2297
Through caverns sculpted by primordial forces and made their own by Vulcans now dust for ages, T’Vora walked. She kept her pace slow, each hand wrapped about the opposite forearm and buried within the arms of her white robe. Behind her, to left and right, Elders Rekan and Sokel trailed along on their way to the traditional destination. The triumvirate’s footfalls echoed thinly in the damp space, the cool of the subterranean labyrinth a lie that would be exposed out on the Fire Plains of Gol.
On the cave walls, symbols passed. Etched into the rock here and out on the high plateau, they had been recorded in no other known place on all of Vulcan—not in the land, not on parchment, not in the memories of the scions leading from the mists of prehistory to the present. And yet the ancient icons had given up their meanings, studied through to understanding by masters past. That knowledge now passed from one generation to the next, but only within the circle of adepts.
It had been argued that keeping such information the sole province of the masters flouted logic, and that the notion of privilege defied the rights of the people in a free society. T’Vora agreed, though she had never been invited to offer her opinions in a public forum. She also knew that, apart from the principle involved, the actual content of the primordial characters lacked relevance to modern Vulcan society. The figures told no story, provided no insights, recorded virtually nothing about those who had engraved them, but for their egocentric dedication to their own passions. That aspect of their existence had survived beyond them, though, and its impact on Vulcan history had long been understood. The contribution of uncontrolled ardor to the near self-annihilation of the entire culture had been well recorded during the Time of Awakening.
From up ahead, T’Vora felt the hot, dry breath of the lava-riddled plain. Soon, she would know if she had succeeded. After an adult lifetime administering the Kolinahr, she did not doubt her strengths and capabilities, and now, after more than nine seasons with Spock, neither did she doubt his efforts as aspirant. But the issue, as always, would have nothing to do with their toils; rather, it would hinge on their collective judgment. Had Spock been right to petition when he had, and had T’Vora made the right choice when she’d accepted it? Had she decided wisely then a second time, when she had reconsidered his candidacy halfway through the process and allowed him to continue? It could be reduced to a simple equation: if their shared judgment had been wise, then Spock would achieve Kolinahr; if not, then he would not.
As T’Vora climbed around a rising, arcing length of the cave, the shadowy surroundings grew clearer. Daylight reached her and she felt the chill of the underground fall away completely. In the distance, she heard the low snarl of molten rock flowing in pools and rivers. The Fire Plains awaited.
T’Vora emerged from the mouth of the cave into the scarlet tint of twilight. She peered upward at the huge likeness of a master shaped from fire red stone. With its back to the caverns, the statue stood astride shallow, multi-shaped rock ledges that had been crafted into steps. Incised with the olden glyphs, the stairway led downward, where a ribbon of the stonework reached out into the edge of the sweltering Gol plateau.
Beneath the great figure, T’Vora stopped, as did Rekan and Sokel behind her. Out on the plain, at the end of the sliver of wrought masonry, amid pools of boiling water and cauldrons of churning, liquefied rock, Spock waited. Clad in a long, sleeveless ceremonial tunic atop a brown robe, he kept his head down and his hands together in a pose of meditation. T’Vora had directed him to spend the day here in contemplation of what would come next. She had not told him what that would be, because she did not know.
Now they would all find out together.
T’Vora pulled her hands from within the sleeves of her robe, spread her arms wide, and raised them high. “The journey we have taken together, leading this aspirant, ends here,” she recited to the two elders from a litany now thousands of years old. “Here, on these sands where our ancestors cast out their animal passions.” Spock, too far away, would not hear. She delivered the words not in the language she normally used, but in that of Old Vulcan. “At this hour, on this day, we seek to invite the aspirant to join us in a world of reason. A world in which emotion has been shed, and where pure logic dictates all that we are and all that we do.” She lowered her arms to her sides. “Elder Rekan,” she said. Rekan stepped forward and turned to face T’Vora. “You will judge first.”
“I will judge first, Master T’Vora,” Rekan said, also in Old Vulcan. The elder turned again, back toward the high plateau of Gol. Then she descended the stairs, the taps of her footwear swallowed up by the vast plain.
T’Vora watched as Rekan paced out to Spock. When she arrived before him, she spoke to the aspirant. Spock then lowered himself to his knees, folded his hands before him, and raised his head to the elder. Rekan reached forward, her hand going to his face, her fingers setting in place to allow her to meld with him.
The connection lasted only minutes, but T’Vora knew that the duration held no indication of consequence. Failure to achieve Kolinahr could be detected in an instant or an eternity; likewise, success. There could be no reasonable expectation regarding the span of time required. The elders and then T’Vora herself would take as short or as long as needed to arrive at their individual determinations.
Spock did not move from his knees as Rekan withdrew her hand from his face. The elder walked back across the blistering stone, then mounted the steps. Without a word, she took her place to T’Vora’s left.
“Elder Sokel,” T’Vora said, and he moved to face her. “You will judge next.”
“I will judge next, Master T’Vora,” he replied. As Rekan had before him, Sokel made his way over to the aspirant beneath the gloaming sky. He spoke to Spock, then established a mind meld between them. This time, the link continued for more than twice as long as it had with Rekan, but again, T’Vora drew no conclusions from that fact. She simply waited for Sokel to return to his place at her right.
“I will now judge,” T’Vora declared, and she started across the scored volcanic rock. All around, steam rose from water bubbling up from underground. The scent of sulfur clung to the air like the dampness had to the cave walls. Farther afield, lava roiled within fissures and vents.
As she reached Spock, her gaze met his. His features revealed no hint of emotion. In his time as aspirant, his hair had grown long and his skin more rugged. Some of the ancient symbols preserved in the walls of the caverns and out on the steps and here in the ground ornamented his tunic. “Spock,” she said, “the journey we have taken together ends here. You have been an aspirant these many seasons, but that too will end. Today you will achieve the Kolinahr or you will not. Regardless of the outcome, you will depart the Akrelt Refuge tomorrow and return to a life without these demands that you have asked of yourself, and that I have directed.” She awaited his response.
“I understand, Master,” Spock said, offering the ritual reply. “I am prepared.”
“Your thoughts, then,” she said. “Give them to me.” She raised her hand to Spock’s face. His flesh felt hot and coarse beneath her touch, but the sensations faded quickly as she sent the tendrils of her mind in search of his. “My mind to your mind,” she said, her eyes closing. “My thoughts to your thoughts.”
This became the first test, the first area in which to judge. Although a mind meld necessarily required a lowering of mental defenses, it could also be accomplished—and most often was—with some barriers left in place. If still an emotional being, Spock would reflexively strive to maintain his guard at some points, despite that, in these circumstances, logic commanded otherwise. As a master, T’Vora could compel the release of all his thoughts, though of course she would not; as his Kolinahr master, though, she would need access to those thoughts, and if he could not make them available to her, it would reveal a deficiency of either his reason or his control.
But T’Vora encountered no resistance. Since she had not melded with Spock recently or often—though they had frequently bridged—she had allowed for some small measure of opposition. Instead, the filaments of her mind at once floated freely, interlacing with Spock’s. It had happened that quickly, that easily. Far evolved from the last time that they had melded, his discipline impressed her.
T’Vora floated in empty space, and knew it to be filled. She looked for that which she most recognized: herself.Memories surrounded her in the next instant, and she chose from among them the first.
There, in the Akrelt Refuge, beneath the sculpture of T’Klass, standing at the altar, at the reliquary atop it. “Do not assure me,” she told him as he made his petition to her. “The Kolinahr is not a haven from what you feel…the purging of emotion is a serious matter…Spock, child of Sarek, child of Skon, your petition…is denied.” She reached forward and set the bell down atop the candle, extinguishing its flame.
T’Vora sensed no resentment, no disappointment. The recollection came without ego, without color. She detected remembrance and fact, but no feeling.
She probed further.
There, to the Enterprise, to the Kobayashi Maru test, sacrificing the needs of the one for the needs of the many.
Spock slumped, and then died.
And then lived, in schism—
His body, revived by the Genesis Wave…growing unnaturally, at an accelerated pace. His mind…wiped clean, birthed again…with no training…with no conscious decision to control his emotions…felt fear and sadness, loneliness and longing and anger.
T’Vora immersed herself in the emotions, and found them extant in name only. Spock remembered what he’d felt as a function of intellect, but no more than that. Death came as detail, and rebirth as well, the first a logical choice, the second a logical consequence.
She probed deeper.
There, in the house in Shi’Kahr, as a boy, Spock hurting his mother, unwilling to tell her that he loved her…even though he did. Striving to be Vulcan and denying his human heritage, struggling to show that he belonged.
There, on the Forge, even before the kahs-wan, seekingto prove himself through his own test of maturity and survival. I-Chaya dying in the desert, but the boy Spock rescued by the adult Spock.
There, by the glowing, organic form of the Guardian of Forever, knowing that he had altered the timeline to save himself, to save his mother. The soft, milky features of Edith Keeler, whom Jim had loved, who’d had to die, and Spock had never even considered looking for another way.
There, in the courtyard of the Federation embassy on Alonis, McCoy arriving to tell him of Jim’s death. The sadness, compounded by the regret of having failed his friend.
T’Vora swept along the chain of sentiment, from one to the next. Where before she had unearthed substance, now she found only shadow. Everywhere, understanding replaced feeling, reason replaced response.
She probed on.
Spock kneeled on the ancient stonework, fashioned so long ago that its origins could not be traced in even the oldest Vulcan legends. His vestments bore the same inscriptions as those carved all around him, though he could not read them. Only the masters understood the meanings of the arcane symbols.
As the day faded above him and the heat began ever so slightly to recede, Spock collected himself. The three successive mind melds had left him tired, though not exhausted, uneven, but not unsteady. Now, he took the time he needed to order his mind, to return his thoughts and memories to their normal, protected state.
Spock had arrived here early this morning, before dawn, as directed by Master T’Vora. As the sun had risen, he had reflected on his experiences since entering into the Kolinahr. He had survived the demanding disciplines, as well as the harsh trials that had taken him to those levels of consciousness beyond the reach of confusion, fatigue, and pain. He had learned emotional control in a way he never before had, not even during his first Kolinahr all those years ago. Beyond that, he had found the path through his feelings, extracting from them their factual essence, and then stripping them away.
As dawn had risen, Spock had slipped effortlessly into the mind-cleansing meditation he had also perfected in his time studying with Master T’Vora. He knew as surely as he could that, after he faced her and the elders today, the master would call on him to join them in the world of pure reason. He felt no pride in the impending accomplishment, nor would he when its moment arrived. But reaching the end of this trek satisfied him.
Throughout the day, the heat of Gol had risen, the only lull during the time when the shadow of the massive statue above the steps had crept across his location. Now, in the dwindling light of dusk, the temperature ebbing, Spock peered upward, not at the sky, but at the face of the great sculpture. Beneath it, Master T’Vora and Elders Rekan and Sokel waited. They had each come forward and melded with him, then returned to their places on the stairs. With the individual links, he knew, each of them had concluded their long evaluation of his fitness for the Kolinahr.
Now, Spock’s own personal time of awakening had come. Or it had not. He would soon find out.
He lifted himself to his feet. Across inscriptions out of antiquity, he walked forward, climbing the low steps when he came to them. At last, he stood before the master.
T’Vora raised her right hand in the traditional Vulcan greeting, and Spock responded in kind. In her other hand, he saw, the master held a token, a set of colored geometric shapes fitted together to form the Vulcan symbol that denoted an existence of pure logic. Spock knew that it would either be given to him or discarded. T’Vora wore such an icon on a chain around her own neck.
Spock sensed the echo of events. The setting and situation closely matched his experiences of more than two decades ago, when he had first endeavored to attain the Kolinahr under the guidance of Master T’sai. Back then, though, he had reached this point only to find himself affected by the consciousness of V’Ger. He expected nothing of that sort to occur again, but even if it did, he deemed himself more capable now of withstanding it. The route he had taken this time in order to reach this point had proven more arduous, his labors more thorough.
The master stepped forward, as did Sokel beside her. “Our ancestors cast out their animal passions here on these sands,” she said in the Old Vulcan tongue. “Our race was saved by the attainment of Kolinahr.”
“Kolinahr,” Sokel droned, “through which all emotion is finally shed.”
“You have labored long, Spock,” T’Vora said. “Now receive from us this symbol of total logic.”
After ten seasons—more than three Standard years—of effort and a lifetime of striving to live up to some measure of the Vulcan ideal, Spock had finally achieved success in this exemplar of his culture’s rites. He felt—
Nothing.
Spock lowered himself to his knees. Master T’Vora moved closer, then draped around his neck the chain holding the Kolinahr emblem. “We welcome you into our world, Spock,” she said.
Spock stood up. He peered to either side of T’Vora at the two elders who had accompanied him on this path, then back at the master. “I recognize the contributions all of you have made to this accomplishment.” He did not offer his gratitude. T’Vora and Rekan and Sokel had chosen to be guides for aspirants seeking the Kolinahr, and after his petition had been accepted—as it clearly should have been—they had simply and logically performed their duties. One did not thank logic.
“Come share a repast with us,” T’Vora said. “We will mark the transition of this leg of your individual journey to the next.” She turned and started up the steps toward the entrance to the caverns. Rekan and Sokel went after her, and Spock followed behind.
In the morning, considering himself more a part of Vulcan society than ever before, Spock departed the Akrelt Refuge to began his new life.