Chapter Text
When Spock was a child, the Vulcans spent a lot of time- more so than usual, training him to control his emotions. This was not due to unwillingness on his part, nor was his lack of control a problem- he was the same as most young Vulcans, albeit slightly more prone to anger. The problem, he later concluded, was his humanity. Even though Vulcans were the first to establish friendly ties with Terra, and even though the humans later proved themselves by being the location for where the Federation was formed, Vulcans still felt themselves...superior, and so looked down on humans in private.
Despite Spock proving himself to be exemplary in the fields Vulcans held most high, he was still mistrusted by the Elders, and as such he had twice as many sessions on which they would attempt to teach him meditation, control, and convince him to undergo kolinahr, the purging of all emotion, when he was older.
It was during one of these sessions that T'Paya, one of his many teachers, told him to choose. The Vulcan way, or the Terran way. She treated them as if they were a dichotomy, as if they could never be unified, never work together. She spoke like there was so much disparity between them that it was nonsensical- but Spock had watched his mother and his father and concluded that they were more than capable of harmonising. She said for him to imagine his emotions as if separated from his mind by a curtain of sorts, to hide them in a box, to keep them somewhere he could not reach and throw away the key.
When he reached home, he immediately set about meditating to try her way, and found it to be useful. However, he realised after an incident in the classrooms involving the Vulcan youth and insults toward his family that ended in a fight Spock found he enjoyed that a mere curtain was not enough to keep everything inside back. The rage had come pouring out of his curtain like a torrent of rain, his vision narrowed to the ones calling his mother unrepeatable insults, and he had launched at them with a ferocity that scared and thrilled him.
After it all, when he learnt he had cracked the ribs of the Vulcan, he fingered his split lip and felt a primal sense of victory he did not know he was capable of. He was glad he had hurt the Vulcan so, and that scared him, because he was not supposed to feel anything, least of all derive pleasure from the misfortune of another.
He thought for a while about what could replace his curtain, and remembered a design of a starship he had been studying, and the immensely strong and capable set of blast doors it possessed. He envisioned them now, as he meditated. He imagined his emotions to be a deep ocean, lapping against the shore of his logical mind. Then, he closed his blast doors against the tide, and sealed it shut.
From there, his control of emotions became easier. His teachers commended him on his exceptional restraint, although they always tagged on at the end of their sentence the words: for a half-human. This was a distinction Spock found to be redundant, but he held his tongue, because it was the Vulcan way.
When the Elders told him, after being accepted into the Vulcan Science Academy, that his mother was a disadvantage, he had never detested the Vulcan way more. He, for all he knew and perceived, did not understand why they felt his humanity would be a disadvantage. While studying, he had found that when many of his peers lacked the drive to continue, determination came leaking out from his blast doors and allowed him to carry on. Being half-human had not been a disadvantage, it had been a boon.
He had done exceptionally, even by Vulcan standards. He should not have to live his life being haunted by his humanity, and everywhere he turned he should not have to fight for his right to be recognised as an individual. Most Vulcans, if presented this scenario, would have ignored the constant prejudice. After all, it was the Vulcan Science Academy. Its prestige was limitless- it was held so high in society that it could have made everyone forget his heritage, or it could have amplified it. It occurred to him that they were being extremely hypocritical. For all their talk about losing emotion, they certainly had an abundance of xenophobia, and prejudice. Whatever the case, Spock had had enough, and he decided in that split second that he would make his own path.
He entered Starfleet, was an exemplary student- as expected, and eventually became one of its most accomplished graduates. One of the defining moments of his time as a professor in Starfleet was when he was asked to design a simulation for new cadets to test leadership. He pored over it for a week, wondering what the simulation should entail that would make it different from the rest. It came to him, one night, when he overheard two cadets commenting about his nature. Ironically, it would seem that he was ostracized on Vulcan for being too human, on Terra he was ostracized for being too Vulcan. It seemed he could never win this fight, and that’s when he realised that his simulation would simply be unbeatable.
It would not teach them tactics, or strategies- it would show them what it was like to be afraid. It would show them what it was like to have no hope.
When James Tiberius Kirk beat his simulation while eating an apple, in such an impudent display of nonchalance, Spock felt his blast doors tremble. He was not angry, but his curiosity was piqued. He spent multiple days poring over the coding until he discovered an anomaly. He was instantly impressed. This cadet had not only managed to get past Spock’s firewall, recode several sections of it by himself so as to be triggered by a code word, but he had also managed to disguise it to the normal, untrained mind. James Tiberius Kirk was exceptionally gifted, which led to the question as to why he would attempt to cheat on the simulation. It was common knowledge that it had never been beaten before, and so its results were not really taken into consideration. It focused more on the handling of the crew’s emotions, especially the Captain’s.
The first few times James Tiberius attempted the simulation, he was exceptional. He ordered evacuation when he realised there was no hope, instead of clinging to the ship in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation. He even developed new evasive strategies and defence moves that stumped the program for a while because it had never been done before. He was unorthodox, creative and intelligent, and he was also gentle, compassionate, and had a streak for the self-sacrificial. He was a fine Captain against all odds, and it was obvious how much the crew, even when it was one he had never worked with before, listened and trusted his judgement. He was a natural leader with a dash of the rebellious, which was exactly what Starfleet was lacking. He had the highest marks Spock had seen since he had devised the simulation. But this- this blatant act of cheating just to win at something? This could ruin his chances of even graduating.
But Spock had a duty to uphold, so he shared his findings, and the next day James Tiberius was called in for a hearing. It was his first time meeting him face-to-face, as humans would put it, but it would not be the last.
If Spock thought he had felt anger before, it was nothing, nothing compared to this feeling he had as he watched his home disappear. He felt it overcome him like a tidal wave, felt his blast doors bend and break, and then it was taking all he had not to punch his way through anything that stood between him, and Nero. And if he thought he felt heartbreak before, it was a mere blip on the gaping hole that was losing his mother. He never thought he could feel this way, never thought that pain could be something not physical, something that stemmed from within with no discernible source.
His blast doors shuddered and closed again, but now Spock’s feet were getting wet from the rage and the sorrow and everything he did not have a name for, and it was too late to take back what had already been spilled. So when James Tiberius told him he never loved his mother and he found his hand closing tightly around his neck, he made no attempt to stop himself. James Tiberius knew nothing of loss. He hadn’t even known his father, what did he know of remembering something that was not around to remember you? What was his life to the galaxy? He was a human; he was replaceable. At that thought, his hand grew tighter.
James Tiberius’ heart was failing. Spock relished in hearing him choke and gasp- until a voice cut through the bloodlust. His father, and he said his name, and he remembered his mother and how anguished she would be to see this. It did not matter, she was gone now, but the thought lingered and he pulled away. Amanda Grayson was a human, and she was irreplaceable. He could not kill James Tiberius.
On Nero’s ship, James Tiberius told him, “Mind-meld with one of them. I’ll cover you.”
Spock did not trust him. Humans were a fickle sort, and prone to lying. He could just say it, get Spock killed, and go about his daily business, completely unperturbed. Then it occurred to him that James Tiberius could not possibly know that mind-melding was a skill that Vulcans possessed, because it was simply not broadcasted. It made him even more suspicious.
“Don’t make me make this an order, Spock,” he narrowed his eyes at him. “I promise. I will not let you die.”
“Given that I have attempted to kill you, you leaving me for dead is a logical assumption.”
James Tiberius’ eyes widened. “Spock,” he said slowly. “I will cover you. Now go!”
Spock considered their alternatives, decided this method had a higher chance of him escaping alive, and so he knelt to one James Tiberius had helpfully stunned and pressed his fingers to his face.
During his meld, he quickly located the information he needed. He exited the meld just as James Tiberius fired his phaser. Spock instinctively ducked, knowing in his heart that of course he would have been betrayed- but then the blast sailed harmlessly over his head and hit a Romulan behind him, sending him flying.
Spock stared at him.
He tolerated about fifteen seconds of this before he snapped and questioned Spock for answers. Meanwhile, Spock was questioning his own misgivings about James Tiberius.
“Spock?” James Tiberius- Jim, as Spock learnt he liked to be called, and henceforth endeavoured to remember, paused in his open doorway and looked conflicted. “Do you have a moment?”
Spock looked up from his padd, from where he had been looking over several samples they had collected from the planet they were currently in orbit around. It was strange- the water in the planet kept reacting to presence, as though attempting to communicate. He pushed it aside and said “of course, Captain, I believe I do.”
Jim entered the sparsely decorated room- the only personal memorabilia he allowed himself was a framed photograph of when his family was complete, several blankets his mother knitted- (“Why do you make these when we can purchase them?” “Oh, Spock, the joy is in the craft.”)- and several books on varying subjects.
He traced a hand down the photograph, poked the blankets, studied the books- eventually it became apparent that he was merely stalling for time.
Spock said, “Jim.” Using another’s first name as a prompt was commonly done in human social circles, and so he used it confidently here. It had its desired effect, because Jim turned hastily around to face him.
“Sorry,” he started, and then seemed to come to a conclusion. “Yeah, that was what I actually came here to say.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “You mean to say that you came to my quarters to apologise for meandering around them? How could you have known that I would react in this manner?”
Jim stared at him, and shook his head three times fast. “No, Spock,” Jim said softly. Softness in a human voice usually meant they were about to deliver bad news. Spock braced himself, and his blast doors, which were in need of some serious reparation works. Perhaps after Jim was gone, he could meditate and work on them. “I came here to apologise for what I said about you and your mother.”
Spock looked at him solemnly. An apology was the last thing he expected- given that he had assaulted him.
“I had to get you to leave- I mean, you told me to do that, but still. I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have had to go through that.”
“There is no apology needed,” Spock replied, trying to mimic the gentle tone Jim was using. “I assaulted you.”
“Because of what I said.” Jim raised an eyebrow.
Spock saw the logic in that. “Very well, I accept your apology,” and here Jim visibly relaxed. “And I hope you accept mine for strangling you. I assure you that I harbour no more murderous intentions toward you.”
Jim looked stunned, then threw back his head and laughed. “I accept, Commander.”
One thing Spock liked the most about humans was their inane ability to pack-bond with virtually anything that classified as non-toxic. Humans sometimes acted as if being on their own is the better choice, yet they spilled their pack-bonding instincts everywhere. At this current moment, Spock was watching Jim interact with the Tuquens. They were here to visit and re-establish diplomatic ties with them, after having not heard from them in a very long while.
The Tuquens were a reclusive sort, with beady black eyes that conveyed no warmth, and feathers coated their body instead of fur. They were bipedal, had only three fingers on one hand, with a thin membrane spread between them. Warp-capable, the Tuquens were highly advanced and it was absolutely necessary, in the light of the events of Nero, to have them as an ally.
One of the Tuquens was accompanied by a creature that resembled a Terran housecat, except for the fact that it was approximately one point sixty-eight metres in height, had feathers instead of fur, and had pendulous ears. It did have whiskers and a long tail, and stood proudly on four legs.
Jim took one look at the massive beast and asked if he could touch it.
The Tuquens were understandably perplexed by his question- perhaps touching their native species to communicate affection was not something they did. Jim said, “it’s called ‘petting’, and we do it on my home planet to show affection.” When the Tuquens still did not understand his words, he gestured for Spock to come over.
“Like so,” he said, when Spock was standing in front of him, and promptly reached his hand to lightly pat his head, despite the fact that he was obviously taller and he had to stand on the tips of his toes. It felt almost comforting, if a bit patronising, and when Jim took it a step further and ruffled his hair gently Spock’s nose crinkled. It would be a lie to say he disliked it, but he would have to recomb his hair.
The Tuquens discussed the matter amongst themselves before the Chief permitted it, causing the Jim to visibly bounce on his feet due to anticipation as the beast was brought over.
It was explained to Spock- the only one listening, at least, because Jim was too busy holding out his hand for the beast to sniff at, that it was a talashk-mordu , a beast native to their planet. It was semi domesticated, and due to its immense strength, keen sense of hearing and smell, as well as its status as semi-sapient, the Tuquens used them to guard sensitive locations.
“Hi,” Jim said as he held out his hand. “I’m Jim Kirk.”
Th e talashk-mordu bumped his hand with his nose. “Jim Kirk,” it echoed in a series of snuffling noises, as the universal translator beeped and churned out the words. “Smell nice.”
“Can I touch you?” Jim asked carefully. This was another one of the qualities that Spock found admirable in his Captain. Even though the beast’s masters had already given him the go ahead, as long as the beast itself refused, he would not carry on. He cared for the feelings of those around him.
“Touch?” the beast questioned, before lying down and pressing its head into the ground. “Touch.”
It occurred to Spock that Jim was pack-bonding with the beast. Clearly, Jim seemed unaware of his influence, but judging from the disbelieving looks of the Tuquens, the beast had previously not permitted itself to be touched in any manner. Yet here came this outsider, and within several minutes of meeting it, had already managed to, as he was now doing, rub the sides of the talashk-mordu’s face and giggle.
“Three for beaming back to the Enterprise, Scotty,” Jim said jovially, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
“Three?” Scott’s voice crackled over to the communicator. “Got a visitor have you?”
“Something like that,” Jim conceded, grinning widely at Spock, who stared impassively back at him as his hair was licked by the talashk-mordu , which Jim, after consulting heavily with it, had named Tefal.
“Don’t tell the cat,” he stage-whispered as they awaited the beam up. “But Tefal means adorable in Heren.”
“It is not a cat,” Spock informed him. “However feline it may resemble. It is a talashk-mordu , and it has been gifted to us in good graces by the Tuquen high council.”
“It’s licking your hair,” Jim suddenly noticed, and burst into laughter. “Oh my god, your hair is standing up.”
He glanced upward; indeed, the back of his hair had been pushed upward into something that looked vaguely like a pyramid. Tefal noticed the point on the top, pressed downwards with its tongue, and his hair sank downwards. He sighed heavily as Jim continued laughing, even as they were beamed up.
“My god,” said Doctor McCoy, the instant they appeared on the transporter pad. “Why does Spock have sex hair?”
Jim had to stabilise himself against the wall as he was overcome with a second round of laughter. “I love how that is the first thing you see,” he gasped for air, and that is when McCoy noticed the feline at the back, turning circles around Spock’s person.
“What is that?” He asked shrilly, and Tefal raised his head at him.
“Tefal,” it nodded at him. “Jim Kirk name Tefal.”
“Why do you have a bird cat?” Lieutenant Uhura asked as she entered the room. “Commander- your hair?”
“I am very much aware of the state of my hair,” Spock said as he stepped off the pad. “This is a talashk-mordu . Jim formed a bond with it, surprising the Tuquens, and upon our departure they gifted it to us. It is also worth noting that its bond with Jim was the main reason the Tuquens thought us to be trustworthy. Apparently, it had been a bit of a wildcard.”
“The things like a metre and a half, and we’re just going to keep it aboard the Enterprise?” McCoy snorted, looked at Jim’s excited face and sighed. “I’ll go get the vet.”
“What is vet?” Telfan questioned as they moved out of the room, his tail swishing behind him.
“You’re going to love her,” Jim coughed, shot a glance at McCoy, who was on the verge of shaking his head, and carried on walking.
In the two weeks that spanned since Telfan’s arrival, it had already garnered several admirers. However, the beast remained extremely loyal to Jim, even going as far as to accompany him to the Bridge and sit, curled up around the Captain’s chair, content to do nothing and sleep. Spock often wondered if he should tell him of his pack-bonding- it seemed to be very influential, even for a human. Perhaps it was that had granted him such extraordinary leadership abilities.
He was contemplating the matter when there was a double knock on the door, a knock that Spock had come to associate to be Jim’s. “Enter.”
The doors slid noiselessly open, and it revealed Jim, as Spock had suspected, but instead of his usual jovial attitude, he looked weary, and tired. “Is something troubling you?”
He nodded, a wordless sigh of stress escaping his mouth as he entered the room and sat heavily down in the only chair Spock had in his room. Spock himself was sitting on his meditation pad. “There was a scandal in one of the other ships. I just got word.”
“What has transpired?” He asked, intrigued. Not many scandals happened in Starfleet. Perhaps the biggest one that had happened during Spock’s time in the Academy was when Jim had been rightfully accused of cheating.
“The First Officer on USS Tempest lied to his Captain on the origins of a particular substance. It was toxic, and he didn't know, but when the Captain asked him to make sure it was safe he didn't bother, and I quote ‘because the two of them had had an argument recently’ unquote, so he lied and said it checked out. Two people died, Spock.”
Spock frowned. “That is most unlike Commander Jackson,” he said, and Jim snorted.
“Of course you would know who he was,” Jim said, though he said it with fondness, not with the underlying irritation that many others would have. “Yeah, Jackson’s usually a pretty decent dude, but he- he indirectly killed two people because he let his feelings get in the way.”
Spock nodded solemnly, knowing that Jim preferred to vent first before he allowed himself to take advice. Silence fell, but it was broken soon after by him.
“Promise me something, Spock,” he rubbed his face with his hands.
“Vulcan oaths are not made lightly,” Spock informed him. “What is it you would have me swear?”
“That you and I will never keep a secret from each other, especially not when concerning the Enterprise. You can keep your personal details to yourself, for example your relationship with Uhura, but when it comes to the crew, to the mission? Don’t hide anything from me, and vice versa,” Jim looked at him with unusual graveness. “I know it is a big promise, but the Enterprise is my family and I won’t have it risked over a petty argument.”
“Vulcans do not lie.”
“Is hiding something I should know considered lying by omission to Vulcans?”
Spock considered this. “No. Very well, I swear to you. Where the Enterprise is concerned, I will not keep a secret from you.”
Jim visibly relaxed; his whole body slumped forward. “And I promise you too.”
“I can start with one,” Spock said. Jim raised an eyebrow, leaning back on the chair such that it rested on two legs. “I do not have a relationship with Lieutenant Uhura.”
Jim tipped backwards over the chair, crashing to the ground in a heap of limbs. It would seem that his words had caused surprise. “She kissed you.”
“And I her,” he confirmed. “Yet, we decided recently that we were not compatible.”
“So...she is your ex-girlfriend, and you work together?” Jim’s eyebrows were well into his forehead.
“It was...awkward, I believe the word is, for the first fifteen point six days,” Spock admitted. “However, no complications will arise because of our previous emotional connection,” he assured him. “She was the one to initiate the termination of our romantic involvement.”
“Too much is going on right now,” Jim actually looked delighted. “First, I just wanna say that I am gossiping with a Vulcan, and second, Uhura broke up with you? What did she say?”
“I have no comment on the matter,” Spock replied, and Jim’s whole face fell. He sighed heavily. “She informed me that in light of recent events, she would give me space.”
“Did you say no?”
“Obviously not.”
“You should’ve said no,” Jim whistled. “Wait- did you want to remain in a relationship with Uhura?”
“I was conflicted over the matter,” Spock admitted. “I do not think I would have remained for much longer had she not initiated the end.”
“That’s tough, Spock,” Jim clapped his shoulder. “‘Cause you volunteered one, I’ll tell you a personal one too. That’s fair, right?”
“It would seem so.”
“I know a lot about Vulcans that I probably shouldn’t know.”
“What do you mean?” Spock leaned forward. This was something he had been meaning to ask Jim for a long time, ever since Nero and the mindmeld.
“You- Spock prime mindmelded with me when we were stranded on Delta Vega. He said- is it said when you hear someone else’s voice in your head- that you and I should become friends. Then all this information about Vulcans came pouring out. I think it was so I could keep you safe,” Jim rubbed the back of his neck, a sign he was nervous.
“What did you learn?”
“Everything,” Jim deadpanned. “You are a touch-telepath. You kiss with your hands. You have an inner eyelid. You can do this wickedly awesome healing trance thing. That Vulcans and humans cannot um...reproduce without medical intervention. That you were the first Vulcan/human hybrid to survive to adulthood. You’ve got weird teeth called tri-something, I can’t remember that one. And there’s um, something...um,” he was clearly hesitating.
Spock scanned his list of Vulcan attributes, applied Jim’s nervousness as a filter, and found one match. “Pon farr,” he said, and Jim visibly cringed..
“That, yes. Jesus- when is your next-”
“Not soon,” Spock assured him. “As I am half-human, the pon farr is not as strong as it is with normal Vulcans. It follows no logical course, but it can be controlled with meditation.”
“So you don’t have to- this is terrible,” Jim rubbed his face with his hands again, stood up, and clapped Spock weakly on the back. “I hope you never get it again.”
“Likewise, Captain,” the corners of Spock’s mouth twitched upwards. “I notice you are extremely uncomfortable.”
“Yes I am, Spock,” Jim looked off into the distance. “Yes I am.”
“Jim, if I may offer a word of advice,” he paused, and only when Jim nodded did he continue. “Do not repeat what you know about Vulcans around them. While they are peaceful, they protect their secrets, and none is more so than the Vulcan biology. To inform them, then, that you have this knowledge, and considering recent events, they may perceive you as a threat.”
Jim made a face. “Has anyone ever told you that Vulcans are extremely xenophobic?”
“I am all too aware, Captain.”
“Spock, Uhura, Tefal and Bones, you’re with me on the away team. The mission is simple, there was a war here a long time ago, and Starfleet want us to see if we can learn anything about it. The planet is now uninhabited, and three scans for lifesigns have turned up nothing. All the same, set your phasers to stun, take your survival kit- I am not taking any chances after what happened to USS Elizabeth- and meet me at the transporter pad in fifteen minutes,” Jim commanded, and the crew instantly dispersed. “Chekov, you have the conn.”
“Are we seriously taking the birdcat,” McCoy hissed as Spock began attaching a locator to Telfan’s collar.
“I think it’ll do it- her, sorry, keep forgetting, some good to get out of the Enterprise for some fresh air,” Jim smiled at the talashk-mordu with something that resembled pride. “And she’s adorable, so yes.”
“You have got to stop forming attachments to animal species,” McCoy insisted. “You nearly brought back a pontis the other day.”
“Yeah, so what? He was cute! I named him Mouse.”
“It eats metal, Jim,” McCoy pinched the bridge of his nose. “This entire starship is made out of metal . If Spock hadn’t been around-”
“I will most likely always be around to prevent the Captain from bringing back potentially destructive animal creatures to the Enterprise,” Spock said. “I can get him to change his mind on most of them, except the talashk-mordu , which would have been seen as a rejection toward the Tuquen high council, and the small hamster like creature he had left in his sleeve and brought on board without both our knowledge while we were on Gamma Five.”
“Yeah, what happened to the little guy?” Jim asked as they took off for the transporter pad, armed with locators, tricorders, padds and their individual survival kits.
“He gorged himself on replicated food and died,” Spock said blandly.
Jim visibly winced.
The planet that they beamed down on was known as Iro, or at least to the Federation. Apparently, decades ago, there had been a fierce war between Iro and a neighbouring planet, Promon. The war ended when Promon’s core became superheated due to a weapon they were attempting to charge, and the planet blew apart. Even now, the Enterprise had to navigate through huge rock formations that floated about in the zero gravity, presumably debris from Promon’s explosion. When the planet had exploded, all records of the war and of Iro had been destroyed, and the occupants of Iro had abandoned their planet.
As such, there were no known records of the war existing in Federation databases. Hence, it was a perfect mission for the Enterprise to figure out exactly what happened.
When they beamed down, they found themselves in a deciduous forest. The temperature was cool, approximately fifteen degrees celsius, and the sun was out and hanging low in the sky. Dawn had just broken, and the orange sunlight filtered from behind clouds and illuminated huge mountains that encircled their area. The trees were a species Spock had never seen before, and he immediately set about plucking leaves, flowers, and bark, and kept them neatly in their own jars. Upon inspection, they closely resembled Terran oak trees.
Telfan sniffed at the trees excitedly, but refrained from eating the leaves at Jim’s command. Instead, she pushed at the branches and pressed her nose to the ground. All at once, she took off like a bullet, and Jim just managed to shout after her to come back in a couple of hours.
McCoy muttered, “well that was useful.”
Jim swatted the back of his head, and together they trekked on. The last known coordinates was a distress signal that had been sent before abruptly cutting off, presumably due to the war. Whatever it was, it had taken years to reach a Federation base, and years more for them to decipher what it was they were attempting to communicate. By then, Promon had already exploded, and Iro was deserted.
They clambered over a boulder, Spock trailing behind to collect samples of water that was trickling past them. Jim reached down to help Uhura up when McCoy, the first to get over, said, “holy shit.”
Jim finished pulling her up, turned around, and let out a low, long whistle. By now he had piqued Spock’s interest, and so he forged forward, climbed neatly over the boulder, nudged Jim aside, and saw what had made them all stop.
It was a paradise. They were overlooking a valley. A pristine river ran through the valley, cutting its way through rock and stone. On the embankment, millions of wildflowers bloomed and grew, filling the air with a sweet scent. Several small animals rustled through the grass, framed by the new sun, and it felt overwhelmingly peaceful. Something inside Spock ached at the side, a longing for something he had never known. On the far left, a small building jutted out from a cliffside. It was white in colour, and looked like it could have been a house. Small round glassless windows circled their way around the house, and flowers grow in the cracks of the wall. He could live here, Spock realised. He could live here and be at peace.
“It doesn’t look like there’s been a war,” Uhura whispered, as if she could shatter the tranquility by speaking normally.
“There was,” Spock answered. Everyone turned to look at him.
“The place is straight out of a postcard,” McCoy gestured at it.
Spock pointed at several locations, two on the bottom right, one near the house and three at the top left. “If you notice, the flowers that grow there are not only different, but they’re growing angularly. They are slanting upwards, because they are growing in a crater, presumably created during the war. Sufficient time has passed to allow regrowth of the native vegetation, but there are always things that cannot be hidden.”
Now that Spock had pointed it out, the others could see the shadows of the slopes, the jagged edges of rocks displaced. McCoy snorted. “Spoilsport,” he stage-whispered.
“I cannot spoil a sport, Doctor McCoy. It is physically impossible.”
“Let’s just head to the building over there, shall we?” Jim interrupted McCoy’s reply, waggled his eyebrows and set off at a fast pace.
They reached the building in one point six seven hours. Jim pushed open the door- it was made out of wood, and was flimsy and makeshift. The inside of the house was dark and gloomy. Dust coated every object in the room.
There was a table, and three chairs. They tipped back and forth on uneven legs. Further to the left, a chair had been smashed to pieces. Further inspection of the house proved nothing. There was no bed, one end of the house had been completely destroyed, its ceiling crumbling into ruin. McCoy found a smashed transmitter, which could account for the distress signal. It is Uhura who discovered the most important thing in the house, a painting.
It had not been noticed as the painting itself had been smashed, but she had turned over one of the tiles and fit them together like a pieces of a puzzle.
The species that had previously lived on Iro was green-skinned. They had light hair, and pale eyes, and their face structure was small and compressed. They boasted three hands and two legs, and if the picture was reliable, their children were lighter in skin shade than their parents. Uhura took a photo of the painting for further study, and they brought back a piece of it.
Spock was contemplating the picture when Jim’s ecstatic shout rang throughout the house, and had the three of them rushing toward him. They burst into the room he was in and saw him standing in front of a brown, wooden cupboard. “I thought it would be like Narnia,” Jim told them. Spock did not understand the reference. “And I was right!”
Closer inspection of the cupboard revealed a set of stairs that descended down into the mountainside.
“Looks shady to me,” McCoy muttered.
“I have to agree with the Doctor, Captain. We do not know where this might bring us.”
“Does any of us have a better idea?” Jim opened his palms and waited, and when there was no answer, he grinned in triumph. He went first, as expected, babbling to himself the whole time. Next followed Uhura, McCoy, and Spock brought up the rear.
They lit the way with flashlights. The stairs went extremely deep into the mountainside, and the air inside the tunnel smelt stale. After several kilometres, Spock began experiencing back pain from hunching over, the tunnel being too small for him to fit comfortably.
Eventually, however, they arrived at a set of stone doors. Together, they pushed it open, and found that it opened into an enormous cavern. Three seats were arranged on a dias, natural light falling in and illuminating the biggest one.
“It’s a throne room,” Jim breathed, looking around in amazement. “I think this was the centre of their war efforts. They must’ve kept the most important dignitaries here.”
Uhura busied herself with some words that were scrawled along the walls, McCoy snorted- he seemed almost fond of that gesture- and poked at the seats, and Jim turned to Spock, wild-eyed with the thrill of it all and smiled brilliantly.
Spock often thought that if Jim was the sun, bright and wonderful, then he was the moon, cold and silent.
“This is awesome,” Jim whispered, as if it was something only Spock should know. “Don’t you think so?”
“It is not boring,” Spock conceded.
“You and your double negatives,” Jim laughed. “I know you’re loving it. You just can’t wait to go back to the ship and get your science on with those samples, correct?”
“You are not wrong,” Spock knew the phrase, ‘get your science on’ to be interpreted to mean wishing to analyse the substances through the use of science. He had corrected Jim on it many times before, but it seemed to have no effect, and so he had given up on even mentioning it.
“Double negative again,” Jim said fondly. “You act so stoic and impassive but give you unknown samples and you’re all raring to go, you can’t hide that from me.”
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Why can’t I?”
“Because your eyes are human,” Jim answered honestly. It seemed that he would have continued, but then Uhura shouted, loud and- and full of fear, and that side of Jim retreats so far into himself it was like it never existed.