Title : Down Through The Circles
Author : ‘Goji’ Rob Morris
Series : The TOS-based AU, The Ancient Destroyer Cycle
Type : Character/Flashback/Infiltration
Characters : Sarek, Saavik, others
Part : 4/5
Rating : PG13 - This one earns it
Summary : In 2268, Captain Kirk’s nephew and adopted son Peter
vanished from his home in Iowa and was presumed killed. In 2278,
Captain Kirk’s adopted daughter Saavik undertakes to recover Peter,
who may or may not be a figure of prophecy, and who is held by the
corrupt upper echelon of Starfleet Command itself. As she enters a
hell on Earth, Saavik recalls her past and how it may not be her
brother who truly needs saving. In the meantime, Sarek is keeping
several things secret. Is one of them a concern about his health?
Note : Folks, I’ll be frank. This part is long, and it goes ‘there’.
If this isn’t the darkest part of Saavik’s journey, I’m hard pressed
to say what would be. Fair warning
“The Powers That Be; That Force Us To Live Like We Do; Bring Me To My Knees; When I See What They’ve Done To You.” - The Pretenders, Back On The Chain Gang
Down Through The Circles
by Rob Morris
--------------------------------------------------
THE PAST, 2273
Solon had an innate sweetness about him. He would address me without
redress, and he honestly always seemed glad to see me. I suppose that
part of this was the pressure his parents put him under to always
achieve the very highest grades, including all possible extra
projects. I was a relief to him in this regard. He was a relief to me
because in his eyes, I was not an outcast thing to be scorned or
pitied. The one I had done the greatest wrong to was my greatest ally.
I can not say that he was my joy, though being around him made me look
forward to the day my lessons in control would be done, and our pre-
bonding carried out. For then and there, walking home with him after
school was a great joy, perhaps one of the greatest I had ever known.
In retrospect, one such as I should really have known better.
“Your recent test scores were excellent.”
He always blushed a bit when I paid him a compliment. He thought this
unseemly on his part. I thought it–cute. Yet still, he did not blush
on this day.
“Father and Mother have never thought so highly of me as you, Saavik.
Scores that break no records seemed not worth noting, in their eyes.
The Ambassador’s son, Spock, still holds so many records, I fear they
are beyond anyone’s ability to touch.”
Thoughts of Spock, like talk of Spock, were not and are not my subject
of choice. So I changed the subject to one I thought safer.
“I once had a brother. His name was Peter. Uncle Jim says, that, much
like you, his parents asked far too much of him. But like you, he
always kept trying.”
He began to scowl, but not at me. The scope of his baleful gaze seemed
to take in all of creation.
“I know well about your brother. I envy him. For his struggle is
done.”
I had seen a slow downward shift from the optimistic boy I had known.
But nothing could have prepared me for his words.
“His struggle is done because he is dead, Solon. How can you stand
there and tell me you envy the dead?”
In fact, I would come to envy my fallen brother as well, through the
days that followed. Solon’s words alone were prompting that.
“Think upon it. His place in legend is secured. The only survivor of
Deneva. A mere boy permitted for two months to ride aboard the
Federation’s flagship—“
“That was only to make certain he carried no trace of the parasites
that caused the Denevans----“
“—and to make certain of his legend, he disappeared and perhaps died
in the night, a killing no one can explain, right in the heart of the
capitol planet. Governments across the quadrant rushed to offer aid
for the investigation, and to deny responsibility. Songs are sung of
him, and sightings have been made of him by those who need to see such
things. Conspirators regularly flood the galactic networks with ideas
about how it happened, ranging from time travel to his being the
legendary Rock Of----“
I placed my hand over his heart.
“Solon, I do not care about such things. My concern is for you.”
He took that hand off of him, and smiled a smile not deep, but wide.
Even Humans don’t smile that wide, unless their arch-foe is a
vigilante detective clad in black body armor.
“You need not be concerned for me, Saavik-kam. I am past enduring.
See, they are here already.”
Security forces approached us, and bid me stand back. Solon, they held
at phaser-point.
“Solon Of House Srepam–you are under arrest for crimes unimaginable.”
The smile, that mad smile, still affixed upon his face, Solon
shrugged.
“I did leave their bodies recognizable, didn’t I?”
As shock filtered through my entire being, the words of the officers
barely reached my ears.
“We shall offer you the very best care, to address your affliction.”
“Then you are cowards. I am a mad sehlat, and should be put down as
such. You can’t save everyone. Look at the wondrous being who was to
have been my bondmate. A mere political pawn to Lady T’Pring and my
late parents. Scorned and held in contempt by almost all the rest of
Vulcan. She is wondrous, and I grew mad from watching this wonder
dismissed out of hand. Of course, having hovercraft parents was a fair
aid to that process as well, I must admit.”
As he was led away and I was left alone, the shock and horror took a
surprising back-seat to logic. There had been no signs of this
breakdown, I told myself. Certainly not any sort of mental aberration
that would cause a young Vulcan to murder his parents. He was just a
boy. A boy under pressure, to be sure. But while I had not melded with
him, and while one being can never truly know another, I would have
made book on Solon’s nature as easily as I would the skills of the
Enterprise crew, or Sarek’s mastery of diplomacy. Yet in this
instance, that bet would have not paid off, and the how of that
actually exceeded every other question, at least for the moment.
----------------------------------
Out of Saavik’s sight and hearing, the sinister reasons for the
absurd break in Solon’s behavior and character were spelled out.
“It seems so simple a device.”
“It is, my lady. Its creator, a Doctor Mohiro Kitoh, designed it for
simplicity. He said that, all too often, such techniques tend to be
complicated to the point of almost handing the target the ability to
resist.”
“A Human?!”
“Part of Cartwright’s exchange with us, for our aid in acquiring the
Kirk boy. He thought of the device as a cast-off, a means of honoring
his debt without truly doing so. The good Doctor delivered it himself,
insistent on explaining its true potential, especially to Vulcans. He
feels that we, being more versed in telepathy, could exploit the
device past its current limits.”
“A useful Human. Well, as they say with stopped clocks, such things
are statistically inevitable. The results are obvious on the boy
Solon, our greatest success since Sybok. The methodology, I will
concede, eludes me.”
“Again, the Doctor sought elegant simplicity. Unsurprisingly, he
originally designed it for use against the Kirk boy. It bypasses all
such efforts as implanted voices in favor of erasing simple tolerance.
Instead of oversized lies such as ‘all who know you hate you’, which
require time and isolation to work, it makes one overly aware of such
trivialities as the creaky opening of a door, or the eating habits of
a family member. Annoyances normally dismissed as a matter of course
are now unable to be shut out. By the end of one day, the mind of one
once sane and stable can be as mulch in its consistency. Reason is not
shut down–it is quite voluntarily shunted aside.”
“In other words, little things mean a lot.”
“Lady T’Pring is nothing if not incisive.”
“Did our expatriate Doctor give his device a name beyond the
technical?”
“He did, although he allowed that it was not truly correct to its
literary source. He calls it ‘The Unforgiving Minute’. I found it most
appropriate.”
“As do I. Tell me, what was its success against Peter Kirk?”
“Its lack of success against him led to its creator’s essential
banishment. Against a telepath of his raw power, or against those well-
versed in mental defenses, it encounters problems. While our
scientists chafe at the thought of working with a Human, they are in
awe of his efforts to improve past these problems. Within five years,
even House Surak itself could be undone by the device. Doctor Kitoh
asks only that he live long enough to review the results of that
effort.”
“Hmph. A very wise Human indeed. His request is to be fully honored,
conditions allowing.”
“Lady? Shall I target the girl Saavik next?”
“Akab! Her power likely equals that of the other one, and she cannot
so easily be made a captive.”
T’Belia winced. *Akab* was a pejorative reserved for a clumsy thing
that dropped a plate, not a major-domo.
“Relax your stance, T’Belia. Even one so favored as you must be shown
your place. No, dear Saavik of House Surak requires my personal touch.
The lessons I learned against both her fathers will serve well here, I
think. She would be an angel? Then I shall sacrifice demons to rid
myself of her.”
T’Belia now looked stunned and confused. T’Pring shrugged.
“Why do you think I told my brother to produce so many children, after
all?”
---------------------------------------------
In an utter daze, I answered questions posed by Security Force
personnel until they were satisfied that I could offer no insight on
Solon’s sudden insanity. As Sri Sarek showed them the door, I was
still in a daze as Sra Amanda offered me words that could be no
comfort. As it was brought home how utterly alone I was, I forced
myself to meditate, for I too was beginning to envy the brother I had
never met and never would, outside of ShaKaRee..
If there was a dark force behind this insanity, it would be exposed
and punished.
But what if there wasn’t? I knew that House Surak had an unspoken
member, a man dead by Vulcan law. He too, had gone insane, and
committed crimes even greater than Solon’s. What if that was that, and
madness was just madness? Was a race that posed as philosopher over-
beings doomed to occasionally fall that much harder and further, Pon
Farr and Plak Tow be damned? What if that breakdown became more than
merely occasional?
I fell asleep that night, but it was in spite of, not because of,
these thoughts. My dreams were fitful, including one where I attended
Peter Kirk’s funeral with Uncle Jim. There was a sealed casket, though
he left no body behind, and the coffin would shake every so often, as
though someone were trying to get out.
“Saavik of No-House. Do Not Ignore Me!”
But ignore her I did. That next morning, I was exhausted, a bondmate I
had never really known and a brother I had never known at all weighing
on my mind. The Enterprise had taken ‘point patrol’ on the so-called
‘Dead Zone’, where the common borders of Orion, Kzin, Klingon and
Romulan territories all met, owing to the vagueness of treaties. In
short, Uncle Jim and Aunt Nyta, and even Spock, were beyond my ability
to contact. I had been alone most of my life, but never had I felt so
alone.
“I said you will not ignore me, damnable Rihannsi Witch!”
Her punch was full force. Had it connected, even I would have felt it,
and I have a high threshold of pain. But I have always also been
faster and stronger than most, even on Hellguard. When ‘drilled’, it
would take three to hold me down while the fourth did his work. Even
then, it did not always help them. The thuggish T’Hryka could not have
known this.
“I am of a mood to ignore you. Thank the One Of ShaKaRee that this is
so.”
Her second, seventh, and tenth blows connected no better, and her fury
began to grow. I felt nothing. One who I had contemplated giving
myself to, katra and all, was now in permanent custody, alternately
sobbing and laughing hysterically. What could a clumsy effort like
this hope to do to one so numb inside?
“You mean the God who the Terrans say watches over sheep? There are no
sheep on Vulcan, No-House Refuse!”
I seized her fist at this casual blasphemy, and tossed her aside.
“You say there are no sheep. Yet I must endure your bleatings.”
My thoughts that day were converted into words. I was done with
restraint, as regarded these animals.
“Tell me why, daughter of House Setekh. Tell me why a gentle, loving
creature like T’Shura had her head vaporized before she was yet five,
and yet such as you endure. It is a crime against nature, and one I am
sorely tempted to correct.”
Her sneer was practiced, as was her probable response.
“My heart bleeds for your precious mudbaby...”
A kick to the chest shut her up. I grinned..
“The bleeding of your heart can be arranged.”
Two hands met the juncture of my neck, in precisely that region, the
one that produces sudden, certain unconsciousness. I was as surprised
as anyone when this tried and true technique failed.
“What is she?”
“Remember, don’t use energy weapons. She may be just like the other
one!”
I recalled an adventure novel of Uncle Jim’s. The protagonist had
wandered into the wrong neighborhood. The writer showed signs of
strain in working out this scene, as his hero openly wondered if every
single person in that neighborhood belonged to the gang attacking him.
I always empathized with a writer who made his limits so plain to a
sophisticated audience. I now also empathized with that hero.
“Each one of you, grab a section of each limb on her, then four more
for torso and shoulders. Do not allow this thing the slightest amount
of leverage!”
It was T’Akih, the oldest and worst of T’Pring’s nieces. I understood
T’Pring all too well, at this point. Even my mother had joyed in
creating new life, to some extent. T’Pring was only a destroyer, much
like the beast she worshipped. T’Akih thought herself heir to this
false strength, but the young would-be queen was just another pawn.
Oh, but how she strutted inside her delusion.
“This one on the ground before us is as an animal. Lower than Sehlat
or Lemataya. Animals do not go clothed among people.”
Twelve held me down, strategically placed. Beyond them were more under
T’Akih’s sway, keeping those who might report what was happening away
or warning them to silence. As my clothes were torn off me, I gave in
and cried. This was my dignity. I was in a civilized place, with
civilized rules, and this should not be occurring.
“Saavik of No-House? You expressed a desire to have children one day?
Yet how do you intend to feed them, when some of the boys here exceed
you in chest size?”
I told myself that the spears she cast into me would only penetrate
her own heart. I told myself that her foolish hate and complete lack
of self-control, which made mine look mountainous by comparison, would
be her undoing. I told myself that if Spock had survived his bullies,
I would survive ones ten times worse, and have that stick in his
neglectful craw. In utter shame, I would be more Vulcan than any of
them.
“I am not developed in that area, as you say. I am naked, and taken
aback by this. I have no House, as you often taunt. Even your fallen
comrade spoke true, for I do dwell on that little one’s death too
much. Yet I possess something you cannot rob me of. The true and
unconditional love of those I call family. Though I am brought low
this day–and your puny efforts are as nothing compared to those of the
Tal Shiar–I still stand as though on Seleya’s very summit.”
Those holding me revealed their thoughts to me by way of skin contact,
and I swear that I could almost see beyond them to the crowd. Its mob
mentality was fading. I knew this. So did T’Akih.
“Listen, then, to the skinned animal that talks! Listen then, to the
little princess of Vulcan!”
“I AM A PRINCESS! As are all girls who are held in affection by their
families. My true father told me that, when I was born. My Uncle Jim
told me the same, when he gave me his name. As did Sra Amanda and Sri
Sarek, when I came to dwell with them. Your Sry T’Pring is a Master
Planner, T’Akih. But in her plans, has she ever told you or any of
those she sets against me, her own blood, that they are princesses?
Has she indeed told you anything other than ‘Do Not Fail Me’? Well,
has she?”
To me, T’Akih was as a cold machine, programmed only for my
destruction. Yet how many stories of my adoptive father end with ‘and
he tricked the computer into destroying itself’? My only mistake lay
in underestimating T’Pring’s total hold on this poor fool.
“Poor Solon is not here, is he? I think that this length of test tube
will be your first lover, instead.”
“Does my deluded tormentor think herself more capable than hardened
Romulan soldiers? Were I Human, I would laugh.”
I laughed anyway. Assaults and threats of assault could not break me.
The thoughts of those who held me down, though, were a different
story.
*This must be*
*We will be next, if it is not this one*
*She has no House. Is this truly a crime?*
*She walks too proud, for one who is nothing.*
I was betrayed by classmates, and kept my control. I was held down and
stripped, my dignity robbed for the sake of egos petty and malicious.
I was taunted and threatened with violation. None of that broke me
inside. The cowardice and prejudice of the minor players in all this
did all that in a heartbeat. For a time, I could not recall how it was
that so many of my attackers were cast away, as though by a great
wind. Those that came at me met their fate at the feet whose sandals
they had stolen.
“Because you are not worth soiling my hands on!”
One by one, I threw T’Pring’s nieces over the nearby hill. Then, I
seized T’Akih. I squeezed her hand inside mine, the hand that was
holding the test tube. Green began to flow from it. I was naked, but
it was they who ran in shame as their leader screamed in agony.
“It seems my would-be lover is a broken man.”
Her right knee gave a satisfying pop, but I did not relent. Having
taken above enough, I kicked that leg off at the knee. Its flight from
her body seemed almost comical.
“Tell me, T’Akih. How powerful do you feel now?”
I had violated every lesson a student of Surak could. But I had not
yet given up on walking back into the light.
“Please, let there be no one else. I am as repulsed by what was done
here as you. So if you may not befriend me, at least abide me. This
will be the last attack on my person. If this is not an example of why
war is pointless, then I know not of any such example that is capable
of showing this.”
Those who had never needed to be my enemies lay broken around me, some
in pieces. I dared feel superior to them, because I wanted to care,
although I could not manage it. Was it perhaps this hubris that
brought about the first question asked of me by the arriving Security
Forces?
“Child, what have you done?”
