Fellowship & Fairydust

The hour was late, and Spock had taken his Vulcan lamp into his study and lit the attunement flame. While his family slept, he sat down on a meditation stool. With eyes closed and palms open to the heavens, he surrendered that interior region of which Love alone was now master. In traditional Vulcan meditation, he had been taught to exclude his animal senses from his consciousness, free his mind of emotion, and systematically remove every thought as he gave himself over to the universe. As a Yanashite, he did not exclude any aspect of his being—physical or spiritual, human or Vulcan. He no longer surrendered himself to the universe, but to its Creator. His experience of God was immediate, personal, and deeply humbling.

The only true meditation was a meeting with Yanash, and now more than ever, Spock needed the Shiav’s guidance. Vatican City awaited him. The hour had come and he felt inadequate for the task that lay ahead; by comparison, all his years representing Starfleet and the Federation seemed as nothing. He and he alone would travel to the seat of Christianity and speak on behalf of the Shiav.

Hoping for some last minute reprieve, he asked, Must it be me?

A thought formed in his mind, and perhaps it was only a distraction. Earlier today, in her brother’s presence, Lauren had spoken of the memorial service after Spock’s death aboard the Enterprise. Due to her injuries, she had been unable to attend, but lay listening in sickbay as it was piped over the intercom. For the very first time she described it; Kirk’s touching words and Scott’s rendition of “Amazing Grace” on his bagpipes. Bagpipes. How strange it was for Spock to visualize his own funeral, with Kirk lauding his “human soul” and a Christian hymn playing for a confirmed Vulcan atheist. I once was lost…but now am found…was blind…but now I see.  His mother would approve of the verses. So very poetic, and so true.

This, then, was his answer. He had been found. He had been given new insight. And now, like Sparn before him, he was expected to share it.

Shortly after midnight he rose, donned a cloak over his Vulcan styled suit, and took up his briefcase. As he came downstairs, his eyes focused on the painting that faced the steps. Over the years, Chagall’s “Expulsion from Paradise” had taken on many different meanings for him. Since returning from Vulcan he saw for the first time the desolating effects of Adam and Eve’s sin. Yet the picture was incomplete. They had not, after all, been abandoned to the outer darkness. God Himself had gone out searching for his lost children in order to gather them back to Himself.

Spock continued into the living room and found his brother-in-law dressed in a black clerical suit, roman collar, and overcoat.

Reverend Fielding rose up and asked, “Ready?”

“Yes, Larry,” Spock replied. Earlier in the evening he had contacted the Vatican and asked if a Salesian priest might accompany him. He was glad that the response was positive. In the span of a few hours, Lauren’s brother had turned from an adversary into a supportive friend.

Spock phoned for transport, and they were beamed through an orbital relay station to the heart of Rome. Getting their bearings, they stepped off the sheltered tourist pads into a cool morning at St. Peter’s Square. Pigeons startled into flight, then quickly settled nearby and strutted over the pavement.

Spock looked up at the exquisite dome of St. Peter’s Basilica that dominated the skyline. He had toured Vatican City once before, as a cadet on break from Starfleet Academy. He had studied the architecture of its great buildings and visited the art galleries with their paintings and statuary. He had gazed upon the magnificent frescos by Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel. He had done all that, and more, while entirely missing the point of so much grandeur. Blind to living faith, he had looked upon all of this as nothing more than an interesting collection of Earth relics.

“Ready?” Larry asked again. He was clearly anxious to be moving.

Spock nodded. Now that they had arrived, he felt a great sense of serenity. Together with his brother-in-law, he set out toward the long, uneven structures of the Vatican palace. There, a congenial priest ushered them into a reception room adorned with frescos by Raphael.

“His Holiness will be with you in a moment,” the priest said, and after briefly explaining matters of protocol, chatted pleasantly as he waited with them.

After glancing at the door through which the pope would enter, Spock asked, “How much time will we be permitted?”

“As much time as His Holiness deems appropriate,” the priest replied noncommittally, “but I do believe he has cleared his schedule for the entire morning.”

Spock was surprised. The most he had hoped for was an hour, perhaps two.

The door swung open. Dressed in white robes and skullcap, Pope Augustine entered, accompanied by a purple and red entourage of Church hierarchy. The pope’s attention immediately focused on Spock. With a vigorous gait the stocky, gray-haired American approached his Vulcan guest and smiled warmly. He did not wait for Spock’s name to be announced.

“S’chn T’gai Spock,” he said as well as any human had ever pronounced it.

“Spock gave a dignified Vulcan head-bow, then raised his right hand, fingers splayed in salute. “Peace be with you, Your Holiness. I come before you as the Shiav’s servant.”

“Welcome, welcome,” the pope responded. He turned his attention to Spock’s companion.

The priest who had escorted Spock and Larry said, “Your Holiness, this is Father Laurence Fielding, a Salesian missionary who has worked to heal the wounds inflicted by Donari raiders on the people of Gamma Vertas IV.” He added, “Spock is married to his sister.”

When Pope Augustine greeted Larry, the priest dropped to one knee and kissed the pontiff’s ring in a show of respect for his office. After the bishops and cardinals were introduced, everyone settled into the chairs that were appointed to them. Spock found himself positioned directly to the left of the pope, with Larry close at his side.

The eyes of the pontiff settled upon Spock with intense interest. “I’m so glad we have this opportunity to speak. Vulcan restrictions have made it impossible for us to send a delegation there. We are currently appealing through the Vulcan Embassy in San Francisco.” He paused. “I understand that your father is Ambassador Sarek.”

The name lanced at Spock. “Yes,” he acknowledged, “but I regret to say that he has little sympathy for the Yanashite Community. The Vulcan government considers us…something of an embarrassment.”

“How unfortunate,” Augustine said with heartfelt compassion. “It’s so difficult when one meets opposition…” And though his words ended there, the silence seemed to infer, from one’s own family.

With a sigh, the pope gently turned the conversation to Spock’s background. It became clear from Augustine’s questions that he had researched his guest well beyond the public news files. He showed a particular interest in Spock’s genealogy, both Vulcan and human. He inquired about Spock’s wife and seemed very interested in the health and activities of each of his children.

Eventually the discussion came to James, whom Spock described as “…my son who died of Vash-Lester Disease and was returned to me by Yanash, in perfect health.”

There was a faint rustle of fabric as several of the men leaned forward.

Then Augustine said, “It is true then, that you knew Yanash personally?”

“I was indeed honored to know him when he walked upon Vulcan soil,” Spock replied, “and I know him still.”

The pope smiled with understanding. “Take your time,” he said. “Please…if you will, start at the very beginning. Tell us how you came to have such faith. Tell us everything just as it happened, just as you remember it.”

Spock raised a slanted eyebrow. He had come with a briefcase of information about Yanash, as well as a carefully worded apologetic for the faith. Yet now he was being asked for his personal testimony. Knowing that it would prove embarrassing, he was tempted to offer an abridged version casting himself in a more favorable light. But truth demanded something better of him.

The pope had chosen the name of a man who lived as a profligate sinner before converting to Christianity. Keeping that in mind, Spock left his briefcase on the floor and said, “The story, as it concerns me, began with my uncle on Vulcan…”

THE END

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