He was sitting on his bed when Uhura entered the room, a padd in his hands and his eyes focused intently on the writing on its surface.
But no. As she stepped forward, she realised it was not a padd, but a real book, compact and dense and dark with age. She wondered briefly as she saw the Vulcan characters spread out on the page whether he was re-educating himself in the finer points of logic, or simply learning to read. She had little idea of what knowledge there was left in his damaged mind.
He looked up, his eyes hovering on her face with a look of enquiry in them. She was used to that penetrating gaze, but the level of uncertainty in it was a new thing to her. His eyes moved from her face to the ahrbat wood lyre she held in her arms, his curiosity naked on his face.
“Uhura,’ she said, stepping forward. ‘Nyota Uhura.”
“Yes,’ he said, laying the book down on the mattress. ‘I know you.”
She smiled, trying to stop the tears from coming into her eyes. Just those three words were beautiful to her.
Her eyes flicked to the book beside him. She had enough knowledge of Vulcan to read the cover. Her ability with the language was growing day by day as she lived and worked on the planet. This enforced sabbatical was a linguist’s dream.
Steps in Logic, the cover read. Spock’s knowledge was perhaps hovering between that of a child and an adult.
“I brought you something.” she said, lifting the lyre a little.
He reached out a hand, but hesitated before touching it, his eyes searching the face of the instrument just as they had searched her own face.
“Not mine?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, not yours. Yours was destroyed when the Enterprise – “
An image ran through her head; an image that she saw in her dreams and in half her waking moments, of the Enterprise, once a graceful bird, fracturing into jagged pieces as fire burst throughout its decks. She watched it descending into the thickness of atmosphere, streaking like a meteorite across the face of Genesis with a hundred tiny pieces of itself following like Lucifer’s angels falling into hell.
She moved that vision aside into a hidden part of her mind, and smiled at the Vulcan, proffering the lyre in outstretched arms.
“Not yours.” she repeated. “But it is one of the classic eras, made by T’Kaht in the ShiGahr workshops. It’s a little older than your lyre. It has a beautiful sound.”
His fingers moved over it, touching first the strings and then the polished wood that was reflective with the patina of centuries of touch.
“This is for me?” he asked, looking up at her with a depth of hesitancy in his eyes that brought sorrow into her chest.
“Of course.” she smiled.
Would he be able to play? Would this be worse than no lyre at all?
She watched his fingers moving as he settled the lyre into its proper position on his lap and began to tune the strings that she had deliberately left slack. The notes that shimmered from the sound-box wavered, and grew harmonious under his deft touch.
Relief sighed through her. He still understood the mechanics of the instrument. He still understood how the notes should sound. He still – of course – had perfect pitch.
As if he were moving in a dream he began to play. It was obvious that it was instinct and buried memory bringing the tune to the lyre. She recognised it and came in at the second verse, singing, “I’ll be back though it takes forever. Forever is just a day. Forever is just another journey…”
Tears overwhelmed her at the apparent prophecy of the words, and her voice choked. Spock looked up at her, startled, his fingers stalling as his conscious mind overrode memory.
“Really, Lieutenant.” he said, half-chiding, an echo of the Spock she knew in his voice.
She laughed, conscious that she must be bewildering him with her flailing emotions.
“It’s Commander now, Mr Spock.” she reminded him, a feeling of mischievous joy overcoming the tears.
“Commander, of course,” he nodded. “your promotion was long overdue…’
“I’m glad you think so.” she said in mock sternness, “I certainly did.’
His brow furrowed as if he were trying to remember a wealth of knowledge that should be effortlessly accessible beneath his surface memories. Suddenly she remembered the emptiness that had inhabited her mind after Nomad, all those years ago. That strange probe, brain-damaged itself, had taken every thought from her as if it were a child emptying a jar of candy, and she had stared at the world like a new-born, waiting for her thoughts to come back to her.
“I know how it feels.” she said, finally sitting beside him. “Do you remember Nomad, Mr Spock?”
Again, his brow furrowed. “V’Ger…” he murmured.
She smiled. “History has a habit of repeating itself. Do you remember Nomad? It was 2268, I think. We beamed it on board the Enterprise. It – “
“It took Mr Scott’s life.” Spock said suddenly.
“And brought it back.” she said.
She thanked God every day that Nomad could bring life back as easily as taking it away. She could not imagine life without Scotty’s warm charm.
“Do you remember what it did to me?” she asked.
Spock’s gaze seemed to internalise. “A mass of conflicting impulses.” he said. “Its thinking is chaotic.” He looked up, a sudden realisation brightening his eyes. “It absorbed your thoughts. Took your memory. You were re-educated…”
She nodded. “Re-educated, until my mind managed to remember what it was supposed to remember. Nomad hadn’t wiped my memory – he’d blocked my ability to access it.”
He appraised her with that piercing look.
“One would not be able to tell.” he said seriously.
‘I’m glad. she smiled. “It was a long time ago. I recovered. You will too.”
Spock nodded, his hands moving to the lyre again, picking out a melody with a little less certainty but with more conscious thought.
“I will.” he said, his eyes on his fingers as they touched the strings. “Thank you, Commander. Your gift is greatly appreciated.”
She smiled, and briefly pressed her hand to his arm. With a glance to the door to be sure that they were alone, she abruptly kissed the Vulcan’s cheek. His hands faltered in the middle of a bar, and he fixed her with a look of surprise.
“I’ll see you again soon, Mr Spock.” she said, touching the place she had kissed him with quick fingers. “The adepts said I shouldn’t be too long. May – I come and see you again?”
“Of course.” he said in that deep, smooth voice, sounding a step closer to normal. “I require your musical instruction.”
The joy bubbled through her. I’ll be back though it takes forever ran through her mind. Perhaps it would be more than just a day, but she was certain that one day Spock would be back with them, in his entirety. Fate had a habit of taking Spock away, but thank God, it also had a habit of bringing him back.