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Fic: Star Trek Reboot, "Singer of the Deep"
Title: Singer of the Deep
Summary: Spock, Uhura, Amanda, fear, grief, love and an a'kweth.
Warnings: ~1000 words, gen, movie spoilers, crossover elements.
Notes: Wow, it's been so long since I've posted actual real fic that I've forgotten *how*. The story of Surak and the a'kweth is from Diane Duane's novel Spock's World. Also, this whole thing is an excuse for Uhura (and Amanda) to fail to explain what's so funny to their Vulcans. Just so you're warned.
"What are you studying?" Nyota asked, curiously. It was good to see Spock sitting intensely at the computer console again, working while she worked: a return to their quiet nights working together at the Academy, after months of frantic motion.
"I am researching the a'kweth."
"The Underliers?" Nyota blinked in surprise, and then came up to peer over his shoulder. "I thought they were only a legend on Vulcan. Like Earth's ki'lin, or whales, or mokele m'bembe. The stories say that they rise like living mountains out of the deep sands, and those who see them are supposed to gain great insights, right? Some of the popular biographies of Surak mention that he met one while he was wandering in the desert."
"No," Spock replied. "They are indeed a part of my peoples' mythology, but they are - were -" He stopped, and took a moment to breathe, then began again. "They are also more than a legend. Although they were never observed under controlled circumstances, and attempts at scientific study have given at best contradictory data, there were regularly a few dozen credible sightings per Vulcan year, and they were an accepted element of the planet's fauna. However, in the weeks prior to the planet's destruction, there were no sightings at all."
"They just disappeared? Like that?"
"At the time, it was not considered unusual; generally, a silence from the a'kweth is a sign of impending seismic disturbance, which is one reason that Nero's attack was at first assumed to be a natural occurrence. However, in analyzing files retrieved from the planetary information nets, I have discovered that in the single day before the attack, there were five recorded encounters with a'kweth, including an account by my mother. It is the last entry in her personal log."
"May I see?" Nyota asked, curious, and sensing that he wanted to share: he had been speaking of his parents and his home more often, lately, as he settled in to his grief, but she still treasured every piece of memory he chose to offer. Now he brought the file up on the terminal and moved aside so that she could read easily with him:
"In Earth Standard, it would be rendered as 'Farewell-'"
Nyota finished the translation, "-- and thanks for all the fish," She sank down beside his chair, and tried desperately to suppress the entirely inappropriate laughter that was threatening to bubble over.
Spock arched an eyebrow, nonplussed. "Not, perhaps, how I would have translated it, but quite accurate for an idiomatic rendering. I have failed to identify the source, however, if it is indeed a Terran quotation as my mother stated. She references at the finish, after Surak, the Terran mystic Julianne of Norwich, who was describing an experience similar to the Vulcan concept of a'Tha. I am reasonably familiar with that Terran philosophic tradition, as well as several others, both through my parents and my later studies on Earth, but I can find no references to a similar phrasing to the a'kweth's. And I must confess that whatever meaning my mother found in it has entirely escaped my comprehension."
Nyota shook her head, smiling despite herself. "No, Douglas Adams isn't generally taught at Starfleet Academy. Spock, I think I would have liked your mother a great deal."
Spock glanced down at her, a familiar mixture of fondness and confusion, uncut, for once, with grief. "I believe she would have liked you as well, Nyota."
She leaned back against his legs, feeling the Vulcan warmth through her tunic, and said, with sudden conviction, "And all will be well."
Summary: Spock, Uhura, Amanda, fear, grief, love and an a'kweth.
Warnings: ~1000 words, gen, movie spoilers, crossover elements.
Notes: Wow, it's been so long since I've posted actual real fic that I've forgotten *how*. The story of Surak and the a'kweth is from Diane Duane's novel Spock's World. Also, this whole thing is an excuse for Uhura (and Amanda) to fail to explain what's so funny to their Vulcans. Just so you're warned.
"What are you studying?" Nyota asked, curiously. It was good to see Spock sitting intensely at the computer console again, working while she worked: a return to their quiet nights working together at the Academy, after months of frantic motion.
"I am researching the a'kweth."
"The Underliers?" Nyota blinked in surprise, and then came up to peer over his shoulder. "I thought they were only a legend on Vulcan. Like Earth's ki'lin, or whales, or mokele m'bembe. The stories say that they rise like living mountains out of the deep sands, and those who see them are supposed to gain great insights, right? Some of the popular biographies of Surak mention that he met one while he was wandering in the desert."
"No," Spock replied. "They are indeed a part of my peoples' mythology, but they are - were -" He stopped, and took a moment to breathe, then began again. "They are also more than a legend. Although they were never observed under controlled circumstances, and attempts at scientific study have given at best contradictory data, there were regularly a few dozen credible sightings per Vulcan year, and they were an accepted element of the planet's fauna. However, in the weeks prior to the planet's destruction, there were no sightings at all."
"They just disappeared? Like that?"
"At the time, it was not considered unusual; generally, a silence from the a'kweth is a sign of impending seismic disturbance, which is one reason that Nero's attack was at first assumed to be a natural occurrence. However, in analyzing files retrieved from the planetary information nets, I have discovered that in the single day before the attack, there were five recorded encounters with a'kweth, including an account by my mother. It is the last entry in her personal log."
"May I see?" Nyota asked, curious, and sensing that he wanted to share: he had been speaking of his parents and his home more often, lately, as he settled in to his grief, but she still treasured every piece of memory he chose to offer. Now he brought the file up on the terminal and moved aside so that she could read easily with him:
Stardate 2258.38, nighttime in Shi'Kahr:"Rom-halan eh itaren nash-veh na ek'aluk", Nyota softly repeated the words in Old High Vulcan.
I have found myself gripped, these past few nights, with a sourceless apprehension. My husband would say that I am being illogical to worry where there is no evidence of danger, and indeed that allowing my worry to affect me is in general illogical. But my people have never tamed and channelled our instincts as Vulcans have, and with Spock due to ship out soon, I can't help but fret that my fears might be meant as a warning.
Tonight, unable to sleep, I went walking out in my rose garden as I often do, and then, seeking the peace that Surak found there, wandered farther, until I had reached the place where the sands of the Forge lap against the streets of the suburbs. I still find it strange to be walking the same streets that the father of Vulcan once did, long ago, and to know them as home; and then I will remember that I am of Surak's house now, and these lands are mine, too, by right of love and choice.
But despite that, I had never expected to meet one of the Underliers in person. And when it came to me tonight, at first I did not understand what it was: huge and dark like Seleya rising up over the horizon at night, and with a psychic presence even I could feel. It would have been suffocating, had it not felt like - the best way I can describe it is being held in the arms of a dear one: safe and loved and cherished, with a deep joy simply at one's presence. And my worry left me, swept away by the a'kweth's stregth, and even now I feel the surety it left me: that somehow, regardless, all things will come out right.
And for all I had never expected to see an a'kweth, I had certainly never expected it to speak to me, far less to quote a Terran philosopher, but it stood over me and said, in an a'kweth's voice like the ringing of stone on stone, Rom-halan eh itaren nash-veh na ek'aluk, and then sank into the sand with a ripple like laughter.
When I recovered my composure enough to stand, I returned to home, and to my husband (who is waiting with commendable patience for me to write this account, and come back to his bed,) but the peace has stayed with me. Something is coming, assuredly - something terrible - but I can no longer find it in myself to (ah, say it, Amanda--) to panic.
What is, is.
And all will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of thing will be well.
"In Earth Standard, it would be rendered as 'Farewell-'"
Nyota finished the translation, "-- and thanks for all the fish," She sank down beside his chair, and tried desperately to suppress the entirely inappropriate laughter that was threatening to bubble over.
Spock arched an eyebrow, nonplussed. "Not, perhaps, how I would have translated it, but quite accurate for an idiomatic rendering. I have failed to identify the source, however, if it is indeed a Terran quotation as my mother stated. She references at the finish, after Surak, the Terran mystic Julianne of Norwich, who was describing an experience similar to the Vulcan concept of a'Tha. I am reasonably familiar with that Terran philosophic tradition, as well as several others, both through my parents and my later studies on Earth, but I can find no references to a similar phrasing to the a'kweth's. And I must confess that whatever meaning my mother found in it has entirely escaped my comprehension."
Nyota shook her head, smiling despite herself. "No, Douglas Adams isn't generally taught at Starfleet Academy. Spock, I think I would have liked your mother a great deal."
Spock glanced down at her, a familiar mixture of fondness and confusion, uncut, for once, with grief. "I believe she would have liked you as well, Nyota."
She leaned back against his legs, feeling the Vulcan warmth through her tunic, and said, with sudden conviction, "And all will be well."
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That is awesome. Yes. This happened, trufax.