“Then you knew me.” The venerable face of the Vulcan eyed him curiously as he spoke. The spear remained in place.

Wyatt replied, “Not as well as you knew me, it seems. I served on our…your…the Enterprise briefly. I rarely spoke to you.” He chuckled, amused despite the situation. “We’ve spoken more than I did with you in my universe.” Wyatt motioned to the spear. “How long have you lived here?”

“Three years.” Henry saw the Vulcan’s impassive look fade for a moment, replaced by a human look of regret, or something similar. As soon as it appeared, it vanished behind the placid wall. “You have seen what little there is left of us. What will you do if you cannot return to your universe?”

Wyatt waited until they holstered the spear. “That’s not an option. Remaining here would change this universe. We’ve had to develop laws around temporal incursions.”

“Logical.” He gestured to the door to his home. “Dinner will be ready soon. You are welcome to join me. You will, of course, need to speak with your ship’s commanding officer.” Without another word, Spock retreated into the hovel.

Wyatt rubbed his face, wondering if this was a dream or a nightmare. He tapped his badge. This was going to give Captain Walton a fit or two.

Or three.

“Spock. The SPOCK, Spock.” Wren stood at the communications station, pinching her nose to stave off the developing headache. “And V’ger and Borg?”

“It would explain a lot. He’s asked me to dinner. It would be rude to say no.”

“Refusing dinner with Spock, even alternate-universe Spock? You’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who’d turn that down.” She sighed. “We’ll do a workup on the sector. We’re still far out from the Federation center.” The channel closed. Captain Walton turned to the bridge. “Let’s see if we can figure out how Alt-Spock stayed hidden out here for the last three years, or if there’s anyone else out here.”

“You look at me as you see someone else with history worthy of something more.” Spock sipped his water, brown as it was.

“You know I can’t tell you that history.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “That history is long gone, Chief Petty Officer Wyatt. I am alone, and this universe will never live again. Logically, your argument is sound. Emotionally, it is not worth the defense you would attempt to construct.” He swirled his steaming soup. “The human part of me wishes to hear of the other Spock.”

Henry tested the soup. It was bland, but it brought a level of comfort he was desperate for in this universe. “I wouldn’t presume to argue with a Vulcan. Very well.” He began the relation of what he remembered of Spock’s early life. The stories of the Enterprise and the various adventures seem to amuse him in parts, and concern him in others. He finished the telling with the remaining years of Spock’s life. Sitting back, he asked, “Why didn’t you join Starfleet here, in this time?”

The eyebrow on the Vulcan’s face remained raised, but his face softened. “Starfleet in this universe is not as welcoming as yours seems to be. Vulcans in this universe also adopted a similar posture, and this did not help. First Contact was a business transaction, not a chance to explore our cooperative avenues.” Spock finished his soup, a look of satisfaction sparkling in his eyes. “I have spent three years working on this recipe. It gets better each day.”

Wyatt cracked, “I didn’t have Spock the chef on my possibilities in this universe.”

There was a hint of a smile in reply, but it retreated. “This is not where I expected to live the rest of my life.” He stood, groaning as he pulled himself up and shifted to a long bookcase. “You will need to find the rebellion, Chief Petty Officer Wyatt. Two years ago, they were still active. There was talk of a last stand out in the far reaches.”

Henry nearly choked on his cloudy water. “Rebellion?”

Spock returned, handing him a worn book. “We had a brief acquaintance.” Wyatt opened the book, reading as the Vulcan continued. “They brought news of a new class of ship they had built that would stand up against the intruders. It was nearly complete. They wanted me to help them finish.”

“You did not.”

Spock stared ahead, lost in the past. He came back to the present. “They came to see me with one face. A face I knew. A face that did not remember me.” He glanced up at the long stare from Wyatt. “I have forgotten the manner in which humans peer at their targets in order to elicit an answer.” He placed the bowls and cups aside, clearing the table. “It was Captain Christopher Pike.”

Wyatt shook his head in amazement. “So he lived.”

“He has survived. Endured, even. Some have suggested that the universe has it in for Captain Pike and that he remains alive out of spite or some other human emotion.  It is illogical.  His spite, however, is well measured with evidence. I met with him early in my exile from Vulcan to see about joining Starfleet. He suggested that I look elsewhere.” The impassive face of Spock blinked back at Wyatt. There was no trace of anger in the words. Just the dry recalling of an event. An event that could have changed the balance of battle.

Wyatt replied, “I’m not here to judge you, Spock.”

“It is illogical, but there is that quiet part of me…the human side that wishes for just that, Chief Petty Officer Wyatt. That perhaps my two halves would somehow be whole again with such a judgement pronounced upon me.”

Henry sat in that statement.  This universe’s Spock was still as Vulcan as he had always been, but the undercurrent of emotional reflection and thought was parallel to his logical thought process.  Regret was there, hidden behind layers of control. Wyatt said, “You chose yourself over the universe.”

A rueful smile filled the Vulcan’s lips, and it stayed there longer than usual. “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, or the one. Those words were in my head when he came to me. I still refused.” Spock grew quiet, his eyes distant again. A moment later, he spoke. “You told me of my choice I made to save the Enterprise. That I died for my friends.” He stood, and Wyatt followed suit. “I will carry my choice with me for as long as I live. The silence will be my punishment. The empty sky, a reminder. You can save your friends, Chief Petty Officer Wyatt. You can find Captain Pike…and maybe a way home.”

Wyatt knew he was being dismissed in the kindest way a Vulcan could. And yet, still there was a part of him that couldn’t stand to throw away the mind that stood before him. “You could come with us. Captain Pike could use a mind like yours, if he’s still alive.”

Spock shook his head, a sad look in his eyes. “This I cannot do. It is not just Captain Pike with whom I disagree. Take great care in your conversations with them. They will see you and your ships through a different lens.”

Henry got to the door, turning to face Spock one last time. “You keep calling me by my rank, Spock. What am I missing?”

“Henry Wyatt was a captain in this universe. He helped me get here. It is easier to call you by your rank of your universe than to remember mine.”

Wyatt gave a quiet nod in reply. “Live long and prosper, Spock.”

“Live long and prosper, Henry Wyatt. Godspeed.”

Wyatt and his shadow vanished into the night, leaving Spock alone. He thought for a moment, brief as it was, about chasing after the man. Asking for a ride back into the stars, into the final frontier. He shook away the thought and shuffled over to the dishes.