The Vulcan Changeling Project

Lullabies are Illogical

Together Spock, Tiberius and Muriah gazed at the small white structure in front of them. Its bleached skeletal frame appeared bleak against the red swirling sand. Muriah sighed, "I still can't believe that the zealots killed my mother. All the records indicated that she had committed suicide."

Tiberius laid a hand on Muriah's arm as he said, "Sometimes facts are not always correct."

Muriah looked into the depths of Tiberius' dark green eyes. There was something hypnotic about them. Instead of breaking eye contact Tiberius stared right back at her until Muriah felt her cheeks grow warm.

Spock cleared his throat and gestured towards the structure. "Muriah, you do not have to enter the house unless you want to."

Not bothering to shake Tiberius' hand off her arm Muriah proceeded ahead. "I know. I'm afraid, yet you both risked your lives to provide me with the truth. It's time I faced the ghosts of my past."

As they continued down the path, Muriah smiled when she heard a small chime. She then walked up to the front door and reached up and touched the chimes. Only two small pipes were left. There had been five. "My father hung these chimes all around the house. They are harmonically tuned to the Vulcan scale. The chimes used to help me sleep at night." Muriah said as she pushed on the door in hesitation. When it opened she looked up in surprise as she said, "It's open."

Spock nodded. "There was no legitimate heir found to take control of the estate."

Muriah gasped as they all went inside for nothing had been taken or moved. "This is amazing. On Babylon 2 this house would have been looted long ago."

Spock and Tiberius looked at each other, unsure of what to say. They studied one another for a few moments and then followed Muriah as she explored her past.

Muriah paused outside a door and then went in. She put her hands to her mouth. Everything was the same as the last time she had seen her room. Layers of dust covered all of the contents of the room, a cello, a harp, a small bed, a music box, all gray, all silent. Muriah's attention focused on a small wooden box that sat on a table top. She licked her lips and then opened the lid. Childish strains of a Vulcan lullaby filled the room.

Spock turned from studying the Vulcan harp. The melody was familiar. He could almost hear the soft voice that sang it to him as a child. Spock concentrated. It was not his mother's voice. The voice was low and husky. Spock shook his head in confusion. His father would never have held Spock, let alone sang a lullaby to him. Perhaps, Muriah's memories were still jumbled with his own.

Muriah looked up at Spock and Tiberius and smiled. "My mother used to sing this song to me."

Spock frowned as he asked, "Never you father?"

Muriah giggled. "My father was one of the few Vulcans who couldn't carry a tune. Why what's wrong?"

Spock raised an eyebrow as he said, "I have a vivid memory of someone singing that song to me."

Tiberius stepped forward. "Perhaps, it was your own father, Spock."