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To clarify for anyone who hasn’t read the previous DVAS tales, all three of the triplets call Jim something different—Selik calls him “ko’mekh;” Lena calls him “Papa,” and Lalia calls him “Jim.” Also, “DVAS” stands for Deadly Vulcan Assassination Squad (Jim’s a Quentin Tarantino fan).
A Very DVAS Christmas
“It is completely illogical.” Selik Kirk cha’Spock spoke with all the utter authority of his seven years, four months, and two days of life.
“It is not!” T’Lalia Amanda Kirk cha’Spock spoke with all the utter passion of her hybrid Vulcan-human ancestry, not to mention her secret belief in magic, fairies, and all other supernatural events. “Jim says Santa Claus is real, and he should know, because he had Santa come to the ship last year!”
“Ko’mekh is a human, and they are often illogical, especially in regards to holiday traditions,” Selik informed his youngest sister.
“We are human, Mr. Superior.” This was T’Pralena, oldest of Jim and Spock’s four children, the leader of the Deadly Vulcan Assassination Squad, as most of the ship’s crew still referred to the triplets.
“Legally we are Vulcans, so even assuming that Santa Claus was a real entity and not an artificial construct of human mythology, his benefits would not accrue to us,” Selik replied pedantically. He gave Lalia a superior look. “And the Santa Claus figure from last Christmas was actually Mr. Scott in a costume and wig. I know, because I pulled on his artificial beard.”
That bit of information was the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back. For a moment, Lalia just looked at her brother, mouth gaping—and then the huge green eyes filled with tears, and whirling around, Lalia bolted from their playroom.
Lena sighed. “Now you’ve done it,” she said severely, frowning at Selik. She went over to the corner playpen where Kudaya, their younger brother, just shy of his first birthday, was sitting quietly absorbed in a busy box. He looked up at his older sister and with a coo stretched out his arms, Lena picking him up and balancing him on one hip.
“Come on,” she said to Selik. “Sa’mekh and Papa will want to scold you now.”
Oh, God, you do that so well.” Jim Kirk lay back against the piled-up pillows on their double bunk and luxuriated in the feel of Spock’s strong hands rubbing his aching arches, the result of Jim spending the entire day walking the corridors of the Enterprise on an inspection tour. His mate gave him that half-smile that Jim loved.
“You say that about everything I do, ashaya,” Spock noted.
“Because it’s true,” Jim replied firmly. He sat up and reached for his mate, pulling Spock up into an embrace. “Want to fool around?” Jim murmured, nibbling on a pointed ear and feeling Spock shiver.
“Ashaya, the children are...”
“Busy writing letters to Santa and probably drawing up plans for some kind of trap so they can drop a net on him and get gifts all year ‘round,” Jim replied. He slid one hand down Spock’s back and the other up his thigh, and he could feel his mate’s titanium willpower weakening as.....
“Jim!” The door swished open and a sobbing morsel of Vulcan/human personhood scampered in, making a beeline for the one fixed point in her universe.
“T’Lalia.” Spock sighed, hastily removing Jim’s hand from his backside. “What have we discussed regarding the custom of knocking?”
“It’s all right, t’hy’la; we weren’t ‘wrestling’—yet,” Jim replied with a grin, remembering the time the Squad had managed to intrude on Jim and Spock at a most inopportune moment1. Despite his attempts at severity, Spock’s lips twitched as well as he too remembered that incident, which had involved body oil, handcuffs, and a naked and enthusiastic bond mate. Jim let go of Spock, who slid off the bed, and turned to hold out his arms to his younger daughter.
“Now, sweetheart.” Jim gathered Lalia into his arms. “What’s wrong?” She burrowed her head into his shoulder and sobbed out something that sounded like “Selik Claws,” but before Jim could question her further, the door opened again and the rest of his children entered.
“I’m sorry, Papa. I’m sorry, sa’mekh,” Lena said. As the eldest, she took her responsibilities regarding her siblings seriously—too much so, Jim sometimes felt, but then, Lena was determined to be a starship captain someday, so perhaps having to lead her siblings was good training.
“Lalia is upset because Selik told her that Santa Claus is a fictional construct,” Lena explained.
“Selik!” Hearing that tone in Jim’s voice, Selik’s ears flushed green and he looked down guiltily, scuffing his toe against the carpet.
“He is not fictional,” Lalia sobbed. She raised her head from Jim’s shoulder, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Lalia leak?” Kudaya asked. More Vulcan in his temperament than any of the Squad, he almost never cried, so he found tears fascinating.
“She’s not leaking, sweetheart,” Jim chuckled. He looked at the rest of his brood. “Okay, I think it’s time for a cooling-off period. Lena, this is not your fault. Selik, you need to stop breaking your sister’s heart.”
“But ko’mekh, it is illogical to...”
“Selik,” Spock said sternly. “I believe you and I need to have a discussion regarding the use of logic as a blunt instrument.
“Sounds like a plan.” Jim looked at Lena and Kudaya. “Sweetie, why don’t you and your littlest brother go see if Lt. Lefèvre in the galley needs anyone to sample the goodies for the Christmas party and make sure they’re completely nutritionally unsound?”
Kudaya’s eyes lit up like an exploding nebula. “Cookies?”
“Cookies,” Lena agreed. “All right, Papa. Kudaya and I will be in the galley.”
“Only two cookies each,” Spock interjected. “You must have sufficient appetite for dinner.”
“Certainly, sa-mekh,” Lena replied serenely. Of course, the limit of two cookies did not rule out the cakes, fudge, and other confections that would be ready for sampling. Before Spock had time to work that out for himself, Lena carried Kudaya out the door into the corridor.
“Ashaya, why don’t you and Selik go have a heart-to-heart talk about issues of logic and bursting other people’s bubbles?” Jim requested. “I’ll stay here with Lalia.”
“Very well. We will regroup at dinner.” Spock left with Selik in tow, and Jim turned his attention to his youngest daughter, his secret favorite. Even though he loved all his children dearly, he and Lalia had been especially close from the moment of her birth, when she had first giggled and mentally called him “Jim.”
“Now, sweetheart,” he said gently, “why did you get so upset over what Selik said? You know he tries to turn everything into a scientific theory. And remember when he said last year that Santa wasn’t real, but then when he wanted that new chemistry set (the one he ended up setting fire to the carpet with, Jim thought ruefully) he changed his mind about Santa. And even if...well, if Santa and the Enterprise would somehow miss each other’s flight plans this year, you know you’ll have a wonderful Christmas. Your sa-mekh and I will see to that.”
“’But, Santa has to come, Jim,” Lalia said, tiny rosebud mouth quivering. “He has to.”
“Why, sweetie? What do you want from Santa?”
“Oh, it’s not for me; it’s for sa’mekh,” she explained earnestly.
“For Spock?” Jim floundered for a moment. “But, sweetheart, your sa’mekh’s a grown-up, and he doesn’t need any gifts from Santa.”
“Yes, he does,” Lalia insisted. “He needs something very special so he won’t be sad anymore, and Santa’s the only one who can do it, because he’s magic.”
“You think sa’mekh is sad?” Jim stroked her hair, faintly worried now. Lalia was a strong empath, even at this age, and she was almost always right about people’s emotions.
“I know he is, Jim, and Santa will make him happy, so he has to come.” Big green eyes looked up beseechingly. “Make sure the Enterprise finds Santa’s sleigh this year, Jim—please. I won’t even ask for a Christmas present, not even a sehlat.”
Jim knew what he should say—but he didn’t. Instead, he hugged his daughter closely, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll do everything I can, sweetie, and I’ll ask Mr. Sulu to keep an eye out in Navigation. If Santa crosses our path, we’ll intercept him. Okay?”
Lalia brightened immediately. She had every faith in Sulu’s abilities. “Okay.”
“Now,” Jim said, “maybe we should go and make sure Lena and Kudaya haven’t eaten all the Christmas cookies.”
“That is a very good idea. The crew will be sad if there are no cookies.” Lalia hopped off his lap and sped out the door, intent on rescuing Christmas for the crew. Jim followed more slowly, thinking hard.
Why is Spock sad?
“Love, why are you unhappy?”
Startled, Spock lifted his head from Jim’s shoulder. It was nearly midnight, and having gotten their brood to sleep, the two had been indulging in one of their favorite late-evening pastimes, “a quickie and a cuddle,” as Jim called it. The former had been accomplished, and they had just settled in for the latter when Jim’s quiet question dropped like a stone into a pond.
“Unhappy? Ashaya, I am not at all unhappy.”
“Lalia says you are,” Jim replied quietly, “and our little empath usually picks up on things like that.”
Spock’s brows knit as he tried to think. “Jim, I am quite certain I have said nothing to any of our children that would make them believe I am unhappy—and I am not. How could I be when I have everything I ever wanted?”
“Flatterer,” Jim said lovingly. He smoothed back the glossy black hair and smiled at his mate. “The feeling is mutual—but why would Lalia insist that you’re unhappy? That’s why she was so upset when Selik broke the code on Santa Claus; apparently, she wrote jolly old St. Nick a letter asking him to bring you something—she wouldn’t say what because according to her, if you tell, Santa won’t cooperate—that would make you happy.”
“A droid sehlat?” Spock asked dryly, and Jim choked with laughter. Almost two years before, Lalia had hacked her way into one of the labs and created Peanut, the droid kitty that was so realistic it actually coughed up hairballs2.
“Let’s hope not, sweetheart; I can’t imagine the size hairballs a sehlat would leave lying around.” Jim relaxed into Spock’s embrace. “Maybe you should talk to Lalia, try to find out just why she thinks you’re unhappy, and why she thinks Santa can fix it.”
The following morning, instead of drinking a cup of tea and heading to the Bridge, Spock took his younger daughter to breakfast. With four children, he and Jim both made an effort to interact one-on-one with each child on a regular basis, so knowing that their turns would come, neither Lena nor Selik was put out by the fact that Lalia was getting a private breakfast, and as long as he could tear apart his busy box, Kudaya didn’t care who ate where. Eating waffles in the family’s quarters, Spock waited until Lalia had mopped up the last drops of syrup before approaching the issue at hand. He rose from the table and took her hand, leading her over to the rocking chair all four of the children loved, setting her on his lap as she leaned trustingly against him.
“Small one,” he said softly, “why are you concerned about my emotional state?”
She looked up. “Because you are sad, sa’mekh,” she replied. “You are always sad at Christmas time, every year, and it’s a happy time, not a sad one like The Day. That is a very sad time.”
“It is,” Spock agreed. The Day was how the Vulcan people referred to the destruction of the original Vulcan and the loss of more than six billion lives.
“But Christmas is really happy, with singing and tinsel and lights and cookies and Peanut wearing reindeer antlers and Jim hiding presents for us—but you’re not happy. Even when I was really little, you weren’t happy at Christmas,” Lalia said earnestly.
Spock thought about what his daughter was saying, and he realized she was correct—and then, looking within, he understood the feelings she was sensing.
“You are correct in your beliefs,” he said gently, laying his cheek against her glossy hair. “Í had not allowed myself to realize until this moment that those feelings were present—and it was never my intention to inflict them on you, kan-bu.”
“I’m not sorry,” Lalia assured him. “Jim says emotions are nothing to be ashamed of.”
“And he is quite correct,” Spock replied gravely. “Still, I regret letting my unhappiness impact your enjoyment of the holiday.”
“Is okay.” Lalia was silent for a moment. “Are you sad at Christmas because of The Day, sa'mekh?”
Spock took a deep breath, controlling his emotions. “Yes, my child,” he said quietly. “I find myself missing those who are no longer able to celebrate the holiday with me.”
“But you have Jim and me and Lena and Selik and Kudaya and Aunt Nyota and Uncle Bones and....”
“Yes, it is quite logical to look at what I do possess, rather than what no longer exists.”
“Yes, and soon you won’t be sad anymore.” Lalia wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged Spock hard. “It will be all right, sa'mekh. I asked Santa to fix it, and he will. You just wait and see.”
Spock hugged his daughter. “As long as I have you and the rest of my family, I need nothing else,” he promised her. “Do not concern yourself with Santa’s plans for me.”
The subject of Spock’s unhappiness was dropped, and as the days went by, Jim more or less forgot about the issue, especially since Spock seemed fine and the kids were all highly motivated by the upcoming Christmas celebrations. Jim re-hid Christmas presents on an almost-daily basis, because the DVAS had an uncanny ability to read his mind and find their stash of gifts, poking, rattling, and (in Selik’s case) actually using a tricorder to try to get readings on the contents. Fortunately, Spock had anticipated that scientific maneuver and had placed tiny sensors in the wrappings and bows that gave out false readings in each gift—a genius solution if ever there was one, Jim thought admiringly. The kids didn’t seem to mind one bit—the hunt was half the fun, after all.
The Enterprise was on its way to Starbase 28, there to pick up a group of diplomats and ferry them to their respective home planets. Among these were Ambassador Sarek of Vafer-Tor and Elder Selik, who was acting as a sort of roaming Vulcan liaison. Since the Enterprise would be picking them up a day or so after Christmas, the DVAS and Kudaya would be getting a second dose of holiday cheer and no doubt a boatload of additional presents, since both Sarek and Selik believed in doing their duty as grandparents and spoiling Jim and Spock’s brood at holidays and birthdays.
Christmas Eve came at last, and with it came the Enterprise’s huge annual over-the-top Christmas/Solstice/Hanukah/Kwanza/Midwinter party, held in Main Rec. The huge space was festively decorated with every kind of light, tinsel, garland, tree, and ornament that the combined imaginations of Mr. Scott, Lt. Uhura, and the Botany department could conceive. Lt. Lefèvre and his catering corps provided a bountiful spread of goodies designed to appeal to a wide number of species, and there was music, games, and plenty of time to chat with friends from other sections. The party went on for several hours, and work schedules were carefully staggered so that every crew member who wanted to attend (and almost everyone did) had an opportunity to do so. As ship’s captain, Jim was the official host, and where he was, Spock was bound to be nearby, and where they were, the DVAS (plus Kudaya, who was too young to be an official part of the Squad but would no doubt be initiated before long) were close at hand as well. Like all the children on board the Enterprise, the DVAS were enjoying the regrettable near-total relaxation of all parental discipline, as Spock put it.
“You do realize that is the fifth piece of fudge Lalia has eaten this evening,” he remarked to Jim as the Squad raced by, their hands full of goodies.
“Well, she’s still three pieces behind me,” Jim noted with a grin, popping another piece of fudge into his mouth. “Don’t worry, ashaya. As always, Bones is standing at the ready with hangover and stomachache remedies as needed.”
Spock raised a brow. “I trust our offspring will not be needing the former.”
Jim chortled. “I hope not!” Just then, he felt a presence at his left elbow and heard a familiar grumpy voice.
“Why the Hell didn’t your kids inherit the pointy-eared computer’s eating patterns instead of all being little vegetable-adverse gluttons like you?”
“And a Merry Christmas to you, too, Bones.” Jim turned to his best friend. “Having fun?”
Bones scowled. “How can I have fun watching the entire crew go off their diets and off the wagon?”
Jim nodded towards the cup in McCoy’s hand. “Mulled wine, right? Physician, heal thyself.”
“Indeed,” Spock noted. “I also observed you decimating a macadamia nut fruitcake, doctor.”
“Fine.” Bones rolled his eyes. “I can’t win an argument with both of you at once. I’ll let you sit up with your little darlings when they all have bellyaches.”
“And you know we’ll do it. Give it up, Bones. They’ll only be young once. Let them have all the excess that we adults have to avoid.”
McCoy snorted. “Like you avoid them. I’ll be adjusting your diet card after New Year’s, captain sir.”
“Well in that case, I’d better hit the cheesecake bar,” Jim retorted teasingly. He’d actually taken a step or two in that direction when suddenly, shockingly, the Yellow Alert klaxon echoed through Main Rec. The music stopped, and the chatter died as if everyone had been phasered. A split second later, the intercom spoke.
“Bridge to Captain Kirk. Bridge to Captain Kirk.”
In three strides, Jim was across the room and at the intercom, Spock right behind him as he punched the button. “Kirk here.”
“Ensign Parkal, sir,” the young Oquarian currently in charge on the Bridge said. A member of a species that possessed a double brain and eight limbs, she made an ideal skeleton crew all by herself. “Sir, there is an...anomaly...appearing on the sensors.”
“What kind of anomaly?”
“Unknown, sir. The readings match nothing in our databases.”
“Anything on visual?” Jim asked.
“Affirmative, sir. Switching view-screen now.”
The giant screen that took up an entire wall of Main Rec lit up, and despite the Christmas tree that blocked one corner of it, Jim and everyone else could see the huge expanse of light stretching across space in a multi-colored, ever-shifting ribbon. It looked a bit like the Northern Lights on Earth, Jim thought, but there was nothing in space to produce that kind of effect.
“Sensor readings?” Spock was at Jim’s side now, speaking to Parkal.
“Energies off the scale, sir, but nothing recognizable,” she replied promptly. “However, the energy signature does not appear to be harmful, nor is there an indication of hostile focus on the ship.”
“All right. Stay on Yellow Alert, Ensign. I’m on my way to the Bridge and...” Jim got no further, as a sudden, unexpected wave of energy hit the ship, making everyone scramble for balance as the internal dampers re-aligned. Jim heard a glass or two break, but his eyes were riveted on the screen, where the ribbon of energy was opening—to reveal a ship, a fairly small craft. Before he could give another order, the streak of multi-hued energy winked out of existence, leaving only the ship, which floated perhaps 75,000 kilometers off the Enterprise’s bow.
“It’s Santa!” Lalia was suddenly hugging Jim’s leg.
I don’t think so. Jim concentrated on his duty. “Ensign, shields up, then scan that ship and hail it.”
“Understood, sir, but it’s hailing us.” Parkal frowned as she concentrated on whatever signal she was receiving in her earpiece while simultaneously scanning information that was being displayed on her screens. “It’s...the ship is registered to the United Federation of Planets, but it’s not one of ours. There are humanoid life signs; also, their ship seems to be suffering from life support failure. The readings from the ship are down to 40% and dropping. The ship isn’t shielding, sir, and scans show no evidence of weapons systems. It’s sending out a distress signal and requesting permission to dock in our shuttle bay. The messages are in Standard, sir.”
“All right.” Jim silently blessed his luck that Parkal could multi-task so well, and he made a decision. “Respond to the ship; tell its captain we’ll lock on with a tractor beam and bring it aboard. Kirk out.” He broke his connection with the Bridge and hit the intercom once more. “Security. Full detail to Shuttle Bay Alpha.” Getting a quick response, he flicked off the intercom and turned to Spock.
“I want you with me on this,” he said. He glanced around, pleased that Nyota and Bones both stepped forward. “Keep an eye on the Squad, okay?”
“But Jim—I want to go see Santa!”
“Sweetheart.” Jim dropped to his knees. “Your sa’mekh and I need to go on duty now. When it’s safe, you can meet our visitors, whoever they are. In the meantime, I need to you to be a good crewmember, okay?”
Her face fell, but Lalia knew, because she’d been taught since she was born, that when Jim and Spock had to go on duty, she needed to not cause trouble.
“Don’t worry, Papa.” Lena stepped forward, placing a hand on Lalia’s shoulder. “We’ll be good for Uncle Leonard and Aunt Nyota.”
“Thank you, sweetie.” Jim gave her a grateful smile. “Spock, Let’s go see what just landed in our shuttle bay.”
Holiday frivolity or not, by the time Jim and Spock reached the shuttle hanger, a full complement of armed guards were standing ready. Giotto nodded to Jim.
“We’re ready for whatever might occur, captain, but there’s been no hostile movement. Look for yourself.” He nodded towards the window set in the hanger bay door, and Jim peeked in to see maybe 20 very human-looking individuals milling around a bit but mostly staying quietly near the craft’s open hatch. Most of them were well-dressed, and there were even two or three children, although it looked like most of the passengers were middle-aged.
“Have you made contact?”
Giotto shook his head. “We were waiting for you, sir—but we have run all security protocols on the hanger—no drugs, no weapons, no unidentified substances of any kind—and the crew and passengers scan as human.”
“All right, then.” Jim stepped over to the door, Spock right behind him, and flicked on the intercom. “Attention,” he said, seeing people’s heads turn as his voice echoed through the hanger. “You are on board the Federation Starship Enterprise. We mean you no harm, so long as your intentions are also peaceful. My name is Captain Kirk. I and another crew member will enter the hanger now.” He flicked off the intercom.
“Are you sure that is wise?” Spock asked in a low voice.
Jim shrugged. “They’re unarmed, and they don’t look too fierce. Come on.” He nodded to Giotto, who hit the lock, and the door opened to the pressurized hanger. Jim strode in, Spock at his side, making for a dignified-looking man in some kind of uniform, who moved forward as well when he saw Jim and Spock, his hands spread out and open to show he was unarmed.
“Captain Robert Ellison of the space cruiser Sky Dream,” the man said, but that’s as far as he got. Even as he and Jim were taking one another measure, one of the passengers, a woman dressed in an elegant traveling gown and cloak of silvery blue, had drawn nearer, her eyes fixed the new arrivals.
“Jim?” She said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Spock?”
Spock, getting a good look at the woman for the first time, stiffened visibly. “This...this is not possible,” he said. But nonetheless, he took a step or two towards the woman, who was still staring at him.
“You are Spock cha-Sarek,” she said. The sudden smile that illuminated her face swept away all the fatigue and tension.
“Yes,” Spock said, reaching out without hesitation to take the hand she stretched out to him. “And you....you are Amanda Grayson, wife to Sarek of Vulcan.”
“All right. Here’s what we’ve discovered so far.” Jim had left the Bridge and headed to Sickbay as soon as Spock called him. The nineteen people on board the craft were being checked out, but so far, Bones couldn’t find anything wrong with any of them. Scotty and his particular group of elves were tearing apart the private launch they’d been traveling in, and already data from the small ship’s computers was streaming to Spock’s padd. He and Spock were in Bones’ office with...Amanda Grayson or some version of her, Jim was sure of that. She’d not only recognized him right away, she greeted McCoy and even Nurse Chapel, and while she was older than the holo-pic Spock had of his mother, and her hair and eyes were lighter, Jim could see the resemblance between this woman and his bond mate, especially around the cheekbones and mouth.
“We’re checking all the IDs stored in your ship’s database, as well as doing genetic scans,” Jim explained to the patrician woman who sat listening calmly. “We don’t have enough information yet to be certain, but it’s quite possible that you and the others are from a parallel universe. We’ve had experience with that phenomena, and unless this is an elaborate ruse of some kind, that theory is probably going to end up being the right one.
“So...there is a United Federation of Planets and a Starfleet, but we are not in my universe?” she asked.
“I suspect that is the case,” Spock spoke up, never lifting his eyes from the padd. “Captain, all the data indicate that the ship, a private vessel called the Sky Dream, was traveling from the planet Earth to....Vulcan.”
“Yes,” Amanda said. “I was on my way home after a visit with my family. Our craft was caught in some kind of....well, I don’t know what it was, but it acted almost like a black hole. The ship’s captain announced that we were losing power; the lights went out, and then....well, it seems like only a few minutes went by, and we were through the distortion and the Enterprise was in front of us.” She looked around, the sky blue eyes taking in every detail. “I’ve been on plenty of starships; I’ve even been in this Sickbay—or one that’s nearly identical. I don’t exactly understand what’s happened, but I know who OI am—and who you are.” Her eyes went to Spock. “You’re how old—31, 32?”
“Thirty two years, three months, and fourteen days.”
She actually chuckled. “That’s my boy—always precise.” She looked at Jim and hesitated for a moment and then turned back to Spock.
“Have you...you were betrothed, at least in my universe,” she said. “A young woman named T’Pring. Have you...”
Spock shook his head quickly. “No, Lady Amanda. I have bonded with James Kirk.”
She sighed with obvious relief. “So you both made it safely through the kal-if-fee. I’m so glad.”
“The whosit?” Jim asked, confused, and Amanda blushed slightly.
“I’m sorry; I’m making assumptions. In my universe, Jim, T’Pring challenged Spock at their...well, we’ll call it a wedding ceremony. Apparently that didn’t happen here.”
“No,” Spock said. “T’Pring...died before we could formally decide whether to become bond mates.”
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry—but I’m glad as well.” She gave Jim a smile. “You...or the other you, I guess I’ll have to call him, the Jim Kirk I knew—were a far better mate to my son than T’Pring ever would have been.”
“I can agree with that, without even knowing that T’Pring character.” Jim gave Spock a loving glance.
“I’m sorry; I’m rattling on about family matters when there are much greater issues at hand.” Amanda hesitated again. “So you think...will we be able to...return to our own dimension?”
Jim hated to burst her bubble, but he didn’t have to, as Spock quickly spoke up. “It is unlikely,” he said, his voice as gentle as it was when he was dealing with their children. “We will have to study your ship’s logs and our own sensor reading of the anomaly, but the only person who we know has come from a closest parallel universe has had to make a new life for himself here.”
Jim had always suspected that Spock’s mother had been one brave lady, and this version of Amanda Grayson cha’Sarek proved him right. She turned pale and her clasped hands tightened until the knuckles were white, but after a moment, she nodded.
“Very well,” she said. “I will have to make the best of the situation.”
Spock leaned forward, placing one hand over hers.
“I am not exactly your son, I know,” he said quietly. “However, I am the son of Amanda Grayson. Be assured, I and mine will do all we can for you. You will not be abandoned.”
The lovely blue eyes shone with tears. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “But...your own mother, won’t she...”
Spock took a deep breath. “I believe it is appropriate for me to explain some matters.”
Jim got to his feet. “I think you two could use some privacy,” he said. “I’ll go check on the other passengers and see what the data banks show.” He left them alone together, hoping that Spock could cushion the blow when this Amanda Grayson discovered that much of what she had known simply no longer existed in this galaxy.
Given all the issues surrounding the arrival of a ship from a parallel universe, it was no surprise that Jim didn’t make it “home” until nearly 0400 ship’s time. It was apparent that someone—probably Nyota—had brought the kids back and gotten them settled for the night, as there was a dim night light illuminating the large bedroom and the babysitting android, Mary Popp-It, had been activated and was sitting and watching the children. Having counted heads and ascertained that all four were accounted for, Jim headed to his own bed, noting that Spock wasn’t back yet. Just as that fact sank into his mind, however, he heard the door to their suite open and close, so Jim walked back into the living area, to find Spock sitting on the sofa.
“Hey.” Jim crossed the room and sat down, putting an arm around his bond mate’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Spock nodded. “It was...difficult...to tell her about Vulcan,” he said. “She mourned for all those people, just as we have done. She is also frightened, Jim, and it is no surprise. She and all those aboard the Sky Dreamer will have an enormous adjustment to make, but the knowledge that her home on Vulcan no longer exists in this world...”
“Spock—are you sure she’s who she says she is?” Jim asked quietly. “We’re checking all the logs, and I know Bones has got his people running DNA profiles, but nothing’s definite yet.”
Spock shook his head. “I have no doubts,” he replied. “Her experiences, her memories of raising a child named Spock, even the tone of her voice—all are Amanda’s. I realize the philosophical and legal questions the existence of these individuals will raise, the issues that will have to be addressed, but just as Selik is me, she is Amanda Grayson in all ways.”
“Sa-mekh! Santa did it!” A figure in a Hello Kitty sleep gown flew across the room and jumped up on the sofa to fling her arms around Spock’s neck. “I knew he would! I just knew Santa would do it!”
“Lalia, what are you doing out of bed?” Jim demanded.
“I had to make sure Santa delivered sa'mekh’s gift, Jim, and he did! Sa'mekh won’t be sad now, because he has his mom now!”
“That’s what you asked Santa for?” Jim was floored. “But Lalia, sweetheart, that isn’t really...”
“Daughter, you and St. Nicholas have performed admirably,” Spock cut in. “However, you need your sleep. We will talk more about my “gift” tomorrow, all right?”
“Okay,” Lalia agreed cheerfully. “Good night, sa'mekh. Good night Jim.” She gave them each a smacking kiss and then skipped back to her room.
“Spock,” Jim said hesitantly, “is this wise? I mean, letting Lalia think that Santa Claus can bring someone a replacement parents...”
“When the holidays are over and Amanda is settled wherever she chooses to make her home, I will explain the situation in greater detail,” Spock replied. “For tonight, ashaya, let Lalia enjoy the fulfillment of the Christmas miracle she so badly wanted me to experience.”
“So she was right,” Jim said softly. “You were sad at Christmas each year. You were missing your mom.”
“Yes,” Spock replied quietly. “And although this gift does not take the place of one who has gone beyond, I still find myself most illogically happy to have Amanda Grayson in my life once more.”
“Nothing at all illogical about it.” Jim hugged his mate. “Come on, love. We’d better get a few hours’ sleep. The kids will be clamoring for their gifts, and we’re going to have a few busy days dealing with Starfleet over our new guests.”
After notifying Starfleet and sending all the information from the Sky Dream, the Enterprise continued on its way to Starbase 28. A search of the databanks had revealed that fourteen of the nineteen people on board the cruiser had “twins” in this universe, and the Federation was making arrangements to have the crew and passengers picked up at Starbase 28 and taken to their individual home worlds. Counselors and other assistance would be made available, and hopefully, these immigrants from another universe would be able to start new lives, perhaps with people who were at least somewhat familiar.
Jim had no doubt that Amanda Grayson wouldn’t need to look for a new home and family. She and Spock had spent hours together learning about one another, constantly surprised at how closely parallel their lives had been. She also loved the children, especially Lalia, who had quickly informed her that her rescue from whatever that temporal rift had been was solely the result of Lalia’s earnest request to Santa.
“I can’t believe it—four children,” Amanda said one evening as she joined Jim, Spock, and the brood in their quarters for dinner. She was watching them play with their Christmas gifts, a soft smile on her lips.
“The...the other Jim and Spock never had kids of their own?” Jim asked.
She shook her head. “No, although they adopted a young girl some years after they bonded.” She gave Spock a mischievous look. “Her name was Saavik, in case you accidentally come across her here.”
“We will bear that fact in mind,” Spock said solemnly, just as Lalia came bounding across the room and into Amanda’s lap.
“Ko’mekh-il, come play with us!” she said. “I want to show you how Peanut does tricks!”
“Peanut?” Amanda asked, rising to her feet.
Jim shook his head. “You’ll find out.” He just hoped no one had fed Peanut tuna lately.
After some discussion, Jim had agreed that Spock should be the one to explain matters to Sarek and Selik. So on this Christmas afternoon, approximately 31 hours before the Enterprise was scheduled to pick up its Vulcan guests, Spock had Uhura put a call through to Starbase 28, asking to be connected to Ambassador Sarek.
“Spock?” Sarek’s face showed a hint of surprise. “I did not expect to hear from you this day, considering we will be together on the morrow. Is anything amiss?”
Spock took a deep breath. “Nothing to cause anxiety, Father; however, there has been an unexpected...development. Is Selik with you?”
“I believe he is in his own quarters, reading.”
“Would you please ask him to join you? What I need to explain concerns you both.”
“Of course.” The screen went dark for 2.41 minutes, and then lit up again to show both Sarek and Selik. The older version of himself nodded to Spock.
“Youngling? Your father said you wish to speak to us both.” His eyes twinkled. “Do not tell me Jim is carrying another child.”
“No,” Spock replied, one corner of his mouth twitching. “However, if we happen to come within reach of Miracsus II again, I would not be surprised if Jim attempts one more miracle3.”
“Well, at least I do not have to start looking for another baby gift.” Selik frowned slightly. “Spock, is something wrong?”
“I asked him that; he claimed not, but I agree that he looks...unsettled,” Sarek noted.
“Selik,” Spock said quietly, “how did your mother, Lady Amanda, die in your universe? I do not ask this question simply to cause pain; there is a purpose to my inquiry.”
The older version of Spock looked surprised, but he answered readily. “In the universe where I spent much of my life, my mother was lost in an accident,” Selik said. “She had been visiting on Earth, and the passenger craft that was to bring her back to Vulcan disappeared. There was no distress call, and no trace of the vessel was ever found.” His gaze sharpened. “Why do you ask?”
“What I am about to say may seem impossible, but you, Selik, are proof that it can happen.” Spock explained the unusual phenomenon the Enterprise had encountered and the appearance of the passenger vessel, apparently from Earth—but not from this Earth.
“My mother?” Selik whispered at last.
“Amanda?” Sarek echoed.
“She is Amanda Grayson; I do not know if she is your mother, Selik,” Spock said gently. “However, from what she has told me of her life, the facts seems to fit the narrative you have just related. I wanted both of you to be aware of her existence before you came aboard.”
“Understood,” Sarek said. “Have you told her of us?”
Spock shook his head. “She recognized me at once, as she did Jim and other members of the Enterprise crew. I felt that was enough of a shock for the moment, and before I add any further stress to her reality, I wished to give you both the opportunity to decide whether you wish to meet her.”
The two older Vulcans exchanged glances. “Of that there is no doubt, my son,” Sarek said firmly. “We will see you tomorrow and decide the next steps.”
“Very well,” Spock nodded. “Merry Christmas.”
“Indeed,” Selik said, still looking faintly dazed. “A Merry Christmas indeed.”
Where are we going?" Amanda asked curiously.
"We have some additional guests on board; I believe you would enjoy meeting them," Spock explained. He ushered her into the small private observation room where Sarek and Selik were waiting. Jim was already there, and Amanda greeted him as she entered.
"These are very...dear friends of ours," Jim said quietly. "THey heard all about you, and they couldn't wait to see you in person."
With a smile, Amanda took a few steps toward to the two gentlemen standing by the view port. However, as they turned to face her, she froze in place. As if they were both caught within a black hole, she and Selik stood motionless, each staring at the other, Amanda’s face drained of color, Selik’s eyes enormous in the craggy face. At last, Amanda found enough voice to whisper, “Spock?” Her hand shaking, she extended it in the ozh’esta and Selik unhesitatingly took several steps forward, his hand now extended as well. Their fingertips just brushed against each other and then slowly, like two magnets on the same polarity, they moved closer to one another until they were only inches apart. Selik raised his free hand and his fingers settled on Amanda’s face. Then—he smiled.
“Mother.” It was only one word, but it was enough. Amanda flung herself into his arms, laughing and crying at the same time, and Jim, Spock, and Sarek quietly left the room, leaving the two alone together for the first time in more than a century.
It was New Year’s Eve, and as they had every year since they’d bonded, Jim and Spock set aside the night to be alone together. The DVAS were spending the night with “Sa’mekh-al Sarek and Ko’mekh-il Amanda and To’zat Selik, too” as Lalia had announced gleefully. None of the DVAS had experienced the least difficulty in accepting this Amanda’s existence, and they weren’t at all concerned about any temporal anomalies. All they knew is that they now had a grandmother and Spock “wasn’t sad any more, Jim,” as Lalia had assured her other parent.
“So.” Jim and Spock were curled up together on the sofa, Jim leaning against his mate as Spock fed him tidbits from the assortment of foodstuffs spread out on the low table. Jim wrapped his agile tongue around Spock’s index finger as his mate fed him a wedge of cheese. Jim grinned to himself as he felt the faint shudder go through Spock’s body. Jim knew how this night was going to end—those handcuffs were coming out of their locked drawer.
“So what’s Amanda planning to do?” he asked after giving Spock’s finger one more long slurp.
“For the time being, she is going to stay on Vafer-Tor,” Spock replied, reaching for a bite-sized piece of bruschetta. “I suspect she will settle there. Selik has offered her a home with him, of course, and my father...”
“Yeah?”
“He and Amanda have developed a close rapport in an astonishingly short amount of time,” Spock said. “Of course, I do not know what the final outcome would be, but it is not impossible that they would choose to bond.”
“Wow.” Jim was silent for a moment, and then he scooted closer to kiss Spock’s jaw. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know she’s not really your mother. It seems unfair somehow.”
Spock shook his head. “A difference that makes no difference is no difference,” he replied softly. “I am grateful to whatever forces have brought Amanda Grayson to this safe harbor. I will once again have a loving maternal figure in my life, my counterpart is no longer alone in this universe, my father will be healed of some of his grief, and our children will know their grandmother. I could never have found the courage to ask for such a gift.”
“But Lalia had no trouble doing so.” Jim smiled. “She’s taking full co-credit along with Santa, you know.”
“And perhaps she is right,” Spock said. “The faith of a child is a powerful force.”
“Agreed.” The two sat together for a few moment, luxuriating in the warmth of each other’s arms, reflecting on all that had occurred, and then Jim leaned over, picking a chocolate-covered cherry from one of the platters.
“Here,” he murmured, sliding it between Spock’s lips. “If I’m going to get you drunk and try to have my way with you, I’d better get started.”
Spock drew Jim closer. “You will not have to try,” he assured his mate, sealing his promise with a chocolate-cherry flavored kiss.
The handcuffs—not to mention the strawberry body oil and the vibrator—got a very thorough work-out as the old year changed to the new and bonds of love were renewed.
1See “Playtime for Grown-Ups.”
2See “The Birth of Peanut: A DVAS Story.”
3See “Intruder Alert: A DVAS Story” and “Accidentally in Love.”