• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

By Root 326 0

been half a day’s trek across the unknown world’s barren wastes became a torturous four-day climb through the ravines and crevices of the sunbaked sphere. Though the sere, pitiless environment was technically M-Class—which Tuvok had called remarkable, considering the planetoid’s relatively small size—the plant life here was clearly being sustained by resources located far underground; the spire-like trees had somehow managed to contribute enough oxygen and nitrogen to make the arid atmosphere barely breathable, but evidently did not support any large fauna. And they seemed to provide precious little protection against the system’s roiling, merciless sun. Worse yet, the hard, rocky ground made whatever subterranean water the trees were using effectively inaccessible, especially since the planetoid’s geomagnetism had evidently cooked their one hand phaser.

By the time they finally reached the wreckage of the shuttle, both men were dehydrated, sunburned, and very nearly in a state of hallucination. Akaar was amazed and thankful to discover that several of the shuttle’s aft compartments had been relatively unharmed by the crash, giving them some emergency supplies, two sheltering tents, and a small amount of water and foodstuffs.

Despite his obvious hunger, Tuvok had offered his portion to Akaar, but Akaar would have none of it. He finally had to order Tuvok to eat before the often-maddening Vulcan would ingest any sustenance other than sips of water.

Now, with some small measure of food and fluid in his large frame, Akaar felt fatigue gripping him. “I will try to sleep until nightfall,” he said, gesturing toward his shelter.

“Sir, you must be aware that this planetoid is tidally locked to the second planet in the system. Therefore there is no night on this—” Tuvok stopped, apparently realizing from Akaar’s weary grin that the captain was engaging in a small jest.

“I will be in my own tent, meditating,” Tuvok said finally.

Akaar watched his friend turn away, and then entered the relative cool of the tent—relative in that it wasn’t plus-sixty-five degrees Celsius as it was under the outside sun.

Perhaps during our time here, my old friend will finally learn the value of humor , he thought as he lay down on the remnants of upholstery they had salvaged from one of the shuttle chairs that hadn’t been too badly burned.

It seemed an impossible task. But so, too, had escaping from the plunging shuttle.

DAY 6—STARDATE 26798.9 (19 OCTOBER 2349)

In the state of eiihu, experienced only by Vulcans during deep meditation, Tuvok didn’t exactly dream of his family and his past, though he imagined that the visions he saw and interacted with were probably not unlike the dreams experienced by other species. It was here that he best remembered the flawless beauty of T’Pel, his wife of forty-five years. He cherished the memory of her dancing in the graceful korl’na that her mother had made for her, and that she had worn for him when they both had experienced their first throes of Pon farr.

He remembered, too, his five-year-old daughter Asil and his three older sons, Sek, Varik, and Eliath. He recalled the somber way each of them had stared at him as he taught them the fundamental principles of Vulcan cthia that he had learned so painstakingly throughout his life. Unlike fathers of other Vulcan children, however, he had access to knowledge that came from far past the mountains of L-Langon, or even the ancient, bloodstone-covered halls of ShiKahr. He had experienced the galaxy beyond for nine years, first as a cadet at Starfleet Academy, then as a junior science officer aboard the U.S.S. Excelsior .

But he had left that ship—and Starfleet—dissatisfied with the perplexingly emotional manner in which Captain Sulu and the other humans he encountered had made their decisions.

Still, his five years aboard Excelsior had given him a wealth of stories and wonders to share with his children. And it had also been enough to bring him two close friends—friends with whom he had become at least as intimate as any he had ever acquired back home on