The BLTS Archive - Climbing Mt. Sileya
by Islaofhope (islaofhope@aol.com)

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Spock is quite content with his life. Thank you very much. Response to
Istannor's "The boys lead lonely lives" challenge. But mostly inspired
by Jat's 'Under Water.'

Feedback: Both negative and positive feedback is welcome; either post
to ASCEM or send to me.

Disclaimer: Spock, Jim, Dr. McCoy, and Mt. Sileya all belong to
Paramount. Yosemite belongs to everyone. This is fan fiction and I
won't make any money from it.

Notes: Jat sent me 'Under Water,' and I said, "I can do this, too."
Jat looked at this and said, "Yes, please post!" T'Aaneli said, "I'm
working on one too," so we can expect something from her very soon. I
*think* this is even farther out of my canon than 'The Dohlman's
Alternative.'

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Climbing Mt. Sileya  I pause halfway up the ridge to take a sip of
water. My breath is coming more easily now as I adjust to the thinness
of the air and the heat of the day. I smile somewhat mockingly at
myself. I know that I have spent too many years away from the land of
my birth to be completely comfortable here. Not right away. Perhaps I
never again will consider it my home.  But I have discovered that I
can find happiness wherever I go. In truth, it is something that I
carry inside of me. I know that it was a gift that Jim gave me. And
even if he is no longer in my life, I still have that gift. It was not
the only gift that he gave me, but it is the most precious. I regret
that he could not let me give back that gift to him when he required
it for himself, but you cannot force another to accept a gift.

I have been back on Vulcan for one Standard year. Yes, I still think
in Standard years. As I said, I have been gone too long to immediately
adapt. There was a time when I believed that I would never live here
again. I found it stifling, and I had to leave. Now that I am back, I
am surprised that I can find much to appreciate here. Have conditions
improved here? I suspect, rather, that it is I who have improved and
can appreciate it with all of its limitations, knowing that it is I
who have chosen to live here. And if I choose to live elsewhere, then
I am free to leave.

I turn to enjoy the view behind me. This climb I have made many times.
We made it together many of those times. It is pleasant to have a
companion to share the load--some supplies can be shared--and to have
someone to share the cooking duties at the end of the day. Also, it is
pleasing to have someone with whom to talk about the rigors of the
day, to share reminisces of other adventures, and to admire the stars
at night.

But there is much to be said for having silence during the walk, and
setting one's own pace without having to consider another person.
Particularly when that other person will not admit his own
limitations, so that I must monitor his strength instead of trusting
him to tell me when he must rest. Also, it is sometimes exhausting to
deal with a person who is used to having his own way. Of course, I
have never objected to compromising when deciding what activities to
pursue with another. Or following gladly someone whom I trust.
However, it is pleasant to make my own path today.

My years away from Vulcan were busy, productive years. I improved my
mind and built a career in Starfleet. I also built a reputation as a
scientist. The early years were not happy ones, but I did not learn
early to value happiness.

When I did find friendship, I was, at first, apprehensive. I did not
value it. Perhaps I feared how I would survive losing it, so it was
easier to push it away. I am glad now that I did accept Jim's
friendship. Today, even having lost that friendship, I enjoy the
memories and the growth that it inspired in me. The relevant Terran
expression states that it is 'better to have loved and lost than to
never have loved at all.'

Is it appropriate to apply the word 'love' to that friendship? What
others believe does not concern me. What was between us was private.
What we had was more satisfying and more intimate than many who shared
living quarters or signed a piece of paper stating that they would
love one another. We shared our lives for 30 years, serving Starfleet
on the same ship for much of that time. I was nominally his
subordinate, but we learned to respect each other early in our
friendship, and we formed a partnership with complementary roles. It
did not matter to us what titles Starfleet conferred on us.

Our friendship was not without its trials, but my mother told me when
I was young that 'whatever does not kill us, makes us stronger.' We
grew stronger with trials we faced together. We argued, parted, and
came back together again. We had unrealistic expectations of each
other and, therefore, disappointed each other on occasion. We also
constantly amazed each other with our unexpected strengths.

Most of those years, I would name as happy ones. Vulcans have
excellent memories, but, logically, there are limitations. Since
Vulcans are not naturally equipped to experience happiness, it is only
logical that my memory may be faulty where happiness is concerned. I
may remember only the happiness of those years and may have forgotten
pain that we inflicted on each other.

I will always be grateful that he inspired me to try new experiences.
He watched with delight when I tried something new. He listened with
rapt attention when I told him about a scientific conference that I
attended at his urging. He would not allow me to be discouraged by my
occasional failures; instead he helped me to see what I learned and
how I could prevent mistakes in the future.

Perhaps, most importantly, by loving me unstintingly, he taught me to
love myself. My childhood is no worse nor better than many others. The
confidence that my parents wished to instill in me was shaken by their
unthinking errors and by the cruelty of my peers. I have always known
that my mind was a good one, but I did not know that I had a value
beyond my intelligence until he showed it to me.

It surprised me--and pleased me--to discover that even when he took
that unstinting love away from me, I continued to enjoy the
self-confidence that it inspired in me. Perhaps it is even stronger
now. I wonder how many times he served as a crutch. It is delightful
to walk freely.

I pause again to sip some water and eat a piece of fruit--an orange
that I brought back from Terra on my last visit. I wish to remain
strong for the rest of the climb. Time lost in pausing to drink and
eat will be made up later because I will be able to hold a steady
pace.

The last year that we spent together could not be described as happy.
He was depressed about his impending retirement, and he began to
question the choices that he made in his life. He withdrew the warmth
that he had given to me. I thought that he was testing my devotion to
him. I refused to argue with him or press him for closeness. I felt
certain that he would regain his happiness and our friendship would be
unaffected.

I know that some of the trust that he had in me was damaged when my
half-brother took control of our ship temporarily. He felt betrayed
that I chose to wait for a later opportunity for escape rather than
kill this brother. He forgave that, but, although he never confessed
it, I believe he remained angry that I had never mentioned this
brother in spite of my explanation that this brother had been disowned
and was, therefore, someone of whom I could not speak.

I note the angle of the sun. I have two hours of full daylight during
which I will climb. It will be more than enough time to reach my
planned campsite. After another sip of water, I shoulder my pack
again.

We did not always agree, but we always listened with respect to each
other. Although he had the authority to make the decisions, I felt
that I was heard.

However, there were times that I was required by my conscience to act
on my own. Because of the strength of our partnership, I did not have
any hesitation in making decisions that affected us both. When I
volunteered our ship to escort the Klingon Chancellor to peace
negotiations, I never expected that it would mean the end of our
friendship.

He did not refuse Starfleet's orders to carry out the mission. He
acted heroically in preventing an outbreak of war. We beat impossible
odds to rescue him from the Klingon penal colony and to prevent an
attack at the peace conference.

But after the peace conference, as we traveled back to Terra to
decommission the Enterprise, we argued for the last time. I tried to
speak to him of what we would do after retirement. I told him of my
appointment as Dean of the Vulcan Science Academy. I wished him to
join me on Vulcan for a time. He had called me arrogantly presumptuous
for volunteering the ship. When I told him about my plans on Vulcan,
he called me arrogantly presumptuous again for making decisions about
his life.

Dr. McCoy told me that he was just scared, and he would calm down
soon. I was patient for several months, but soon decided that I was
losing respect for myself by trying so hard to please him. I knew that
if I did not respect myself, I could not expect him to respect me.

In truth, the day that I boarded the shuttle for Vulcan was the first
day of tranquility that I had known in well over a year. It startled
me to discover that I had my entire life ahead of me. I could choose
without consulting another what I would do with my career and where I
would spend my free time. I no longer had to compromise even on such
small things as the temperature at which I set the thermostat in my
cabin.

I am surprised to find that I have reached my intended campsite. I had
forgotten to take into account how much more quickly I could travel on
my own. I consider whether to make camp as planned or to press on. It
is my own choice. This is the best site for camp in several
kilometers, so I decide to follow my original plan.

We have not spoken since that day we parted at the spaceport. Messages
have been exchanged; loose ends of business to be concluded after 30
years of partnership. But he is not always quick to answer my
messages. Some are never answered. I have spoken to Dr. McCoy, but he
is reluctant to risk Jim's wrath by maintaining a friendship with me.

I have been to Terra three times since we parted. When I sent him
messages suggesting that we meet to share a meal, those messages were
never answered. I went to his door, but there was no answer. Just as
well. It is difficult to predict what his reaction would be if he saw
me.

I know that he is unhappy. I also know that he will not allow me to
help. I hope that he can find some measure of happiness.

I do not miss the man who lives in San Francisco and bears his name
and wears his face. I miss the man who I knew for so many years. And
although I allow myself to miss him, I do not torment myself that I
should have stayed on Terra. The man I miss is not there.

I prepare my evening meal. It is peaceful to eat silently, reading a
book that I carried in my pack. After dinner, I clean up and prepare
for meditation. My mind settles on my responsibilities at the Vulcan
Science Academy and the colleagues that I have found there. The
opportunity to exchange ideas with kindred intellects has been most
rewarding.

I have recently found a new chess opponent. Also, my mother wishes to
know if, now that I live on Vulcan, I will be seeking a wife and
starting a family. Perhaps it is my duty. However, at this time, I
prefer not to share my life or my mind too closely with another. I do
not rule it out for the rest of my life, but I do not believe that my
life will have been wasted if I choose not to marry. At Gol, I learned
other methods for surviving pon farr.

I am more than content with my scientific and administrative duties at
the Academy. I enjoy the contact with my family, the colleagues that I
have on Vulcan, and the friends that I have throughout Federation
Space.

Tomorrow will be a long day. I bundle myself into the sleeping bag.
The night can be cold in the desert that covers much of Vulcan. As I
relax, watching the stars overhead, I decide that a trip back to Terra
and some time spent in Yosemite would be a welcome diversion. All that
is needed is to find a convenient time to take a break from my duties
at the Academy. No one else need be consulted.

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The End