Title: The Space in Our Blood
Author: Arachnethe2 <Arachnethe2@darmstadt.netsurf.de
Series: TOS
Code: PG-13
Pairing: S/Saa
Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Paramount Pictures,
this is a piece of amateur fan fiction, made for no profit.
Summary: And still he can't leave the Earth.


"Big, old secrets of the nature,
  that only from a human a human could be born,
  the leaves and the roots are forming a tree,
  the blood of our thoughts travels through the space."

      "Comet" a song of J. Nohavica
The Space in Our Blood



Written by Arachnethe2



The window of his bedroom remained always opened through
the whole night. He closed it only when the winter temperatures
in San Francisco reached a level which was really unbearable for
his Vulcan nature. Not that the other nights wouldn't be cold.
He always slept full covered with his blanket almost to the top
of his head.

But still he kept this strange custom, never mind that
his muscles were often stiff in the morning. For outside of his
apartment was the night sky with the stars and that opened
window seemed to bring him closer to them.

Years ago he stopped to ask himself if this particular
habit contained even a bit of logic. But at last he gave up.
They all had this strange custom. They - who once got trapped in
the spell of the stars, of their light on the black velvet
surface, which since the universe was born, has awakened this
strange longing in the planet-bound creatures. A longing to
reach out their bare hands and touch them.

Sometimes he stood at night by this opened window and
watched the dark sky. The stars weren't very visible in San
Francisco, being overpowered by the millions of light bulbs in
the street lamps and neon signs. But still their calling was
strong enough, to come to him through the shiny barrier.

Yet still he resisted their songs, although the only
wish he had was to return back to them. For he couldn't leave
the Earth.



It was this way when Jim died, and the universe didn't
stop its rotation. Only, someone very special went away, for
good. They all knew that it would happen one day. But they had
never imagined that it would be so soon. And that it would be
him, of all of them. Perhaps the years spent under his command
had lulled them into a paradoxical certainty, that there would
always be a possible way out. And now he was gone, from one day
to the next. And although they all knew that this would come one
day, still it caught them almost unguarded.

Almost.

Almost, because they were from the stars, they were the
travellers into the very depths of their souls. For this they
had left all behind, destroyed all bridges and, holding their
gaze straight, they had challenged every rule of the universe.

Jim was gone and with him possibly everything which
might still bind Spock to Starfleet. Many speculated, even more
of them preached it for sure, that there would be a big career
awaiting him in the Federation Diplomatic Corps. But he let them
wait - all the diplomats and their urgent missions. He had some
serious reasons, he kept telling all who dared to ask. He still
couldn't leave the Earth.

He knew it too well, when he and his friends settled
together in a small restaurant after Jim's memorial. Silently he
watched all the oh so good familiar faces around him and knew,
with a painful certainty, that with Jim's death something had
started to move. And himself, he couldn't prevent it: this was
the time for departures.

This was why he didn't leave the Earth.

Yet still there were the stars, which were calling to
them. Those shiny spots spread all over the black velvet. And
they all were, even with their last breath, trying to touch them.

Scotty followed a few years later. He had an appointment
with Spock at the Moon Starbase Seven. They both were invited to
examine a new warp technology, which was just then in the pilot
phases of development. Spock came from Earth and Scotty was to
come from Mars, where he was living with his nephew. But when
all but Scotty had left the Spaceliner, Spock knew that there
was something wrong.

The captain had asked him to come on board, and brought
the now very silent Vulcan into the shuttle restaurant: Scotty
sat still in one of the chairs, the glass of his favourite
scotch was broken on the floor, right next to his boots, while
the man's eyes were staring out of the window past the thick
walls of the Starbase. They were searching after the stars in
the moment of his passing.

The nearby called doctor had diagnosed a sudden heart
collapse. It all went too quickly. Scotty didn't suffer much.

"A good death," McCoy quoted, when they were sitting in
an restaurant after Scotty's funeral. Although Spock asked
himself, why should a death suddenly be called in this way, when
humans obviously... But he skipped any farther speculations,
because the others around him only nodded in appreciation and
himself, the Vulcan didn't want to disturb their grieving in
such an impolite way.

Years passed by and Spock still remained on Earth. From
time to time he left the Solar System for a short diplomatic
mission, but none ever lasted longer than a standard week. He
still couldn't leave the Earth.

He taught at the academy, participated in various
science projects; he even accepted a post of the Vulcan
ambassador for one period when his father was too busy with the
negotiations in the Kahle'than system. He lived in a small
apartment near Telegraph Hill and day after day he switched
between the academy and the embassy. The town around him
remained still the same: shiny in the sun, and dreamy when
drowning in the fog. His spare time he spent either in the park
or on the wharf. There he breathed the salty air of the Bay, he
let the cold breeze blow over his face. There was a boat which
he had to care for, as its previous inhabitant did, with all the
love and admiration. Spock's Vulcan mind could provide all the
details of the familiar scene: Jim sitting on his heels,
carefully painting the boat's name on the wooden surface: Edith
Keeler.

No, Spock still couldn't leave the Earth.

But then there came a message, and it seemed that the
sun over the Bay would pale in grief.

It was when Spock came home after three days sailing at
sea, and found a heavily coded message on his terminal: it had
come directly from the Starfleet HQ and the few sentences there
forced Spock to close his eyes for a moment, while his hands
closed in fists and then helplessly they opened again.

Excelsior disappeared somewhere at the edge of known
space. Week after week all Starfleet ships were searching after
the tiniest trace, which could be both: the hope or the deadly
determination. And finally the wreck was found. Marked with the
big letters, which told so clearly the name of the once so proud
space cruiser. But what happened to the crew? No one could give
any answer. The search after possible survivors continued for a
long time, although the untouched shuttles and the fact that
there was no single missing rescue unit on board told clearly
that all their efforts were futile.

That night when Starfleet announced officially that all
the searching was ordered to stop, Spock spent it in a deep
meditation. But at the end he was only repeating an ancient
Mantra, old like the Vulcan itself, which asked the first Beings
in the deepest desert for the redemption of the lost souls of
his friends. Pavel and Hikaru. The stars were both for them: the
life and the death.

Spock looked out of the opened window and almost wished
to never hear their calling. He still had to stay on Earth...

...and now more and more because of Bones, who suddenly
started to slip away. At first it was a bad cold during an
unusual hard and long winter down in Georgia and then another
one followed with ever more fever and finally, when the pale
spring came, he was brought to the University Clinic in Atlanta.
Getting this message, Spock stopped all his current projects and
cancelled all meetings. Literally he made the small clinic his
home, sitting at his friend's bedside reading, talking,
remembering.

Bones was brave the whole time. He joked, argued,
greeted the nurses with a charming smile and drove the doctors
nuts with his sharp comments about their work. But in his eyes
was already a silent farewell.

It was in the middle of the night when Spock, while
reading a PADD, fell suddenly asleep for a short moment. A fresh
breeze awoke him and when he opened his eyes, he stared at a
suddenly empty bed. An opened door to the room signalled nothing
good. With a cold spark in his spine, Spock stood up and went
out to the floor. An opened window at its end showed a
breathtaking sight: the night sky with thousands of stars and
under it, lying on the floor...

'They called him and he obeyed their order.' It was the
only thing that came to Spock's mind, when he gathered the limp
body into his arms.

Nyota outlived them all. During all the years, while he
had visited her frequently in central Africa, she became a
beautiful old lady. She lived with her family in an large
village somewhere in the savannah, always surrounded by a group
of children, always having some sweeties and a good story for
them. Many times Spock witnessed her storytelling, while his
Vulcan mind memorised for ever her soft voice and the bright
eyes of the small listeners.

"The life in space didn't make it possible, that I could
have one of my own," she told to him one day, "so I have made
them all my own anyway."

"You would make a good mother, Nyota," he answered back
and meant it. She smiled at him in response and then the jeep
came to bring him to the nearest airport. He always turned back
when he left, and always he found the same familiar picture of
her and the children waving goodbye to him. And always he
returned this human custom willingly, knowing that there in this
place he would be welcome whenever he came again.

One day she simply asked him to visit her and then she
signed off. And Spock left the embassy taking the first plane,
knowing what was to come.

He almost didn't recognise her. Only her large eyes were
still here, in a pale face, framed by the white hair. The night
came and she asked her people to leave her alone with her
friend. Reluctantly they all left the house.

"You know, why I have asked you to come here."

Spock nodded.

"Yes," Nyota nodded too, but more for herself, "it's
time... Spock...?"

"Nyota..."

"I would like to die under the stars..."

He lifted her up easily. She was so light. And then
passing the grieving people outside, he went into the savannah.
He knew that they had watched them go, in a painful silence and
a wordless farewell.

The stars in the night sky were so close that one could
almost think that they could be touched with bare hands. He
knelt in the yellow grass, holding his weightless burden
carefully in his arms.

"They are beautiful," she said, while looking at the
dark sky.

"Yes," he said hoarsely.

"Don't grieve," she turned her gaze toward him, "I have
been called, my time has come..."

And then, very gently she touched his face. He closed
his eyes for a moment, savouring this unexpected caress.

"Spock... look at me..." A bit hesitantly he obeyed. Her
eyes were full of stars.

"We all will meet you at our appointed place."

And then she was gone, forever. Her face was very
peaceful and in the light of the stars the most beautiful.

He turned back when his jeep came to bring him to the
airport. But she wasn't there in the crowd of waving children.

Lonely like never before he returned to San Francisco,
knowing that now the time had come to leave the Earth.



And then all of a sudden this woman crossed his way.

He didn't expect anything important from this half
political/half military conference, which was held in the main
building of Starfleet Academy. He attended only reluctantly,
almost against his will. He was already about to make the first
necessary preparations for his departure. He knew that the next
few months would be a hard test of his Vulcan patience. In his
thoughts he was already among the stars.

Clad in a deep green robe - the colour for Vulcan
grieving - he stood at the window and watched the fog, which
still hid the view of the Bay.

"I grieve with thee..." A female voice said behind him.
He turned toward its owner a bit surprised, because of the
strange accent, which was neither human, nor Vulcan.

"Captain Saavik..."

He hadn't heard about her for years.

He hadn't seen her in even longer.

He hadn't spoken with her since the day when they stood
at the main entrance of the Klingon Bird of Prey. She just
leaving - he right then coming back.

He heard about her from time to time. About her career
in Starfleet, about how she was one of the most excellent
commanders of a space ship.

"I was taught by the two best men," she had once said
and Spock knew who she meant were the *two best men*.

But all he felt was regret and a bit of guilt, although
this was rather illogical. It wasn't his fault, when after so
many years the few holos of him and the small girl were
already mirroring the information in his head, yet still without
any resonance of the true memory. She was one of the two or
three things he still couldn't remember. It was told to him many
times about her and her life with him and he could reconstruct
from the gained data in the various reports the tragic
happenings on the Genesis.

Jim was the one who told him that she would have been
killed instead of David and that David had thrown himself
between her and the Klingon's knife.

Perhaps Saavik left too, because Spock reminded her of
the one who died on the Genesis...?

But at last, everyone died in his own way on Genesis.

Yet now, while facing her in the academy corridor, Spock
felt the past rising inside of him. The past both of them knew
and remembered. The memories - and not only the painful ones -
which both of them could share.

He invited her for dinner and then for a short trip on
his boat around the Bay.

It was good to be in the company of someone who
understood without any explanation, who could listen and then
share back. It was as if an good old friend has returned
unexpectedly, after so many years.

It was good, that she was there.

It felt right for him to reach for her one evening.

And it was like a healing brush, when she responded back.



The window of his bedroom was opened to the night full
of stars. And although they paled against the lights of the
city, their calling reached the Vulcan who was lying awake in

his bed.

He felt Saavik's breath against his neck, her hair
spread all over his chest and all the time he was asking
himself: why?

Why, her? Why now?

The stars were calling him and he was ready to go.

The night wind brought fog from the Bay, covering the
stars, there seemed to be some golden sparks in the air, a
picture of burning candles and a feeling, that time seemed to
stop for a moment, when the spaces switched and an awareness of
something eternal brushed Spock's mind.

"She is beautiful," said a voice, which Spock would be
able to recognise in the crowd of thousands.

"Jim..."

But it was true: he was sitting at the edge of Spock's
bed smiling his smile, which warmed the Vulcan to the last
corner of his mind.

"What...?"

"What ever it might be, my friend," Jim's smile widened
ever more, "but it's me, anyway..." His gaze slid back to
Saavik. "And she is beautiful," he repeated again.

"But I still don't understand, why now?"

"You mean, why she came to you after so many years?"

"Yes..."

"Silly Vulcan," Jim laughed in delight, "why should you
require an answer for everything?" He leaned forward to his
friend: "think simply that the stars have sent her to you."

"The stars?"

"Yes, the stars. And put your eyebrow down."

Spock sighed.

"For years you were here, planet-bound. It's time to
leave."

"And she?"

"She is one of our kind. She has the space in her veins,
like you and me and all our dead friends. If she won't
understand it, then no one."

"Should I leave her...?"

"...to come back again. This is our way. The stars are
possessing us. Once, we had left all behind to obey their
calling."

"No regrets, Jim?"

"Are Vulcans ever regretting anything?" Jim leaned back
again, "we all knew the price when we went into space. It has
always been high..." He smiled again. "Take your chance. Even
the most unexpected one. Nothing is granted to last forever, not
even the stars."

The fog behind the window was changing into the white
milk.

Time started to move again.

"Jim..."

"The stars have sent her..."

"Jim, wait..."

"Take your chance..."

"...my friend..."

...but he was already gone.

The space switched back, the time was already running
again, outside of the window the fog covered the whole city.

Saavik moved in her sleep, pulling herself closer into
his embrace. The air grew chill. Spock threw a warm blanket over
them both.

Jim was right. They had the space in their veins. They
had heard the call of the stars. Their blood was singing the
songs about travels through the eternal night. Their eyes were
focused somewhere past the horizon of the known world, eager to
step over it and take the dimensions into their hands.

To leave all, to pay the price, to burn the bridges, to
join the bunch of the same kind. No regrets, no guilt, no
promises, no bonds.

And no farewells.

Because when one stayed in behind, the others will
continue farther for him.

Because they all have made an appointment at the other
side of eternity.


Outside the room, behind the fog, which tonight came from
the Bay, the stars were calling.  Tomorrow, Spock and Saavik would 
answer them together.

End.