Part 23 (2/2)
”Father?”
At the sound of his voice the figure turned. Expecting Sarek, Spock was more taken aback than at any time in his life. The circ.u.mstances were understandable.
”I am not our father,” the visitor replied gravely.
Spock found himself staring at...himself. Only older, much older. Older than he would care to be, except he self-evidently was. Thoughts rose and fell with the speed and force of wave crests in a storm. What to say? Then he wondered why he was worrying. Obviously, whatever he said would be the right thing.
”Fascinating.”
His senior self nodded agreement. ”There are so few Vulcans left-in this time frame. We cannot afford to ignore one another. The knowledge each of us carries must be treasured and shared, not only with each other but hopefully for generations yet to come. Especially the knowledge that I, unwillingly but unavoidably, hold. I intend to devote the remainder of my life-not yours-to committing for posterity everything that I know.”
His younger self was plainly puzzled. ”If you know so much, then why did you send Kirk back onto the Enterprise Enterprise when you alone could have far more persuasively explained the truth to its crew? To me?” when you alone could have far more persuasively explained the truth to its crew? To me?”
The elder Vulcan turned reflective. ”Because of so many things that happened and so much that transpired in a future that you will now-perhaps for the best-never know. A future that will remain forever closed to you, now that the past has been altered. In that future, James T. Kirk and I developed a personal and working relations.h.i.+p that resulted in many achievements, in the doing of great things. All such now lies open before you, in ways and along paths neither of us can imagine.
”But one thing I do know for certain. To perform at your highest level and achieve your full potential, you and James Kirk will need each other. You boast opposing yet complementary personalities and minds. When pooled, when set to solve a problem or face a difficult situation together, you will invariably accomplish far more than either of you could separately. It was that balance between us that often made the impossible possible.” The barest suggestion of a smile tweaked one corner of the elder's mouth. ”This I know from often fractious experience.”
”So forcing me to learn how to deal with Kirk, how to function beside him, how to...trust him-it was a test?” the younger Spock concluded.
”Nothing so formal. But I felt it was the best way. Had I imposed myself on the two of you, with my knowledge and experience, you could not possibly have developed the working relations.h.i.+p that has resulted. Such an understanding between two disparate personalities cannot be imposed from without. It must occur, it must happen, naturally. I will not deny that there was risk in such an approach. I am happy to see that my a.s.sumptions were justified.” He turned away from his younger self.
”I am in no position to pa.s.s judgment on anyone for anything. As I said, my actions have robbed you of much if not all of the future that I know. Please understand when I say that I could not also deprive you of the revelation of all that the two of you can accomplish together. Of a friends.h.i.+p that will define you both in ways you cannot yet realize. If I have proceeded wrongly, I beg your forgiveness. After my capture and marooning at the hands of Nero, I did not think I would have a chance to redeem myself.”
The younger Spock regarded his elder self in surprise. Explanation he had expected. Such a naked expression of emotional vulnerability was something of a shock. He tried to s.h.i.+ft the conversation elsewhere.
”How did you persuade Kirk to keep your secret? The knowledge of your existence in this time frame?”
”I implied universe-ending paradoxes would ensue should he break his promise.”
”But that did not turn out to be even remotely true.” The young science officer spoke with conviction. ”Perhaps if the displacement had taken place much farther in the past, yes, but not in the course of so recent a period. No such paradox occurred, nor was likely. You lied.”
Spock senior shrugged.
”A gamble,” his younger self surmised. ”Many things could have happened to change or interfere with the course of events. I nearly killed him, for example.”
”Call my actions an act of faith. Or if you prefer, one of trust. One I hope you'll repeat in the future. I came to trust implicitly the James Kirk of my time frame. I felt, I believed, that despite your initial differences you would come to do the same here.” He paused for emphasis. ”I still feel that way.”
The response of his younger self was not entirely positive. ”I can foresee such a development, though perhaps one devoid of the modifier 'implicitly.'”
”All good things come only through the pa.s.sing of time,” the elder Vulcan replied. ”A subject with which I have been forced to become more conversant than ever I thought possible.”
”Good things?” Spock queried.
”No-time.” The elder paused, studying the much younger face of himself, and then gave a nod. ”Ah. I see. You essay an attempt at humor. Your half-human side coming out. A mildly commendable attempt.”
”I appreciate your restrained approval.”
They regarded each other for another long moment before the younger Spock once again broke the contemplative silence.
”The future clearly is not what it used to be. In the face of possible extinction it is only logical that I resign my Starfleet commission in order to contribute all my efforts into helping to rebuild our species.”
His elder self looked thoughtful. ”And yet, you are in a unique position. You can be two places at once. I urge you to remain in Starfleet. In discussion with other Federation science departments I have already located a suitable uninhabited world on which to establish a Vulcan colony.”
”I believe I understand you,” declared the younger science officer. ”My future cannot be determined by your past. We are one, but not the same. I must make my own future independent from yours. Yet, I hope that from time to time, should circ.u.mstances allow, that I may call on you for advice.”
”Why not?” his senior self replied. ”Who better with whom to debate decisions affecting yourself than yourself? The society you've inherited lives in the shadow of incalculable devastation-but there is no reason you must face it alone.” Pivoting on one foot, he strode purposefully toward the nearest exit. Only there did he halt and turn for a last look back.
”As my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving, I will simply say-good luck.”
They exchanged salutes, heavily wrinkled and aged fingers rising to the exact same height and distance from the body as their younger counterparts. Anyone witnessing the display of perfectly matched gestures would have been forgiven for thinking they had been made by the same person.
Resplendent in dress uniform as formal music played behind them, the four hundred stood at attention. Each row was perfectly aligned, each crew section sharing the ancient private wish to outs.h.i.+ne the other. So it had been since the time of the Phoenicians. So it was now in twenty-third-century San Francisco.
Standing alone at the speaker's podium, Admiral Barnett-the Academy commandant-gazed out over the sea of expectant young faces. How many times he had presided over such a gathering before, on how many equally momentous and gratifying occasions? But even for him, this one was special. Before him, awaiting their final commissions and their a.s.signments, was a crew that had already done great things. He was confident they were destined to do more. He cleared his throat. Throughout the amphitheater, the last whispers died away.
”This a.s.sembly calls Captain James Tiberius Kirk.”
Pivoting smartly, a single figure broke from the formation to march down past rows of fellow officers. His progress was tracked by numerous pairs of eyes. Uhura-Scott-Chekov-Sulu. No one tried to repress what they were feeling and it shone forth in the smiles that filled their faces. Ascending the stairs to the podium, Kirk turned sharply and halted at attention. He too was smiling. The commandant forgave him.
”Your inspirational valor and supreme dedication to your comrades are in keeping with the highest traditions of service and reflect utmost credit upon yourself, your crew, and the Federation. By Starfleet Order Two-eight-four fifty-five, you are hereby directed to report to commanding officer of U.S.S. Enterprise U.S.S. Enterprise for a.s.signment as his relief.” for a.s.signment as his relief.”
Snapping off an acknowledging salute that would have brought a tear to his first-year instructors, Kirk turned and walked past the commandant to halt in front of another officer. Admiral-formerly Captain-Christopher Pike saluted back from the autochair in which he sat. The trauma he had suffered had turned his hair permanently gray. Easy enough to cosmetically reverse the coloring, but not a choice a proud Starfleet officer would necessarily take. Experience was a badge of honor that neither Pike nor any other senior officer would casually discard.
”I relieve you, sir.” Kirk's words rang out over the a.s.sembly-loud, precise, and Starfleet formal.
Pike was the one who smiled. ”I am relieved,” he responded quietly. Then he too lapsed into procedural formality as he opened the box that was resting on his lap. Inside was a medal; its composition distinctive, the words engraved on it memorable.
”And as fleet admiral, in acknowledgment of your...unique solution to the simulation, it's my honor to award you with this commendation for original thinking.”
Kirk advanced closer. Restraining a smirk, Pike reached up to secure the medal to the younger officer's chest. ”Congratulations-Captain.”
”Thank you, sir.”
He turned to face the crowd, not entirely certain of what to expect. The subsequent roar of appreciation and thunderous applause brought a moistness to his eyes. He stood there for as long as he thought proper, not wanting it to end but not wis.h.i.+ng to overstay his approval.
It was a long way from Iowa.
Near the back of the a.s.sembly a lone figure looked on in silence. He did not applaud-physically. He did not cheer-verbally. But his appreciation was none the less for his silence and his poise. He did not stay for the aftermath, for casual conversation and idle chat. There was far too much to be done.
Remaining any longer would not have been logical.
<script>