New: Lost in Translation Series: Invictus, Spock'am

By: T'Ashalik

Rating: PG

Summary: Young Spock asks his mother for her thoughts on entering Starfleet.

Disclaimer: again…not mine… no money…

A/N: Thank you to Selek, as always!

2249

The wet garden house was a sanctuary for her… quiet, filled with flora from many different worlds, lovingly tended each day. There was a certain reverence and serenity that came in the management of plants; when she needed to think, to be alone, to simply be – she found her way there. Many problems were solved in the solace of her private retreat.

She heard the door open and close quietly, but no footsteps followed. Sarek would often come to peruse the vegetation and admire her handiwork. She looked up through the ferns to see Spock considering a daylily. She quietly made her way to where he stood in silence. It was his habit to come to the arboretum to contemplate issues concerning him, or to escape the seemingly constant criticism he would receive from Sarek. She knew it was both this day.

"Mother, the lilies are thriving. How long will they continue to bloom?" he asked softly.

"Another seven or eight days, I suppose." She regarded him carefully. "Spock'am, what troubles you?"

He turned to her, and to anyone else, his face was impassive – quintessentially Vulcan. But she knew him better than anyone else, arguably even more so than Sarek. She saw the anguish in his eyes. He said nothing to her. She decided to push him a bit farther. It was not good for him to hold these feelings in, and on occasion he used to come to her and share his concerns, not knowing how to deal with them.

"Your silence guides my assumption that you spoke to your father about the application to Starfleet," she said, tending to a rather unhappy rose.

She could identify with the rose bush at the moment. Sarek had been unrelentingly critical of Spock ever since he'd mentioned he was considering an option beyond the Vulcan Science Academy. It was almost more than she could stand to watch Sarek dissect Spock moment by moment simply because he saw a different path for his life.

Spock nodded silently, handing her the pruning shears she pointed to. His deep brown eyes studied her intently. He even opened his mouth to speak, and then censored himself back into silence.

Amanda put the shears down and walked past him to the door and activated the lock, ensuring their privacy. "Ok, Spock, let's have it. What's on your mind, my son?"

He looked down at the ground for a moment, and then back to her. "Mother, we have already discussed the options I have cultivated. I require something more personal - your opinion. What would you do if you were facing this decision?" he asked her, his eyes soft and hurting.

She moved to a group of bromeliads and began tending them rather harshly. She would not tell him what to do – he must make this choice for himself – but she wished she could.

"Spock, the future in question is yours alone, and you must determine the path you will choose. You must make this decision for no one save yourself. At the end of your life you must accept responsibility for the choices you will make.

"You cannot make them for me, your father, or anyone else. You must be your own advocate, and no matter what you choose, as illogical as this is, I will always love and respect you for doing so. Do you understand me, Safu?" she asked.

He looked at her carefully and inclined his head to her, turned, and walked away. Once she was certain he was out of earshot, she angrily picked up a succulent and threw it hard against the stone floor. As much as the instant gratification of destruction sated her frustration, she regretted the destruction of one life in contemplation of another. She carefully cleaned up the mess she made and went inside to prepare end-meal.

They sat in absolute silence, and not for respect of customary dining etiquette, either. She looked at her husband, who clearly was not interested in eye contact with anyone. Spock ate exactly what he had to so not to offer any possible opportunity for criticism. The nanosecond it was remotely possible to depart the table, he had done so, leaving her to her impassive husband. She finally stopped picking at her food and pushed her plate aside. Sarek looked at it and then at her.

"Aduna, are you feeling unwell? It is uncharacteristic for you to leave food unconsumed."

She just looked at him a moment. He seemed so foreign and alien to her. "I am not feeling well, as a matter of fact. Please excuse me, Adun." She rose from the table and left the mess to be cleaned by him.

She passed Spock's bedroom, she could hear him working on a project. She stood in the hall a moment and looked at him through the door, admiring his physical stature and unremitting focus on his work. It was at that moment she made her decision. She continued to their study and closed the door, a sign that Sarek had long recognized as her needing to be alone.

She began to translate a poem that helped her make a decision regarding a rather handsome and commanding young Vulcan many years earlier. Once she had finished it, she hand wrote a letter to Spock, sealed it in an envelope and walked back to his bedroom. She knocked on his door and waited. His response was immediate.

"Sarlah, A'maih…" he answered quietly.

She entered the room and smiled at him gently. "Spock'am, I thought about our conversation this afternoon, and I would like to amend my response to you, if you'll allow me to," she paused a moment, "and rather than aggravate this situation with what is certain to be a distasteful emotional response, I chose to write my thoughts down for you." She handed the envelope to him.

He took it gingerly from her, the deep brown eyes looking into hers. She took a step toward him and spoke once more. "I am, however, going to invoke my Terran Mother privilege…" She trailed off and hugged him tenderly. "Whatever your decision, know that I respect and love you."

She turned and quickly walked out, barely able to hold her tears back. Once in her bedroom, she let them flow, releasing her grief for him and the only thing he would never get from his father: his respect.

Spock sat at his desk and looked at the envelope, her script delicate and beautiful against the background of the stationary he had given her for her birthday several years earlier. He had only seen her use it twice before in communications to her family. She loved that stationary, and he was honored to have received her thoughts on it. He opened it and began to read.

Dearest Spock'am

I cannot imagine the physical and emotional stress you are under during this time. I know that you wish to please your father, and it conflicts with the decisions you are facing as you consider your life's path.

I ask your forgiveness for not answering you properly this afternoon. I needed time to think about the situation, and I am going to pass on to you something that helped me make a profound decision in my early life: to marry your father and leave Earth behind.

In all things, Spock, know that you have always brought me great honor, and I thank you for such a son.

Dif-tor heh smusma, Spock.

A'Maih.

Invictus W.E. Henley

Out of the night that covers me, black as the pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be

Wein-tor s'yuk-eshu'a nash-veh – atja u'gosh s'na-tor na – itaren ra ekon-lar nash-veh nam-tor na

for my unconquerable soul.

ri'abrukhau'vesht katra.

In the fell clutch of circumstance I have not winced or cried aloud, and under the bludgeonings of chance,

Ruskarau ma ek'rasah kos daya – ri pekhaya il mat-tor s'ral – heh ne'mah-tor

my head is bloodied, but unbowed.

t'buk patam nash-veh dash-tor hi ri keh'sei.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears looms the horror of the shade,

Sasarlah mesakhnash shi'reshan hehbezhun-masu hi vash t'duvek –

yet the menace of the years finds and shall find me unafraid.

wi tal-tor heh dungau-tal-tor nan tevunlar ri'kolthak nash-veh.

It matters not how straight the gate, how charged with punishment the scroll,

Ri-yauluhk ri uf zeh'temp – uf boshau k'yehtanlar to-gav –

I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.

nash-veh trensu buk t'nash-veh – nash-veh ang'jmih katra t'nash-veh

Spock sat quietly as he considered his mother's opinion, and made his decision.

Sarek had been waiting for Amanda to join him in the gardens as was their habit each evening, but she did not arrive. He rose and closed the house for the evening, retiring to their bedchamber. He found her already in bed, and through their bond, he sensed her shielding her thoughts from him.

He undressed and joined her, and when he moved up close to put his arm around her, she gently and firmly pushed it away. He lay in the dark for a moment. "T'hy'la…" he said quietly.

"I really don't want to talk right now, Sarek. Good night, Adun,” she said softly.

The next morning, Amanda rose to prepare first-meal for her family. She had been rather abrupt with Sarek the previous night, and thought she might make amends this morning. She passed Spock's bedroom and found it empty.

Continuing on to the kitchen, she found it dark and quiet. Sarek usually started coffee for her and attended to business matters, but he had not been in the study when she came down stairs…

She saw him standing on the porch, contemplating the Sas-a-shar desert behind their home. She walked outside to greet him and he turned to her, a stoic and stony face looking upon her.

"Ha'tha Ti'lu, Aduna. I require an interval of meditation before first-meal. Please excuse me." He departed her company and walked into the house without further communication.

She watched him and then decided to bring a flowerpot in for the table. It was then that she saw the letter from Spock on her worktable. She read it and had to force herself to finish the letter before she went looking for the unfortunate Vulcan that happened to be her husband.

Okomekh,

You have provided me with greater reassurance concerning my decision than you may realize. I am grateful for your honesty.

I have informed my father of my decision to enter Starfleet Academy, and regrettably, he is displeased... he has… declared me vre'kasht.

It is not my intention to rebel against either of you for mere rebellion's sake. I simply believe Starfleet to be the most appropriate place for me to develop a career.

I will forward my contact information to you once I have arrived at the academy. Again, I thank you.

Mene sakkat ur-seveh, A'maih.

Spock

She carefully replaced the letter in its envelope and walked back in to the house, packed her bags, and left, thinking "I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul."