Out of the Desert

by Ster Julie

Code: S, Sa/Am, T'Pau; Young Spock; TAS

Rating: G

Part 1 of 1

Summary: Sarek and Amanda wait for Spock at the end of his kahs-wan

--ooOoo--

Out of Egypt I called my son. Hosea 11:1

Sarek stood sentry with the other fathers at the desert's edge. They were all waiting for a glimpse of their children undergoing the kahs-wan. Amanda sat with the mothers under the great canopied tents as they kept their own vigil. She resisted the urge to rifle through the provisions she had brought for Spock and instead ticked each item off in her head to pass the time. /Food, water for drinking and bathing, washcloth and towel, clean clothes, a comb, fresh shoes, the ritual implements, a pallet for Spock to nap on until the ending rites begin--might as well have brought the whole house!/ Amanda exclaimed mentally. She sensed an answering burble of patient amusement from Sarek.

Patience. Amanda felt that she was in short supply of that particular virtue as her only son, her firstborn child, wandered in the desert at the tender age of seven in a test of maturity. /Maturity!/ she scoffed, /at only seven years of age! /

Patience. The Vulcans as a whole were very patient people. As Amanda looked around, she saw parents of various ages biding their time as the children wandered in the desert like the ancient Israelites of Earth's past. While all of the fathers stood sentry at the "finishing line," the mothers bided their time in various ways. Some meditated, others read, some did fine needlework, and some just sat and stared at the desert, willing it to give back her child. Amanda wondered just how many times these women have sat here, waiting for their precious sons and daughters to return. And how often did they not return, or return injured from the extreme elements?

/Speculation is useless, aduna,/ Sarek chided gently. /Spock will return to us when he is finished, and no sooner./

/How can you be so certain that he will return, Sarek?/ Amanda retorted.

/The parental bond,/ he replied simply. /I know that he is near and that nothing further has happened to him./

Amanda startled and moved to the edge of the tent. /Further?/ she hissed. /What happened?/

Sarek turned back to his aduna from where he stood the father's vigil. /He had a minor injury to his foot on the first day,/ Sarek sent. He could see his wife's very human blue eyes blaze at him across the distance.

/Why didn't you tell me about it?/ she demanded.

Sarek dipped his head to the side in a Vulcan shrug. /What could you have done about it?/ he replied. /Could knowing about Spock's injury made the waiting any easier?/

Amanda turned indignantly away from Sarek and scanned the horizon again for her son.

She hated when Sarek was right.

Amanda was distracted by a slight commotion as one child appeared in the distance, striding toward the end of the path. She watched as the boy's father met him with a dipper of water which the child downed before uttering the ancient words.

"I have walked the steps of my ancestors," the boy said in a raspy voice. "Now I forge my own path."

The boy's mother moved to receive her son at the edge of the tent. She took him to a far corner and proceeded to bathe him for the last time. The boy was no longer a baby. He would now take his place in Vulcan society with all his rights, privileges and responsibilities as a post kahs-wan male. He could be bonded, own property, and choose his profession. In ancient times he would have been sent to live with the family of his betrothed, apprenticed to an artisan, and trained in the ways of defending his new clan.

Amanda was never more relieved to live in modern times. At least Spock would stay with her now and still be her little boy, at least in her heart, far away from ritual and clan and traditions like the one that sent seven year-olds out to face deadly dangers. She shook herself from her musings and realized that the first boy was already washed, clothed, fed and asleep on his pallet, while two more children approached the finish line.

Neither child was Spock.

/Do you see him yet?/ Amanda sent worriedly to Sarek.

/Patience,/ Sarek repeated.

Amanda found it difficult to refrain from pacing. It would be an illogical, unseemly waste of energy. Instead, she fingered her bracelet like a string of worry beads. It was a subtle gesture that expended some of her anxiety.

The sun was just touching the horizon when another child approached. The last two children had not yet returned, and it would soon be very dark and cold out near the Forge. Amanda was beside herself with worry. Sarek had given up trying to pacify his wife. Even he was beginning to be concerned. Although the bond told him that Spock was near, the connection between them was not able to tell him why his young son was making such slow progress.

The other children cast furtive glances toward Amanda as she paced like a caged lematya at the tent's edge. Amanda scarcely noticed when the children began to stand near her as they kept their own vigil. Amanda couldn't know that Spock's peers were standing behind her with closed eyes and raised heads, psychically crying out for the two to follow their calls.

Sarek gazed steadily at the horizon in the waning light. There, on the crest of the last hill, was a disturbance. Sarek wondered if that was that just due to the setting sun. Others started to turn to the horizon and point. The disturbance sorted itself into two small figures struggling together. One of the children was supporting the other, the walking stick he carried showing slow but steady progress toward the end point.

"Assisting another during the kahs-wan disqualifies both," a young mother observed. Amanda shot her a dark look, her mind chittering with all that propriety kept her from expressing about dangerous, barbaric challenges and very young children.

The father of the other boy ran into the desert to claim his son and carry him to the healer. Spock paused a moment, leaning on his crude walking stick and looked toward his father. The boy resumed his slow, plodding limping trek to the finish. Sarek strode forward, matching step for step, until father and son met together halfway. Spock paused a moment to look up at his father, then set his face and continued on to his goal. Sarek matched his son's halting steps and escorted him on the last portion of the journey.

As soon as he crossed the finish line, Spock turned to Sarek and accepted the traditional cup of water. After taking a sip, he whispered hoarsely, "I have walked the steps of my ancestors. Now I forge my own path."

The adult-sounding words belied the little boy's utter exhaustion. He lifted his arms to Sarek and soon found himself being carried to the healer as well.

A buzz went through the crowd of parents as the two boys were treated, washed and dressed. There had obviously been interference and collaboration, both forbidden in the kahs-wan challenge.

What would the matriarch do?

After the boys had had enough time to be seen by the healer, be bathed, clothed, fed and rested, T'Pau rose from her sedan and called for Spock.

"Explain thyself," she demanded.

Spock stood before her straight and tall. He knew that, while he did not break any rules, he had bent them. However, Spock deemed his actions extremely logical. He would do it all again in a Vulcan heartbeat.

"I was attacked by a d'mallu plant on the first day," Spock explained in a strong, clear voice. "I freed myself by cutting the branch that trapped me. It would not have been right or logical for me to leave all that food behind, so I cut it into portions and carried it all with me on the journey.

"As I progressed over the Forge, I encountered other children also being tested. They did not have as much food as I. I knew that I could not compromise their kahs-wan by giving them the d'mallu plant outright, so I dropped some where I knew they would be sure to find it.

"It did not seem logical to waste the root, nor did it seem logical to carry it all home when we have ample food there," Spock concluded.

T'Pau's face seemed frozen. She didn't so much as twitch a brow when the halfling boy deigned to lecture her on logic.

"And what of Sepek?" she asked further.

"I found him next to a bad spring," Spock explained, "and he was already sick. I could not leave him there to die."

T'Pau turned a stern eye on the other children. "And who else assisted thee?" she demanded.

"No one else," Spock replied meekly.

"No one?" she thundered.

"I told them not to," Spock defended. "I did not want them to risk not passing their kahs-wan." Spock looked back at the other children. "They wanted to, but I would not let them."

"And who gave thee such authority?" T'Pau teased.

"I gave it to myself," Spock replied. "My father has taught me to think logically, and my mother has told me to use my head. I endeavored to do both." Spock looked down and took a deep breath. "I know that helping the others was not permitted, but I did it anyway. I will run the test again, if thee demands it."

The matriarch beheld the bowed, dark head before her. She gazed dispassionately at Sarek who returned her gaze calmly. She next beheld the human mother whose face shone with pride.

"The kahs-wan is an individual test to determine a child's maturity," she began.

Amanda bristled. T'Pau sounded as if she was going to condemn Spock's actions and invalidate his test.

"As important as learning and demonstrating survival techniques are," T'Pau began, "knowing how to serve the needs of the many and the needs of the one is also vital."

Amanda put a hand to her throat. Was she too quick to judge the matriarch? Would she accept Spock's explanation?

"Spock," T'Pau called again. Spock stood straight before her. "Thee needs to learn the reason that we have laws and rules. While the outcome of thy disobedience was favorable, resulting in saving the life of Sepek, thou didst interfere." She sat back on her settee. "What should be thy punishment?"

Spock's eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat. He gulped and answered humbly, "I should run another test."

T'Pau seemed to consider a moment. She opened her arms to the boy. "Run to me, Spock," she invited.

Spock hobbled on his braced ankle as best he could and fell into the matriarch's arms.

"Thou hast passed thy kahs-wan," T'Pau declared to the boy, "but Sepek will need to repeat the final portion of the test. When thy leg heals sufficiently, will thee run with him?"

"I will, Little Mother," Spock pledged.

Amanda pressed a handkerchief to her eyes. A few days ago, she and Sarek had brought their baby to the desert. In return, the desert had delivered back to them an exceptional child of great courage and wisdom.

END