The Forge

Posted on 13 Feb 2025 @ 6:39pm by Lieutenant JG Selon Illialhlae

1,204 words; about a 6 minute read

Planet Vulcan: Three Years Ago...

The desert winds pulled a frown from Selon's face as they once again roared to life and threw sand his way, causing him to pull tighter the tawny colored cloak around him. The wind was anything but cool but it provoked the same reaction all high winds did in him and a shiver went down his frame. The desert stretched out for hundreds of kilometers in front of him and yet even his keen eyes could barely make out the smallest detail in the distance. Scarred, jagged rock, smoothed by millennia of sandstorms and continually rejuvenated by earthquakes and volcanic eruptions poked out at irregular intervals to break the monotony of the view but it was hardly comforting. It was what he couldn't see: the fierce predators, the scourging heat, the ambient electricity in the air, that concerned him. Even on a desert planet, this was extremis.

With another gust of wind and the accompanying blow of sand Selon cursed to himself. "Kwai" In a voice that normally would have carried to his companions but was (hopefully) drowned out by the wind.

The other dozen or so Vulcans gathered with him each bore the ravages of the edge of the Forge with varying degrees of stoicism. His people had evolved on this planet but none here assembled had the fortitude of the T'Kahr Shi'yah. And yet they had allowed the least of them to trudge headlong into the Forge with nothing but the clothes on his back and his own self-confidence. "Kwai" He cursed again, softer this time, not having the cover of the wind but also not caring if the rest could hear. The more he thought about this entire situation the more he detested it.

"He made it this long, he'll be back soon." The touch of his father's hand on his shoulder, even through the cloak and clothes underneath, was a shocking sensation of comfort. For Vulcans an intimate act and for Selon a fortifying one as he grasped his own hand to his fathers and awkwardly held his fingers in his own, his anxiety, disdain and haughty indignation swiftly melting away under this father's touch. It was not often Selon had trouble regulating his emotions but this was one of those times, and he was thankful his father, though infinitely more 'illogical' than his own kolinharu forefather a few meters away, still possessed something of the more traditional Vulcan mastery over his emotions that came with his typically Vulcan upbringing. Which, Selon was reminded, also included the selfsame trial as the one he was witnessing.

True, his father's Kahs-wan had been more traditional and been a 'simple' ten day journey across the Pasutra t’Kalrenta in their ancestral homelands of Gol, also without supplies, but in a more forgiving environment. Selon wanted to scoff and put quotations in his mind around the qualification but the Pasutra t'Kalrenta plateau was unquestionably more suitable an environment for any Vulcan than The Forge. Selon wanted to remember that millennia of not just his ancestors but billions of Vulcans had undergone this rite of passage and survived. Even after ten days without food, water or weapons death was exceptionally rare and failure brought no shame. It was not logical to worry, but Selon couldn't help himself.

That was what truly set him and his immediate family apart from the rest of the assembled Vulcans, and made them the subject of no small number of furtive glances from the others. Especially the Llath-kon, the family of his aunt. How far had the Ansa-sen-tar and the House of Sidak fallen that they now openly counted V'tosk ka'tur among their number? But who were they to judge such an ancient and honorable house? Upjumped merchants and apparatchiks from Shial who counted themselves among the "traditional". Selon's hauteur returned and he felt the pressure on his fingers tighten. Their connection might not have been enough to read Selon's thoughts, but his father could easily feel the turmoil once again build in his son as he took out his dissatisfaction with the situation and his loathing of traditional Surakian society out on the closest targets. Though perhaps not totally illogically.

The Llath-kon no doubt suffered the presence of Turak, his son Selon and most grievously his Rihannsu wife Ael's presence at their favored daughter's firstborn son's coming of age as an insult to their honor, no matter how high of birth and long descent they were. By giving up the very foundation of Vulcan civilization (as they saw it): Logic, then surely they had given up their other responsibilities in being slaves to their passions? But formality, ritual and above all, family, was important to every child of T'Khasi, no matter their birthplace or culture, and some obligations were not so easily shed.

Selon's keen eyes saw movement first. Reflexively his grasp of his father's fingers squeezed tighter and when he felt hesitation in his father's touch he knew he was alone in seeing the figure in the distance coming out of the desert. Selok was safe, ambulatory if nothing else, and Selon would take that as chief among victories. It took over an hour but Selok's trudge through the sands eventually brought him close enough that the anticipation that had been brought almost to the boiling point: excitement, was palpable in the air.

Selon was the first to take a step forward, it was his right and though he had to catch himself from making a 'spectacle' he slowly and deliberately moved to meet Selok a few score paces away from the others. In the time it took for Selok to come to him Selon considered hugging him, making a spectacle out of spite but as he drew closer, all he could feel was relief as the dried green blood, caked with sweat and dust on Selok's face became more visible. Whether out of duty, relief or mayhaps a little bit of contrarianism, Selon quickly drew Selok into his embrace as soon as he was close enough. Physical expression of concern was a Human behavior, one Selon had learned well, to the... intrigue of his family. But Selok, like the rest of them, permitted it. The exchange of feelings between the two was instantaneous and Selon felt his anxiety wisp away with another gust of wind as he held his cousin tightly.

"You are well," Part declaration, part wishful hope, part question. He looked into his cousin's slightly dazed, squinting hazel eyes and had his answer. He waited for an answer before looking at the cracks on Selok's lips and remembered his purpose and the canteen of lifeblood he had brought for it.

Selok downed the entirety of it, an almost unseemly, but very logical, gesture, before offering his response. "I am." Part confirmation, part question.

The two walked back to his assembled family, their family, for an exchange of pleasantries and terse displays of concern, approval and pride. Eventually their second-forefather's placid monotone broke out above the others.

"The Kahs-wan is completed. Selok, son of Koss, son of Suran, son of Serevan, your adolescence is ended."

RSS Feed