Actions

Work Header

Vulcan

Work Text:

Vulcan.

Among one of the ancient religions of earth, of which there was many, Vulcan was the god of fire, volcanoes and metalworking. Vulcan was a god of the fire, he could turn fire to burn or destroy or mould it to the benefit of the humans on a single whim.

Before the destruction of my planet, I paid little thought to this old god; only remembered by scholars and through statues and inscriptions thousands of years old, but as I looked at my people, their heads bowed, eyes unseeing and utterly still, a faint thought tugged my mind.

Our people have been broken, we need to be reforged. We are scattered and shards of a being that will never be complete again, we need to be molten down and reforged.

Our people was once tall and proud, a great race that thought ourselves higher. We thought that if we kept ourselves to logic, then such destruction would never happen to us. We had forgotten emotion, we had buried it, hidden it under layers so thick that we couldn't understand it.

How ironic it was then, when the humans; a species once scorned by Vulcans for being too emotional, for being illogical, did what we couldn't – they fought for us, thought we never fought for them, they died for us, though we held ourselves apart, and they forgave for us when we couldn't even entertain the thought. And then they did something else, something completely unexpected.

They cared.

They helped us, even when we pushed them away. They understood our pain, they felt grief and loss, and pain their whole lives while we ran away from it, and so the too emotional species became our guidance, our light.

They didn't realise it, but their steady presence calmed us, their soft voices harmonising into song to relieve the nightmares of children, gentled the storm in our hearts and minds, and their unfailing wish to be of help, to save us, touched us deeply.

I could see even the most conservative of my people changing their opinions of man-kind, there grew a respect for the human crew that saved us, and a sense of indebtedness towards their captain.

He was illogical, impulsive, and he had no regard for traditions or orders he viewed as wrong, but he was like fire, always burning. A continuous light, a gentle heat, melting our preconceptions and views and making us stronger.

James T. Kirk was human, but he was like the ancient god Vulcan to us on that long journey to Earth, and we were shards of a long forgotten blade that he carefully melted and reconstructed with caring glances and steady hands, we were not fully healed but we were on our way to that end, he gave us the chance with his refusal to give up hope.

And to Spock, my son who had his mothers' eyes, the captain would remain a light for many years to come, I could see this despite their past experiences, something had changed in my son. For while James Kirk was Vulcan, a bright reforger to us, to Spock he was a sun, a bright endlessly burning entity that drew him in, and captured my son in his gravity.

The part of me that had always remained deep hidden within me, only shown to my dear Amanda, the part of me that had picked up on her human characteristics and held them close, spoke then, a small whisper in my mind that humoured me more than I would ever admit.

I can't wait until they realise it.