This is similar to a kivaswine pot, but with a wider mouth, and with no bindings for carrying. Image via Google.


This is an experimental piece, with an alternate storyline, for my current WIP,Bounded by a Nutshell.

This is a Star Trek fan fiction offering – my very first, in a public venue.  It is likely to change, perhaps several times.


Opinions more than welcomed!

~~~”Rachyl says that she’s identified seventeen new strains that seem to have sensate characteristics, just upon the Academy plot. The surrounding landowners,of course, are curious, and she’s been granted carte blanche for the entire community.”

Spock had been attending to Leonard while reviewing itinerary for what would be his first mission since Seth’s birth. He had been requested 2.49 months ago, but would not travel until his family was cleared to attend him on the voyage.

It had been suggested, by no lesser an authority than the man slumping comfortably in the chair closest to the table where he preferred to work, that this was ‘highly damned illogical’. But Leonard was his Kiral, and, predictable grumbling aside, he knew intimately well why Spock would not choose to be away from his family, in the coming months.

And he knew, too, that, at times, there was no logic whatever in fighting Vulcan instincts.

“Spock, am I bothering you? Should I shut up?”

Spock looked up in mild surprise, and felt his eyebrow go up involuntarily -were Leonard not human, he would have repressed embarrassment at the obvious betrayal of his emotional state.

“I ask your pardon, Leonard. I regret that I was distracted. You wished to share Rachyl’s discovery of potential sensate species, correct?”

“Well, I don’t have to, if you’re busy…or..” he let the word trail off, knowing that there were still those things that even a Kiral, or even a kinbrother, might not say without invitation.

“You are not disturbing me, Kiral. I am simply – fatigued. Seth did not sleep much of last night, and Tisira had a recurring nightmare and required 4.652 hours of reading, before she slept easily again.” It was answer enough, for now. No need, as yet, to inform Leonard that he strongly suspected that Tisira, who was highly empathic and intuitive, with as yet undeveloped shields, had absorbed the energy and imagery of his own restless dreaming.

No need to report that, even when the child finally fell into restful sleep once more, he had not, and had lain awake until he could remain no longer, and that he had been pacing alone,without the walls of the Academy when his wife found him…

And then, there had been no more sleep, until much later, when they had had to creep carefully to avoid being seen in what, here, was a remarkable indiscretion.

But the pleasures they had shared, for the first time since Seth’s birth –

“Hey, Spock- ?” The voice was soft, accepting, perhaps even a little amused. “Kirana is playing with Andrew, and Rachyl is weaving nearby. I think they’ll be fine for awhile…why not go catch a nap?”

The assessing cast of his manner, though, and the interruption of the memories, just when they were returning to their souldancing, triggered irritation. “You tread at the edge of propri-”

Shearing, tearing force, into his soul, blindingly red, taking vision, breath, thought-

Tisira!

But she was gone, ripped away, leaving a gaping wound where she had been, in his mind, in his soul.

~My daughter! Ti’kahm! Tisira!~

Nothing, nothing, not even a sense-echo…she was gone. He charged to the cabinet, where she had been napping – but she was not there when he tore the door off in his haste to open it.

“Spock?”

His skin was,at once, afire, and prickling tight against frigid cold. He shook, and felt that he had collapsed, that a hand gripped him. “Spock!”

No. He could not answer. Must not.

He must find his child. His Tisira.

He threw his mind into his soul, going more and more deeply, seeking her everywhere, in a blind panic. He must find her, must have her with him.

He plumbed his depths. “Dammit, man – stop it. How is killing yourself going to find her, Spock? Spock!”

His eyes saw the other man’s lips move, felt dimly his panic – but there was only Tisira. A press of cold against shoulder; he forced will against the sedative, and would not let it kill his ability to search.

His depths were barren, without.

Tisira was not there.

“Dammit, man – stop fighting me! Stupid, stubborn, crazy-ass Vulcan fool – yow!”

He seized the man’s arm and flung him away, trying to explain his need, but there was only the word, the name, the void.

“Tisira!”

He flung his mind outward, along every path that would hold it, out and out, holding nothing back, for he must have again his sense of his child. To live without her was not possible.

“Oh, Shit! C’mon, Spock- I’ve got only one thing left to try, and it’s as likely to kill you as cure you. Don’t make me use it, please!”

Leaving body behind, stretching outward, out across red sands, obsidian cliffs, atmosphere….out, out to the stars, for she was not here….

Something grabbing his chin – hard, before he could resist, tipping his head back, and something wet in his mouth, his throat –

Spock gagged, choked, tried to refuse, and had to swallow – a swallow that made him retch and vomit….

Or, more like this, with bindings…Image via Google.

Again the hand. “More.” The voice trusted and grim. “Stop fighting me, damn you, if you want to live long enough to find her. Drink it until I say to stop, and I will let you go. Otherwise, I’m pouring it into you until you drown, choke, or come to your senses.”

Intent registered, as he began to feel his bondmate, always touching and touched, just now waking from the nursing-sleep, and feeling his cries of aloneness.

He seized the clay jar from the Kiral, and drank so deeply, he nearly retched again.~~

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