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Title: A Logical Explanation Series: TOS (Movie) Rating: G - Suitable for all. Disclaimer: Star Trek belongs to Paramount/Viacom. I write about the characters for my own pleasure and not for profit.

Summary: The story takes place some months after Amanda's death. Spock and Saavik reunited after an absence of six years, celebrate the rites of katra fi'salan, the Souls in the Wind, ceremony.


Spock surfaced in stages from the depths of meditative trance. He raised his head from contemplation of steeped fingers to focus on the silhouetted outline of his one-time student and ward, Saavik.

One winged brow flared upward. Limned in the warm amber radiance of the asenarah lantern that hung by its silver-linked chain from the cloister roof, she stood framed by the sheltered colonnade's pilastered entrance. It seemed she was oblivious to his presence there. Apparently lost in thought, she stared out over the dusky reaches of the ShiKahrii villa's extensive gardens.

Spock watched her in silence for some seconds before softly clearing his throat. "Thee seem… preoccupied… this evening, Saavik'kham. May I enquire as to the cause?"

Nevas'ashar, Vulcan's sister world had begun to set. Already, a slice along the lower perimeter had disappeared as the great sphere sank below the horizon. Dust clouds, a ferment of turbulence, burned in the fiery radiance. Then, as in many tropical climes, night swooped down to claim the land. Within seconds of Nevas'ashar's disappearance, the night blooming shmaru and tsinen vines that twined about the portico columns opened their phosphorescent petals. The blossom's soft luminescence shimmered in the glorious white fire of a thousands stars.

She did not turn to look at him even when he rose gracefully from the black meditation stone to join her at the garden's periphery. Instead, she murmured coolly, "Thee will, no doubt, claim that I am illogical, Sa'met'ra Spock, but while the house seems empty without the presence of Lady Amanda, in the garden I continue to sense her presence. For some mysterious reason, I still expect to see her wander into view at any moment, pruning shears in hand as always."

"Indeed." Disregarding the chilly reception, Spock strengthened his mental shields, his own sorrow kept where it belonged, contained within his mind. "And with that astonishing bonnet upon her head…"

His light baritone could not suppress the affection he experienced at the memory. Amanda refused to consign the battered, straw, sun hat to the recycling unit despite Sarek's oft-repeated urgings.

"This… continuing awareness… appears irrational. Humans do not possess a living katra as we do. How, then, should I perceive Amanda here so strongly? "

"My mother would certainly have disagreed with that assertion." Spock murmured. "She told me stories about disembodied souls as a child. Humans call them ghosts, Saavik'kham. I recall that she mentioned once or twice that when her time came to depart this life she would find some way of making her presence known to those she cared about."

Saavik regarded him then, in the same cool way she had spoken, her large eyes very dark, very solemn. In perfect imitation of his own habitual interchange, her right brow quirked upward, "Phantasms, Mr. Spock? Surely thee cannot believe in such a concept?"

At her formal address, her restrained mockery, his eyes hooded. He murmured dryly, "Please, do not be alarmed, Saavik'kham. I am merely stating my mother's point of view, not my own…"

Saavik inclined her head. Despite her scorn, Amanda's self-confidence in the continuation of the Human spirit after death intrigued her. "Did the Lady Amanda state how this would be accomplished, Sa'met'ra?"

"She did not. However, knowing her as I do, I believe it would be anything but… mundane."

"Agreed," Saavik turned from his penetrating gaze to inspect the garden once more.

A taut silence grew between them. Abandoned on Hellguard, a Romulan colony world until the age of ten, Saavik had never known her mother or father. Since her rescue, she had also quite vehemently, declined any opportunity to ascertain which had been her Vulcan parent and which Romulan.

The fal-tor-pan re-fusion six years before had left Spock's memory incomplete. While he had undergone re-education, Amanda had taken Saavik in, sheltered her like a valued daughter despite some opposition from a few high-ranking families. That great kindness allowed Saavik to remain on Vulcan while he slowly recovered. When he had left on the purloined Klingon ship to serve as witness in his shipmate's official inquiry, Saavik had stayed behind in the Family home. In consequence, a deep bond had formed between the two women, an attachment that had continued until Amanda's death three months before.

Spock's own regret at his mother's loss was profound. His life aboard the Enterprise kept him away from Vulcan for months, even years at a time, but the knowledge always remained that his mother attended her daily routines as she had when he was still a little boy. Whatever the Universe threw his way that factor always had the power to reassure him. Yet, at Amanda's death, his knowledge of Kolinahru techniques had enabled him to assuage his painful devastation and come to terms with it.

The same could not be said for his former kham'et'ra. Although Saavik's face maintained a cat like composure, she had yet to acknowledge the passing of his mother with serenity. From the moment of her arrival at the villa, Spock had perceived a distinct reserve in Saavik's manner. She had declined to speak of the reason for her diffidence, but he was aware it was not just her lack of enthusiasm for the ceremony of katra fi'salan. While she remained uneasy about the memorial rites scheduled for the next day - rites that marked the demise of those living spirits cast adrift on the winds - it was something else that troubled her.

Saavik had saved him from the fires of pon-farr on the Genesis World. That knowledge he had salvaged when T'Lar had reinstated his katra. But for many months afterwards, the data unsupported by any tangible memories, had been too provocative, too traumatic, to consider with any judgment. He had shut them away deep within, the remembrance of Saavik's gift buried along with the rest.

She had never mentioned the event since. Nor had he. All was silence within the family. His continuing neglect must have hurt her. Before Genesis they had been as close as father and daughter, now they were little more than strangers to one another. That estrangement he wished most fervently to end and yet whenever the chance to speak occurred, he experienced a most bizarre embarrassment and apprehension.

Still unable to speak, Spock listened to the winds that echoed his melancholy through the stately columns and pillars of the cloistered walk. The breeze rustled the brittle-brown stems of chakh' together with the Terran plants that his mother Amanda had always cherished. Without her nurturing hand to tend them any longer, and despite all his attempts to stop the decline, those original shrubs had soon withered. Only a month ago, though exceedingly reluctant, he had cleared everything out and replanted with imported new stock from Earth.

At his shoulder, his sensitive hearing picked up a despondent whisper, barely audible, an exhaled breath, or perhaps a wistful sigh. It was difficult to be certain. The sound came again, just a trace louder than before. Without further prevarication, Spock decided to tackle the difficult situation head on. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly quite dry and forced his unexpectedly tense muscles to relax. His voice sounded unnaturally pompous even to his own ears as he started to say what should have been said years before. "Saavik, I am aware that my continuing… indifference … may have caused thee some distress…"

Her spine tautened immediately. She raised her head to stare at him in proud disregard, her face reflecting the distant equanimity that would have satisfied even a Kolinahru adept. However, unlike a Master of Kolinahr, her soulful eyes blazed with undisguised fiery disdain. "This is a subject that thee must find… offensive… Mr. Spock, as I dost also. Please, speak no more of it."

Taken aback by her intensity, Spock speedily acquiesced, falling back on protocol." As thee so wish, Saavik'kham. I… understand."

The tomblike hush descended once more. It stretched unendurably between them. Spock breathed in, seeking the calm engendered by the hours of meditation, but his previous tranquility eluded him. Again, the various scents of the Vulcan evening filled the darkness, the fragrances of Vulcan plant life, pungent and aromatic, the invigorating smell of ripening produce from the fruit vines nearby, the spicy cinnamon piquancy of desert sands. Yet, strongest of all, wafted to him by the restless wind, came the usually delicate perfume of a Terran bloom, one that Amanda loved most of all.

By his side, Saavik tensed. Then, without a word, she strode off along the raked path that soon disappeared among the exuberant growth of ironwood and desert willow. Spock followed close upon her heels. He pushed aside the purple fronds of a large smoke bush, and narrowly avoided the coiling tentacles of a miniature d'mallu that struck out instinctively at his sandaled foot.

They had reached a part of the gardens that Amanda claimed entirely for her own. Amongst the yellow and red birds of paradise, the firecrackers and red-hot pokers, hedgehog cactus and octopus agaves, a group of seven rose bushes grew. In the daytime, the branches themselves were hard to see because of the profusion of huge yellow blooms. Yet, as all the plants imported from Tehr'a, even in the bright, radiant, starlight the flowers shut up tight during the hours of darkness. Despite the securely furled petals, however, the sweet, heady scent of his mother's favourite rose filled the air.

"I can see what thee is thinking, Spock 'Sa'met'ra." Saavik's hushed voice whispered breathlessly as she stood close by his side, "That there must be a logical explanation."

"No," Spock answered softly, a little breathless himself, "I am not thinking that at all, Saavik'kham."

"This must have something to do with the Lady Amanda. How else could the scent be here, at night, when the flowers are closed? Can it be true, that her katra survives?"

He searched her face. Receptive and alert, he could see she wanted so much to believe that Amanda's soul went on, and felt an abrupt ache in his throat. For the first time in his life, Spock discarded logic and prudence simply to protect her from hurt. He was unable to destroy her faith with the information that these roses were new stock and that he had been unable to procure the scented variety that his mother preferred. The fragrant perfume carried to them on the breeze was a concentrated essence released periodically into the air from a hidden mechanism, an insignificant subterfuge that had given him a measure of comfort in his grief.

"Whatever the cause may be, this was her favourite spot in the garden. If her katra exists anywhere, it would be in this place, Saavik'kham. "

"Indeed." She sighed again, her need to believe openly displayed, yearning to trust again in the support that, before his death, he had never withheld from her. "I miss her so much, Sa'met'ra. Her friendship was important to me."

He saw immediately the opportunity to close the rift that lay between them and, this time, found no need to avoid his responsibility. "Amanda regarded thee as the daughter she could never have, Saavik'kham. Thy appreciation of my mother was reciprocated."

"She spoke of me?"


"That is…pleasing… to know."

Spock studied her grave face, saw her burden lift, at least a little. "I would offer thee the chance to touch what she shared with me."

Saavik straightened her shoulders and met his gaze. She maintained her composure only by employing the bio-control Spock had taught her. Nonetheless, her dark eyes glistened suspiciously. "Thee would mind-meld with me? That would be…most welcome."

After a further moment of contemplation, they strolled back to the house, the silence between them more comfortable now. They stood in the colonnade for an instant longer than necessary, suddenly unwilling to part.

"Will thee take a bowl of tsa'e with me, my mentor?"

"An agreeable suggestion. And after the tsa'e we will begin the meld."

Saavik inclined her head and disappeared into the inner reaches of the house to collect the tsa'e pot and bowls while Spock entered the central living room.

The rose perfume persisted there, too, almost as powerful as when he and Saavik had stood in Amanda's garden. It happened sometimes when the wind was in the right direction and the screens stayed open after sunset. He started across the room, his intention to close the night shutters.

Belatedly, Spock recognized that he really did not require any physical manifestation of his mother to recall her presence. He still spoke to her in his mind. He still asked her for guidance and experienced all her warm affection. The rose essence mechanism was unnecessary, he decided. The following day he would remove it, early on, before Saavik was about.

He did not notice the drapes were already drawn, the shutters closed behind them, until halfway across the room. Saavik must have completed the task earlier that evening. So, how could he still smell the roses?

He stopped in mid-stride, one eyebrow lifting, as another explanation for the lingering fragrance occurred to him. Softly, he murmured into the empty room, "Is it you, M'aih?"

The tantalizing scent of roses increased in strength as he stood in the dusk, wrapped about him as if in the loving arms and thoughts of Amanda herself. Then, just as quickly, the fragrance faded. It left him with an overwhelming sense of peace - and explanations, logical or otherwise, no longer seemed relevant to him at all.

The End.
Summary: The story takes place some months after Amanda's death. Spock and Saavik reunited after an absence of six years, celebrate the rites of katra fi'salan, the Souls in the Wind, ceremony.

Ceremony courtesy of Kerjen and the fanfic Soul's On The Wind.
Doublevisionary Featured By Owner May 30, 2010  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Beautifully written! The words painted the images perfectly in my mind and the narrative flowed well :D I love the differences in the speech to show they were speaking in Vulcan (but seen in english for our benefit hehe). The mood fit perfectly for grieving the loss of a loved one.
karracaz Featured By Owner May 31, 2010  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thanks for your comments, Djehuti. Glad you enjoyed the story.
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