Chapter Text
***
Spock sat in the dim closet, the box on his lap. It seemed incomprehensible to him that this small box should contain the last remaining artifacts of a long life, and somewhat disconcerting that he should be holding the significant items of his own existence, after a fashion. To what end would the Ambassador bequeath Spock this box? Then again, to whom else could he have left it? Perhaps Spock was the logical choice after all.
He gently opened the lid to inspect the contents. On the top was a red cloth-bound volume, with embossed silver calligraphy on its cover. Beneath it, a robe of some sort was folded, and in one of the folds was tucked a small metal case, half in gold, half in blue, with geometric shapes on its lid.
Spock turned the case this way and that, wondering how to open it. In the wake of the conclusion of this mission, there were decisions to be made. Before the disastrous trip into the nebula, Spock’s intention had been to leave. His position had become untenable. His relationship with Nyota was tentative at best; she’d done her best to understand, to attempt to tease him out, to get him to explain what he was thinking, but Spock had been unable to articulate the struggle within. His sense of duty to his father’s people and the need to contribute to the repopulation effort battled with his loyalty to his Captain and fellow crewmembers. It shamed and troubled him that his relationship with Nyota was not as important a factor in the decision making process as these two. And so he had taken initiative to terminate what was between them.
That didn’t mean his loyalty to the Captain was unambiguous. On the contrary: for the last six months the friendship between Spock and James Kirk had become increasingly strained, brittle, awkward in ways it never had been earlier in the mission. Spock had kept his secrets, and Jim… Spock sensed that the Captain was struggling with the weight of his own demons, but deliberately blinkered himself; it was difficult enough for the half-Vulcan to sort through his own decisions and emotions. Besides which, it was uncomfortable enough discussing emotions with Nyota; it was clear to Spock that Jim shared his own aversion to talking about these things. He was Vulcan. Or at least, that’s what Spock told himself, while at the same time minimizing the rapport and attraction he experienced with his Captain.
To go to the colony would solve the twin problems of his seemingly magnetic attraction to the Captain, and his unfulfilling romance with Nyota Uhura, as well as serving the good of the many by aiding his people in building their new world. An eminently logical solution.
Now, after another botched mission which had scraped through as a success, Spock was having second thoughts about his decision to resign his commission, and about his lack of communication with the Captain. To walk away at this point, after the Captain’s declaration that they “made a good team”, after saving Jim’s life, and being saved himself, it would be as though Spock left too many loose ends. He realized he probably needed to meditate; Spock reminded himself that he was still recovering from his injuries. And a mission such as they’d just experienced was exhausting. He could not shake the malaise and ennui which had settled on his katra as he sat down with Ambassador Spock’s property.
He flipped the small metallic box over before making a successful attempt to slide it open.
A holopicture of the Enterprise crew, much older than his own, lit up and shone solemnly back at him.
He closed the miniature projector, and tucked it back into the fold of the robes beneath, which appeared to be a robe used in bonding ceremonies. That could wait, perhaps, for later.
What caught Spock’s interest now was the red volume. He took it gingerly in his hands, and traced the calligraphy with a finger, whispering the words to himself: nam-tor nash ozhika t’nash-veh, “this is my logic”.
A curious legend. It was clearly a personal journal, the declaration demarking the Ambassador’s identity as the unique mix of human and Vulcan it had been… something Spock still couldn’t fully accept in himself. Perhaps that was the Ambassador’s point, that his young counterpart should behold what was possible…
Spock opened the cover and began to read.
***