By M. C. Pehrson
Word Count: 58,880 (total)
Rating: PG-13 for disturbing imagery reminiscent of Jesus’ Crucifixion
Summary: When a Christ-like Savior comes to the planet Vulcan, Spock and his uncle Sparn must decide how to react, and how these unfolding events might affect Spock’s complex and often troubled family life.
“No, this sort of work was too lowly for the likes of Ambassador Sarek and his halfbreed son Spock. Since leaving prison, Spock had somehow recovered his reputation and gone on to receive new honors in the service of Starfleet. Once more the names of Sarek and Spock had been lauded in news reports. Sparn found the situation galling.”
“Yanash faced his accuser with calm authority. “You have said rightly; there is no Vulcan power that heals in this manner. But why do you question me? Have I caused pain or injury? Or have I relieved it? All that is good originates from the same Source, who is God.”
“What do you know of The Source!” scoffed the priest. “By what authority do you dare to teach? Show us your qualifications!””
“Yanash began to speak. “If one looks honestly at history, it becomes clear that Vulcans are, by nature, a highly emotional people. Surak taught you to control your emotions; he gave you the Mind Rules; he gave you a system of self-discipline to help regulate your behavior. But Sparn, none of that has really solved the underlying problem.”
“Emotion,” Sparn said confidently. It was an answer known to every Vulcan schoolchild.
Shockingly Yanash said, “No. It is the abuse of emotion and intellect by a misdirected will. It is sin.””
“Astonished, Sparn stepped away from Yanash and his pleasant, disturbing touch. “No. There is no need for that. I will send him a message.”
“And he will contact his parents and they will assure him that all is well.”
Sparn argued harder. “Why would Spock believe me? Me, of all people? Teacher, you do not understand…””
“Sparn remembered the Teacher’s parting words. “Go to him. Go at once.”
Sparn’s eye rose to the ceiling and he thought of the stars glimmering in the night sky, of distant Vulcan, of Yanash. “Now?” he said aloud. “At once?”
“Not now,” Sparn argued. “It is too soon. And the day has not gone well for him.””
“Sparn moved swiftly. At the doorway he grasped Spock by the shoulder and swung him around. Confronting him, he cursed, “T’Vareth! You will listen to me!”
Spock stared at him, wide-eyed. “You have lost your mind.”
“Are you so certain?” Sparn asked. “If you do not go to your mother now, you will regret it for the rest of your life.” Suddenly he was no longer angry, no longer afraid. Raising a finger to his own temple, he said, “Spock, you are an intelligent man. There is only one way for you to be certain that you are making the right decision. Come, see the truth for yourself. It is only logical.””
“Sarek’s hand relaxed and he spoke in a weary voice. “Yanash is a threat to every Vulcan. Spock, I grieve for you and James, but you have not seen the change creeping over our world. If, in fact, you still consider yourself a student of logic, I appeal to you…”
“At the cost of my son’s life?” Spock drew out his communicator. “I must go. I will see this renegade for myself and inform you of my observations. Please tell Mother that I shall return…””
“Sparn’s mind refused to accept it. “Yanash,” he gasped. Then with the last of his strength, “Yanash! Yanash, save us!”
Though he was deep in his hood, eyes closed tight, somehow a light reached him. He looked up. A figure was moving toward them, unhooded, walking easily in the storm. Sparn’s heart leaped inside him and he stammered, “Spock—look—it is him!”
Yanash stopped before them and raised a hand, as if to restrain the wind.
“Quiet!” he commanded.”
“Raising his hand, Spock answered, “May your peace return to you.” With an effort he added, “You returned my son to me, and I said nothing. I thank you now.”
Yanash gave him a warm look. His hand settled over Spock’s forearm, and the strangely electrifying touch seemed to seek out the empty places inside Spock. Though the sensation made him uncomfortable, he merely took note of it and did not pull away.”
“Spock was the first to speak. “Fascinating. A very similar statement is found in the Christian scriptures held sacred by many humans.”
Yanash looked steadily at him, but did not say anything.
Spock cocked his head. “Sir, when you say you ‘give your blood’, do you mean that…literally?”
Yanash said, “I will go the way that has been appointed to me.””
“At last the old priestess T’Lar said, “There is only one solution. Yanash must die.”
Heads turned, eyebrows rose in consternation.
T’Gora remarked from the dais, “I remind you that Vulcan has no capital punishment.”
“Modern Vulcan,” agreed T’Lar. “But this Yanash teaches a return to many of the old ways. Therefore I say, let him perish in the old way—slowly, with much pain, so that everyone will see that his power is not without mortal limits.””
” “Tell T’Lar: we are a Federation planet! Her treatment of Yanash is in violation of sentient rights and an affront to moral decency! Tell her that I shall protest to the Vulcan High Council! I shall protest to Federation President Ra-ghoratrei! Tell her…” The cudgel end of a lirpa jabbed his stomach and he doubled over in pain.
“Remove him,” the priest said.”
“Priests and temple guards carrying torches were working their way along a trail. By the pale light of dawn he saw Yanash walking with them, holding something heavy in his hands. The grim procession came to a plateau and stopped. Floodlights switched on, illuminating the sledgehammer Yanash was carrying.
Sparn shuddered in horror.”
““T’Lar spoke rightly,” she whispered. “I sent you to your death in agony. My hand, no other. You knew what I was doing…yet you forgave me. That is not logical. But even if I were to accept your forgiveness, how then can I forgive myself?””