Chapter Text
"Enjoying the view, Mr. Spock?"
Spock lowered his tricorder as Captain Kirk approached him. The muffled sound of Kirk's boots against the sand was broken only by the occasional gritted whisper of solid contact with clay. He did not offer to help with the captain's progress as he climbed the tall dune as Terrans were often stubborn when it came to such matters, and especially Kirk if he believed Spock was doubting his physical prowess.
Above them, the star PXG73.2 beat an aggressive rhythm of heat onto the surface and its visitors. The planet was Class M, breathable atmosphere for visitation, and possessed sufficient gravity and stable orbit to support life. Long range scans of Hephorant III had indicated a stable ecology capable of sustaining life and plentiful vegetation. The Enterprise’s probes had confirmed as much. And yet, there was very little life to be found on the surface.
Kirk stopped 2.57 meters from him and gazed out into the canyon before them, with his hands on his hips as he surveyed the drop from a safe distance. Spock had not answered his question but it did not appear to bother him, nor discourage him from continuing. He mused aloud, "Figures you'd pick the best spot on the whole planet. You can see for miles up here!"
That was only a small portion of the reasons Spock had chosen the highest dune as an observation point. Another factor was the unlikelihood the crew would follow him up to make trivial conversation. Once more he had failed to account for the captain's stubbornness.
Sighing, Kirk combed through his sweaty hair. The tip of his nose was reddening where he had missed applying protective sunscreen, but at least he had followed the doctor's advice and worn the protective eyewear designed to counteract the harsh rays of PXG73.2 in the sky.
"Makes me miss Earth more, somehow." It was not unusual for the captain to invent conversation to fill the silence and from his pacing Spock estimated that the captain was verging on boredom. "I know it's an alien world, millions of lightyears from Earth. But that's the strangest thing about it. The further we go the more I think it looks like home."
Over a lifetime of working among Terrans Spock had observed that any attempts to remind them of their own emotional suppositions was not likely to garner their favor. Spock did not encourage nor discourage this habit of perpetual illogical sentimentality the other crew expressed themselves with. When it came to Kirk, however, Spock possessed enough self-reflection to recognize he was perhaps more tolerant when it came to the Captain's illogical tangents, bordering on a feeling of near fondness that his emotional controls swiftly suppressed.
Gesturing towards the upper walls of the canyon, Kirk said with a satisfied smile, "This could be the Grand Canyon, if you added a tourist outlook over there."
Spock had never visited the Grand Canyon. There were holopics available at the history and natural geology terminals in the academy library, but he expected if he shared that fact with the captain he would be on the receiving end of another emotional tirade about the importance of visiting a place in person, and not studying it from photos.
The captain bent over to wipe the dust from his pants and then straightened. "What do you think?"
From Spock's preliminary analysis, over 96.7% of Hephorant III's surface was covered in dry craters and canyons that spread from pole to pole. Except for a city-sized oasis in the middle of the southern hemisphere, their landing party had found little signs of any natural life at all.
Kirk was watching him expectantly. Spock did not pretend to misunderstand the question. The captain was not looking for scientific or statistical data; he was once more attempting to appeal to Spock in the same persistent manner he always had. "The natural eroded rock features are dynamic and aesthetically pleasing," Spock answered. "Do you require something, sir?"
"Just checking in." Kirk knelt and slowly dragged his fingers through the red soil. "Oh, I know that look." He smiled wryly at the eyebrow Spock offered him. "I promise not to bother you with my rambling for much longer." He gestured with the same hand towards the bottom of the dune, where they were able to observe from the vantage point Spock had decided upon. "How's the rest of our crew?"
Spock switched off his tricorder and turned to observe the rest of their landing party scattered across the dunes. He performed a headcount of scientists and geologists among their party and came up short of one accounted for. Their survey mission was larger than average, and had beamed down in separate groups, though one member evidently decided to remain onboard.
He addressed the captain, "It would appear Doctor McCoy has not yet joined us on the surface."
At once, Kirk flipped open his communicator with a frown. "Where’s my CMO, Scotty?"
Scott’s voice replied over the communicator: "Sorry, Captain. The doctor is having another wee little…personal argument with the transporter."
Kirk’s expression lightened. "Any chance it's that old recurring disagreement?"
"Aye, sir."
"Put him on."
McCoy’s gruff voice came over the comm. "I’m here, Jim."
"What’s the matter, Bones?"
"Send M’Benga down there. I’m not getting on that thing. After the last time, I don't think I'll ever trust another transporter again."
Kirk seemed to be leaning towards indulging the doctor’s irrational fears, so Spock leaned into the communicator. "Then you should be reassured to know we will not be beaming down during an ion storm this time, which means the likelihood of you transporting to a parallel universe is below 0.0086 percent." McCoy made a grunting noise on the other end. "Please board the transporter pad and prepare for beaming at once."
McCoy cursed him over the comm. "Damn you Spock, you pointy-eared—"
Kirk seemed more amused by Spock’s intervention than annoyed. He should have been: Spock's interruption was verging on insubordination. "I do believe Mr. Spock gave you an order, Doctor."
There was a hum and shimmering haze as the doctor’s form appeared 1.8 meters from them. The moment McCoy rematerialized he stumbled slightly as he gingerly adjusted to the sandy surface, shooting Spock a glare. "Alright, I’m down here." McCoy rubbed a hand down his shirt as though checking for any missing pieces lost in transport, muttering, "For all the good it will do you if something on this planet tries to eat you. I’ve decided I’m going on strike. Serves you both right."
The captain’s mouth twitched. Spock determined that the risk of McCoy following through on that threat to be negligible, and instead weighed the odds of inciting the doctor’s ire. In the end he couldn’t resist needling: "You may assist me with scans, then, as you have resigned your duties as Chief Medical Officer."
As Spock predicted, his comment amused the captain and he was rewarded with a surprised bark of laughter. McCoy offered a rude gesture that Spock pretended not to see.
The doctor nearly toppled off the side of the dune as he climbed to meet the captain at the top. Once he had his footing, Kirk turned his abundant excitement to McCoy. "Just look at that," Kirk said with a sweeping hand. "Beautiful, isn't it?"
"I'm more concerned about sliding down and breaking my neck on all the rocks down there," McCoy grunted, though he followed the captain's gaze and for a brief moment seemed at peace and appreciating the natural views. McCoy was not distracted long and turned his ire to Kirk—more specifically to the state of his skin. "Get out of the sun, Jim. I can tell you're roasting from here."
"It's not that bad," the captain insisted, though his cheeks were growing steadily redder the longer he remained under the direct rays.
Spock returned to his scans until Kirk determined they'd spent enough time gathering data to venture cautiously into the oasis. As his companions descended the dune, Spock turned back to face the canyon walls. The stratification showed millions of years of dirt, rocks, and sand carved through. There had been water once in this desert. There had been rivers, if the canyons were formed at all like the ones on Earth or Vulcan. Now, where Spock stood, it was the dry echoes of an ancient passage with wind whistling an eerie tone through gaps in the stones.
He stepped off the dune and followed the captain and doctor to the bottom. The crew was gathered in a semi-circle: the geologists with their heads bent as they shared theories and data, and then there was the security team and the lonely biologists who had very little to contribute in a lifeless desert. Kirk was finishing up the last report and gave the order to move into the oasis.
Protocol dictated they would finish surveys of the larger ecosystems before moving on to explore the planet's unusual phenomenon. True unbiased scientific discovery was only made when a proper baseline was established.
"Just not natural," McCoy muttered as they approached the sloping jungle trees. "All this desert, and then there's this. God dropped paradise in the middle of hell."
"A curious metaphor," Spock supplied.
McCoy huffed. "I'm just saying, something like this is wrong for a reason. Instinct should tell us that something that seems too good to be on the outside is usually hiding something ugly underneath. And yet here we are again, marching right into the jaws of the beast. Where is the logic in that, Mr. Spock?"
"You are correct in one aspect, Doctor—colorful metaphoric suppositions are not based in fact, and therefore have not applied logic."
"Logic." McCoy spat the word like a curse. "Can't you trust the innate science that human instinct offers? We've got it for a reason."
Spock turned and offered McCoy his tricorder. "Perhaps you would prefer to lead the science team, as you have shown such an interest in the subject."
McCoy's mouth puckered and he stopped where was, evidently fighting with himself to think of a suitable retort. Kirk laughed and clapped the doctor on the back, encouraging him to keep pace. "Scans said the biggest life forms in this region are the trees," Kirk assured him.
McCoy eyed the purple vines and statuesque limbs above them with a dubious air. "And scans also said this planet was going to be a thriving natural wonder, but those were wrong too."
"Short range scans have a higher degree of accuracy," Kirk said flippantly. "I'm sure Mr. Spock would be more than happy to rattle off the specifics for you."
McCoy rolled his eyes. "I'll pass."
The science teams divided once more, each in their own cardinal direction. Spock led his team to the east. The Captain followed behind him: and wherever Kirk went, McCoy was sure to follow.
Lieutenant Maison hummed as xe reviewed the tricorder readouts. Xe commented, "The biodiversity field scans are showing 82.5% below the normal range, sir." Out of all of Spock's junior scientists, Maison was the most careful with xyr language, especially for a Terran. Spock was accustomed to Terran scientist's nature to generalize, by which point Spock prompted them to be more specific with their language. Specificity was critical in the sciences. A 'below average' reading could be a discrepancy as great as .08% to 99.99% and it was more efficient, as well as crucial in decision making if time was a factor, if all facts were presented. So far the only scientist to take that recommendation and liberally apply it was Maison.
McCoy had teasingly accused Spock once of picking favorites. Spock had reminded the doctor it was illogical to have favorites, but Maison was Spock's highest recommended junior scientist, and often accompanied him on away parties for xyr exceptional analytical process.
Spock accepted the tricorder Maison offered him. The analysis was still calculating but preliminary scans indicated what Maison relayed to be accurate. Spock inquired, "What distance did you calculate the scans for?"
"Fifty five cubic yards, sir." Xe pushed back xyr shoulder-length hair, frowning as xe bent over to inspect the next report the tricorder received. "Would you recommend increasing it?"
Interesting. The issue was not the radius of the scanner. Only rarely had Spock ever encountered such anomalies, and in this instance, was not likely to be an error. "No, Lieutenant. Continue scanning." Maison nodded as xe began preparing for the next series of scans.
"Doesn't surprise me it's that low," McCoy muttered. "Everything else probably got fried up by the sun on the surface. Only whatever natural trait this forest had kept it from doing the same."
"Unless someone sought to preserve the forest?" mused Kirk. "We didn't detect any forcefield, but this area undoubtedly seems…protected."
Spock offered the captain an eyebrow. "There isn't sufficient evidence to speculate whether intelligent beings ever inhabited this planet."
"Maybe they moved underground?" Kirk contemplated his own question and shook his head. "I suppose if we keep looking, we'll find out. Come on." McCoy made a disgusted noise as Kirk tramped ahead, following at a begrudging pace.
Spock conducted his scans behind them. Sunlight peeked through the upper layers of the canopy casting strange shadows on the underbrush. The purple leaves uncoiled as he approached, as though instinctively drawn to him. Spock knelt to inspect them. Perhaps heat sensitivity. Or some other natural sense that indicated his presence? They did not react to the sunlight.
As he was recording his notes on the curious nature of the planet's un-photosynthetic vegetation something brushed up against his mind. There were no thoughts to it; merely a sensation. A sense of curiosity, glee, and a child-like excitement that did not belong to him.
Kirk and McCoy were leaning against one of the trunks of the trees. Kirk's hands were hugging the trunk, absentmindedly feeling the texture, and he seemed intrigued by the quality of it.
The sensation returned. "Captain," Spock called out as he strode towards them. He was not sure himself if it was intended as a warning, or an acknowledgement.
Kirk picked up his head. He and McCoy looked to one another, then back at him.
A feeling registered around him; as though he were standing in a small room, and though he could not see anyone else, he knew he was being watched. The being brushed against his mental shields and then, curious, poked back at them.
Spock's steps faltered. He raised his tricorder and began scanning, though the tricorder picked up nothing. The sensation didn't return. His Terran companions had also stopped, watching him with expectant expressions.
Spock announced, "We do not appear to be alone on this planet."
Kirk's eyes widened. His hands dropped from the tree and he whipped his head around, seeking whatever intruder Spock was warning of. "Should we recall the crew, Spock?"
"I cannot determine at this time. I do not believe we are in any danger as of yet. They have not shown themselves, nor do I believe they are aware that I am aware of their presence."
"I thought you said this planet was uninhabited?" McCoy sneered.
"I said there was no evidence," Spock corrected. "Now I believe my hypothesis was premature. There is sentient life here. For a brief moment I sensed a…consciousness."
Kirk made a thoughtful noise. He had always coped far better with the unexpected than the doctor, but Spock was beginning to understand McCoy often over-reacted to cover his anxiety. The captain fixed his attention on Spock, his focus once more professional and commanding. "Can you sense anything else from whatever you—felt? What are their intentions?"
Testing his newfound hypothesis, Spock lowered the tricorder and reached out to prod one of the uncoiled vine-like leaves. It wrapped around his finger with hardly any force behind it, but it was a conscious act.
There was another flutter of thought: confusion, a playful edge to some other sense he could not name.
Kirk's brow was raised when Spock returned his attention to him. "They appear to be somehow connected to this forest. I sense no hostility from them at all, captain. Only curiosity, and I believe…the best word for it would be 'eagerness' that I can sense. They are nearby, but I cannot determine an exact direction, or distance."
"Curiosity is alright," Kirk said, "but I'd still like a better idea of what to expect. Anything else you can speculate, Science Officer?"
"They are clearly psi-capable. I would not have noticed them otherwise." It was unclear whether they had intent to or not, but the consciousness bore down on his shields again slightly, as though testing its weight, before retreating. Even with such slight contact, Spock sensed immense power behind it. They could force their way into his mind if they desired to do so. "And incredibly powerful at that. To be able to sense them, without initiating direct contact…"
"Telepathic trees," the captain summarized, though for an unknown cause that statement seemed to amuse him.
"Empathic would be more precise."
McCoy crossed his arms over his chest. "I don’t like it. There are plenty of species capable of projecting their emotions to cover something else. Why not come out and say hello? Why hide?" Statistically, there was always a margin for possibility. Spock had already finished his analysis and determined the risks to be within acceptable range—but McCoy seemed content to ignore figures and probabilities when it suited him. Spock stared at him and attempted to contain his incredulity. McCoy's eyes narrowed. "Or am I wrong, Mr. Spock?"
McCoy was largely wrong about his assumptions of most subjects. Out of the interest in maintaining camaraderie Spock allowed, "It is possible."
"I’m just saying we put too much trust in you sticking your head into these kinds of things," snapped McCoy. "Not all telepaths are warm and fuzzy like you."
Spock reminded him, "Generalizations over a broad category are not a proper form of argumentation."
McCoy grunted. Kirk’s eyes slid momentarily to glance at the doctor before he returned to meet Spock’s gaze. In contrast his voice was gentle where McCoy’s had been abrasive. "What is your analysis, Spock?"
"I would estimate they are advanced enough to force communication if they desired it, sir. The fact they have not would indicate peaceful intent. But with a meld I would be able to communicate far more effectively with these beings. For the moment I am only able to discern vague sensations and emotions."
He hadn’t expected hesitation from Kirk, but there was no other explanation as to why he refrained from answering a beat longer than normal. "Is that necessary?"
"A shallow meld would not be overly taxing, but it would allow me to discern their true intentions if, as Doctor McCoy hypothesized, they are hiding any ill-intent."
"As long as you think it’s safe for you."
"I estimate the odds of my coming into any harm to be less than 6,827.2 to one, sir."
"Less than…alright, Mr. Spock. You don’t need to convince me; I trust your math."
"Thank you, sir."
"And now he’s gonna meld with a tree," McCoy muttered. "First I had to use the transporter, now we’re communing with magic trees in the woods—I should’ve stayed on the ship."
Kirk pretended not to hear McCoy’s emotional rambling. Spock followed suit.
He returned to the vine-like leaves curled around the branch at his chest height and lowered his hands. There was no need for fanfare. Then his shields, cautiously probing outward with his mind—and he was swept away.
Returning to consciousness was always a disorientating experience. Spock found himself slumped over, with a panicked McCoy hovering around him. Kirk was kneeling beside him with his hand supporting Spock's shoulder.
"Well, Mr. Spock?" the Captain asked. "Report?"
Spock calculated he had lost consciousness for no more than 4.826 seconds since initiating the meld. He also had a great deal of information to share. The mild headache he registered was easily ignored. He tightened his pain controls and dutifully reported what he had learned.
Their names were entirely telepathic. For his psi-null counterparts, Spock translated as best he could their name to loosely approximate ‘The Clairvoyants’ which was as best as the limited vocabulary Federation Standard offered. The consciousness he sensed in the tree was not actually the tree itself; but rather part of a network of what Spock explained to be telepathic, non corporeal families of beings, living and thriving by connecting to the abundant energy offered throughout the forest.
Kirk's earlier musings on sentient life protecting this lone forest in a world of deserts was not entirely inaccurate. The Clairvoyants regarded the 'forest' as their sanctuary, and their energy both nourished and sustained the forest and everything within it, keeping it from the harm of the harsh sun rays.
They had a remarkably distinct sense of self and also ‘them’ as a community. The ‘one’ Spock had communed most with did not offer a name, but when Spock asked for one he was filled with a sensation of weightlessness; the sound of a stone skipping across water. He was unsure if their language even possessed personal names or a sense of possession, but for the benefit of his crewmates who were unlikely to differentiate the ‘one’ and the ‘many’ the being had offered the name ‘PacLash.’
They were especially delighted to speak with Spock, and found his ability to ‘join’ telepathically through the 'tree' a unique and new concept to them. From the memories the primary consciousness PacLash offered him, Spock understood other travelers like the Enterprise crew had ventured into the forest, but their minds were too firmly connected to the ‘physical’ plane to make contact without great effort. Meanwhile a telepath, like Spock, could successfully signal he was capable of contact.
McCoy did not appear at all satisfied with that explanation in Spock’s report. "It looked like they were hurting you."
How best to explain? McCoy was a Terran who preferred metaphor so Spock considered how to reframe his explanation from what the mind of a psi-null human could comprehend. "Attempting to meld with the tree was, to them, little more than waving a small flag on a boat in a sea the size of your sun," Spock told him dryly.
Compared to Spock, the Clairvoyants made his telepathic power seem staggeringly insignificant, which was as much he presumed from their first touch against his shields. To them, he was no more than a single-celled animal attempting to negotiate with a god. They were very fortunate that the Clairvoyants did not believe in hostility, or their mission on Hephorant III may have ended very differently. "The one I referred to as ‘PacLash’ made contact with me instead, after understanding what I had attempted to do. I was unprepared for the amount of information I received at first, but they recognized my discomfort and touched my mind much more gently the second time. The initial contact was similar to my attempt to meld with a Lactran."
"Too much information at once," Kirk mused, nodding to himself. "Yes, I can see how that would be…uncomfortable."
"As I expected," Spock said, turning to Kirk, "they are not hostile at all. In fact they apologized to me for the discomfort I experienced upon the initial joining. They were most curious to learn of our visit, and assured me they did not take offense for any incidental trespassing on our part. They have invited the Enterprise to greet a larger delegation of Clairvoyants deeper within their forest where their consciousness is stronger, and offered the location to me. They are eager to make contact with the Federation and learn more about us, and in return, are willing to share whatever information to satisfy our curiosity. As they are non corporeal, and already aware of the logistics of space travel, I do not believe the Prime Directive would apply in this scenario."
"Fascinating," Kirk remarked with a reserved smile. The doctor’s face was contorted in a grimace. Kirk eyed McCoy's reaction carefully and addressed Spock with a diplomatic air, "Will we be expected to…join our minds with them as well?" McCoy’s face leeched of color and he went abruptly silent, though his expression remained unchanged.
"The Clairvoyants have attempted connecting with psi-null species before, as I mentioned, and both parties found the connection…unpleasant. For the purposes of this mission I suggest more psi-receptive crew to any mental joining."
"As long as I don’t have to go sticking my head in there," McCoy muttered, having found his voice. He took a few steps to the side and then disappeared out of view.
"Bones is looking a little green," remarked Kirk with mild bemusement. "I know he’s never been entirely thrilled with the idea of telepathy, but he’s let you poke around in his head before when the situation called for it. Just now he was almost irrational."
Spock reminded him that was usually the case when it came to McCoy. "The doctor is generally prone to irrational responses."
Kirk smiled for an instant before it dropped. "Normally. But I wonder if something else…?" He shook his head and briskly course corrected to stay on mission. "Do you have anyone else in mind to join you to greet the Clairvoyants?"
"Ensign Jolla is of Halanan descent and would be well-suited for this task. I would also request any other high psi-rated crew that would also be capable of maintaining a mental connection to consider participating. They would not need to initiate any telepathic contact on their own as the Clairvoyants will, as you say, ‘take care of that.’"
"I defer to your wisdom, Science Officer. I look forward to reading your report after."
Spock paused briefly. "You do not intend to join us, sir?"
"I’m afraid as much as I’d like to, it sounds like my psi-rating isn’t high enough for it to be, ah," Kirk seemed to be searching for a word and settled on, "worthwhile. The delegation is yours, Mr. Spock."
"Understood." In his eagerness he had ignored the fact that the captain was psi-null. Lieutenant Uhura also would have been an excellent fit for a mission that was essentially first contact protocol, but her psi-rating was no higher than Kirk’s. "I will return to the Enterprise and make inquiries."
"I'm going to go find Bones," Kirk offered in salutation. "Try not to have too much fun without me."