's coffee in that thermos, and cereal bars in the containers
there. Raven doesn't allow anyone to use his stove, mess in his pantry,
or open his fridge."
"Don't you have a replicator?"
"No," Kirk said shortly, refilling his coffee and heading for the
companionway again to go topside. Behind him he heard the offended
silence, then North's casual remark: "The captain doesn't like
replicated food. He spent most of his life in space, you know."
"Oh. Well, I only want coffee anyway."
The sky was nearly as bright as day already. Kirk automatically
checked his ship's position relative to the near shore, and then scanned
the horizon as he made his way forward to check the set of the anchor.
To the north, east and west the mountains rose around Sitka Sound,
their peaks still capped with snow despite the time of year. The ocean
opened up to the south, dotted with islands. Everything was intensely
green and wetly grey under a broken grey sky slashed with orange,
green and yellow by the rising sun. From the south came the swell
that gently moved the ship. He passed Spock and half a dozen others
without speaking, nodded to Andros who was keeping an eye on the
scientists. It wasn't uncommon for an engrossed marine semiotician to
take a header overboard, and Kirk made certain they always had a
minder. Mike joined him in the bows, and Kirk leaned on a forestay,
looking back across the deck. "Quiet night?"
"Until the Blowfolk got here. The six scientists scheduled to leave are
gone, and seven beamed in. Manifest is on the chart table, although
unofficially, of course. We seem to be in Vancouver drydock?"
"Don't ask, and you won't suffer. North has the protocols to use in an
emergency, meanwhile we are staying off the radar."
"Okay, Captain. Ambar went below after midnight, so I don't expect
to see him until later." Kirk noticed a strange change in Mike's voice
as he said that, but his second didn't add anything, and after a moment
continued his report. "We're expecting the teachers you requested
around mid-morning. Spock has been on deck all night recording the
background noise of the Sound to use as a filter base."
"Yes, I know." Kirk sipped his coffee and looked over to where a
dozen dark shapes were rolling on the water. "That's only about half
of the pod."
"Yes, but the Matriarch is here, so the rest can't be far behind."
"Mmmm." He sipped again. "I can see the over-running cirrus layer
already. It'll be steady rain before afternoon."
"Yup. The sonics are working perfectly though. Kim and Andros will
be manning them this week. We'll be dry enough."
"Good. See you later." He sauntered back to the cockpit, this time
sending a short mental caress to his husband, and then settled onto one
of the benches to watch the long day begin.
Breakfast was a noisy, excited affair, as the various scientists
compared notes and chatted about their expectations for the summer
season in Sitka Sound. Kirk ate his breakfast standing at the chart
table, amused at having been displaced from his usual seat at the big
dining table by the newcomers. One or two of the old hands from
previous years shot him enquiring, even apologetic, looks, but Kirk
knew his suzerainty on CloudDance would be re-established within a
couple of days. Stories would be told, gossip quietly exchanged, and a
place would be made for him automatically whenever he entered a
room. "Nice smoked salmon, Raven," he offered, as the
chef/quartermaster paused in his round of galley and salon to offer a
greeting. "Local?"
"From my own village, Jim. 10 large sides, beamed in last night after
we set anchor, along with a nice bunch of roe-on-kelp. Mom says hi,
by the way. You planning to gain your customary ten kilos?"
Kirk groaned, but scooped another forkful of poached egg, smoked
salmon and hollandaise sauce into his mouth, chewed and swallowed
appreciatively before answering. "You know I will. You cook *fat*
when we're north, Raven. But it's so good I can't resist it."
"You'll lose it when we go south again. Are you taking the boys
ashore today?"
"Nope. We've arranged for some special teachers for the boys, for a
few days. We'll be onboard, likely in the aft cabins." He caught
Raven's look and shook his head. "You don't approve."
"I'm just surprised. They always go ashore in the day, or into the
drink with the whales."
"Not this time." He supposed that, ordinarily, a parent wouldn't
discuss his child's problems with a member of his staff. CloudDance
was far too small, though, and his crew too intimately involved in the
daily lives of Sam and Jimmy, for word not to get around fast. And
his crew were, one and all, individualists with firm opinions of their
own, not afraid to speak their minds. "The telepathy thing has reared
its head, Raven. The boys need help immediately, before they are too
far along for remedial training. Or so it appears. I don't want them in
contact with whales, or anyone else for that matter, until we figure our
what's happening with them."
Raven rocked slightly on his heels and frowned. "Anyone? Us, too?"
"I don't know. That's what the experts will tell us." He took another
bite of the excellent eggs and shook his head. "Unless you don't mind
them picking up Tsimshian by casual contact and understanding your
conversations with your mother after that."
"Is it likely?"
"We don't know yet." He finished the eggs and handed the plate to
the chef. "So it's house arrest for us for awhile. Where the hell is
North?" Raven had an uncanny ability to locate any crewperson,
seemingly without effort. Kirk knew it was just a knack of
observation and good hearing, but it spooked him sometimes.
"Forward, checking that sprung plank in the V-berths. Marcia is with
her."
"Thanks. Ask her to come to my office, would you?"
"Sure, Captain."
* * * * *
THERE was a child went forth every day;
And the first object he look'd upon, that object he became;
And that object became part of him for the day, or a certain part of the day, or for many years, or stretching cycles of years.
Walt Whitman "Leaves of Grass"
The boys had submitted quietly to T'Sai T'Neer, awed and self-
impressed to be the subject of a Vulcan Lady Healer's attention. She
had shown no emotion, or even interest, engaging their minds quietly
and then disengaging and sitting, silent, while Angata Mira, Betazoid
adept, had taken her place with a smile. Angata had the boys grinning
and giggling all through their telepathic interview. Kirk and Spock
had sat by in quiet parental support throughout, and felt no fear or
worry from their offspring, only the usual intelligent curiousity and a
mounting boredom.
The third specialist, Danae Rangeet, a Human member of the
PsiCorps, had simply sat and watched the proceedings with calm
interest. When Angata pulled her mind away from the boys Rangeet
smiled at Kirk. "Captain, I think that it is in all our best interests that
the boys have a little diversion for a while."
/She does not want to speak in front of them/ Spock said. Kirk
nodded. "Sam, Jim, you've been very patient. You have my
permission to play with the FlyBoy console until these three women
have bored your father and I to tears."
With dual whoops of joy, for the FlyBoy was normally off-limits
during daylight (a terrible hardship in summer) the twins bolted for
their room. Spock rose gracefully and engaged the privacy locks on
both cabins, then returned to his seat and folded his hands. "T'Sai
T'Neer."
"Professor Spock, and Captain Kirk." She was a middle-aged Vulcan,
as austere and dignified as any of her calling. "Your sons have very
interesting and agile minds. I commend their intelligence and their
level of education. However, they are undisciplined minds, even by
terran standards. Any Vulcan child who showed as little mental
restraint would be isolated."
Kirk felt a surge of fury, but reined it in and crossed his legs.
"Madam, as the boys have mostly Human gene-types and behaviours,
we have reared them in a primarily Human fashion."
"That is obvious. I have read the reports by my colleagues concerning
the assessment of the twins' mental abilities as infants, and I concur
with you that your choice of terran upbringing was the correct one.
However, they are now showing a level of mental ability that, in a
Vulcan child of the same age would require confinement in a school
for adepts until a suitable level of control could be achieved. Your
sons, separately and together, attempted to reach into the shielded
portions of my own mind. I do not think it was voluntary or malicious,
but had they been any more aggressive I should have suffered pain in
maintaining my mental privacy."
Angata broke into the stunned silence that followed. "I sensed that
their attempt to infiltrate our minds was not an aggression at all,
Captain, Professor," she said. "It appeared to be nothing more than the
driving curiousity that any child of their age, brought up by adults who
always answer questions, would feel. But T'Sai T'Neer is correct that
they can invade any mind that is inadequately shielded. I have no
doubt that they picked up the Rihannsu language whole from your
guest, and they are thinking about it. It surprised them, too."
"So what do we do? I don't want to curb their curiousity, but I'm not
sure they're old enough to understand privacy, the indecency of what
they can do." Kirk stood up and paced to the window. "They're not
Vulcan; they wouldn't enjoy the discipline that a Vulcan upbringing
would demand."
"Vulcan discipline is not intended to be 'enjoyed', Captain," T'Neer
replied. Kirk ignored the barb and turned to the Human esper.
"Ms. Rangeet, what do you think?"
Rangeet straightened her sash and cocked her head at the two worried
parents. "Well, they need some discipline, Captain. I observe that in
most ways they are very well mannered children. How do you
normally correct them if they do something wrong?"
He raised his eyebrows and glanced over at Spock. "Well, we explain
the problem and tell them why it's wrong. Then we tell them how to
avoid doing it again."
"Does it work?"
"Well... yes. It sometimes takes two or three iterations, but it works
overall. But this is hardly in the same category as picking your nose in
public or spying on your shipmates through a keyhole!"
"Why not?" Rangeet settled back in her chair. "None of us sensed or
saw any ill intentions; just curiousity and intelligence. I see no reason
why your old tried and true method won't keep the boys from invading
another's privacy. I say; keep it up! Meanwhile, for their future
protection, they should be taught proper shielding techniques and,
eventually, the right way to undertake a mind meld, so that when it is
correct to do it they don't run the risk of damaging the subject mind
with their strength and enthusiasm. It's touch telepathy, after all, not
full communicant telepathy such as full-blood Betazoids enjoy. If they
learn to shield themselves with proper motivation from you they will
be as unlikely to invade another's privacy as they would be to... pick
their noses in public. Furthermore, I believe that it is time to teach
them the basic meditation techniques; Professor Spock is perfectly
qualified to do so, and to guide their meditations as his own were
guided when he was a child."
/Spock?/ There was a short mental silence from the Vulcan. Then a
feeling of relieved acquiescence. "T'Sai T'Neer," Spock said, "would
you be willing to undertake the preliminary instruction of our sons in
the mind rules and the proper use of mind melding, but be guided by
the more Human philosophy espoused by Rangeet, Jim and myself?"
T'Neer raised an eyebrow. "It is unorthodox. However, given the
boys' nature, it is logical to try. I would undertake such a teaching
only with the presence of Rangeet, however, as I am unable to provide
the appropriate emotional references. Vulcan children do not need to
be trained not to... pick their noses in public."
"I think that's best," Angata said. "I am available to monitor the
training, if you require it, Captain, Professor. Sometimes it's best to
have a third party monitoring young adepts, in order to catch any
'holes' in technique. With hybrids such as Jimmy and Sam, it might
be best."
"How will we structure the training?"
Angata turned to Spock and cocked her head. "Do you have a normal
lesson time for them now, Professor? If so, it would be prudent not to
place abnormal emphasis on this training, by simply slotting it into the
time they would expect to be at lessons. Or so my experience with
Human children tells me."
"That seems logical. They normally take lessons on the Terran weekly
five day standard, between eight and thirteen-thirty local, with two half
hour breaks for refreshment and the release of excess energy at ten and
twelve."
"Then we will schedule our first lesson for tomorrow at eight local,"
T'Neer decided, and received the agreement of the other teachers. "If
the methodology works adequately it should not require more than ten
sessions to provide basic training, and thirty or so subsequent lessons
to train them in the proper way to avoid entering an unshielded mind
through inadvertent physical contact. Further training, in appropriate
use of the meld, must wait until they are old enough to encounter
wholly adult concepts. When they are approaching puberty, perhaps.
For now, I suggest that the basic lessons are on consecutive days, and
the follow-up lessons on alternate days to provide proper mental rests.
After that we will reassess their abilities and decide on a further
program of training."
"I don't want them touching anyone, meanwhile," Rangeet said. "Not
for a few weeks. Can your crew accept that? They seem pretty
attached to the children."
"I'll explain it," Kirk replied. "They'll be fine with that, if it's for the
boys' own good."
"And you, Captain? Can you do without hugging your sons?"
Rangeet asked it gently, but Kirk still felt it like a blow.
"Surely that's not necessary."
"I believe it is. For now. You can hug them mentally as much as you
like, of course; they can't invade you without touching you. But once
we start to discuss this with them and teach them basic respect for
privacy it will be very, very difficult for them to avoid invading
another mind. I have noticed this is true for all Human and Betazoid
children, sir... what happens when you tell a small child not to laugh?"
Kirk grinned. "They laugh. Every time."
"Yes."
He sobered then, and exchanged a look with Spock before nodding his
agreement. "Not for long, though, ladies. I believe in hugging my
sons early and often."
"I hope it will be for only a short time, Captain."
**
"Ambar? You okay, man?" Mike peered into the dark cabin and
made out the form of the young Rihannsu sitting on the lower of the
bunks they shared. "Haven't seen you up top all day."
"I did not wish to impose." Ambar folded his hands on his lap. "I
seem to have caused a great deal of trouble by coming here, and I felt
that if I stayed out of the path of others for a time, equilibrium might
be restored on this ship. Please do not feel you have to entertain me."
Mike scratched his head and then reached for the light switch.
"Equilibrium? On the CloudDance? Did we ever have such a thing?
Ambar, has someone been making you feel unwelcome?"
Ambar looked away, then down at his hands. "Everyone has been very
kind."
"Then I don't understand why you're sitting here in the dark. It's a
beautiful afternoon, the bay is full of whales and porpoises... do the
Blowfolk make you nervous?"
"Oh, no!" The swift response reassured Mike. He took another step
into the room and pulled out a chair, settling sideways to look the
Rihannsu in the eye. "I loved hearing the porpoises talk yesterday.
But it seems that, because of my arrival... the boys..."
"Oh, that!" Mike had been as astonished as all the crew at their earlier
meeting with Kirk, during which the Captain had outlined the new,
temporary, protocol for dealing with the twins. "Ambar, that has
nothing to do with you."
"It was I who injured the child in the first place. I understand a
parent's protective instincts. If I remain out of the way until they can
find a suitable confinement for me..."
Anger caused Mike to raise his voice. "Now cut that out! Holy
mother, Ambar, you are really assuming a lot of responsibility for
something that has nothing, nothing whatsoever to do with you. He's
not cutting us all off because you bruised Sammy's arm!"
"But why, then, the injunction that no one is to touch either child?"
"Were you not listening at all?" Mike smacked his forehead. "Ambar,
the boys are telepaths! Untrained telepaths! It's thanks to you that
they even noticed it this early and are able to help them with training!
Holy mother. Ambar, it's just that you happened to be the first person
that was different enough from us that their mental spying, inadvertent
though it was, came to light!"
Ambar covered his face. "I'm so ashamed."
"But... why?" Mike's bewilderment must have been clear in his voice,
for Ambar looked up at him forlornly. "You did nothing wrong."
"Those little boys, exposed to my mind... my mind! Of all the terrible
perversions they must deal with in their lives, to know me at such a
young age... their fathers are rightly angry."
"I don't understand you. Are you saying that the boys may have seen
something in your mind that you feel guilty about?" Mike felt like he
was groping in the dark again. "Like what?"
"Well... I mean... you know why I ran from my home!"
Mike sat back, nonplussed. "Yes, because you're homosexual. Well,
so what, so are most of the people on this ship. Or do you mean that
the boys might have seen Rihannsu state secrets, or something else, in
your mind?"
"Most?"
"Most what?"
"Most of the people on this ship are... are..."
"Queer. Well, sure! Isn't that why you came after the Captain and
Spock? I mean, besides them, Sue and Marcia have been together
forever, and so have Kim and Andros, and I'm as queer as a New
Orleans Mardi Gras queen. The boys have never been shielded from
Human relationships."
"But they asked what 'gay' means."
"Oh, hell, Spock just doesn't like the euphemisms so we don't use
them around the kids. They know perfectly well what heterosexual,
homosexual, omnisexual, intersexual, bisexual and asexual mean. Not
that they understand the adult context of sex itself, but in terms of
relationships they know perfectly well that some people like men and
some women. Hell, you don't think they know that their own parents
are the most famous gay couple in history? I mean, Ambar, get over
yourself!" He stood up abruptly and walked back to the door. "No one
blames you for the fact that the boys are off limits for a few days. You
can still talk to them, and us. You just can't touch them, as we can't,
as their parents can't. You're not that bloody important, handsome, so
try to act like a grownup, would you?"
He regretted his outburst and insult before he even made it to the
galley, and regretted it even more when he saw Raven shaking his
head and realized he hadn't engaged the soundproofing before ticking
Ambar off. With a groan he turned around, meaning to apologize, but
Ambar was already making his way up the passage. "Mike?"
"Ambar, I shouldn't have..."
"No, you're right. I misinterpreted the situation, and I should be
thanking you for being interested enough to set me on the correct
path." He stopped in front of Mike and smiled.
"Thank you. Do you suppose Raven has anything left from lunch?
I'm very hungry."
"Step right up," Raven called, and both men paced into the salon. "Sit
down, Ambar, fags are my favourite people, I always save something
good for them. Ask anyone. Mike, are you eating?"
"Not if you call me a fag, you old fag-hag."
"Insults will not get you lobster bisque with home-made croutons,
panhead. Pull up a chair, because for insulting queers I have some
sardines somewhere, and some really stale crackers I was saving for
the boys to feed the fish."
"I apologize, oh mighty Chef. You're not a fag-hag at all."
"Very well, lobster bisque it is."
Mike saw Ambar looking from one to the other of them, and shot him
a grin. To his pleasure the Rihannsu grinned back, and settled at the
table. "What is a lobster?"
"Ooooo, a man who has never had lobster! Sit, sit, you'll soon find
out."
**
"Not like that, Jimmy," Demi said, brushing her curls off her face as
she addressed the little boy. He glanced up at her inquisitively, from
where he squatted on the rocks trying to pry an oyster up with his
blunted knife. "If you break her shell, the oyster will die before we get
her back to Raven. We only pick up the loose oysters."
"But there are so many more that are on the rocks. Why not take them
too?"
"It's too easy to break them, prying them free. You can't break one
that's already loose from the rocks, so it's easier to get it home alive.
Plus, the loose ones are less likely to live for another season anyway,
and so it's less likely that they will spawn. Eagles and ravens will pick
them up and drop them on the rocks to break them open and eat them."
"Okay." Jimmy stood up and began foraging again. A few paces
away Kirk smiled to himself as he and Sam scrounged among the
seaweed and stones for unattached oysters. Spock had checked that
the oysters were insulated enough, with their primitive minds, so that
the boys could handle them without any fear of inadvertently melding
with such a basic life form. After a week of confinement, the children
were eager oyster hunters. "Papa, how do eagles and ravens know to
drop them on the rocks? That's tool-using behaviour, isn't it? Does
that mean they're sentient?"
"That is a question for your father, Jimmy." Kirk straightened up and
stretched his back. There had been a couple of raindrops already; he
estimated they didn't have long before the rain ahead of the next
weather system started in earnest. Their buckets were nearly full, and
he could see the tide beginning to run back into their little bay.
"Raven would say that they are people, just like us, but I'm not
entirely convinced. Their heads just seem too small to me, to have
much of a brain."
"You missed one, Papa."
"Grab it, Sammy. We should get back to the beach; this reef will be
flooded soon. And I'm starving."
Carrying a heavy bucket in each hand, he lead the little expedition
back to the main shoreline, where their wooden boat was tethered well
above the encroaching water. Demi followed with the other two
buckets. She set them near the boat and then plopped down on a log
with a dramatic sigh. "Oysters are heavy! Bring me my lunch please,
Sam, will you?"
"Sure. Papa, Father said there didn't used to be oysters here. That
they only started living here in the last century or so. How did the
eagles and ravens learn that they were here?"
Kirk handed his son two of Raven's box lunches. "Maybe the eagles
and ravens that eat them followed them north. Global warming
changed a lot of things on this coast, Sam. Or maybe they just applied
the method they used for mussels and clams to the new creature in
their territory."
"Once Father and the Teachers finishes teaching us how, I could meld
with one and find out."
"You meld with any creature, young man, and I'll tan your behind.
There is never any excuse to meld with a person or creature that can't
give permission first." Kirk grabbed the other two boxes and gave one
to Jimmy before settling on another log and opening his own lunch.
Tried to imagine the kind of thoughts anyone would find in the squishy
existence of an oyster, and failed.
"I wouldn't, Papa. But it might be fun."
"It might also kill you. Eat your lunch." He had taken a single bite of
a thick cheese sandwich when his communicator beeped imperiously.
"Damn!"
It was rare for communicators to be used among the crew and family,
and when they were it usually meant something bad. Kirk felt both his
sons dive into their family bond to check on their father, and relax as
they found him safe and preoccupied. He pulled the little
communicator out of his pocket and glanced at it, seeing North's code
displayed, and then thumbed it to activate it. "Kirk here."
"Captain," North's voice came back. "We have a problem. Priority
One search protocol has just been announced and we're on the grid. A
group of hikers lost at the head of the Sound, Halleck Island side of
Olga Strait. They are invisible to scanners due to the magnetic
interference in this region and the background life forms. SARSAT
requests we reposition to the mouth of Olga Strait, and make ourselves
visible and audible. They also request search parties."
"How in all the hell's did they get our coordinates? We're supposed to
be in drydock in Vancouver."
"Sorry, sir. I answered an 'all vessels'."
Kirk drew a breath before responding. Of course, North would have to
answer an all vessels call for assistance, there wasn't any choice for a
sailor, no matter the danger of revealing their position. "Did you give
them our name, North?"
"No, sir. I used the name of my old crab boat. We are officially the
"Norma Rae"."
Kirk chuckled and nodded to himself. "Nice end run, North. Recall
the other boats." He looked over at the boys, who were watching him
eagerly, and sighed. "Prepare to set sail immediately we get back."
"Understood, sir. I'll have her ready to go when you arrive."
"Good. Kirk out." He put the device back in his pocket and stood up.
"You can finish your lunch in the boat, boys. Life jackets on, please.
Demi, take the port side, let's get her back in the water."
It was routine, something that happened to CloudDance a couple of
times every season, at least, the joining in a search for missing hikers,
researchers or another vessel in distress. But Kirk never liked it. He
leaned into his oars hard, wishing he'd had time to finish his lunch,
and pulled the boat around the headland and out into the main part of
the Sound. He was briefly glad that his rope-burn had healed, as the
sea became stronger and he threw his back into the rowing.
* * * * *
Pity the bird that has wandered!
Pity the sailor ashore!
Hurry him home to the ocean,
Let him come here no more
Robert Louis Stevenson "A Visit from the Sea"
Spock was locking his gear up in preparation for sailing when he felt
it; a thrill of fear down his bond with his family. Then a rush of terror
and the horrified call for help.
/Spock! The boys, we're in the water!/ He reached out for them
mentally, even as he rose from his chair, shouting for North. /Can you
reach shore? Jim, can you get the boys to shore?/ Gone was all
thought of Jim not touching the children. He stared around almost
wildly for the first mate.
North was standing in his office doorway, looking worriedly at him.
He held up his hand, listening internally for his family, but Jim was
too busy to respond. Cold, swimming hard. "Mister North, Jim's boat
has overturned. They are in the water. Can you get a fix on them?
They will be in their life jackets."
"Damn!" She was gone instantly for the radio rack above the chart
table, tuning the frequency up for the children's transporter sensitive
personal floatation jackets, automatically relaying the coordinates to
SARSAT as she did so. "Spock, they have them. They've got a fix on
the boys and are beaming them straight to the foredeck coordinates."
"Get T'Neer and Rangeet up there to dry them off."
Spock was already beside her, feeling both the boys' excitement and
pleasure at being caught in the transporter beam, and Jim's growing
cold as the water's chill seeped into his bones. /Jim, the boys are safe/
a wave of relief. Then he heard the boys' voices from above him as
they appeared, unheralded, on the foredeck. He could 'hear' Jim
calling to Demi, as he watched North dial in both of their transporter
codes. "Sir," North said, "GEOSARSAT says they're not in their
jackets."
"The boys?" That didn't make sense. They had already been
transported. They were here.
"No sir. The Captain, and Demi. SARSAT got their jackets okay, but
they're not wearing them. They're still in the water, and sensors can't
get a fix on them. Too much interference in the area." /Jim!/ Spock
yelled. /Can you get to shore?/
Silence down the bond, chagrin, growing exhaustion. Spock's years as
a commander of starships kicked in and he turned to the first mate.
"Mister North, get this ship underway. I'll give you a direction to
steer."
"Yes, sir." North raced up the ladder and Spock followed, North
already issuing orders to the assembled crew, CloudDance's anchor
already rattling up the roads. Spock stopped for a moment to order
Rangeet and T'Neer to take the children below, and then ran forward
to the widowmaker.
Spock could only point in the direction he needed the ship to steer, and
in another two minutes the wind was tugging at canvas and
CloudDance was beginning to make way, but not fast enough. /Jim,
you have to get to shore/ /Spock... we're trying. Believe me, we're
trying/
Time stretched out for Spock, all his will concentrated on keeping his
internal eye and ear focused on his mate, while around him the crew
worked like the well-trained team they were. He could feel the fatigue
in Kirk's arms as if they were his own; feel the deep tremors that were
starting in his muscles.
Then a second shock of fear followed by warm surprise and renewed
hope as something solid came into Kirk's ken. /Blowfolk/ he sent, and
Spock swayed on his feet as the rock-steady back of one of the
humpies rose under Kirk's chest. /Demi?/ he sent. /They've got her.
But it's cold, Spock/ "North, get on the sonar and track for the whales.
They've picked them up."
"Thank god," she breathed, and Spock tuned her out again as he
grasped the railing and peered into the rainy, misty afternoon.
*
The heat of Spock's hands on his forearms was like a branding iron,
even through the soaked layers of his clothing, and Kirk smiled his
delight as his mate hauled him up the boarding ladder onto the deck.
Demi was already being helped below, shivering in a blanket. Kirk
clamped down hard on his own desire to just collapse in Spock's arms,
and straightened his back. "Tag the dingy, North, and let's get
underway to pick up the other boats and get to the head of the Sound.
We'll come back for this one after SARSAT releases us."
North raised her eyebrows, but nodded across at Marcia, who found a
locator gun and fired it over the side at the distant white keel of the
small wooden boat. When Marcia indicated that the shot had gone
home, North turned to the rest of the crowd of crew and scientists.
"You heard the Captain. Set our course for the SARSAT coordinates,
Mike. Marcia, go below and send our thanks to the Matriarch, please,
and the whole pod on our behalf. Further orders, Captain?"
"You have the watch, North. I'm going to get some dry clothes. Have
Raven check on the boys and report to me, please." He managed to
get below without stumbling, already peeling off his soaked clothing.
He'd lost his best boots, dammit. "Spock, I know you always say that
apologies are illogical..."
A thrill of surprise and excitement came down the family bond. Both
men paused a moment, instinctively checking the boys. They were
fine, boisterous and enjoying a game of FlyBoy, overseen by their lady
teachers, with Raven entering the room bearing hot cocoa. Spock
nodded perfunctorily. "Apologies are illogical, and unnecessary.
However, an explanation is in order."
Kirk nodded, fumbling with the fastening to his pants, his fingers thick
with cold. "Well, the explanation is that I was careless. We hit the
swell coming around the headland and Sammy overbalanced. He
knocked the oysters over, and both kids grabbed for them to try to save
them. It was that fast, we were all in the water, and the dingy was
upside down and moving away. I swam for the boys at once, of
course, but you had them out so fast they didn't have much time to
notice." He gave up on the pants and shoved his hands under his
armpits to try to warm them, his teeth chattering. "Can you open my
fly for me, please? My fingers just aren't working."
Spock obliged, and then helped Kirk peel the sodden pants off, and his
boxers and socks as well. "You were not wearing your floatation
jacket."
"No. I almost never do, that close to shore, you know that. Careless.
Complacent. I forget how damned cold the water up here is. We
seemed so close to ship and shore, and there was almost no swell when
we went in there. I'm so sorry, Spock."
"I know. I will contact the local Transport authority and have them to
beam the boys and their teachers to Raven's village for the evening, if
Raven agrees. That will allow both of us to join in the search parties,
and allow you to calm yourself before they are beamed back aboard.
They are both overly excited, at the moment, and might forget their
training." /Good idea, Spock./ /Yes, I know/ Spock handed him a
towel and Kirk quickly dried, shivering violently, then dressed in
warm, dry clothing. He followed his mate out of their quarters and
pulled on his oilskins before going on deck again to check on
CloudDance's progress and show himself to his crew.
They made the coordinates an hour later, and anchored near a group of
small islands off Halleck Island. With CloudDance's foghorn
activated, they used the remaining two wooden boats to send ashore
search parties. They were instructed by Search and Rescue to wear
survival suits and transport tokens; they wanted no further persons lost
in the north woods today. Mike remained on the beach, while Kirk
and Spock were together as one group, Sue and Marcia another, Kim
and Andros a third, leaving North in charge of the ship with Demi and
Ambar, and the scientists enjoying an early afternoon break in their
cabins, out of the now-incessant rain. Jim deployed Sue's team toward
the north, Kim and Andros westward, setting out east with his mate.
/Like old times, Spock/ he sent, wishing that he had a skin-suit of silk
like the Vulcan, to keep him warm. He just couldn't seem able to stop
shivering. /Shore party, search mission. Cover your ears/ He sounded
his air horn and then both paused, listening, the Vulcan's acute hearing
picking up nothing. They made their way inland through the dense
forest, checking their position occasionally with Spock's tricorder and
sounding the horn at regular intervals. They went in companionable
silence for the most part, Jim concentrating on navigating the difficult
terrain with exhausted muscles that were beginning to ache badly.
Finally, after two hours of searching, Kirk called a halt.
/I need a rest, love/ he sent, easing himself onto a fallen cedar and
wrapping his arms around himself. Spock settled beside him and
offered him a flask of hot tea, which Kirk sipped gratefully. /You are
still chilled/ /Yeah, so it seems/ Jim handed the flask back and
watched Spock cap it gracefully. /What time is it?/ /1632. I suggest
we take the second leg of an acute triangle back to the shoreline and
signal North for the boat/ /Good plan, Spock. I can come out again
after a meal, the sun won't set until after 2200. Hell, it's practically
light all night long!/ /Very well. Are you rested enough to continue?/
/Sure. After you/
Over an hour passed without any sign of the lost hikers. Spock began
to check their position with increasing regularity, and Kirk sensed a
growing disquiet in the Vulcan. Eventually Spock stopped with a tiny
sigh that, for him, was a sign of intense frustration. /Jim, I believe my
tricorder may be suffering from the same magnetic interference that
has confused the SARSAT scanning system. Although I have
maintained a steady course according to our gear, I do not yet hear the
ocean waves. And I can no longer discern the sound of CloudDance's
foghorn./
Kirk paused, listening. The woods were quiet, their stillness broken
only by intermittent bird song, the croak of ravens, and the patter of
the falling rain. /Don't tell me we're lost./ /Jim.../ /This is too
embarrassing. Having to be rescued twice in one day/ /We could take
a bearing from the sun and simply walk in a westerly direction/ /Are
you kidding? That overcast has got to be right up to twenty thousand
feet by now. There's no way to tell where the sun is/ Spock looked up
anyway, then all around, then down at his tricorder again.
"I have no suggestion then, other than to contact SARSAT."
"Damn." Kirk sat down on a log and sighed as a trickle of rain from
the brim of his hat found its way inside the collar of his oilskin coat.
"Can we just rest for a few minutes, first?"
"Certainly." Spock settled beside him and set the tricorder for
automatic scanning. "We have had little time alone to talk, recently."
"What did you want to talk about, Spock?"
"I have been closely following the boys' training with Rangeet,
Angata and T'Neer. I spoke with the women this morning, and found
there is some difference of opinion among them. I am not in
agreement with Rangeet's assessment of the boys' ability to refrain
from casually 'downloading' information from non-shielded persons.
They are trying to learn, of course, but they are extremely curious
about their unique ability. For somehow they have learned that it is, in
fact, 'unique'."
"Well, not much of a stretch for them. They know that they are
unique, too. Though we've always used the word 'special'. Rangeet
said there is nothing inherently bad in their natures." Jim was
shivering again, and trying to hide it. His sinuses felt hot and plugged
up, and he wondered if he was developing an allergy to something in
the northern woods. "I hate not being able to touch them."
"I, too. However, it may be in their best interests to send them to
Vulcan, to our clan, for further training. On Vulcan no one would put
up with being casually touched, and any invasion of privacy would be
noted."
Jim stared in astonishment verging on anger at his bondmate. "That's
that damned T'Neer talking."
"I assure you, it is not."
His face was burning as Kirk snapped at his mate. "After the way you
were treated as a child, I would have thought that would be the last
thing you would consider doing to our children!"
"Under the original assumptions we used to raise them, you would be
correct. However, things have changed. If our sons do not learn the
required control and respect, they will grow up as a danger to
individual privacy. A danger to themselves and an embarrassment to
others. Invasion of privacy is a terrible crime on Vulcan, and would
be here if telepaths were more common. Not only that, but it would
allow them uncensored access to some adult mind constructs that even
you would not wish to encounter. I do not want my sons exposed to
the entire universe of grief, despair, perversion, and idealism without
many, many more years of personal experience to use as a buffer and
guideline. Not to mention the possibility of their encountering mental
illness and true evil."
"But the PsiCorp…"
"PsiCorp trains its membership, from the inception of telepathy, to
respect privacy. You are aware that Human espers do not gain their
mental abilities until puberty. Our sons are a long way from puberty,
and are not always capable of putting other people's rights and well
being into their thoughts before acting. Jim, they are only four years
old." He was silent for a long minute, and then turned to Jim. Kirk
could see the pain this conversation was giving him in the cant of the
long brows, and hugged himself warmly. "A few months or a year on
Vulcan would give them the discipline they require."
"Spock…" Kirk swallowed his rejection of the idea. "We have a
contract with DORGroup. I would hate to break it."
"I am not suggesting that we do. Together, we are not adequately
objective where Sam and Jimmy are concerned in order to be perfectly
controlled in their presence."
"Are you suggesting I abandon my own children to the tender mercies
of Vulcan?"
"I am suggesting that they would benefit from the instruction that they
would receive there. I am suggesting that our clan on Vulcan is
capable of showing they are valued people, without touching them in
the process. They will still know we love them, through our shared
familial bond."
"I won't have them going without contact for even a month more,
much less a year! They'll think we don't want them, that we're
rejecting them! Remember how you felt with Sarek's reserve and his
constant distancing himself from you?"
"This has nothing to do with rejection." Spock gave a long, un-Vulcan
sigh. "Sarek is dead. T'Pau is dead. With them and their generation
died the illogical prejudice and misconceptions against hybrids. There
are hundreds of hybrid Vulcans living in and around Shi-Kahr. No
one will find them inferior, as was the case with me so very long ago.
There is a school for…"
"Don't preach to me about that damned school for off-world hybrids!
It's just another form of segregation. Another way to make our sons
feel like freaks."
"Not so. It would be a way to make them comfortable with their
uniqueness, and less dependent upon us for feelings of acceptance, and
to control their behaviour. Jim, we cannot offer them the skills they
need surrounded by uncontrolled Humans."
"They were doing fine until the last few weeks."
Spock composed himself to be gentle, but firm. /I suggest that they.../
"Hush!" Kirk froze. "Listen!"
Spock obeyed instantly, his expression intent. After a moment the
sound came again, the unmistakeable Human cry of 'help', far in the
distance. Spock homed in on the direction immediately and sounded
his air horn, and the cry was repeated at once.
"We'll continue this discussion later," Jim said as he rose from the log.
Both men plunged into the woods in the direction of the voice.
It took another twenty minutes, sounding the air horn regularly and
listening for the slowly strengthening voice, until they emerged into a
clearing where six wet and weary Humans stood awaiting them, most
of them with tears streaming down their faces, mingling with the cold
rain. Kirk stood stoically through a hug from the nearest one, then
took out his transporter token with a grin. /I'll go up first and send
back tokens for them/ /A logical approach, Jim/
"Everyone ready to go home?" he asked, and received laughter from
the rescued Humans. He activated the token and vanished almost at
once, rematerializing in the main GEOSARSAT transporter room.
The transporter technician, all business, gave him a nod.
"You're from the Norma Rae? You found the Sitka Sound group?
With the interference down there, they will all need homing tokens."
"Yup. My mate's still with them. There are six for transport tokens,
plus him."
"I have the coordinates on the existing token." He set six tokens on
the platform and reactivated the transporter; in another minute the
rescued hikers were safely aboard the station and Kirk and Spock were
being transported back aboard ship in triumph. /Don't tell anyone,
Spock. That we were lost/ /No. I shall not. I share your reluctance to
appear... foolish/
*
Jim woke the next morning with a fierce headache, a stuffy nose, an
aching throat, and all of his muscles tight as springs. He groaned
aloud and felt Spock's instant probe, full of concerned amusement.
/You are ill/ /You think I don't know that? Can you get me something
for the pain and congestion?/ /Please wait/ There were a couple of
minutes of quiet. Jim realized that all the blackout curtains in his
quarters were tightly shut, and the red privacy locks glowing on both
the outer door and the door to the boys' room. He turned his head with
difficulty and saw, to his horror, that it was 1145 in the morning. /The
boys.../ /They are rather worried about you. I am bringing them with
me/ The door opened a second later, and Jim forced himself up on one
elbow as the twins pelted into the room and stopped at his bedside.
Jim could feel their desire to hug him. He sent a surge of love toward
them, and felt their relaxation through the family bond almost as once.
Behind them, Spock followed with a medical tricorder and a
hypospray.
"Papa! Father said you were sick!" Sammy sat up beside Kirk and
surveyed him in the dim light. "He said you were suffering from an
ancient earth disease called... called..."
"Machismo," Jimmy supplied, taking a position on Kirk's other side.
Kirk gave a snort of laughter and shook his head, then sighed relief as
Spock pressed the hypo to his neck and sat down beside Sammy.
"Machismo? Hmmm, no I think it's just a cold," he replied, his voice
rasping.
"Your Papa Jim will be fine with a day of bed rest, warmth, and plenty
of food and drink," Spock added. "He did, in fact, have a cold virus,
which I earlier neutralized, but the left over toxins will make him feel
unwell for several hours, best spent in relaxation and sleep."
Both boys looked relieved, Jimmy sitting back with folded arms and
Sam launching into the story of their time in Raven's village replacing
the oysters lost overboard. "So you can have them for supper tonight,
Papa. If you want. Raven said he would make you some oyster
chowder. I'm sorry I knocked the other ones overboard."
"That's okay, Sam. Could have happened to anyone. But they're not
just for me, son. Don't you want some chowder, too?"
The twins exchanged a look, and Jim sensed some anxiety down the
bond. But Jimmy sat forward again, and looked him in the eye. "Papa
Jim, Sam and I have been talking about it. We're afraid... well, we're
afraid to eat anything that might... might be..."
"Smart, sir. Or have feelings, or be scared." Sam finished. "We asked
Father, and he explained that those are some of the reasons that he
doesn't eat any animals, either. So we'd like to try to not eat any. But
we will if you say we have to," he added quickly as Jim let his surprise
show in his face.
"Did T'Sai T'Neer speak with you about this at all?"
"No sir. Is she supposed to?" Jim shook his head, relieved that the
boys had made this decision themselves.
"No. Well, every person should have a choice about being vegetarian
or eating meat and fish. If you want to try it, I won't stop you. You'll
have to take some extra vitamin supplements, to make sure that you
get everything growing boys need to stay healthy. So it's okay with
me, as long as you don't think I should be a vegetarian, too." Sam's
face brightened further as his guilt vanished. "But your father is right,
I'm feeling a bit unwell just now and need some peace and quiet."
"Okay, Papa." The boys scrambled down again and vanished out the
door. Spock set a hand on Kirk's forehead, brushing the forelock
aside.
"Machismo?" Kirk asked, smiling.
"Mmmm. These overdeveloped urges to prove you are invincible. I
forget how frail you pure Humans are. You shielded your exhaustion
from me quite well, Jim."
"I'm not shielding now, my handsome Vulcan. I don't suppose you'd
help me to the head? I don't feel like I can even get off the bed right
now."
"I will do so. And tuck you back in, and bring you some hot food, and
sit with you while you eat it. North and Rangeet are looking after the
boys." He lifted Kirk easily to his feet and steadied him as he walked
to the head and relieved his bladder.
"How's Demi? Recovered from her dump in the drink?"
"Demi is fine, though suffering some muscular aches which she is
controlling with a mild analgesic. We recovered the overturned skiff
earlier, and Sue reports that it is in fair condition, though the oars were
lost. Any other questions?"
"Not right now." He staggered back to bed on the Vulcan's arm, and
sighed as the warm mattress accepted his weight again. "Thank you."
"You are welcome. I will be back shortly with your food."
Kirk had to force himself to eat the broth and bread that Spock
returned with. He had never managed much appetite when he was ill.
"I hope the boys weren't too upset about all that," he offered to Spock,
sitting on the chair beside their bed.
/You should rest your throat, Jim. The boys *were* upset, but only
because they have no experience of you falling ill. You would not
have succumbed to the virus this time, had you not over-challenged
your immune system with hypothermia and exhaustion. However,
they were aware that you were sleeping quietly through their bond
with us./ /Good. I wish I could give them a hug/ A pause, the Vulcan
reaching out again to smooth Kirk's hair away from his forehead
again. /I, too, miss being allowed to touch our sons./
"I know." They shared a moment of warmth and then Kirk pushed the
tray away and lay back. "Is everything alright aboard? You know how
I hate missing out on anything."
"More than alright, I should say. At least, there is nothing that
requires your direct attention, and one or two things that you will find
pleasurable and amusing once you are up and around again." Spock
took the tray and stood up. Kirk was stunned by the little speech; it
was bizarre that Spock would tease him about anything.
"Hey! Share!"
"When you are better, I will not need to. And I do not wish to spoil
the surprise by giving you prior knowledge. Go to sleep, and you will
find out sooner."
"Not fair, Spock!"
"No. I agree." Spock smiled and turned away, taking the tray and
dimming the lights. "Go to sleep."
"If I'm suffering from machismo, you've become a sadist!"
"Perhaps."
* * * * *
Our way is where God knows
And Love knows where:
We are in Love's hand to-day.
Algernon Charles SWinburne "Love at Sea".
Jimmy sat in the cockpit, under the canopy, looking out toward the
lazy backs of the whales. He missed them. He missed wriggling into
his drysuit and plunging into the ocean to swim with them; whales
were the most interesting people. They had no fear, no small
problems, no daily concerns. No one had to cook for them, they never
had to take lessons, and they never went to bed. Instead, they just
went to sleep when they were tired, their autonomic nervous systems
keeping them at the surface where they could breath normally. They
never felt cold, or lonely. They didn't need technology to find their
way around the world. Everything one whale knew another knew
through the Song, and the young whales learned it from their first
breath almost effortlessly.
Whales had a great life. Porpoises too, and dolphins. They had so
little to concern themselves with, that they got to spend most of their
lives playing, and unlike Human people they never outgrew the desire
to play.
"Rangeet, when will I be allowed to swim with my friends again?"
The Human esper, who had been sitting quietly and watching the little
boy while his brother underwent an intensive mind-meld with T'Neer,
followed his gaze out to where the whales were rolling and blowing.
"You are a very trustworthy boy, and I can't imagine that you would
consciously break the rules you've learned about other beings'
privacy. But wouldn't you feel awful if you did it by accident?"
Jimmy had to nod agreement. He and Sam hadn't even known they
were doing it, and he was still embarrassed. They had both, quite on
their own, gone to Ambar and apologized, and assured him that his
language was the only thing they had learned from Sammy's
inadvertent invasion of his mind. Ambar had accepted their apologies,
and added that it was partly his own fault for pushing Sammy into
such a dangerous situation. "T'Neer says that she wants us to go to
Vulcan for..." what had she said? "To further our education as
Vulcans. But we're not Vulcans, are we, Rangeet?"
"No, Jim. You and Sam are part of a much more interesting group of
people than pure Vulcans, or pure Humans for that matter." Jimmy
liked Rangeet. She never got excited or upset about anything, and her
answers almost always made him feel better. "T'Neer is a very clever
and talented woman, but you will find that she, like many older people
of accomplishment no matter their species, has a view of the universe
that favours the learnings of her own people over others. She can see
that you are capable of learning the Vulcan Way; she does not ask
herself all of the right questions to decided if that is the best thing for
you however, as she is not familiar enough with the dynamics of other
species to objectively judge their value to you, or other non-Vulcans."
Jimmy nodded his understanding. It was what he has figured,
although he hadn't been able to put it in words the way Rangeet could.
"Maybe she should learn more about other species."
"Maybe she should. But I wouldn't disrespect her enough to suggest
it. And her help in your education is extremely valuable to all of us."
"Sammy doesn't like her."
"Sammy doesn't have to, and T'Neer won't care one way or the
other." Jimmy smiled at that. Rangeet never lied, either. "Do you
like T'Neer?"
"Well..." Jimmy cocked his head and thought it over. "I don't like her,
and I don't *not* like her. I suppose I don't feel anything at all about
her, really."
"A very Vulcan response, Jimmy, and don't look at me like that," she
went on, and Jimmy flushed crimson. He has shot her a look of
disgust at her remark. "You are a great deal like your father, and you
tend to react in a more 'Vulcan' way than your brother does, but that
doesn't make you Vulcan anymore than T'Neer's teachings can make
you Vulcan. You are Jimmy, yourself, unique."
"Being unique just means being a freak."
"Did someone say that to you?"
"People think it. I can tell. Not the crew, but some of the scientists."
"Well, you're from an unusual family, Jim. Both your parents are
freaks, too."
Jimmy felt the sudden hot anger and stood up, glaring at the Human.
"They are not freaks! None of us are freaks."
"It's just a word, Jimmy. Do you know what it means?"
"It means different, in a bad way, from other people."
"No, honey, it just means different, not good or bad. It depends on
how you use it."
Jimmy narrowed his eyes, but there was nothing in Rangeet's manner
to show she was teasing, or being mean. She still seemed perfectly
calm. "Most people would give anything to be different, in the way
your parents are. So smart, adventurous and interesting. Like you and
Sammy. Don't let the word they use upset you, honey. It's just a
word, and if anyone uses it on you, you can laugh and say 'you bet
we're freaks! And we're proud of it!' Because you should be proud."
And when she said it like that, Jimmy did feel proud, but it still
bothered him. "My Papa wouldn't like to hear that word, though."
"No, your parents live in the world of grownups, though, where such a
word can only be used by strangers in a bad way, like the way you
thought I meant it. You are still a child, though, and anyone that used
it to you would be trying to insult you without you knowing it.
Making fun of you, because you make them uncomfortable. That's
their problem, not yours. Do you understand the difference?"
Jimmy puzzled it out for a couple of minutes, scratching his head.
"You mean if someone called Papa a freak, they would be looking for
a fight. But someone who calls me a freak is trying to laugh at me
behind my back, because I'm a kid."
"See? You already are immune to the word freak. I'm a freak too,
Jimmy. Human espers like me are rare as hen's teeth. Angata isn't a
freak on her homeworld; there she's perfectly normal. On earth she's
a bit of a freak, because there aren't many Betazoids here. I actually
prefer the society of freaks; we're far more interesting people than
normal folks are."
"Is Ambar a freak?"
"A gay Romulan prince? You bet he's a freak! And brave enough to
come here, doubly a freak!"
"North is a freak?"
"North? No, honey, North is pretty normal by Human standards, just a
bit of a loner."
"Oh, I see." Jimmy ran through the list of his friends and
acquaintances. He came to the conclusion that about half were freaks,
and half weren't, and that the ones he liked best, even loved, were
mostly freaks. "It's just a word, isn't it?"
"Yup. Just a dumb word."
"Okay." He went back to contemplating the rising and falling backs of
the humpies in the Sound. "I hope I can go swimming again soon. I
really do miss it."
"I hope so too."
**
Kirk padded up the companionway the next morning, feeling perfectly
fit again and ready to discover what Spock's little riddle had been
about the day before. The ship rode easily at anchor, and the long-
awaited summer sunshine had finally found Sitka Sound. He perused
the log that was lying beside the unused wheel and noted that the boats
were out, going about CloudDance's normal business with the whales.
The ship was relatively quiet; up in the bows his sons were sitting
among the three women teachers, the little group preternaturally quiet
as their telepathic lesson went on.
There had been a message from StarFleet regarding Ambar. His
mother had given up on his return, grudgingly accepted that he was
now a Federation citizen, and returned to ch'Rihan without any further
sign of aggression. The entry regarding Ambar's inclusion as a
member of the crew pro tem had been signed, with a flourish, by Mike.
Spock was out on one of the boats. Marcia was up the mainmast,
repairing a halyard that was threatening to split. Mike was aft, with
Ambar, both with lines in the water and a sonic warning buoy flag was
up, showing that they were alerting the Blowfolk to their fishing lures.
He grunted approval, and then made a slow tour of the deck to check
all the lines, sheets, halyards and stays.
Satisfied that the ship was in good condition, he dropped back down
into the salon and found Raven clearing away the last of the breakfast
mess into the galley.
"Morning, Raven."
"Captain. Coffee?"
"Please. Haven't slept that long in years." He settled at the big table
and activated the weather screen. "So, the Pacific High finally found
us."
"North is pessimistic, but Demi is pretty sure we're in for a dry spell."
Raven set a steaming mug on the table. "Porridge? Eggs and bacon?"
"No, not hungry, thanks. I'll wait for lunch." He pushed the screen
aside. "Spock was making some hints yesterday, that something odd
is going on. Any ideas?"
"Odd?" Raven grinned at him and went back to the galley door.
"Downright queer, actually. But you'll figure it out."
"Not you, too!"
"Oh, I know how bored you get at anchor. I think I'll let you smell
this one out on your own, Captain. However, a listen in at crew
quarters might put you wise. You know how this crew gossips."
Intrigued, Kirk took his coffee and sauntered forward to the crew
quarters area. The whine of the sonic cleaner was going; he peered
into the cabin it shared with Kim and Andros, and saw those men
leaning over the machine's control panel, chatting. He ducked back
into the companionway and listened, unashamed of eavesdropping.
"…the last piece of salmon. By hand! You could have knocked me
over with a feather."
"No kidding?" Andros chuckled. "Well, we knew he thought he was
special, but waiting for a prince on a white horse…"
"No, a burning yacht, dope."
"Still, charging out of the sunrise…"
"You are a hopeless romantic. Well, good for them, I say. Mike's a
brick, but how's he going to meet anyone out at sea all the time?" The
whine of the sonic cycled down. "Did you get the Captain's bedding
yet?"
"Oops. Let me check on it."
Kirk ducked into the next cabin and waited until the companionway
was clear, then walked back to the galley with a look of pleased
puzzlement on his face. Raven was sorting out his refrigerator, but
glanced up and smiled as Kirk leaned in the doorway. "Ambar? And
Mike?"
"No flies on you, Captain."
"That's a development I wasn't expecting. What shift is Mike on? I
saw them fishing. We had a short-change, didn't we? I lost track,
these last couple of days."
"Midnight. He should be heading to bed in an hour or so."
"Give me three cold beers, please, Raven," Jim said, setting his half-
empty coffee onto the non-skid counter beside him.
Raven laughed and shook his head. "You just spent a whole day and
night asleep! Spock will have my hide if I give a convalescent a beer
for breakfast, Captain."
"That's an order, quartermaster."
"Aye aye, sir."
Kirk took the three long tubes in one hand and mounted to the cockpit
again, then swung onto the deck and made his way aft with one hand
on the safety rail. Mike and Ambar were sitting very close together,
he realized. It would be tough to slip a sheet of flexiplast between
them. He watched them for a couple of minutes; the way they leaned
toward each other, the way Ambar shyly touched Mike's leg. More
than just a casual fling, he decided, and felt Spock concur. /Get out of
here and let me meddle in private, Vulcan!/ /Are you drinking beer?/
/Be gone, love!/ He threw up a mental shield, then swung over the aft
rail and onto the dive platform. Both youngsters startled guiltily.
"Morning, gentlemen. Or, evening, in your case, isn't it? No, stay
where you are. I brought some libations. Catch anything?"
Mike's mouth was open in astonishment as he accepted the tube of
beer from his Captain, but Ambar simply beamed at Kirk as he took
his own. "In the 'live-well', sir. A Lingcod as long as me, nearly, and
two nice Rock cod, Mike says they're about 2 kilos each."
Kirk grinned at his enthusiasm. "Congratulations. That'll make
dinner for the whole crew and most of the scientific complement." He
saw the colour seeping up Mike's face. "Mike, have you made any
change in living arrangement? Rumour has it…" he let the sentence
trail off, and saw Ambar's face turn slightly green.
"Um, not officially, sir…"
"Officially or not, mister, you know that the regulations aboard this
ship require a week's leave for anyone involved in a new, serious,
relationship." He sipped his beer and felt Spock's curiosity pressing
on his mind as he tried to break through Kirk's privacy shield. "Does
that apply to you in this situation?"
"You just made that up!"
"What if I did? I'm the captain, it's my job to make up the rules."
"You're teasing us, sir. Ambar and I…" Mike seemed to strangle on
his own tongue, and cleared his throat with a swig of beer. "I think
we're serious, sir, but I'm not sure it's any of your business." Ambar
looked stunned that Mike should speak so to his captain. Kirk relieved
his anxiety with a laugh.
"My shiny new regulation is in place for a simple reason, Mike.
People who are newly involved tend not to act in the best interests of
the whole crew in a dangerous situation. We may be at anchor in a
safe harbour, but you know as well as I do how quickly things can
change on the sea." Kirk turned away from them and opened the live-
well. An enormous Lingcod thrashed, splashing him, and he dropped
the lid, then sat down beside the Rihannsu. "So… seeing as you
already have your own cabin, small though it is, why don't we
officially put Ambar's name on the door and take you off the crew
rotation for the next seven days?"
"But Captain, that would leave you short handed!"
"Hell, half these scientist types have maritime licenses of some kind.
As Captain I can press them into service in an emergency. I'll speak
to North and change the roster."
Both men's flushes deepened, but Mike smiled in a way Kirk had
never seen the young man smile before. "Thank you, sir."
"I'd like to give you the option of beaming ashore, but with Ambar's
current situation I'd appreciate it if you stay aboard. I can't imagine
clearing a 'honeymoon' with StarFleet and the President's office."
"No sir. I mean, I'd be glad to remain aboard."
"Me too, Captain," Ambar replied. "Does that mean that Mike doesn't
have to do any work for the next seven days?"
"That's what it means. It also means that your liquor and legal drug
restrictions are lifted, and that you will not be required to take meals at
the main table; Raven will provide trays you can take to your quarters
if you wish. Just make sure you don't leave any crumbs that might
bring a rat aboard my ship. It also means you are entirely responsible
for your own laundry, but take the bad with the good."
"Thank you, sir." Ambar sipped the beer. "Captain, in the last few
days I've talked to a lot of the crew about, well, about what I can do
now that I'm in the Federation. The cetaceans intrigue me, and I
wonder if there is any way to learn more about them. I think I could
even learn to understand them."
Kirk smiled approval at the young man. "If that's what you want,
there's no reason not to go to school and learn all you can. Take a
degree; hell, emulate Spock and take a pile of degrees if you want.
There's a wonderful maritime sciences school in Vancouver, and
another in Hawaii, besides the main institute in San Francisco."
"But I would have to have some sort of work, to provide for living
expenses and tuition. I fear I am not qualified for anything. A prince
in the Empire learns court language, politics, and intrigue…" he trailed
off.
"As a refugee you qualify for all kinds of scholarship assistance,
Ambar, to cope with living expenses while you study. And school is
free on Earth."
"Free?"
Mike poked him in the side with an elbow. "See? I told you so.
Would you believe the rest of it now, too?"
"I… apologize, Mike. It just seemed to good to be true. Free
education."
"Ambar," Kirk interjected, "I want you to consider something else,
too. Just because you have fallen in love with a sailor who works with
whales, because your first experience with Humans was among whale
researchers, don't forget that there are hundreds of other careers you
might enjoy even more. I hope you'll do a bit of research before you
make a decision. You're welcome to use the computer terminal in the
salon to check things out. I'm sure Mike will help you."
He stood up and stepped from the platform onto the deck. "Hope you
catch another good one. I love Lingcod. Live long and prosper."
He left them gazing at each other with looks that made him want to
chuckle, and padded up the deck to 'eavesdrop' on his sons.
**
/James?/
It was well past midnight, and Jim was sitting in the bow, his legs
dangling over the calm sea. Spock made his way forward and settled
beside his mate, and they sat together in silence. The sky was almost
dark, just a faint glow on the horizon showing the sun's passage.
Above them a few stars twinkled, and Venus blazed in defiance of
northern summer. While they sat, Arnold wandered over and butted
Spock in the side, then settled down against him, her legs stretched out
long to give her maximum contact.
/You were right, Spock./ Jim heaved a sigh. He had spent the rest of
his day, after his chat with Mike and Ambar, monitoring the 'lessons'
that his sons were receiving, and then trying to analyze the experience.
/I hadn't 'listened' that closely before. Rangeet helped me tune in
very deeply. Jimmy… he's trustworthy in this. He would never
invade another's privacy. He's more inhibited, more aware of others,
more worried about doing the right thing. If it was just him, I'd be
right in keeping them here with us./
Spock relaxed marginally. /We cannot separate them. It would be a
terrible thing, to keep one here and send the other away. It would be
seen as punishment./ Was it possible that Kirk, the demonically
protective parent, could see the need for further training? /Samuel,
however, is much too precocious and rambunctious. He would try to
test the boundaries simply to see if he could./
"Yes."
Silence fell between them again, and Spock could feel the ache in
Jim's heart as if it were his own. "Don't be upset, Jim, but Sammy
takes after you. You were a rebellious child, always wanting to test
what the adults told you. Jimmy, ironically, is more like myself,
willing to accept what he is taught on faith."
"You rebelled eventually."
"So will Jimmy. However, by then he will have the tools to do it in a
logical manner without harming anyone. Sammy needs help now,
before he learns that he can ignore parental guidelines, and our
teachings, without our knowledge."
"I'll cancel the contract for next season, and we'll go to Vulcan."
Spock took a deep breath and voiced the idea he'd held for several
days now. "That would not necessarily be the best thing, Jim."
/I told you I won't allow them to go untouched for months./
/And yet they can breach your shields easily, even now, given their
abilities. The fact that they have not does not mean that, aware now of
their strength, they would not. Especially Samuel./
Spock waited for the explosion that didn't come. Instead, Kirk merely
shook his head. /I can't let them go all that way without us, Spock./
"You need not. I can go with them, settle them, and be assured for
both of us that they are being adequately cared for by our clan."
"You? But you can't hug them either!"
"With full mental shields, I can. And so can Rangeet. She is willing
to go as their Human tutor, Jim. Their friend. There are many
scientists aboard this vessel, but only one captain; my work can wait a
few weeks without harm to the project. Once they are settled with
Rangeet in the family home, I would return here to continue our work
until their course of study is complete and we can trust both of our
sons to maintain proper dignity and restraint in their mental
encounters."
"For god's sake, Spock! They're only four years old, they need their
parents with them."
"Jim… they are used to a large extended family. They think of the
crew, the whole crew, as their family, and that pre-disposes them to
accept our Vulcan clan as simply an extension of their family. They
like Rangeet. They will adapt well, especially if I go to settle them in
and reassure them." He paused and gauged the depth of his
bondmate's anguish. "Jim, they need this."
Spock could feel the hot tears building behind Jim's eyes, but he
waited patiently for Jim to voice his decision, confident that it would
be the correct one.
The tears were in Jim's voice when he finally replied, but his face was
still and dry and bleak. "I know in my head that you're right, Spock. I
felt them pushing today, Sammy especially, felt his curiosity and his
potential to do damage, even accidentally. But I can't get my heart to
realize what I know in my head."
Spock bowed his own head for his partner's grief. At his side, Arnold
stood up and began to purr, rubbing against him, perhaps scenting his
distress. "They will come back the better for the experience, Jim."
"I hope so, Spock."
Jim was still again, and silent, but his personal shields were leaking
pain and Spock felt helpless to assist him. Finally he took Jim in his
arms and just held him close, and they stared into the almost-night
before them. "I will make the arrangements in the morning."
Jim turned blindly into his lover's arms, burying his head in the broad
chest. "I am going to miss them so badly. And I'm going to miss
you."
"Then perhaps you'll let me take you below and cherish you, so that
you remember how much I love you while I am gone."
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