The Autobiography of Mr. Spock Read online

  I have no direct heir. The children of my mother’s brother, and their children, are the closest. Saavik, too, who has played and continues to play so significant a part in my life can surely lay some claim upon me. But I would ask you, if this is not too great an imposition, to take on the task of literary executor. I leave you this—my t’san a’lat—and I trust completely your judgment as to what should be revealed and what kept private. You hold a unique perspective: someone who has not directly been involved in much of what I have described, and yet, through your mind-melds with both me and my father, you know more about my life than almost anyone else. I enclose with this t’san a’lat my translations of Surak into both English and Romulan at’natzah, and my translations of Conan Doyle into Vulcan kitau-lakh and Romulan at’natzah. During my time on Romulus, I began a translation of the Qowat Milat mystic poet Hivasa into Federation Standard, but that was a time for action rather than reflection and was never completed. I send these notes to you—perhaps you might consider finishing? I am sure that your grasp of at’natzah is more than equal to the task. There are other papers too, including some of my father’s private papers and my youthful attempt to write a t’san a’lat, which I entrust to you. You will know best what to do. (And you will find Dr. McCoy’s “gifts” in a large envelope with my name written in his deplorable handwriting.)

  It is customary to conclude a t’san a’lat with a statement of what has been learned during a life. I find this difficult to summarize. Certainly, I have acquired a vast amount of information on a very large and diverse number of subjects. I have, over many years, transformed these many facts into practical, sometimes hard-won, knowledge. Despite this, and despite the years, I am, at the end of my life, both wise and foolish. I did not anticipate the terrible end to my mission to Romulus. I did not predict the retrenchment of our own Federation nor its current inward-looking nature. This runs so contrary to all that I have learned in my life that I almost experience myself as a man out-of-time, no longer living in a world that is recognizably the one in which he was born, and to which he was the inheritor. I wonder what my father—looking at the Federation now—would make of its fearfulness. The purpose of the Federation—as I understood it, as my father explained it to me—was to bring together as many diverse civilizations as possible, to enrich each other in the fullest celebration of the differences between us. The purpose of Starfleet—as I was drawn to it in my youth—was to explore this universe we inhabit with curiosity and an open mind, to meet strangers in friendship, to alleviate pain with compassion. Much of this seems to have been forgotten.

  The main lesson of my life was to abandon the habits of thought acquired as a child which set up in my mind irreconcilable differences between the various parts of my nature. Always, or so it seemed to me at the time, two parts of me were at odds: logic against emotion; Vulcan against human; meditation against action; death against life. Looking back now I see that whenever I have experienced resolution in my life, some kind of certainty, it has been through an acceptance of variety, hybridity, and diversity. Through accepting the simple fact that we can be many things, all at once. I was not human; I was not Vulcan—I was both and neither. To be Vulcan, it transpired, was to be Romulan; to be Romulan was to be Vulcan—I am both and neither. Human-Vulcan-Romulan, all at once. The great struggles of my life came when some part of me was forced into opposition with another; the great triumphs and friendships of my life came in threes—Jim, Bones, myself—and at all points in not only accepting, but delighting, in multiplicity, in myself and in others.

  Time passes. People depart, and some of us are left behind. I told of you of an incident when I was a boy, and attempted, too early, the trial of the kahswan, to be saved only by the intervention by a cousin. Would you be surprised to discover that later in life I learned that this was myself, acting by means of a gateway to save my own life? The other great lesson of my life, then, has been to accept that the boundaries of our own selves become blurred. We are not islands, isolated from each other, but connected in ways that we do not fully perceive. When I was a boy, my life was saved by a stranger—a stranger who turned out to be myself. As a boy, I saw a vision of an angel, and trusting myself, that what I saw was true, saved my sister, who saved all sentient life. In all ways we are connected: across time, across space, across species. Refusing to accept this is the most certain way to ensure our extinction. This is one reason I have chosen to embark upon this mission now. Action brings consequence, yes—but inaction precludes any possibility of change. I am certain of only one thing—that I shall, in the end, die. Why not act, before that end comes at last?

  Often, throughout my life, I pondered the vision I received of the Red Angel dressed in blue. When I went to Romulus, I discovered what it meant. Gabrielle Burnham—a human woman, part of a Romulan order, living on a future Vulcan. The rationally trained part of my mind tells me that I cannot assume that this is what the future will hold—I have no proof or evidence beyond an image in my mind, an idea of how that future might be. Yet at the same time I know that the purpose of visions such as these is to sustain and nourish my logical side. To give logic a path, a map, a destination. Logic without emotion is a dead end; emotion with logic cannot be channeled into meaningful action. My whole life, I see, has been an attempt to heal the wounds caused in me and those around me by the divisions imposed upon them; to find a means whereby diversity can flourish, and difference live in harmony.

  When I close my eyes, I do not see a blank page with a small mark, held steady. I see drops of vibrant color, always moving, in time. I see the flickering light of a campfire, and for a moment my friends do not seem so very absent.

  If there is any sense of unity to be found in my life—and I would resist such, since the end is not yet known—then it would be this: my steady move toward the full experience and acceptance of Kol-Ut-Shan, of infinite diversity in infinite combinations. I recall the symbol that my mother wore around her neck; I recall myself—my earliest self—always reaching out to grasp. I have never stopped trying to grasp this and I never shall. It remains the great mystery and certainty of my life. My dearest and most profound wish for you, Jean-Luc, is that you are able one day to reach out again.

  Above all, my friend, I wish you peace—and long life.

  Spock

  LEONARD MCCOY’S BEAN STEW

  2 cups dried pinto or red beans, soaked for 2 hours in cold water and drained

  250g smoked pork belly, diced

  1 small white onion, chopped

  1 red chili, chopped, seeds included

  30g molasses

  30g honey

  10g mustard seeds

  100ml apple cider vinegar

  200ml beef stock

  5 drops Worcestershire sauce

  5g salt

  NB: For a vegetarian alternative to satisfy Vulcan tastes, smoked diced kleetanta provides a more than adequate replacement for the pork belly. A tolik vinegar can be substituted for the apple cider, and a dash of forati or any other fermented sauce can replace the Worcestershire sauce. It should be noted too that Dr. McCoy’s recipe omits what he claimed was the “secret ingredient” – Tennessee whiskey, which can be added to taste.

  METHOD

  1. Cover beans with water and boil for about 2 hours, reducing heat to a low boil for the last 1/2 hour, until they are tender.

  2. Preheat oven to 140°C.

  3. In a heavy based sauce/casserole pan, brown the pork belly.

  4. Drain the beans and reserve 100ml of the bean stock.

  5. Add all ingredients to the pork belly, including the bean stock you reserved and stir thoroughly.

  6. Cover with tin foil and lid and bake in the preheated oven for 60 minutes.

  7. Reduce heat to 100°C and cook another 6 hours in the oven.

  8. Remove the lid and put the heat back up to 180°C for 30 minutes.

  9. Remove from the oven and serve straight away.

  LEONARD MCCOY’S MINT JULEP
/>   2fl oz/50ml bourbon

  1½ tsp/7.5ml simple syrup

  7-8 mint leaves

  Ice

  Garnish: mint sprigs

  METHOD

  Crush the mint leaves well, then add syrup and bourbon in a rocks glass (if you don’t have a Julep glass like Bones). Fill half the glass with crushed ice. Give a good stir, pack in more ice, then decorate with mint sprigs.

  EDITORIAL NOTE

  THIS DOCUMENT, WHICH WAS SENT TO ME DIRECTLY BY ITS AUTHOR, Spock of Vulcan, contains the most complete account of his life and thinking that we possess. Working with this “wisdom book”, which has brought the ambassador back to me so vividly and immediately that at times it has felt as if he was standing beside me, has been one of the great privileges of my life. I am grateful to the author—my friend—for his trust in me, and I hope that he would be content with the decisions that I have made with regards to publication.

  Readers will notice a number of other texts are mentioned throughout this t’san a’lat; these, as well as a large number of other texts and a huge amount of correspondence, are to be found in Spock’s papers, also entrusted to me as his literary executor. I am in the process of editing the translation of Hivasa, which was closer to completion than the ambassador suggested, and which I believe will be of great interest to students of his life and thinking, forming, as it does, a natural triptych with his translations of Conan Doyle and Surak, which have been available to scholars for some time.

  In addition, an essay by Spock on Surak’s The Experience of Wisdom, which expands upon some of the ideas outlined in this t’san a’lat, will shortly be made available in a special issue of the New Journal of Surakian Studies, and will, I believe, open a new debate over this late, profound, and unfairly disregarded book. It is hardly a surprise to those of us who knew him that the ambassador, even in his absence (and presumed death) will be rejuvenating an entire field of study.

  I am in discussion with experts at T’Plana-Hath Museum in ShiKahr as to the best way to present and disseminate the harrekh of Sarek of Vulcan, which will surely be of interest to those working in relevant fields. I have not yet found a suitable recipient for the first t’san a’lat attempted by Ambassador Spock. I hope one day such a candidate will present him or herself. In the meantime, a holographic record is in preparation for those wishing to work with this interesting and informative document, which captures the ambassador’s thinking in his early years.

  The ultimate fate of Ambassador Spock is of course unknown. His mission did not save Romulus itself, but we cannot gauge whether or not his actions prevented a far larger-scale disaster from unfolding. I would like to believe that his mission saved lives. As for the ambassador himself, received wisdom is that he died in his attempt to inject red matter into the Romulan sun. But if the pages of this book teach us anything, it is that history has many cunning passages, and many hidden byways, and that not even death signifies the end.

  Wherever you may be, my friend—live long, and prosper.

  Jean-Luc Picard

  La Barre, France, November 2390

  EDITOR UNA’S ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  FIRST AND FOREMOST, GRATEFUL THANKS TO CAT CAMACHO at Titan for trusting me with Spock, and for making work so much fun. I love sitting down to write each day, knowing that Cat will be reading. My thanks also to John Van Citters, who has forgotten more about Star Trek than I will ever know, and who always helps in need. I have shamelessly plundered Dayton Ward’s delightful Vulcan Travel Guide. Thank you, sir, for this and so much else across the years. My thanks to Mark Poynton of MJP Restaurant for researching the recipe. Love and thanks also to my wonderful agent, Max Edwards, who is such a mensch.

  So many people have written for and about the character of Spock over the years, not just on screen, but in hundreds of novels. Thank you to them all. I have tried to find my own version of this story here, but there has been some judicious borrowing. Diane Duane’s terrific novel Spock’s World provided many key insights into the Vulcan mind. In particular, I have drawn upon her ideas about the relative lack of traveling done by Vulcans, and her concept of chthia, which seems to me more relevant today than ever before. I have adopted (and adapted) the idea of “degenerative xenosis” from The Vulcan Academy Murders by Jean Lorrah. Barbara Hambly’s Ishmael suggests that Amanda Grayson’s family originated in the Seattle area.

  I should also express a debt to Michael Chabon’s “Some Notes on Romulans”, which provided a glimpse into that world (https://michaelchabon.medium.com/some-notes-on-romulans-b1c7f30a383f). Erin Horáková’s essay “Freshly Remembered: Kirk Drift”, published online in Strange Horizons, has deeply influenced my understanding of the man and the myth that is James Tiberius Kirk (http://strangehorizons.com/non-fiction/columns/freshly-rememberd-kirk-drift/). Leonard McCoy’s Mint Julep recipe first appeared in Star Trek Cocktails: A Stellar Compendium, by Glenn Dakin, published by Eaglemoss; thank you for permission to use here.

  To all the actors who have voiced or performed Spock, my thanks. There would of course be no Spock without Leonard Nimoy, and I hope his voice sounds true upon these pages.

  Last and not least, my love and thanks to Matthew, who does so many impossible things so that I can meet deadlines. And my love and thanks to Verity, who prefers Star Wars, but lets me go and write anyway. I love you both so much.

  ABOUT THE EDITOR

  UNA MCCORMACK is the author of the Star Trek novels The Lotus Flower (part of The Worlds of Star Trek: Deep Space Nine), Hollow Men, The Never-Ending Sacrifice, Brinkmanship, The Missing, the New York Times bestseller The Fall: The Crimson Shadow, Enigma Tales, The Way to the Stars, and The Last Best Hope, and the Doctor Who novels The King’s Dragon, The Way Through the Woods, Royal Blood, and Molten Heart. She lives in Cambridge, England, with her partner of many years, Matthew, and their daughter, Verity.

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