The Vulcan Changeling Project

The Way of Logic

McCoy had been enraged when Spock checked himself out of the hospital. Yet as he looked out into the courtyard he realized that Spock and Muriah seemed more relaxed. "Time to see what's up," McCoy thought as he made his way over to where Spock and Muriah sat talking.

"Well, Spock just what do you think you're doing?" McCoy snapped.

Spock looked up at McCoy. "I am resting, Doctor."

McCoy sighed as he attempted to match Spock stare for stare, but his eyes were no match against Spock's raptor like gaze. "Damn, him and his protective eyelids," McCoy grumbled as he attempted to shield his eyes from Vulcan's harsh sunlight. McCoy mopped his brow and sat down with a heavy thump in the shade.

"Doctor, perhaps you should go inside and rest. The Vulcan sunlight appears to be more than your human fragility can absorb."

McCoy glared at Spock and then made a gesture. Spock feigned umbrage. "Really Doctor, that is hardly appropriate."

McCoy waved him off. "Oh, forget it. I'm bored. Nobody is sick and Scotty, Uhura, Sulu and Chekov took off on some day trip and Jim is off gallivanting to some ancient Vulcan city."

Spock tensed. "What ancient city, Doctor?"

McCoy shrugged. "How should I know? The name was unpronounceable like everything else in your confounded language. I think he said something about the mystics."

The color drained from Spock's face as he abruptly stood up. "If you will excuse me, Doctor. I have some business to attend to."

McCoy shook his head as he looked after Spock's retreating figure. "What the hell is wrong now?" McCoy thought.

***

Kirk felt as if he were weightless as an intoxicating feeling engulfed his mind. Images of a red, torrid sun flashed before him. Then came images of hunting, violence-war. Kirk shuddered at the graphic killing that he bore witness to. He felt the jealously of Vulcan blood feuds, the lust and passion of the ancient Vulcan mating rituals made Kirk dizzy with the after effects of desire. The ties of blood were intertwined in every move of Vulcans from long ago. Kirk began to feel each individual's passion and pain as Vulcan bodies pressed together.

Then Kirk began to identify with one Vulcan in particular-a young warrior. Kirk felt the Vulcan's pain, his fear and his devastation as his mate was brutally murdered in front of him. Kirk wept as he and the warrior's thoughts began to merge. "I am losing myself," Kirk thought as his thoughts merged with the young Vulcan called Sareth.

Sareth breathed deep and gagged as the smell of battle reached him. The smell of perforated bowel, blood and excremental fluid made him gag again. He looked down at the face of his lover as she bled out in his arms. Tears cascaded down Kirk's face as Sareth kissed his lover good-bye. Kirk felt the exhaustion of battle after battle. The death of loved ones caught and killed as innocent pawns in the Vulcan feuds.

Kirk screamed even as Sareth screamed at the death of his beloved. Sareth wandered through the desert weeping. The bitterness and hate had to stop. Logic was the answer for only through suppression of emotions could the Vulcan race survive. Surak's way was best. Kirk grimaced at the change from passion to logic took hold of young Sareth's mind. The transition was painful. Logic washed over Kirk's mind like a cold shadow. So many minds in transition, so much pain. Sareth cried out as he realized that the transition was too much for him to absorb. He could not adjust. As if sleep walking, Sareth pulled a dagger from the folds of his robe and plunged it into his side.

Kirk's body shook in shock as if he were the one to have taken the fatal blow. In a haze he watched as red and green blood poured from his side. "No," Kirk screamed, then mercifully his senses dulled into nothingness.