-= Vulcan =-
Long shadows stretched out across the T'Lar valley as the huge Vulcan sun began to set behind the distant mountain range. The warm red hue of the sky was slowly slipping away only to be replaced by a cold blanket of darkness, tiny pin pricks of light from distant stars fighting for their place in the night sky.
Vulcan's sister planet T'Khut slowly crept over the horizon, her moon in such a position that she resembled a huge eye peering over the mountain tops. The Watcher, some people called it and often on a night like this it could be seen in the sky observing the world below. On this particular night the Watcher had the company of a solitary figure, standing at the mouth of the valley, overlooking the sparsely populated but grand view below. As always she did not judge the sorrow in the face that greeted her.
The wind was increasing in force and he was beginning to have to shield his eyes from the sand it carried along. He knew the Watcher was still there, watching, listening as she had always done when he had sought her out for council. It was illogical and he knew he should know better but it had always brought comfort to him, ever since he was a boy. Tonight was no exception.
Skon stood for a while longer than intended, head dipped slightly as he took in the view from the edge of his parents estate. High up in the T'Lar valley it commanded one of the most breathtaking views of valley itself and the desert beyond. The simple rock in front of him, worn smooth by the wind lashed ages was where he, as a child, would sit for hours in convalescence from his sometimes punishing study schedule. Here is father would sometimes find him and perhaps they would sit in silence together under the gaze of the watcher.
Many years had passed since. Skon himself was now perhaps too old for such fanciful nostalgia. Yet he still often thought of it and sometimes yearned to repeat some of those distant moments.
Today, this simple rock was barren as his relationship with his father.
"He will not see you," said a familiar voice behind him, causing him to start despite himself.
Skon kept his back to his mother, taking a few moments to compose himself before replying. "He is still disappointed with my decision?"
"He will never understand," she replied stepping closer and placing a hand on her sons shoulder, "but he is not required to. You make your own decisions Skon."
"Is that so bad?" asked Skon, a slight scent of anger making its way into his tone. The old argument, years old now still bothered him. It seemed even after starting down this path, taking the time out to familiarise himself with Starfleet and requesting to join the academy, he still could not escape it.
"We had hoped for more," replied his mother, her tone remaining even and her voice ever soft. "You had so much ahead of you in the science institute, prospects of advancement into the science council. Your fathers work to continue..."
"And I still can," replied Skon, turning to his mother abruptly, his expression hardening. "There is a whole galaxy beyond Vulcan. When I return I will have improved my knowledge of science immeasurably. But in order to do that I must experience the universe for myself, be a part, rather than an observer of it. Starfleet is giving me the opportunity to make my own judgements." His expression softened under his mothers gaze. "Logic ..."
"Logic," she interrupted, "is the beginning of wisdom Skon." She broke his stare and turned to face the view Skon had been taking in only moments before. "I only wish that you should learn that lesson before it is too late." She paused, looking briefly over her shoulder, "Of course, you must do what you think is best."
Skon nodded curtly, anger returning. He started to reply but the words died on his lips and he thought better of it. His father had protested against his request to join Starfleet. He still took the age old view, his father's view, that Starfleet was a dangerous and unwelcomed militaristic organisation. 'Peace and exploration under the constant threat of violence.' He still viewed the Humans with little respect. 'Irresponsible and destined for folly', he would describe them. 'Their history filled with war and violence. History, as we should very well know,' he would say 'will repeat itself if lessons aren't learned. And you wish to aid them in this? I did not bring you up to be a fool Skon!'
Clenching his hands into fists he looked to his mother one last time, even a glimpse of understanding would have been sufficient. Instead, there was coldness, a sense of distance he could not understand. After a moment he began to make his way down the narrow passage that lead to the transport hub. Walking quickly, he put as much distance between himself and this place that had once been at the centre of his universe.
As the sounds of Skons' retreat started to lessen and he was well out of earshot his mother looked forward once more, locking eyes with the watcher as it took up a prominent position in the night sky. She pulled her robes about her, fighting off the chill. "Do not judge me old friend," she said, a sadness beginning to blight her expression. "He must make his own decision, I cannot tell him of his father's illness. When he returns, it must be because he chooses to."
-= Months later - USS Guardian =-
Awaiting his turn for transport, behind some Vulcan diplomats, Skon took the opportunity to check his reflection in the viewport. Even after his time at the academy he was still struggling with the chill of the Human centred environment maintained on Starfleet vessels. The extra layer of thermal clothing helped ease some of the chill and seemed to be successfully hidden beneath his uniform. After 60 years of living on Vulcan, a few months were doing little to warm him to his new climate. And the less he thought of the smell....
He heaved his carry-all over his shoulder and picked up the small case that contained his more valuable possessions as the transport chief appeared in the corridor and ushered Skon into the transporter room.
The Guardian's crew had been quite welcoming. He'd received some duty to occupy his time during the trip to meet the Charon but there had been long hours without much to occupy his time. With little else other than study to do during this time he had memorised as much as he could of the information available about the Luna class vessel and her rather unusual mission.
Skon wondered, briefly, what his father would make of him serving on a Starfleet vessel commanded by a Romulan but as yet, he had not divulged such information in his weekly correspondence. There was little logic in aggravating the situation further.
He snapped out of his musings and gathered his possessions about him as he took up his position on the transporter pad, nodding his readiness to the chief the familiar buzz of transport started to sound around him. Re-materialising moments later in a room not too dissimilar to the one he'd just left, Skon waited a moment before stepping away from the transporter pad. "Ensign Skon, Science Officer reporting for duty," he stated with a nod. "Permission to come aboard?"
<<Greets all. Looking forward to the fun !>>
