mind MELD

By: JOHN BORNHOLT

Synopsis:

Teska, a Vulcan child raised on earth, is

destined to play a crucial role in the

reunification of the Vulcan and Romulan

peoples. While Spock escorts his young niece

back to Vulcan for her betrothal ceremony, he

strives to help her understand both her Vulcan

herritage and her growing telepathic abilities.

But when an unplanned mind meld reveals the true

identity of a deadly assassin to Teska, she and

Spock find themselves the target of a Rigelian

criminal network. With the enterprise light years

away, Spock and his niece must go on the run,

pursued by a conspiracy determined to end

Teska's future before it has even begun.

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters,

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Copyright 1997 by Paramount Pictures. All

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Historian's Note This story takes place

shortly after the events portrayed in Star Trek

VI." The Undiscovered Country.

Chapter One

AN OLDER MAN with a saturnine face,

sallow complexion, dark hair, and angular

eyebrows pulled his hood over his pointed ears and

stared down into a dripping cesspool. His long

tapered nose did not contract at the odors of the

reservoir, which relieved the great city of its

waste. He was intent upon his mission, and his only

means of reaching the shuttle-craft field

undetected was through this sewer.

He gazed at the ceiling of the cavernous tunnel,

with its network of baffles and vents for removing

harmful gases, then he looked down at the

intricate system of tanks, gutters, and

reclamation pools. It was a marvel of engineering that

no one ever saw. His people were master builders,

renowned throughout the galaxy, but they were also master

destroyers.

"Father, I want to go back," said a small

voice beside him.

Wislok stared into the eyes of the seven-year-old

Hasmek, a smaller version of himself. He could not be

angry with the child. Hasmek looked wide-eyed at their

gloomy surroundings. Like most children of the

Pretorium," he had experienced only the finer

things in life. Work in the sewers was restricted to the

plebians.

"Why can't we go in a hovercraft?" asked the

boy.

"Or walk in the sunlight?"

Wislok frowned. "There are times when

subterfuge is called for, and this is one of

those times.

Haven't I made the plans clear?"

"Yes, Father. But I don't understand why I have

to.. 2' Hasmek gulped. "I mean, no other

boys go through this ritual."

"Not on Romulus," answered Wislok

patiently.

He had explained this all before, but the boy needed

reassuring. "On Vulcan, all children go through

koon-ut-la at your age, when they meet their

future mate. You volunteered for this experiment, and

you have to be brave. There's nothing in the ritual that can

harm you."

He certainly hoped that was the case, but he had

to admit to himself that he was guessing. Vulcan

rituals relied upon a combination of mysticism,

biology, and collective consciousness that he

didn't pretend to understand. Perhaps it was time to tell his

son the truth. Wislok took a deep breath and

began.

"The reason we're doing this is Pardek. He's

always two steps ahead of everyone else, with friends in

every corner. This connection with the Vulcans is

brilliant--it could be the excuse for a new

government, with us as the leaders. The

Vulcans are so literal-minded that they have to see

proof that our races are related. You are going to be

that proof."

"Why don't we just conquer them?" asked the boy.

"That is the thinking of many, but when you destroy a

thing, you never learn its worth. With Pardek's

plan, we can usurp them and all their knowledge of the Federation

and science without firing a torpedo. If we fail,

there is always the option of war."

The boy looked down. "What will she be like?"

Wislok could only shrug his broad shoulders.

"She comes from the family of Sarek and Spock, and

Pardek assures me they are very important." His

chin jutted into the air, and his angular eyebrows

lifted. "I hear something. Get down."

Without hesitation, he and the boy jumped into a deep

drainage gutter and crouched against the grimy wall.

Wislok motioned for silence and listened to the sounds of

footsteps jumping off a ladder and landing on the

catwalk with a metallic thud. He waited to hear

more footsteps, but there was apparently only one

person. With any luck, thought the Romulan, it would

be a maintenance worker, and he would take his readings and

leave swiftly.

"This is the Civil Guard!" announced

a stern voice, which echoed importantly in the sewer

tunnel.

"Who is down there?"

Wislok muttered an oath under his breath. They

could not ignore a member of the Guard, even the lowly

Civil Guard. At least there was only one of him.

"Remain hidden," he whispered to his son.

He stood up, located the guard on a

catwalk about fifty meters away, and addressed

him authoritatively.

"I am Wislok, Chief Surgeon to the

Proconsul.

I was taking water samples to check on a

report of liptherum bacteria."

The young guard snapped to attention and lowered his

disrupter rifle. "Yes, my liege, I

recognize you." He looked thoughtful. "You set

off an alarm.

Do you have clearance for this project?"

"Of course," answered Wislok with the put-upon

air of the upper class. "At the highest levels.

I can't imagine why the prefect didn't turn

off the alarms."

He started to climb out of the gutter but pretended

to slip.

Helplessly, he held out his hands. "I seem

to be mired in my work at the moment. Could I trouble

you to come down and see my permit?"

The guard nodded, although he wrinkled his nose at

the pungent odors emanating from the cesspool.

Wislok watched him descend the stairs, waiting

to see if he would use his communicator to alert the

centurions. When he didn't, Wislok

relaxed. He didn't smile at the man; that would

have been too familiar with an underling, but he assumed

an air of patience.

The officer approached, and Wislok fumbled in his

equipment belt. "I have the document here." He

produced a fiber scroll with one hand and a tubular

device with the other, then he pretended to slip

backward, forcing the guard to come even closer.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Hasmek

pressed against the grimy sewer wall, his dark eyes

wide and unflinching.

As the guard bent over the gutter to get the

scroll, Wislok lifted his laser scalpel,

applied pressure with his thumb, and generated a

pinpoint laser beam thirty centimeters long. He

slipped the beam into the guard's left ventricle before

the man even felt the pain. The guard stared

wild-eyed and gasped, and Wislok grabbed his son

and dragged him out of the way an instant before the man

tumbled into the sewer. His body jerked and rolled

over, then it began to float away with the refuse.

"He died swiftly," Wislok assured his

son, putting his laser scalpel away.

The boy gulped. "Did you have to kill him?"

Wislok's patience began to snap, and he

turned angrily on the seven-year-old. "Stop

behaving like a..." A what, thought the father guiltily.

A child?

He put his hands over his weary eyes for a moment,

and then he began again. "This is a meaningful

experiment, Hasmek. The risks are high, but so

are the rewards."

The boy nodded solemnly, and it wasn't a

mechanical nod. He is truly wise beyond his

years, Wislok noted with renewed hope of

success. It would take wisdom, perseverance, and

ruthlessness to complete this experiment--an experiment that

would require two decades to yield results.

Wislok gently lifted his boy out of the sewer and

set him on the catwalk, then he dragged himself out.

Their brocaded suits were filthy, and he hoped that

Pardek had left them clean clothes in the

shuttlecraft as planned. Wislok sighed. He

realized that he might as well be honest with himself.

He wasn't worried about Pardek so much as he was

worried about their Vulcan "allies." Even though

Pardek knew Sarek and Spock personally and

vouched for them, Wislok was putting his son's life

in the hands of strangers from the dreaded Federation. He

had good reason to be concerned.

Fortunately, the Romulan had three older

sons, so andmiddot; he could afford to endanger the

youngest on a risky venture such as this. He pushed

the boy along the narrow catwalk. "No more talk.

We must hurry."

James T. Kirk sat on the bridge of the

submersible sport-fishing boat Cataluna,

watching his float bob upward through turquoise

water that shimmered in a porthole above his head.

If he had wanted, he could have plunged his hand into the

water, which was held at bay by force fields and air

pressure, but he was content just to fish. The

twenty-meter-long vessel was constructed of a

translucent material, so they were surrounded

by sun-streaked water and majestic schools of sea

creatures.

Kirk looked down and could see not only

his instruments but also the deck below him. In the bow,

Uhura and Spock were operating the sounding device and

fish locator, which were tasks they found more interesting

than actually fishing. Dr. "Bones" McCoy was

sitting in the stern of the ship, doggedly fishing through a

hole in the bottom of the boat, even though he could have

fished through the hull or the upper deck. Only

Kirk had caught anything big enough to keep--two

plump raylike fish with three eyes topside and

two mouths on the bottom--and he intended to eat them

both.

He could see Bones glancing his way and looking

grumpy, and he figured the good doctor would pay

him a visit on the bridge very soon. Sure

enough, Bones rose to his feet, careful not to stick

his head through a pool of suspended water, and stepped

gingerly upon the ladder.

Kirk smiled at his friend's approach. "You'll

never catch anything but bottom-feeders that way."

McCoy pointedly ignored the comment as he

stepped onto the clear deck. He looked

disapprovingly at Kirk's line suspended above his

head into the wavering water. "This is unnatural.

Why can't we use a surface boat?"

The captain shook his head with amusement.

"Bones, you live in a ship surrounded by an

endless void, and a little water makes you nervous?"

McCoy's attempt to suppress a smile was

only partially successful. "I am accustomed to that

void, Captain," he said with a false pomposity

that immediately deflated. "I just can't get used to this

one."

"Doctor, may I remind you that this is

supposed to be rest and recreation." Kirk tugged

on his line to give his lure a bit of movement.

McCoy sunk into the copilot's seat.

"Well, I'm neither rested nor recreated. It's

not easy to relax when we don't know what's going

to become of us.

Are we going to be kicked out, or given medals?

What about the Enterprise--is she going to be

scrapped?"

Kirk's face drooped at the last suggestion,

and he looked most of his sixty years. "I don't

know, Bones.

I'm not sure I want to run around the galaxy

anymore, but I don't want to see the

Enterprise floating in a junkyard either."

"It seems to me like we're hiding out down here,"

grumbled McCoy, casting a jaundiced

eye at the captain. "You know, Jim, Pacifica

is a big planet--there are cafes, concert

halls, and restaurants. If Starfleet won't

give us anything to do, can't we at least have a look

around?"

The captain shook his head. "There are too many

reporters on the islands, and all they want to talk

about is Khitomer, the trial, or those damn

whales.

But you go topside if you want to, Bones.

It's not fair to keep you cooped up with me, if you

want to go out on the town."

"By myself?." Bones scowled and shook his head.

He took a flask out of his hip pocket and

smelled its contents before he took a sip. "It's

not fair. They get you out of retirement, run you

ragged, then want to put you back on the shelf."

The doctor offered the flask to Kirk, but he

waved it off. "Remember what MacArthur said about

old soldiers never dying--"

McCoy nodded somberly. "Yes, I

remember. And I can tell you right now that I'm

nowhere near ready to fade away."

"Hear, hear," said Kirk with an affectionate

smile.

A moment later he grew serious. "If we

started fading away, would we even know it?"

He heard Spock's footsteps on the ladder and

turned to see the Vulcan pass through the

translucent hatch. "That is an illogical

metaphor. Human old life forms do not fade

away--energy is always converted into another form of

energy."

"And you should know," said McCoy with a smirk.

Spock ignored him. "There are only two

states--active and inactive."

"And this feels like inactivity, doesn't it?"

asked Kirk. "Let's find ourselves a better

fishin' hole. Dr. McCoy, turn off the

forcefield anchor, will you?"

"disAye, aye, sir!" McCoy capped his

flask and bent over the copilot's instrument

panel. "Anchors aweigh."

"Captain!" called Uhura from the lower deck.

"Don't forget the fishing lines!"

Kirk nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Commander.

Would you please reel in Dr. Mc oy's line--

you're the closest."

"Certainly, Captain." The serene dark-skinned

woman hiked to the stern of the boat and reeled

in a few handfuls of line to get the hook off the

bottom.

Then she turned on the automatic winch, and the

fishing line reeled slowly into a receptacle.

Suddenly the line went taut, and the ship jerked.

McCoy was thrown off his feet, and Kirk

gripped his armrests instinctively. It felt as if

they were back in space, except instead of stars,

Kirk saw a leviathan rise from the depths and

become engulfed in an eruption of sand. The beast was

as big as the submersible, twenty meters long, and it

looked like a flounder--flat except for a frill of

delicate-looking fins.

The sea monster appeared to be moving slowly, but

its pace was deceptive. It curled upward,

dragging the ship, and the crew members were knocked off

their feet once more. Uhura had the presence of mind

to stop the winch and release the line, but it couldn't

unreel fast enough. The giant fish hauled the

submarine upward, and a splash of salty water hit

Kirk in the face. He looked up to see water

churning in the porthole above his head.

"Close all ports!" shouted Kirk. "Drop

anchor!"

Spock took over at the copilot's

instrument panel.

"I am unable to reapply the forcefield,

Captain, but I am closing the ports."

The porthole above Kirk snapped shut, shearing

off his fishing line. He looked around and saw that all

the portholes were closed, except for the active

one, and the ship was listing badly.

"Get out of there, Uhura!" he shouted down to the

lower deck. She scurried up the ladder, and upon

reaching the upper deck she slammed down the hatch and

twisted it shut. Kirk turned on the engines and

threw the ship into reverse. He'd be damned if

he'd let some big fish drag his boat around the

bottom of the ocean.

McCoy sat up and grinned at him. "Let's

see if you can reel him in."

Kirk scowled. "If you think I'm going to bring

that fish in, you're crazy!" He blinked at

Spock. "How long would it take?"

"It would take at least an hour to subdue that

creature," said Spock, "with a high probability

of failure."

Out of breath, Uhura slumped to the deck beside

them. "The line will run out if we don't lock it."

"If we move toward him, we'll put

some slack in the line," said Kirk, wrestling with the

controls. At that moment, his wrist communicator

chirped.

"Blast it," muttered Kirk. "Spock, take

over."

The Vulcan dutifully slid into the copilot's

seat and grabbed the stick. "Orders, Captain?"

"Follow the fish," echoed Kirk, "and keep some

slack in the line." He lifted his arm and spoke

into his communicator. "Kirk here."

"Brace yeself, Captain," said Scotty in

his clipped accent. "We've gotten orders from

Starfleet."

Kirk bolted upright in his seat, and McCoy

blinked at him. Uhura moved, and Spock listened

as he deftly piloted the submersible in pursuit

of the giant sea creature. "You've got our

attention," said Kirk, "what are the orders?"

"The Enterprise is relieved from active

duty, but she is assigned for special duty to the

diplomatic corps, under the direction of

Ambassador Sarek."

Kirk glanced at Spock, who cocked an

eyebrow at the news that his father was now their superior.

Scotty went on, "Ambassador

Sarek is on his way to brief us, an' he wants

to be met by just yourself and Captain Spock. But he's

not comin' alone--he has spare parts and a crew of

forty-two, all for us!

It's not a full complement, to be sure, but it's

enough to keep the boilers stoked. We may not be the

flagship of the fleet anymore, Captain, but

we're still in business!"

The captain could hear the excitement in

Scotty's voice. "How soon will Sarek be

here?" asked Kirk.

"Inside of two hours."

"Good, we've got time to pilot this bucket

back to shore. Stand by to beam us up in one hour.

Kirk out."

"Get closer!" said McCoy, leaning over

Spock's shoulder. "We've got to reel him in.

I'll get the line."

"Belay that order," snapped Kirk. "Back

up slowly and let the line run out." Spock said

nothing as he reversed the craft.

McCoy stared at Kirk in astonishment.

"You're going to let him get away, aren't you? My

fish!"

"Just think, Bones, when you tell them about

the one that got away, your arms won't even be long

enough." He slapped his friend on the back, but

McCoy still looked glum.

As Spock piloted the submersible on a

gradual course of withdrawal, the majestic

creature faded from view. Kirk looked down through

the clear deck to watch the reel unwind in fits and

starts. Finally the line snapped off and disappeared

into the sun-drenched turquoise sea.

"Closing the stern porthole," said Spock.

"Would you like me to set course for shore?"

"Go ahead," said the captain, taking a breath.

McCoy shook his head with disappointment.

"There was a time, Jim, when you would have reeled him

in."

Kirk gave his old friend a wi/l smile.

"We all have to grow up sometime."

Captain Spock snapped to attention as his father

materialized on the transporter platform aboard

the Enterprise NCC-1701-A. He understood

that Sarek was not coming to visit him, personally, but was

there in his official capacity, and Spock could

easily separate these two distinct roles of the

Vulcan statesman.

He stepped out from behind the transporter

controls and nodded cordially. Spock would treat their

distinguished visitor with the same respectful

attitude that he would show any representative of the

Federation.

Captain Kirk was much more ebullient as he

stepped forward and held out his hand. "Ambassador,

good to see you again!"

"Captain Kirk," said Sarek with as much warmth

as he could muster, which wasn't much. "I am glad

to see that you are well and recovered from your recent

travails."

Kirk smiled. "I'm never turning myself over

to the Klingons again."

"Those were unfortunate circumstances," said

Sarek. "However, you admirably demonstrated that

the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

Thanks to the actions of you, Dr. McCoy, and

your crew, a disaster was averted."

"All in a day's work."

At last, Sarek turned to his son. Except

for the graying hair, he was little changed from the man

Spock had known his entire life. A handsome,

robust man, Sarek was only 138 years old, still

in the prime of life for a Vulcan.

"Captain Spock," said Sarek in a

cordial tone. "I have not fully thanked you for your

part in saving the conference at Khitomer."

Spock cocked his head. "It was only logical

to make peace with the Klingons."

"And do you believe it is equally logical

to seek peace with the Romulans?" asked Sarek. The

ambas sador turned to Captain Kirk, whose mouth

was dropping open.

"First the Klingons, now the Romulans?" he

asked. "Are we going to make friends with everybody?"

"In essence, Captain, that is precisely

what we are doing. In a way, your new assignment

is more important than a mere treaty, because it will

set in motion events that will eventually lead to the

unifiCation of Vulcans and Romulans."

Silence greeted Sarek's remark. Spock

quickly looked over at Kirk, who appeared

anxious to question the ambassador further. The

Vulcan nodded slightly in the direction of his

commanding officer and friend and was gratified to see an

expression of understanding on Kirk's face. They would

talk later.

But now Spock had questions of his own for his father. "Have

our discussions with Pardek yielded results?" he

asked.

"Possibilities," Sarek replied. He

looked around, as if doubting that the transporter

room of the Enterprise was secure enough to contain this

conversation.

"These matters must remain secret for a time, as

few Romulans can risk discussing the theory that both

our races are descended from the same ancestors."

Spock nodded. "One can understand why; the data on

our common ancestors is mostly apocryphal.

Genetic tests have also proven inconclusive."

"Yes," agreed Sarek. "We need a stronger

test, one that will convince the Vulcan Science

Academy to back our plans. With the Vulcan

Science Academy on our side, we can proceed

to the next logical step;

without them, we will not even receive a hearing. We need

proof that goes beyond mere biology--to the core of

what it means to be a Vulcan."

The ambassador's expression changed

slightly, not so much that Kirk would notice, but

Spock realized that they were about to discuss something

personal.

Sarek gazed at his son. "I asked the two of

you to meet me alone, because we have both family

matters and ritual matters to discuss. They

directly affect this mission. Normally, outworlders

would not be privileged to hear this information, but Captain

Kirk participated in your

koon-ut-kal-iJZ-FEE, and the fal-tor-pan which

restored you to us. He has demonstrated his

respect for our traditions."

"Ambassador Sarek, I appreciate your

confidence," said Kirk, "and since you have placed so

much trust in me, I feel I must speak

frankly. I don't think you should make any kind

of deal with the Romulans. They may look like

Vulcans, but your cultures are quite literally worlds

apart."

Sarek smoothed a wrinkle out of his robes. "That

remains to be seen, Captain. We were once much like

the Romulans--brutal, treacherous--until we

learned to control our emotions."

He looked intently at Captain Kirk.

"We have a unique opportunity. High

Priestess T'Lar has agreed to perform the

koon-ut-la ceremony between a Vulcan female

and a Romulan male. If these children go through port

fart in the seventh year of their adult life, we will

know that the similarities between Vulcans and

Romulans are far deeper than appearance.

The Vulcan Science Academy will be forced

to give serious attention to our theory, and so will

open-minded factions on Romulus and Remus."

Spock suddenly realized why he and the

Enterprise had been chosen for this assignment.

"Teska," he said.

"Yes, your niece."

Spock bowed to his father. "I will be honored

to perform my duties as pele-ut-la."

"What is that?" Kirk asked warily.

Sarek replied, "The role of pele-ut-la,

or chaperone, is a traditional duty for an

uncle. But since the child has no uncles, I have

arranged for Spock to serve instead. One complication

is that Teska's parents are dead, and she is living

with her grandfather, Sopeg, Who teaches geology at

Starfleet Academy.

Spock must accompany Teska from Earth

to Vulcan with a stop on the way, and he needs the

Enterprise for that. The boy and his father are coming

to Vulcan by a circuitous route, and we must be

ready when they arrive."

"Wait a minute," said Kirk, holding up his

hands.

"You're betting the whole idea of

reunification between Vulcans and Romulans on

whether these two children, who have never met each other, go

through with a marriage when they grow up?"

"There are significant risks," Sarek

acknowledged.

"If they fail, our cause will be set back

decades. Perhaps Vulcans and Romulans will never

be unified, because we may never have a priestess with the

stature of T'Lar who is willing to officiate."

He continued, "If a Romulan suffers the

effects of ponfarr, it would convince Romulans,

Vulcans, and even doubtful humans that we are

biologically similar. We are depending upon you,

Captain--this ceremony must take place."

Kirk scratched his chin and looked at his old

friend. "What do you think of this, Spock?"

The Vulcan answered slowly. "As we are all

aware, a koon-ut-la ceremony does not

guarantee a successful partnership. In my case,

it was unsuccessful.

Therefore, I would be most impressed if the

ceremony resulted in a successful marriage. It

would prove the viability of unification."

"The probability of success is unknown," said

Sarek. "However, the presence of T'Lar will

afford the young couple the best possible opportunity.

As you and few outsiders know, Captain, it is the

high priestess who must fuse their minds in a

ceremony that will, at the proper time, drive them

to plak-tow, the blood fever."

"I am familiar with the blood fever," said

Kirk quietly. If Spock were not Vulcan,

he would have winced at the memory of the blood fever that

gripped him during his first tour of duty aboard the

Enterprise. Kirk had risked his career, then his

life, to bring him through the turmoil ofponfarr. Most

of it was a blur to Spock, except for the memories

of helplessness, anger, and rejection, followed

by despair when he thought he had killed his captain.

The only thing that was always clear to Spock about that

terrible time was that he owed Jim Kirk his life.

"Captain, you may want to attend their

marriage," Spock told his friend. "It could be the

beginning of the most important event in Vulcan and

Romulan history."

Kirk smiled. "I'll check my schedule and

see what I'm doing in twenty-one years." He

grew more serious. histo take it we shouldn't tell the

crew about this mission."

"I would prefer you did not," answered

Sarek, "unless it is necessary. As cover for this

mission, you are also transporting a group of

Rigelians who have been involved "in talks on

Earth. Taking the Ri-gelians home to Rigel

V should not inconvenience you, and it will allay

suspicion."

Kirk smiled. "I see. Rigelians also

look a lot like Vulcans, and you're counting on the

girl blending in with them."

"Yes," agreed Sarek, "and there is another

matter.

The Rigelians are under investigation for

practices that are forbidden under Federation laws. If

these charges are true, we will not renew their trade

agreements, and their membership in the Federation may be

revoked. This delegation did not get the

reassurances they sought, and they may be agitated.

I do not wish to involve you in these matters, but I

feel it safe to warn yourathe Rigelians are not as

reserved as Vulcans, and they may seek your

aid."

"We'll stay neutral," said Kirk. "And

we'll keep our eyes open."

The venerable Vulcan nodded. "I must take my

leave. There are more negotiations with the

Klingons at Camp Khitomer, even talk of a

Klingon settlement there. Shall we beam your new

crew members aboard?"

"Please," said Kirk crisply. "The old

crew members are just itching to delegate a little

work."

Sarek nodded and turned to Spock. His face

remained immobile, but Spock could feel a oneness

with his father as he held up his right hand in the

traditional, open-handed Vulcan salute.

"Live long and prosper."

"May our paths soon cross again," replied

Spock with the same salute.

As the ambassador climbed upon the transporter

platform, the Starfleet officer strode behind the

controls. For years, diverse interests and careers

had kept father and son apartmnow they saw each other more

frequently, often working for the same causes.

Over the years, Spock had become something of a

diplomat, and Sarek had become as much a

representative of the Federation as he was for the planet

Vulcan. Remembering the years when they hadn't

spoken to one another, Spock took considerable

gratification in the meshing of their lives and careers.

"Energize when ready," said Sarek.

"Yes, Father." Spock's deft fingers worked the

controls and converted Sarek's molecules into a

column of sparkling lights. A moment later the

renowned diplomat was gone.

Chapter Two

. CHIME SOUNDED over the ship's intercom, and the

captain's precise voice followed: "To all

hands, the Enterprise is now in standard orbit around

Earth.

My commendations to the new crew members for a job

well done on our first journey together. I wish I

discd give you all shore leave, but we will only be

here long enough to pick up passengers. The

Ri-gelians have been involved in difficult

trade talks, so let's make sure they have a

quiet trip with lots of privacy. Captain

Spock, I will meet you in the transporter

room."

beSpock nodded automatically, although he was

alone in his austere quarters. He looked back at

the computer screen on his desk to see the visage of a

seven-year-old Vulcan female. Her face was

impish, elflike, and her ears appeared large,

even for a Vulcan. Shiny bangs pointed the way

to luminous black eyes, which showed a marked

degree of intelligence.

He had seen Teska twice in the four years

she had lived on Earth. Now he regretted not

spending more time with the girl, although his life had been rather

eventful of late. He should have remembered that her

koon-ut-la was coming soon--even without the Romulan

involvement, he would still have served as her chaperone.

Putting these concerns out of his mind, Spock

turned off the computer screen and looked in the

mirror. He saw a Vulcan male of middle

age--tall, gaunt, and stern. There was no indication

whatsoever that he was half-human, which suited

Spock; only he knew the trials it had taken

to achieve that state.

The Vulcan straightened the collar of his maroon

uniform jacket and headed toward the door, which opened

at his approach.

A few minutes later Spock walked into the

transporter room and found Captain Kirk and

Commander Scott waiting for him. Scotty was in his

usual place behind the transporter controls, and he

gave Spock a jovial smile. "Good day,

Captain Spock."

"Mr. Scott," replied the Vulcan with a

nod. "I presume from your demeanor that you

are satisfied with the performance of the crew."

"An" right you'd be. They've got a lot of

silly theory in their heads, but we'll soon

replace it with practical experience. The

Academy is still turnin' out a good grade of

officer."

"They seem awfully young to me," said Kirk

wi/lly.

"You are about to meet someone even younger," replied

Spock as he climbed upon the transporter

platform.

Kirk stepped on after him. "Yes, I'm

looking forward to it. I haven't met many Vulcan

children."

"Neither have I," answered Spock. "Not since

I was a child."

"Your party is waiting for you on the campus

green," said Scotty. "I've entered the

coordinates."

"Beam us down," ordered Kirk.

Spock felt a slight tingle as his molecules

were scattered and rearranged, and the view in front of

him changed from the sterile surroundings of the

transporter room to a lovely commons area in the

center of the Starfleet Academy campus.

The smooth lines of the Academy buildings

surrounded them, yet the buildings were dwarfed by the

skyscrapers of San Francisco and the vast ocean

beyond.

It was a cool day in March, and the air was bracing

and salty. Several cadets and instructors

hurried past them, paying little attention to two people

materializing in the middle of the green.

From the midst of the scurrying pedestrians, two people

walked slowly toward themwa thin Vulcan male about

the age of Spock's father and the seven-year-old,

Teska. She was smaller than Spock imagined

she would be, but he reminded himself that Vulcan children

seldom had a growth spurt until they reached their

teen years. He was more accustomed to seeing human

children, who were often quite tall by the age of seven.

Teska's demeanor was properly reserved, and

Spock nodded with approval at her approach.

"Pele-ut-la," said the girl in a lilting

voice, "we meet in the appointed time and place."

"Koon-ut-la," replied Spock,

"possessor of the flame which burns from the time of the

beginning, I am your servant." He bowed

reverently, and the girl bowed back.

Now that the official greeting was over, the

older Vulcan turned to Captain Kirk. "I

am Sopeg, a teacher here at the Academy."

"Captain James T. Kirk," answered the

human, "of the Enterprise."

"Curious," said Sopeg, "I thought you were

promoted to admiral."

"I was for a while, but they came to their senses."

Kirk turned to the little girl and smiled. "And you

must be Teska."

"Obviously," she agreed. "I have been reading

about your exploits, Captain Kirk, and it is an

honor to meet you. You are very courageous."

"I'm glad to meet you, too," answered

Kirk. "But I'm not sure I would have the courage

to do what you're about to do."

Sopeg looked thoughtful. "It is unusual for

an outworlder to know about our ceremonies."

"Captain Kirk has made many important

journeys with me to Vulcan," said Spock. "He

is not an outworlder, but a friend."

"I understand," said the elder Vulcan. "I know

much more about Earth and its customs than I ever thought

I would know. Just two days ago, I attended a

hockey game. Very enlightening. Captain Kirk,

could I have a few moments to talk

privately with Spock?"

Kirk checked the chronometer on his wrist

communicator.

"I don't see why not. The Rigelians were

supposed to meet us here by now, but they're running

late."

Spock replied, "You will find that Rigelians

are not as punctual as Vulcans."

"Who is?" answered Kirk. "Take as much time

as disy need. Teska and I will chat."

The two Vulcan men ambled down the sidewalk

about twenty meters and stopped. Spock waited

patiently for Sopeg to tell that which needed privacy

to be told.

The elder Vulcan glanced over his shoulder at

Teska and Kirk. "She is a bright child," he

began, "and she does well in her studies. I have

done the best I can these past four years to see that her

training is adequate, but she spends many hours a

day with non-Vulcans. She has been exposed to more

outside influences than a typical Vulcan child of

her age."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that

her training has been corrupted?"

"As you can see, she knows how to behave

correctly, but she also knows how to behave

incorrectly.

A few times, I have caught her mimicking

humans, quite well, I might add. I am aware

of what she does in my presence, but I am

unaware of what she does around others."

"I see." Now Spock glanced over his shoulder

at the middle-aged captain and the young Vulcan.

Indeed, the two of them were chatting quite amicably,

and it was clear that Teska had little of the reticence

typical of her race. Around humans, a

typical Vulcan child would behave more or less like a

statue. But Teska had spent her formative years

among humans; like himself, she had a special bond

with them.

Spock turned to the elder Vulcan. "Sopeg,

we do not see one another often, but you are my

kinsman.

Therefore, I can speak frankly. The task that

Teska is being asked to perform is so difficult that

it requires an exceptional person, and the

probability of failure is quite high. It was

Sarek's decision that she partake in this great

experiment, and her experience with other species will

serve her well."

Sopeg nodded solemnly. "I see much of your

father in you and your reasoning. We must be tested to the

fullest if we are to achieve greatness. I can see

why you have accomplished so much."

"As the humans say, I was often in the right

place at the right time. This is one of those right

places and times, and we must proceed without

hesitation.

Does Teska know she is marrying a

Romulan?"

"I have told her," answered Sopeg. "I am

not sure if she understands the full ramifications of that

decision."

"Decades will pass before we complete this work,"

observed Spock. "In the meantime, we must be

concerned about Teska's long-term development.

Is it possible that she could remain on Vulcan

after the koon-ut-la?"

"I have thought about this," answered the professor.

"Our family is small and widely scattered,

and there is no one presently on Vulcan. I know

you could have your choice of assignments, and Teska could

remain with you if you were to stay on Vulcan."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "My plans are

not finalized, but I will give it consideration.

Is there no one else?"

"No. But there is always the pak-or-tuk."

Adoption, thought Spock, translating the term

into the Federation equivalent. Of course, many

families Would accept a child of Teska's

heritage, but adoption was a very difficult

procedure on Vulcan, requiring perfect

harmony within the family and the ministrations of a high

priestess such as T'Lar. It was nearly as

tricky as the ceremony they were about to undertake.

"We can delay that decision until after the

koon-ut-la," said Spock. He lifted his hand in

the Vulcan salute. "Live long and prosper,

Sopeg, and thank you for your diligence on behalf of

Teska."

"I did what was necessary," the older Vulcan

replied.

Spock and Sopeg strolled back toward Kirk

and Teska, who stopped their conversation to wait for them.

Spock looked for signs of emotion on the face

of the girl, who must have known what was coming next. The

only adult caretaker she could remember was about

to hand her over to an obscure uncle, who was about

to hand her over to a stranger from another race.

In some respects, she was following in the

footsteps of Sarek, who had taken a human

wife and pioneered intimate Vulcan-human

relations. But Sarek had made that decision as an

adult, after his first wife had died; Teska was a child

who had been volunteered by her family. Her

sacrifice made Spock somewhat uneasy.

Teska's face remained impassive as

Sopeg held up a withered hand in the well-known

salute. "Granddaughter, live long and prosper."

Teska held up a smooth little hand which trembled

slightly. "The same to you, Grandfather. When shall I

see you again?"

"That is unknown," answered Sopeg. "Obey

your uncle." He turned on his heel and walked

away, never looking back at his young charge.

Spock watched Teska carefully now. An

outward show of emotion would demonstrate that her early

training was considerably corrupted. The girl's

face remained impassive, but her lustrous dark

eyes looked downcast. Then she lifted her chin with

determination and cast off the fleeting emotion.

Spock was satisfied with her behavior.

"I'd suggest we get going," said Kirk, "but

our other passengers aren't here yet. Teska, are

you aware that we're traveling with a group of

Ri-gelians?"

"I have been told this," answered Teska, "but not

the reason."

"Well," answered Kirk, glancing around,

"we're not going to lie and say you're one of the

Rigelians, but we're not going to dissuade anyone

from that notion either. Do you understand?"

"Subterfuge," answered Teska.

Spock pursed his lips. "Indeed."

Kirk cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Uh,

Teska, you'll like seeing the Rigel solar system

--it has "A blue giant sun," Teska

finished. "From Earth, it is visible with the naked eye

in the constellation of Orion."

"Cute kid," muttered Kirk. He peered

into the distance. "I think I see our passengers."

Spock followed Kirk's gaze and saw an

odd band of black-suited, sallow-skinned

humanolds come strolling around the corner of a

building. They looked lost and uncertain, until

one of them--a voluptuous woman wearing a

form-hugging jumpsuitmspotted Kirk and led the

way. "Spock counted four men, four women, and

four children.

This symmetrical number was due, no

doubt, to the Rigelian fascination with numerology.

Each member of the group wore simple black

clothing. The outfits differed only slightly in

style.

At a glance, the Rigelians did appear to be

identical to Romulans and Vulcans, but there was

something alien about them--perhaps the way they carried

themselves. They possessed none of the discipline common

to Vulcans and Romulans. Like humans, they were not

afraid to look foolish.

"They have children," said Kirk. "That's handy."

"When my father makes arrangements, they are

usually quite thorough," observed Spock.

"I have read that Rigelians believe in group

marriage," said Teska.

Spock nodded, impressed by her knowledge. "Yes,

most Rigelians practice group marriage.

Three of the women, two of the men, and all of the children are

from the Heart Clan, who represent the rural

craft guilds of Rigel V. However, the most

important person in the group is Ambassador

Denker, the man on the left."

Kirk smiled. "Who's the gorgeous woman in

the lead?"

"That would be Vitra, a wealthy

industrialist." At Kirk's grin, he added,

"And former prostitute. In fact, she prefers

to be called Madame Vitra."

The captain shook his head. "The Rigelians

aren't much like Vulcans, are they?"

"No, they are not," answered Spock.

"Physically we are similar, but the Rigelians

have demonstrated no appreciable telepathic

abilities. They are superstitious, emotional, and

deeply rooted to an agrarian lifestyle and

precious-metal economy. They are what humans

would describe as 'earthy."" Kirk looked

surPrised. "No offense intended," Spock

added.

"None taken," replied Kirk with a smile.

The party of Rigelians strolled haphazardly

along the sidewalk, with the children lagging behind. A slim

woman wearing a flowing black skirt dropped

back to round up the children. The children hopped swiftly

at her urging and were soon at the front of the pack,

so she turned her attention to the young women in the

group. She had them tying back their long hair as

they approached, which was the sort of preening a

Vulcan woman would never do. The woman's actions

reminded Spock of an alpha mare in a

herd of horses, nipping and prodding the others

into obedience.

Captain Kirk smiled charmingly, sucked in his

stomach, and made a beeline for the woman in the clinging

jumpsuit. "Madame Vitra, I presume?"

"Yes." Her black hair flowed in an

unruly mane from a face that wasn't young but was

heavily altered by cosmetics. "Are you the famous

Captain Kirk?"

"I am," he assured her. As the others caught

up, Kirk turned to the leader of the delegation.

"Ambassador Denker, we are honored."

The ambassador was a rugged-looking man in a

tailored black suit, and he was not as quick to smile

as the others. "Captain Kirk, I appreciate

your willingness to take us home, but can we make the

introductions short and get right to our cabins? I'm

tired, and I have a report to write."

"Of course," answered Kirk, nonplussed.

"This is Captain Spock and his niece,

Teska."

Denker nodded curtly. "A pleasure. You have

met Madame Vitra, and this is her champion,

Mondral."

Spock looked at the tall muscular

Rigelian hovering behind Madame Vitra and

realized that "champion" was a euphemism for

"bodyguard." The impassive expression on

Mondral's face would have suited any Vulcan

or Romulan.

The ambassador motioned to the family huddled behind

the others. "This is the Heart Clan--Hanua,

Dilni, Espera, Rassero, Hemopar, and their

children."

The slim woman whom Spock had observed

earlier looked directly at him. Their gazes

connected for a moment, and he was surprised at the

carefree mirth in her dark eyes. Unlike

Madame Vitra, her complexion was healthy and

natural.

"It is our immense pleasure," said Hanua

with a smile. "We never dreamed we would be traveling

in any ship so grand as the Enterprise"

"After what she's been through," said Kirk, "the

Enterprise is not so grand anymore. But she still

does the job."

A female Rigelian child stepped warily toward

Teska. "Where are you from?"

"I am from Vulcan, although I live here on

Earth."

Teska glanced at Spock. "Perhaps it is more

accurate to say I lived here."

"I like it on Earth," said the Rigelian girl

with a grin. "They have pretty birds that sing a lot.

I'm Falona."

"Teska," answered the Vulcan.

"We should be going, Captain," Spock said.

"Yes, yes," answered Kirk. He made a

quick head count and tapped his wrist communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise. Fifteen of us to beam up."

"Scott here," came the welcoming voice.

"We kenna take you all at once, so we'll

beam up the children first. Locking on to their life

signs."

The children huddled around Hanua, who gently lined

them up. "Space yourselves out, there's nothing to fear.

First Starfleet Academy, and now the Enterprise

--what a day you've had!" With her reassuring

voice ringing in their ears, the children stood calmly

while their molecules were scrambled and beamed to the

ship in orbit. Teska stood at attention until

her slight form disappeared altogether.

Madame Vitra reached out to take Kirk's

arm.

"Captain, I trust you will be dining with us

tonight?"

"Of course," he answered with a smile. "I

wouldn't miss it."

"Captain," said Denker, "the passenger

transport was four days getting here, with scheduled

stops.

How long will the journey take aboard the Enter

prise?"

"Less than two days," answered Kirk.

Vitra batted her long dark eyelashes at

him. "You can take your time, Captain. We're in

no hurry."

"Speak for yourself," muttered Denker.

Kirk glanced at Spock and smiled, and the

Vulcan could tell that his friend was amused to see people who

resembled Vulcans bickering like humans.

Spock, on the other hand, was uncertain that the

Rigelians were a proper influence on young

Teska, but he supposed she could survive a few

days with them.

.scotty's voice chimed over the

communicator.

"I'm ready for the rest of you, Captain."

"Proceed," answered Kirk.

A few moments later Spock and Kirk

stepped off the transporter platform, followed

by Hanua, Vitra, Mondral, Denker, and the other

four Rigelians. The members of the Heart Clan

were instantly greeted by warm hugs from their children.

Teska stood at proper attention and gazed at

Spock. He could almost read her mind; she was questioning

whether a little affection was such a bad thing. He knew

it was. Vulcans had a savage history, which had

remnants in their rituals. That history made it

clear that Vulcans were once addicted to emotion and

violence.

For them, there was no such thing as a little bit.

Spock turned to find Kirk smiling at him.

"Go on and escort Teska to her quarters. Take

your time, Spock, we don't need you on active

duty."

"Thank you," replied Spock. He motioned to the

open door, and the seven-year-old started out.

"Teska!" called little Falona. "See you

later?"

She glanced at Spock, then cocked her head

at the young Rigelian. "Perhaps."

Uncle and niece spoke very little as they traveled

the ship's turbolifts and corridors. Teska

continued to deport herself with the correct

demeanor, nodding politely but impassively at

the crew members they passed. Still Spock could not

get Sopeg's warning out of his mind.

"Will you have any difficulty sleeping alone tonight?"

he asked. "My quarters are directly across the

corridor from yours."

"I require little sleep," she answered.

"You will need to rest for the ceremony."

"Two days" worth of rest?" asked Teska.

"Is it that hard?"

Spock cleared his throat, thinking that her turn of

phrase was more colloquial for Earth than

Vulcan, although it was a fair question. "You will be

severely tested," he answered. "But much good will come

of it. Here is your cabin."

She studied the door with interest. "My own

cabin. That is more than I expected."

"Computer," intoned Spock, "record

voiceprint of new occupant." He nodded

to Teska. "State your name."

"Teska," she answered.

"Teska," repeated the impersonal voice of the

computer. The door slid open with a whoosh.

Spock followed the child into the small but tastefully

appointed crew quarters; the colors were

mostly mauve and gray, with renderings of the

"Horsehead Nebula on the wall. Teska

began to take in her surroundings, until her eyes

fixed on the basket of thorns upon the desk.

Inside was a pile of withered red fruit, sun-dried

into shriveled pellets.

"Ah, tono'pak berries!" said Teska, not

hiding her delight. She froze to the spot with a

stricken 10ok on her face, knowing she had

slipped.

Spock adjusted his face to a frown. "The

tono'pak berries are a symbol of the childhood

that will shrivel and die, to be born again in the heart

of a young woman. You must eat one every hour until the

koon-ut-la."

She turned to Spock. "I have many questions about this

undertaking."

"I assumed you would," answered Spock. "I have

taken the liberty of stocking the computer with selected

readings from the Meditations of T'Pau, many of which

pertain to your situation."

Teska shook her head. "Are you not equally

qualified to answer my questions?"

"Certainly not as qualified as T'Pau," said

Spock.

He started for the door. "If you have any questions about

this material, I will help you to further your

research." The door whooshed open at his approach.

"What if it does not work?"

Spock froze in the doorway and turned around

slowly, his hunched shoulders straightening to attention.

"What if what does not work?"

"The ritual, everything." Teska paused as if

searching for the right words to continue. "It sounds...

unsettling--the blood fever, losing control, men

fighting with each other. Uncle, I am aware that your

koon-ut-la was unsuccessful. And it seems

illogical to go through all of this for nothing."

Spock swallowed dryly and pressed the panel

button, closing the door. He knew he was not

going to leave this room anytime soon, so he pulled

up a chair and sat across from the girl, who considered

him with a frankness that was disconcerting. Spock's

chiseled features drooped a bit more than usual.

"You know about my failed marriage?" he asked.

"I do, Uncle. I was urged to study the

family histories. You fought the challenge over

T'Pring, yet you did not claim her, as was your

right. I do not understand."

Spock tapped his mouth with the tips of his

index fingers. "You have asked several questions in one

breath, and I will need several breaths to answer.

The first thing to know is that the Vulcan way of

marriage is usually successful. Failures like

mine are rare. The Vulcan divorce rate is

much lower than that of humans, for example, who

theoretically choose their own mates and marry for

love."

Spock continued, "Secondly, my situation was

complicated by the fact that I was a Starfleet

officer.

For that same reason I was estranged from my father,

and I did not return to Vulcan for several years.

During that time I became rather well known as first

officer of the Emer pounds ise, and T'Pring did not

want a husband who was an absentee public

figure.

Even then, to saw the logic in her position.

My failure has nothing to do with your situation."

"But I am marrying outside my race," said

Teska.

Spock's expression softened. histo can personally

comattest to the potential success of such a union.

If you've read our family histories, then you are

aware that my father is Sarek of Vulcan, and

my mother is Amanda of Earth. I am the product of

an inter-species marriage."

To her credit, Teska did not look perturbed

by this news.

Spock took the opportunity her silence

provided to redirect the conversation.

"Have you any other questions?"

"What is pon farr like?"

Spock rose, went to the desk, and turned on the

computer screen. "I believe it is meditation

sixteen, passage seven, of T'Pau's writings

which describe the sensations and the theories. But I have

always found every description to be lacking. And I

expect hat after it has happened to you, you still will not be

able to describe it. Pon farr is the price we

pay to achieve mastery over our emotions the rest of the

time."

"I understand," said Teska, taking command of the

computer screen. "I am glad you will assist me,

Uncle."

"'allyes," Spock answered thoughtfully. He had

begun to suspect a secondary reason for the

selection of Teska for this immense task. Himself.

There was a high probability that the mental bonding

with the Romulan boy would not be successful and

would not produce the blood fever, let alone a

lasting marriage.

Because Spock did not marry his betrothed, Teska

would not be totally surprised if such a thing happened

to her. It was logical that they discuss this.

But before they could delve too deeply into the

wisdom of T'Pau, Spock heard muffled shouts

outside the door in the corridor. He jumped

to his feet just as the chime sounded, rushed to the door,

and pushed the panel to open it.

Uhura stood outside the door. "Captain

Spock, I know you're off-duty--"

"What is it, Commander?"

She pointed down the corridor. "Two of those

Rigelians--they're trying to kill each other in the

recreation room!"

Chapter Three

As SPOCK AND UHURA dashed down the

corridor of Deck Six, Spock could hear the

shouts emanating from Recreation Room Twelve.

A knot of Starfleet officers were gathered in the

doorway, forcing him to stop abruptly. Uhura

cleared her throat, and the officers stepped back,

looking sheepishly at the vene-disrated Vulcan.

"Proceed to your stations," ordered

Spock.

"Yes, sir!" They rushed off, although a couple

of them stole glances into the recreation room, where two

Rigelian women were circling each other, amid

overturned tables and chairs. With cuts on their

faces, torn clothes, and disheveled hair, they

looked as though they were fighting to the death. Spock

recognized one of the combatants as Madame

Vitra, and the other was a member of the Heart Clan

named Espera, who appeared to be several years younger

than her foe.

Hanua, Mondral, and a few more Rigelian

passengers were also present, and they were watching the

scrap with disturbing calm.

"Shall I call for backup security, Mr.

Spock?"

asked Uhura.

"No, but stand by. We may need them yet." The

Vulcan strode into the room and went directly

to Hanua. There appeared to be no point in talking

to the combatants.

"Please explain?" he said calmly.

Before she could answer, Vitra lunged for Espera

and tried to rip her face off. The younger woman

socked her in the thorax, and Vitra stumbled

backward, gasping for breath.

"Not much longer," said Mondral.

"Am I going to receive an explanation?" asked

Spock.

Mondral straightened to his full height, which was

several centimeters taller and broader than the

older Vulcan. "Don't interfere."

"It is the grief frenzy," explained Hanua.

"We just received word that Vitra's husband died, and

she is in mourning. The frenzy will burn it out of her.

Don't you have such a thing?"

"Not connected with grief," answered Spock, "which

we do not experience. Shall I have Dr. McCoy stand

by?"

"No! No!" Vitra gasped as she staggered

backward.

"I yield! The grief is past."

Her foe nodded and slumped to her knees, breathing

hard. Hanua instantly grabbed a pouch of

medicines and rushed to her kinswoman's side. "You

did well, my wife, now breathe deeply.

Captain Spock, may we have more oxygen in this

room?"

"Computer," said Spock, "increase oxygen

content in Recreation Room Twelve

by five percent."

"Increasing oxygen by five percent," answered the

computer.

"Thank you," said Hanua, dabbing what looked like

homemade ointment on a cut on Espera's

face.

Mondral draped a towel around Vitra's

shoulders and helped her to her feet. Spock now

saw why she needed so much makeup--from the scars and

bruises on her face, it appeared that this was not her

first brawl.

Vitra wiped away a smear of olive-green

blood under her eye. "I'm sorry we alarmed you,

Captain Spock, but the death of my husband came

as sudden news. I have sixteen more husbands, but I

was particularly fond of Bonkuyo. He was one of

my oldest, and richest, spouses."

She lovingly stroked Mondral's face. "Now

I have an opening for a new husband. Or should I

take a wife?"

"A good accountant would be a better choice," said

Mondral dryly.

"Always so practical." She patted her

champion's cheek and walked up to her opponent.

"Thank you, Espera, for releasing my

grief. May I contribute to the endowment of the

Heart Clan in appreciation?"

"As you wish." Espera bowed in a servile

fashion, and Spock had the unpleasant sense that

she was getting paid for her role in relieving

Madame Vitra's grief.

Vitra nodded to Mondral, and he escorted her

out of the recreation room without further discussion.

Uhura glanced at Spock, and he nodded; she

promptly followed the pair of Rigelians down

the corridor.

"We must seem like barbarians to you," said

Hanua, as she picked up a chair and set it

upright.

The other Rigelians also began to straighten the

room. One of them cleaned a few drops of green

blood off the deck.

Spock picked up a game table. "No, I have

seen barbarians, and you do not remind me of them.

Vitra does possess a combative spirit,

however."

"Yes," agreed Hanua. "Do you suppose

Captain Kirk is safe with her?"

"I think the captain can look out for himself in that

regard." Spock picked up a delicate

three-dimensional chessboard and set it on the table,

but the lower stand was broken, which made the board wobbly.

"I'm sorry we broke it," said Hanua.

"Does it mean something to you?"

He looked up at her, wondering if his thoughts

could be so transparent. Then again, he was holding the

broken chess stand very gently, as if prizing it.

He let go of it, and it fell apart in a

clatter.

"When I was younger," said Spock, "I used

to play three-dimensional chess for hours on end.

There was a notable lack of worthy opponents

aboard the Enterprise in those days."

Hanua began to reassemble the multilevel

playing board. "Would you like to play? I believe I

can repair this--I carry a fixative with me."

"We have other boards," said Spock.

"I insist," replied Hanua with a smile.

"After all, we broke it." She opened the black

pouch that hung from her skirt and produced a tube of

fixative. Spock watched as she deftly glued

the broken stand together.

Within a matter of seconds, the three'dimensional

chessboard stood ready for play. The other

Rigelians finished cleaning the room and

began to file out. Only Hanua stayed behind.

"I would like to play this game with you," she said.

"Where are the pieces?"

"This would not be the most convenient time," said the

Vulcan.

"Why not? I heard Captain Kirk say that you

weren't needed on active duty. Are you afraid

to play me?"

Spock cocked an eyebrow at the notion. "I

am concerned about my niece, Teska. I left her

waiting in her quarters."

"I'll wager that she's asleep," said Hanua.

"She looked tired, and it's been an exciting

day."

"She has more self-discipline than that. She is

supposed to be studying."

"Sleep is a natural thing," said the

Rigelian. "It's healthy for young children to give in

to it. She looked tired to me, but if you're afraid

to check, that's your business."

Spock furrowed his brow and looked at the slim

Rigelian woman, who gave him a warm smile.

If Hanua were Vulcan, he would judge her to be

about forty-five years old. She was still of child-bearing

age, and she evidently knew a great deal

about children. Spock had always thought that talking to an

expert was the quickest way to increase one's knowledge about a

foreign subject, so he resolved to sit with

Hanua of the Heart Clan for a few minutes.

Besides, there was a possibility that she was a good

chess player.

The Vulcan strode to the wall and pushed a

button. A compartment opened, revealing a set of

black and white chess pieces shaped like space

vessels. Three-dimensional chess used the

metaphor of space travel, because it also dealt in

movement that was three-dimensional, not simply

lateral.

"Can I be black2" asked Hanua, sitting

at the table and tucking her black skirt under her

legs.

"Certainly," answered Spock, sitting across from

the woman. "Allow me to set the pieces. Do you

require an explanation of the game?"

"No, I've played it. We are avid games

players in the commune--every night there are a dozen

games of various sorts going on. It's our

reward after a hard day's work in the craft guild."

"How large is the Heart Clan?" asked

Spock.

"I have fourteen children and fourteen spouses,"

answered Hanua with some pride. "I had more, but the

marriage split last year into two separate

clans. It was difficult but necessary with such a large

number of people. A few of our younger folks wished

to emigrate to the city. Our young often rebel against the

rural life. Is it that way on Vulcan?"

"Few of our children rebel," answered Spock.

"Of course, we have much smaller families, and our

children receive an intensive education." He finished

placing the last ship on the bottom level of the

playing board.

"Is that why Teska is returning home?"

asked the Rigdian. "To continue her education?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes." Spock was not

about to discuss family matters or their ground-breaking

mission with a complete stranger, however benign she

appeared to be.

His wrist communicator chirped. "Spock here."

"This is Uhura. Our guests are safely

back in their quarters. Shall I report this incident,

Mr. Spock?"

"No," he answered with a glance at Hanua.

"I trust it will not be repeated. Spock out."

Hanua frowned. "One never knows when

tragedy will strike, and grief will claim us."

"The timing is unknown," agreed Spock, "but

one may prepare oneself to fight grief."

"Or welcome it," said Hanua softly. "I

believe it is your move. Traditionally, white

goes first."

Spock raised an eyebrow and regarded the

woman across from him. "Yes, let us maintain

tradition."

Captain Kirk rose from his chair as Madame

Vitra, Ambassador Denker, Mondral, and

another Rigelian, Hemopar, entered the dining

room. The statuesque woman led the three men

past the gleaming galley toward Kirk's table. The

captain tried to smile, even though he had been

kept waiting for fifteen minutes--he would have

to remember that Rigelians were never punctual, at

least not this bunch.

When Madame Vitra reached the table, Kirk

noticed the fresh rouge on her face that didn't

disguise a bruise under her eye. He tried

to keep a poker face, but he was no Vulcan.

"Welcome, Madame Vitra,

Ambassador, and your party," said Kirk

cheerfully. "Has your stay been

pleasant?"

"Yes," answered Denker with little enthusiasm.

"The state rooms are small, but this ship runs

quietly. I have gotten some work done." He

pulled out a chair and sat.

"My stay has been rather eventful," said the woman

in the form-hugging black jumpsuit. Vitra moved

toward the table, and Kirk and Mondral both rushed

to pull out a chair for her. She leveled Mondral

with a glance, and he retreated to allow Captain

Kirk to seat her.

"Eventful in the good sense, I hope," said

Kirk, taking the seat beside her.

Vitra aimed her dark limpid eyes at

Kirk. "Not entirely. My husband died, and I

sought comfort in the grief frenzy. Rigelians

believe that physical exertion is very important.

So when we're upset, we fight... or have sex.

Sex is crucial to Rigelians, as we believe

it reduces our destructive impulses. What do

humans think about sex?"

Several replies sprung to Kirk's mind, but

he finally said, "We're for it. And I've always

believed that taking action is better than sitting

around brooding."

"Precisely," replied Vitra in a husky

voice.

"May we have our food, Captain?" said

Ambassador Denker impatiently. "I have more work

to do on my report."

Kirk cleared his throat, but before he could reply,

Mondral cut in. "Denker, you're supposed

to be an ambassador. That requires...

diplomacy."

The ambassador shot him a disgusted look. "I

haven't got time for diplomacy, and neither do you."

Kirk was about to change the subject when an

ensign appeared at his side. "Bring the

appetizer, along with the trijelian tea. And

hurry," he murmured out of the corner of his mouth.

"Yes, sir." The steward hurried off.

"Trijelian tea," said Vitra, nodding with

approval.

"You've done your research."

"I've also taken the liberty of starting off with

cargil mussels, which I understand are a delicacy

on Rigel V."

"A passd delicacy," said Denker. "It would

be like serving caviar on Earth."

"I like mussels," said Hemopar with an

embarrassed smile. "I haven't had cargil

mussels in ages."

Kirk cast about for another subject. "You spent

quite some time on Earth."

"Three weeks," muttered Denker.

"How did the trade negotiations go?"

"Fine," said Vitra in the same instant that

Denker said, "Badly." The two Rigelians

gazed at one another, and Kirk could almost touch the

hatred between them.

Vitra gave him a snide laugh. "The

Federation has the misguided notion that we are still

dealing in illegal practices, such as prostitution

and animal-skin trade. Nothing could be further from the

truth.

Oh, we have our history of being tolerant of many

lifestyles, but that doesn't mean we have organized

prostitution! Youngsters are no longer taken from their

clans and sold to brothels in the city--that's in the

past."

She tossed her mane of black hair. "Yes,

it happened to me when I was a child--I was a

prostitute at ten--but that was many years ago.

Ancient history."

After that bold statement, Kirk scanned

the faces of his guests. Each wore a different

expression. Vitra looked sweetly innocent, as

if it was perfectly natural to have been a child

prostitute. Mondral looked mildly amused

at his mistress's outrageous behavior, Denker

looked disgusted; and Hemopar looked embarrassed.

None of the Rigelians were talking, so Kirk was

forced to keep the conversation going. "I take it you can't

get the concessions you want from the Federation until you

clear up this matter."

"It's just a misunderstanding," said Hemopar with a

glance at Vitra. "The rural craft guilds

need the Federation credits from this agreement--we must

make the extra effort to produce a study that will

satisfy them."

Denker suddenly threw his napkin on the table and

stood up. "I will not be a party to this facade any

longer. Excuse me, Captain, I will dine in my

quarters."

Mondral shot him a dark look. "Watch

yourself, Denker, you have your position to consider."

"I've considered it, and it's not worth it." With

that, the ambassador stalked out of the dining room,

nearly knocking over the young ensign who was bringing

tea and appetizers. The ensign seemed

relieved that he managed to set the tray on the table

before he dropped it.

"We'll be one less for dinner," said Vitra

cheerfully.

"And good riddance. Denker is such a stuffed-shirt

--he pouts whenever things don't go his way.

i'm beginning to think he's not the right person for the

job of ambassador."

"Me, too," said Mondral. "But, of course,

he can be removed."

"Politics is not the province of an honest

man," said Hemopar thoughtfully. He picked up the

teapot and poured everyone at the table a steaming cup of

purple liquid. "Good," he said with glee,

"scalding hot."

Vitra slipped a long painted fingernail into her

tea and stirred it, while she gazed at Captain

Kirk.

"Have you ever known grief?."

"Yes, I have," answered Kirk. He thought about

his son, David, and his tragic death on the

Genesis planet.

"And did you take action?"

"Yes, I did."

Vitra lifted her cup to her bruised

lips and blew the steam toward Kirk. "I like a

man of action."

Teska lifted her chin off the desk with a start, not

realizing until then that she had fallen asleep

while studying the wisdom of T'Pau. Oh, what

would her pele-ut-la think of her? She looked around

the room, expecting him to be standing there, gazing at

her with disapproval. When she realized she was alone,

she calmed quickly. She knew that she wasn't the

only one who found the stoic Captain Spock

intimio dating--she had seen the young crew of the

Enterprise regard him with awe. And why not? The

places he had gone, the things he had seen--they were

enough to fill the logs of a dozen Starfleet officers.

Spock was arguably the best-known Vulcan in the

Federation, after his accomplished father.

These were her kinsmen, she reminded herself, but they

existed more in reports and histories than in

reality. She had not seen much of them in the flesh.

Sopeg's old apartment in the Tenderloin district,

her playmates at school, the crashing of the waves

on the Embarcadero--these things seemed real to her.

The idea of getting married on Vulcan, when the

day before she had been playing hopscotch on Haight

Street, was such a strange juxtaposition

that it didn't seem possible. But Teska knew it

was more than possible, it was going to happen.

In a matter of days, she would be married to a

Romulan. The seven-year-old rose from her desk

and paced the confines of her quarters. She was

Vulcan, Teska told herself, even if her

homeworld was nothing but a blurry memory. The

koon-ut-la would have been her fate no matter what

her circumstances, even if her parents had lived.

A chime came at the door, startling the girl from

her reverie. Teska straightened her tunic, which was

rumpled from sleeping, then called out, "Come in!"

The door slid open, and Spock entered,

followed by Hanua from the Heart Clan. Teska

bowed to them. "Uncle, I must report that I fell

asleep while studying."

"Hanua predicted you would be asleep," said

Spock. "I have been reconsidering my advice,

and I believe you can best prepare for the ceremony

by relaxing. Instead of studying, we will engage in

recreational activities."

Hanua nodded. "My daughter, Falona, said

she would like to play with you tomorrow. Shall we make a date,

say, ten-hundred hours?"

Teska glanced at Spock, and he

nodded in approval.

"That would be acceptable," said the girl.

"Good," replied Hanua. "Well, I'll

see you both tomorrow. I enjoyed our games of chess,

Captain Spock. I'm sure it was just beginner's

luck."

"No," insisted Spock. "You are an

excellent player, and you beat me fairly. Your

play was most unpredictable."

"Your play was a little too predictable," said

Hanua with a smile. She backed out the doorway.

"Good night." The door slid shut after her.

"You found a worthy opponent," said Teska.

"It would appear so," said Spock with a thoughtful

nod. "Which activity would you prefer? Shall we take

a tour of the ship or visit the exercise room?"

"I wish to practice the mind-meld."

Spock frowned. "That is not required for the

koon-ut-la. You will have High Priestess T'Lar

to guide you."

"I know," said Teska, working up her courage.

"You asked me what I preferred to do, and I have

told you. I wish to practice the mind-meld."

She turned away from Spock's stern gaze, but

she never hesitated in her explanation. "I

am Vulcan--I know this--but I have lived among

humans for so long that sometimes I sense I am

somehow disconnected.

Perhaps if I mastered the mind-meld, I would

feel more at peace with our rituals. Sopeg said

I had a talent for it. On Vulcan, children my

age practice the mind-meld."

Spock held up his hand. "That is true.

However, it is also true that the mind-meld is

mentally and physically exhausting. There can be unknown

repercussions, especially if you perform it on

non-Vulcans."

"I do not ask this lightly," said Teska. "I

need to know what it means to be Vulcan."

Spock looked away from her and then finally spoke

once again. "I can see the logic in your position--

the path to freedom from emotion is too arduous without

seeing the benefits. We will perform the mind-meld,

if you wish."

Teska resisted any outward show of emotion over

this decision. What she really wanted was to tap

into Spock's solid beliefs in the Vulcan way,

although maybe those convictions weren't as solid as they

seemed. It was impossible to look at him and think

he was half human. But now, slumped

wearily on the edge of the bed, Captain Spock

seemed more human than Vulcan. His face was still

expressionless, but Teska sensed genuine empathy

coming from him.

He cared about her, and he understood what she was

going through.

Spock suddenly reached out and grabbed her right hand.

He spread her fingers and studied each one, as if

inspecting fine machinery. Teska held perfectly

still.

"The katra is a stream," said Spock as if in

a trance, "and it flows from one mind to another. Your

fingers are channels to direct the flow, and your mind

is a pool to be filled. Envision your hand reaching

into my mind and drinking from the pool."

He lifted her hand to his face and positioned her

fingertips at his nose, sinuses, and temple, and

her thumb on his chin. Instantly, Teska felt a

burning in her hand, which flowed like a surge of

electricity along her arm until it reached her

brain. She almost lost consciousness, but Spock

grabbed her shoulder with his hand and held her upright. His

touch seemed to complete a circuit, and the being that was

Spock flowed into her mind.

The tears came unbidden to her eyes; she

could do nothing to fight them, because they were not her tears.

She realized Spock was more torn and incomplete

than she would ever be. She saw his mother, his death, his

father, his crew mates, bursts of laughter and joy,

abject fear and horror--all at once!

Then the iron will asserted itself, and Teska saw the

man pulling his disparate parts together into an amazing

whole. Not a perfect whole; he had to work harder

than most Vulcans. But Spock had found

contentment. The bridge of the Enterprise was a constant

in his life, even when he spent years away from it,

and so was his friendship with Jim, Bones, and the others. His

sense of righteousness and duty was as solid as the deck

under her feet.

Spock pulled away, breaking the contact between

them. Teska started to faint again, but she managed

to catch herself on the bed and shake off the dizzying

effects. She focused her eyes to find Spock

staring numbly at her.

"Sopeg was right," he said hoarsely. "You have a

natural ability. Of course, you will need to gain

greater control of the initial impulses--they can be

overwhelming. Unlike most children of your age, your

training will focus on controlling your abilities, not

developing them. You must not, I repeat, not,

send your thoughts into someone else's mind, until you

receive much more training."

Teska thought about the morass of conflicting

desires and emotions she had seen within her uncle,

a glimpse that was rare for a child. Spock knew far

better than she what it felt like to be drawn toward

humanity.

"Thank you, Uncle. I will not forget this."

He rose wearily to his feet. "However much you

may admire other races, Teska, you are a

Vulcan.

Nothing will change that. We believe that wisdom

flows from generation to generation, never to be lost but only

expanded. Let my experiences guide you in the

difficult years ahead of you. We are not

dissimilar."

"Thank you, Pele-ut-la, I will."

The older Vulcan nodded curtly and headed for the

door. "It is time for both of us to get some

sleep."

"Can we continue to practice the mind-meld?"

asked Teska hopefully.

Spock stopped at the door to consider the question.

"We need a suitable subject, but I might

know one. I will awaken you early."

"Thank you, Uncle."

"Until then, sleep well." Captain

Spock stepped out the door, and it shut after him.

I will sleep well, thought Teska, knowing that you

are watching after me, Pele-ut-la.

Chapter Four

DR. McCoy GAPED at the two

Vulcans. "You want to do what?"

The girl looked down, and McCoy wasn't

sure but he thought he saw her smile. Even though

she was a Vulcan, she had an impish quality about

her that he liked. Still, he didn't really want her

poking around inside his mind.

Spock merely regarded him with his usual

obstinacy.

"Doctor, I assure you, it won't be

harmful.

Teska is very accomplished for her age, and the

meld will be unidirectional. This is my only

opportunity to work with her, and I must see how

accomplished she is before I recommend a teacher.

There are no other Vulcans on the ship, and I know

from firsthand experience that your mind is receptive to a

mind-meld."

"Now you're trying to insult me,"

McCoy grumbled.

One of his young medical technicians grinned with

amusement, but McCoy's glower chased him out of the

room.

"I would not allow this if there were any danger," said

Spock.

"I know, I know. It's not dangerous," grumbled

McCoy, "but it's also not my idea of a good time."

"Come," said Spock to Teska, "we can search the

computer for a suitable subject."

Spock headed for the door, but the seven-year-old

hesitated. "Perhaps we need to offer him a deal."

"A deal?" asked McCoy and Spock at the

same time.

"Yes. I have found that humans favor a quid

pro quo arrangement. If you want them to do something

for you, you must do something for them."

McCoy grinned, thinking that he definitely

liked this little girl. Anyone who stood up

to Spock was okay with him. "Yeah, Spock, listen

to Teska. Humans aren't all that hard to figure

out."

"I am well aware that humans are often

motivated by greed," said Spock. Was that a

glimmer of amusement he saw in Spock's

eyes, McCoy wondered.

"Not greed," offered Teska, "just fairness.

What can I do for you in exchange, Doctor?"

McCoy scratched his chin. "Well, I don't

know.

We don't have any patients at the moment. If

there was an emergency, I could think of all kinds of

things I would ask you to do."

"I am very good at filing and organizing," said

Teska. "Do you have anything that needs to be

catalogued and filed?"

The doctor snapped his fingers. "We've picked

up a lot of new supplies, like bandages and

hyposprays.

I haven't really counted them yet, so maybe you

could go through the supply cabinet and do a quick

inventory."

"I will start at fourteen-hundred hours after my

play date," promised Teska. "Do we have a

deal?"

"Sure," said McCoy, shaking her small but

cool hand. He tapped a comm panel on the wall.

"Hen-dricksen, you're in charge of Sickbay for a

few minutes. I'll be in Examination Room

One, doing some, uh... therapy."

"Yes, sir."

McCoy led his visitors to the examination room

with its clear windows all around. As he approached

the door, it opened, and lights came on inside the

room. The doctor entered and found himself twisting his

sweaty palms together. He tapped a panel which

turned the windows opaque, so they would have more

privacy, but it didn't help relax him.

Besides, he had just thought of something.

"I've got to admit I'm a little nervous," said

McCoy. "And I just realized--you're a little

girl. I'm a grown man, and there are things in my

head that are for grown people."

"I have studied human mating practices," said

Teska neutrally.

Spock nodded in agreement. "We mind-melded

last night, and she has shared all of my experiences

as well. Of course, it will take her many years

to understand them. Teska will obey the oath of

confidentiality."

McCoy took a deep breath and let out a

groan.

"Okay, I agreed, so let's do it before I

change my mind. I should have my head examined."

He groaned. That was exactly what was going

to happen to him!

Spock pressed a panel and turned the

examination table into a reclining chair. After it

clicked into shape, the Vulcan guided the doctor

into it. The metal seat felt cold against his back,

which only aggravated his fear. Damn it, thought

McCoy, sometimes it would be nice to be a Vulcan

and avoid those rushes of terror to which humans were

prone.

Then again, sometimes terror was only your common

sense telling you that you were doing something crazy!

Teska moved her tiny fingers toward him, and he

wondered if she would be able to reach the important

nerve synapses that Spock had told him about.

But as soon as her fingers touched his cheekbone, he

felt as if an immense claw had ripped into his

face, and he jerked involuntarily. McCoy

felt himself surging forward, like flood waters breaking

through a dam. Then he rushed into a place of

calmness, like an ocean. His muscles went numb,

leaving him conscious but unable to move or react.

It could have been an eternity or a second before the

claw disengaged from his face and he felt control over

his body and mind returning to him. He touched his

cheek and found to his surprise that he

wasn't bleeding--his face wasn't ripped

away. Then he saw the angelic pixie gazing at

him, and he remembered that he wasn't in a

nightmare.

"Doctor?" cut in a stern voice. "Are you

all right, Dr. McCoy?"

McCoy jumped to his feet, filled with energy

for no good reason. "Not bad!" he said in

astonishment.

"I think she's better at that mumbe-jumbo

than you are, Spock."

"I am sure that is not the case," said Teska

with a polite bow. "Thank you, Dr. McCoy. I

believe it was a success."

He shrugged. "Maybe I should rent myself out

to Vulcans for this type of thing on a regular

basis.

What do you think?"

"This is the doctor's idea of humor," added

Spock.

"Well, at least I have an idea of humor."

McCoy suddenly felt like scheduling the new crew

members for physical exams, so it was time to usher

these two out of his workplace. "I'm going to have lots

of bandages for you to count later, Teska."

"Agreed," said Teska. She didn't smile,

but she did bounce on her toes.

Spock turned to the girl. "Would you leave us

alone for a moment?"

"Certainly, Uncle." Teska walked

briskly out the door.

Spock turned and cocked an eyebrow at

McCoy.

"Doctor, it is highly irregular not to take

inventory of a shipment of supplies."

McCoy scowled. "Oh, I know how many

hypo-sprays we have, but I had to give her something

to do. You won't tell her, will you?"

"No. In fact, I will make certain that she

returns to work off her debt. She is gifted for

such an early age--there is a chance that I could

enroll her for training as a priestess. Perhaps even

a healer."

"Yes, a healer," agreed McCoy. "She's

got the touch. just makes you feel better."

"Thank you for helping me."

"Helping you? I was helping herst" grumbled

McCoy. "If the only mind she ever looked

into was yours, heaven help the poor girl."

"My thoughts exactly," said Spock.

He headed for the door and stopped. "When we deliver

our passengers to Rigel V, we are beaming down

for a courtesy call. Are you going with us?"

McCoy grinned. "Wouldn't miss it. I love

the Rigel solar system. Did I ever tell you

about these two dancers I met on Rigel II?"

Spock nodded. "Many times. Rigel V has

a precious-metal economy, so if you would like a

refreshment, I could bring enough local currency."

"Why, Spock," said McCoy in amazement,

"are you--in some roundabout way--offering to buy me a

drink?"

"Yes."

"As long as you let me pick the place."

"Agreed."

Spock started out the door, but McCoy called

after him, "Before you leave, could I speak to Teska

for a moment? In private."

"Certainly." The Vulcan went out of the room,

and Teska entered. McCoy waited for the door

to shut behind her.

"Yes, Dr. McCoy?"

He paced a few steps. "Teska, when you were

inside my mind, did you, uh, find out anything about

Spock?"

"I know you hold him in high regard and consider

him a friend, as well as a loyal shipmate."

"Well," said McCoy, "I'd appreciate

it if you didn't tell him any of that. I don't

want him to get a big head."

Teska cocked her head. "As you wish. Thank

you again, Dr. McCoy. I'll see you at

fourteen-hundred hours."

"Good, I've got lots of inventory for you

to count."

A tiny personnel shuttlecraft hurtled through

Romulan space at warp one, but still it wasn't

fast enough to suit Wislok. There were too many

centurion patrols this close to the border--he

needed a craft that was capable of outrunning them,

capable of getting to Vulcan in days, not weeks.

If Pardek failed him at this next crucial

juncture, his life could be over.

The distinguished surgeon glanced at his youngest

son, Hasmek, asleep in the copilot seat,

shrouded in innocence. Wislok blinked his eyes and

tried not to think about how weary he was, and how

foolish he had been to make this mad trek with only

a seven-year-old for a companion. He reached

into his pack for a syringe-clip. He

regretted having to give himself more stimulants, but

he had to stay alert. Until they reached the

rendezvous, it was him and the boy against the Romulan

Star Empire.

Wislok was beginning to wonder what had possessed

him to agree to this madness. When he and Pardek had

begun to discuss Romulan-Vulcan similarities

in hushed tones, it seemed a sensible experiment

to see if Vulcan mysticism would affect a

Romulan as well. Plus there were all the

potential rewards in being at the forefront of a

movement that could change history.

Volunteering his youngest son had seemed a

reasonable progression, if somewhat cold-hearted,

but Wislok hadn't realized how dangerous and

lonely this act of treason would feel. He had always

been a loyal retainer to the powerful and privileged,

but now he was risking it all for what might be a

mirage.

Dangerous business indeed. The momentary burst of

excitement had long since faded to a numbing dread.

He consoled himself with the fact that Sarek and Spock

were offering up a child, too, for the great experiment.

Vulcans were not conquerors, but they were ruthless in the

pursuit of science and knowledge.

Deep down, Wislok had to admit that he was

risking his career and his son's life in a grab for

greatness. His career as a high-priced toady would

never land him in the history books, but this marriage

could. Knowing Sarek and Spock could be very prestigious

in a more enlightened future.

Wislok administered the syringe-clip to his

neck and tried to calm himself as the stimulants

kicked in. They always brought a momentary rush of

panic, which seemed to be getting worse the longer he

deprived himself of sleep.

He heard a soft moan beside him, and he turned

to see Hasmek blinking at him. "Are we there

yet?"

Wislok scowled. "To tell you the truth, I

don't know. I haven't altered our course, so

we're in the right sector, but I haven't had time

to check our exact position. Besides, we're not

supposed to stop. they're supposed to find us. If

they don't, we'll turn back before we reach the

Neutral Zone."

He struggled out of his seat, his legs feeling

numb.

"Hasmek, watch the indicators while I go

to the stern."

"Yes, Father!" The boy sat up eagerly and

studied the readouts and the view of the endless starscape.

After a trip to the head, Wislok had just started

making himself some broth from a self-heating emergency

ration when his son called out, "Father!"

He staggered to the cockpit, spilling hot soup

all over his hand. "What is it?"

The boy pressed an earplug into a pointed ear.

"It is a scout ship--they are hailing us, and they

want to know our destination."

That is the correct question, thought Wislok, his

heart thumping in panic. Of course, it might be a

question that a real patrol ship might ask. He tried

to stay calm as he whispered to the boy, "Narenz

Marsh."

Hasmek blinked at him, unable to believe that he

was supposed to give the code word, but he spoke it

bravely and loudly. Wislok reached over his

shoulder and pressed a button to put the conversation on

the speaker.

"Prepare to be boarded," came the response.

Wislok let out a breath and nodded with relief.

That was also the correct response, and it sounded like

a familiar voice. If the centurions should be

monitoring communications in this sector, their

conversation would sound like a typical brush with

authority.

He heard a crackling sound, and he whirled around

to see two figures materializing in the stern of the

shuttlecraft. One of them was tall and had to bend

over to transport into the tiny craft, but Pardek

had no such difficulty. He was rather short and stout

for a Romulan, like a piston, with just as much energy.

Wislok had come to depend upon his stocky

reliability.

He rushed forward to grip Pardek's forearm.

"Good to see you, my friend!"

His fellow conspirator smiled and grasped his arm

in a viselike grip. "I can hardly believe we

have come so far."

"Ah, but the worst is over," said Wislok with

relief.

"Is it?" The expression on Pardek's face

was troubled. "We must talk, but first, this is

Dangoshal of Remus. He will pilot the scout

ship."

Wislok noted the man's bronze uniform was of the

Galactic Guard, an elite corps of

long-range scouts.

Unless the uniform was counterfeit, the man

and his ship were an incredible asset to the cause. As

usual, the depth of Pardek's connections in the

government were a wonder to behold. With men such as this,

their success was guaranteed.

"And this would be the groom," said Pardek, bending

down to shake Hasmek's small hand. "You are so

young to be a man of greatness, but you are.

Your bravery will be talked about for millennia, and

all you have to do is to marry a beautiful Vulcan

girl."

Hasmek smiled brightly. "Is she really

beautiful?"

"The promise is there, or so they tell me."

Pardek turned to Wislok. "However,

circumstances have dictated a change of plans."

The surgeon could feel his stomach wrench

into knots. "A change in plans?"

"Yes. It seems that a member of the Civil

Guard was discovered dead in the sewers near the

shuttle-craft field, and there has been an

inquiry. He was killed with a laser scalpel, an

instrument usually possessed only by doctors."

Wislok put his hands on his head. "I had no

choice, believe me."

"There is no case against you," said

Pardek, "but there could be if you disappeared for several

days.

I'm afraid you must return to Romulus for the

sake of appearance. Return the shuttlecraft,

answer a few questions, and I'm sure that will be enough."

"Then we can delay the koon-ut-la?" asked

Wislok.

"No," answered Pardek, "the Vulcans are

awaiting us. I will continue on to Vulcan with the boy,

while you return to Romulus. I'm sorry, but

we must proceed this way."

Wislok looked sadly at his son, who pouted

tearfully at the news that they would be separated. He

gripped the boy's shoulders and pulled him to his

chest.

"Be brave, and do what Pardek tells you to do.

You will be reunited with the whole family very soon."

Wislok pushed the boy away and straightened his

padded shoulders.

"Yes, Father," said Hasmek, fighting off

tears.

"Why don't you go with Dangoshal," said

Pardek, guiding the boy toward the taller man.

"I have some final instructions for your father."

"Yes, sir." The boy stood beside

Dangoshal, who turned on his communicator and

informed the scout ship that two of them were ready to beam

aboard.

"I'll be waiting to hear all about the ceremony!"

called Wislok cheerfully.

The boy waved as he and the pilot were whisked away

in swirls of shimmering lights. The smile drained

from Wislok's face, and his normally stiff shoulders

slumped. "I wish I didn't have to go back."

"But you do," insisted Pardek. "Give me that

laser scalpel you used on the guard. It wouldn't be

good for you to be found with it. We'll eject it

into space."

Wislok sighed and reached into his equipment

belt. He pulled out the scalpel, checked to see

that it was turned off, and handed it to Pardek. "I need

some sleep. I can't fly back with no rest."

"Get some sleep then," said Pardek. He

studied the slim laser scalpel. "How do you turn

it on? With this thumb dial?"

A thin purple beam shot from the device and

attained a length of twenty centimeters. Wislok

jumped back in alarm. "Be careful with that thing,

Pardek! My nerves are already shot."

"You shouldn't worry, I know what to do with

it."

With that, he plunged the narrow beam deep

into Wislok's chest.

The pain was like the fires of Volcaneum, and

Wislok staggered backward and collapsed against the

bulkhead. He gripped his chest and could feel his

warm blood spewing all over the fine brocaded

clothing that Pardek had obtained for him.

Unfortunately, Pardek was not as skilled with the

scalpel as the surgeon, and Wislok knew he

might survive many minutes before he bled to death.

"Why?" he croaked. "Why!"

Pardek flicked the laser scalpel, and the beam

retracted. "Did you really think the Praetor and

his advisors knew nothing about this idea of

reunification?

They know about it, and they want to both outlaw it and

control it. They didn't want you to become too

friendly with Sarek and Spock, because that's my job."

In a haze, with his life seeping away,

Wislok watched helplessly as his treacherous comrade

took a small box out of his shoulder pack. He

set it on the instrument array and pushed a button.

Blurry numbers began to march across its display.

"A bomb." Wislok gasped. He

reached for it, but Pardek lifted his boot and kicked

him backward into the bulkhead. The doctor groaned

and struggled to sit up, but his strength was almost gone.

"Also it is safer if the boy never returns

to Romulus," said Pardek, straightening his tunic

over his barrel chest. "This will give us a better

chance of success. Thank you for being a visionary,

Wislok. I shall glorify your name. In the meantime,

I'll tell your boy you said goodbye."

Wislok tried to sputter something, but only

frothing green liquid came from his mouth.

Pardek opened his communicator. "Beam me

over. As soon as I am aboard, go to warp

three."

"Yes, sir."

To Wislok, the entire cockpit of the

shuttlecraft was whirling, and he could barely find

Pardek's wavering image as the transporter beam

converted him. A light blinded him for an instant, and

he knew that the murderer had escaped. With great

effort, Wislok focused his eyes until he

spotted the small box sitting on the instrument

panel. He lunged for it, but his insides convulsed

with pain; he dropped to the deck with a howl.

While Wislok tried to collect himself,

his tiny craft shuddered violently. were they firing

on her, too?

No, he decided, it was just the larger scout ship

going into warp, leaving him all alone to perish in

space. No doubt Hasmek would officially perish

with him, leaving no one to investigate his fate. It was

a perfect plan, and he should have seen it coming.

Lie down with gatha, thought Wislok, and you get

up with stangrnites.

That was his last thought before the bomb rent the

Romulan shuttlecraft into a billion silvery

shards, which flowed outward from the explosion like a new

sun in the void.

"Surak's philosophy of logic and

pacifism turned us around," said Teska to a rapt

Hanua and Falona, not to mention Spock, who

appreciated hearing his niece expound on Vulcan

history. She was an extremely bright child, one

might say precocious, a trait which he planned

to temper if given time. That if was up to him, and he

knew it.

Dare he take on the responsibility of

raising a child? His contact with children had been rare

indeed, and he had been like this child, forced to grow up

quickly due to his unique circumstances.

Vulcan childhood was not as carefree as human

childhood--it was a time of learning and appreciation.

Did he wish to be a teacher?

Spock looked up from his reverie and found Hanua

gazing fondly at him. Hanua, Falona,

Teska, and Spock had spent midday together, then

reunited after Teska completed her chores for Dr.

McCoy.

Now it was late in the evening. It seemed to relax

Teska to be with the Rigelians, and Spock found

their company to be agreeable and nondemanding.

Since he didn't wish to injure Hanua's

feelings, he endured her mild flirting.

Teska went on: "Some believe that

Romulans, and perhaps Rigelians, broke off from

Vulcan during those turbulent times, before Surak

began teaching.

Or perhaps we had a common ancestor."

Spock cleared his throat in warning, and the girl

glanced back at him. This was a topic he

preferred she not expound upon at the moment, and she

seemed to understand.

Falona shook her head in amazement. "I can't

believe you're so calm about getting married in a

few days."

"I have no choice," said Teska with complete

logic.

"It is time for bed," said Spock, rising to his

feet.

"We dock early tomorrow at oh-seven-hundred, and

there will be a reception for us."

"Can I go?" asked Teska.

"For a short time," promised Spock.

"Oh, you must!" gushed Falona. "Rigel V

is so beautiful. I wish you could see our farm--we

have lots of animals."

"Perhaps someday," said Teska. She caught her

wi/l tone and straightened to attention.

"Here!" Falona reached into her black pouch and

pulled out a small silver locket shaped like two

interlocking hearts. With a grin on her dark face,

the Rigelian child put the chain around Teska's

neck.

'Teska looked back at Spock, and her

eyes asked, "May I keep it?"

He nodded.

"We make these in our guild," said Falona

proudly. "It's got a holegram inside with a

picture of our farm, and the address. It's what

humans would call a souvenir."

"Thank you," said Teska. Very carefully, she

opened the locket, and a small scene sprang from the

two halves and hung suspended in the air. Across

the door of a picturesque lodge were trellises

draped with thorny bushes and plump fruit, and

banners waved in the breeze. As she moved the

locket, the scene changed and became a signpost

with the words: Heart Clan, Hermitage Township,

Tangle-wood Briar. Welcome!

"Wear it at your wedding," said Falona. Then

she laughed.

"What's so humorous?" asked Teska.

"I will have nineteen weddings," said the Rigelian,

"maybe more."

"Yes, but mine will be first," said Teska.

Hanua clapped her hands together. "Captain

Spock is right, we should be getting to bed."

Since they were already in the quarters that Hanua shared

with Falona, the younger Rigdian was already close

to her bed. Hanua turned to Spock and said,

"I'll walk with you down to Teska's quarters."

"That will not be necessary."

"I insist." Hanua appealed to him with a warm

smile, and Spock nodded in assent.

"See you in the morning, Teska!"

called Falona as she jumped onto her bed.

"Goodbye," said Teska as they stepped out the

door.

The girl was still fingering the locket a few minutes

later as she led Hanua and Spock through mostly

empty corridors on Deck Six. With the

Enterprise at one-fourth of its typical crew

strength, there were no extra personnel--only

Bridge, Engineering, and Life-support. When

they weren't on duty, they were asleep, not roaming the

ship.

Spock and Hanua walked a few paces behind

Teska, and Hanua seemed more reserved than

earlier.

"Captain Spock," she said thoughtfully, "I

understand that you could retire from Starfleet anytime you

wish."

He nodded. "That is true. I have retired before

and gone on extended leaves, only to be called

back.

They always seem to know where to find me."

"Your life is your own," said Hanua.

"Yes."

She gave him a fleeting smile. "That is

good."

"Here we are," said the girl as they reached her

quarters. "Teska," she announced to the computer,

and the door flew open.

Hanua bent down and touched her delicate chin.

"Good night, Little One. I'm sure we'll

see you tomorrow, but we may not have much time to talk.

Listen to your uncle, and remember--there's nothing

more important than family, whether it's a big

one or a little one."

"I will remember." Teska clutched her

locket and gazed into the slim woman's eyes.

Without changing expression, she slipped into her

room.

Spock folded his hands in front of him. "My

room is also nearby. Good night, Hanua, and

thank you for helping me entertain Teska."

She stepped toward him. "How would you feel about a

quick game of chess?"

"I think not."

"Then five minutes of conversation. Please."

There was something composed and businesslike in her

expression that induced Spock to open his door and

let her inside his quarters.

Hanua smiled as she looked around. "It seems

like the place you would live, orderly and

secretive." She pointed to his lyre hanging on

the wall. "Is that a musical instrument?"

"Yes. I play it."

The Rigelian rushed to touch the lyre's polished

frame. "I would very much like to hear you play it,

Captain Spock, but not right now. I will be blunt

with you. I sense within you a willingness to experiment,

to search for knowledge. I believe you would make a worthy

addition to our clan, and I'm asking you to marry into our

family."

Spock raised an eyebrow. This infatuation was more

serious than he had suspected. Before he could

respond, Hanua held up her hand and said, "Your

initial reaction would be to decline, which is why I

suggest you take the night to think about it. Believe

me, I do not toss these proposals about lightly.

You are the first person invited into our clan since we

split, despite the fact that we are still out of

balance, numerically."

"I am flattered," said Spock. "But my

answer will be the same in the morning. I must

decline."

Hanua gave him a pained smile. "But I

feel as if you are casting about for something, and perhaps we

could offer it. I know your mating customs are

different, and you would not be required to..."

"However tempting your offer might be," he

interrupted, "my primary duty right now is to see

that Teska is brought up as a Vulcan. I cannot

deviate from my task to indulge in an experiment.

Perhaps in the future, I will feel differently."

Hanua bowed and backed toward the door. "You are

a gentleman, Captain Spock. Even in

rejection, I don't feel rejected. Should our

paths ever cross again, consider the Heart Clan your

friends." The door opened, and the slim Rigelian

woman exited, her black skirt flowing after her.

"Fascinating," said Spock to himself.

Chapter Five

TIE rexThat MO-E.SG, Captains

Kirk and Spock strolled along a deck-three

corridor on their way to the transporter room,

ready to beam down to Rigel V. Teska followed

them at a discreet distance. They had been discussing the

Rigelian passengers, and she wanted to be close

enough to listen but not close enough to inhibit their conversation.

In the deserted corridors of the Enterprise, this was

fairly easy to accomplish.

"What do you make of Madame Vitra?" asked

Kirk.

"An interesting woman," granted Spock,

"intelligent, determined, perhaps ruthless. Actually,

I spent more time with Hanua, who is much different."

"Yes," said Kirk playfully, "so I heard.

How many husbands does she have?"

"A sufficient number for all practical

purposes, but Rigelian numerology demands a

specific number of spouses in each clan, based

upon many factors.

They may be looking to add husbands."

Kirk nodded knowingly. "Good thing I declined a

certain invitation last night. I'm getting smarter

in my old age." He turned and glanced at

Teska. "What did you think of the Rigelians?"

"I like them," answered the girl. "They remind

me of humans."

Spock nodded in agreement. "An astute

observation."

"Then we're all agreed, they're wonderful."

Kirk turned to his right and led the way into the

transporter room, but he stopped abruptly upon

finding the room already filled with Rigelians--the

three females, two males, and four children of the

Heart Clan.

"Hello!" said Kirk with surprise.

"You're early."

"We are not all Madame Vitra," explained

Hemo-par.

"We are usually punctual, but some

Rigelians like to arrive late in order to make an

impression."

Teska and Spock glanced at each other. They

didn't have to exchange the remark, "Just like

humans."

Captain Kirk turned to the transporter

operator, who was another older officer. "Good

morning, Kyle. Everything in order?"

"Good morning, Captain," said the officer.

"Coordinates are laid in. It is twilight

on the planet, and temperature and air composition

are ideal for humans."

"I'm ready to go down," said Kirk, "but we're

missing three passengers."

"As well as Dr. McCoy," added Spock.

Kirk nodded, glanced at his wrist

communicator, and opened his mouth.

Before he could speak, Madame Vitra stalked

into the transporter room, followed closely by her

broad-shouldered champion, Mondral, and at a

distance by Ambassador Denker. Both

Denker and Vitra looked angry, probably with

each other, and Mondral looked tight-lipped as

usual.

"Captain," said Vitra with an icy steel in

her voice, "thank you for your hospitality." She

glared at Denker. "I wish more people would realize what

the Federation is offering us."

"I am quite aware of what they're offering," said

Denker. "It doesn't matter. We might as

well be honest now rather than pay for deceit later."

Without another word, the grim ambassador stepped

upon the transporter platform and stared at the

operator.

"We're all going down, Kyle," said

Captain Kirk.

"Will you arrange our party?"

"We can take seven more with the ambassador," said

Kyle. "Captain, may I suggest yourself, Mr.

Spock, and the children."

"Yes," said Kirk, leading the way. "Send the

doctor down as soon as he arrives."

It was wise of Kyle to separate Denker and

Vitra, thought the girl, as she jumped upon the

transporter platform and stood on a glowing pad.

Spock looked back at Hanua, who

urged her brood onto the transporter platform,

despite their misgivings over being separated from the

adult members of the family.

"We'll get you down very quickly," promised

Kyle.

"Thank you," replied Hanua gratefully.

As the three adults and five children stood at

attention on the platform, Falona gave Teska

a brave smile. The young Vulcan nodded back,

then stared straight ahead.

"When ready," ordered Kirk.

As Kyle plied the controls, Teska's entire

body began to vibrate. With concentration, she found that

she could lessen the physical effects of the

transporter beam, but she could do nothing about the

strangeness of the visual experience. It was

fascinating the way the transporter room of the

Enterprise faded from view to be replaced

by overgrown hills, covered with shadowy glades,

vine-covered ruins, and low-slung lodges.

Teska turned to see lush hills all around them,

and she breathed in the glorious scent of wild flowers

and fruit blossoms.

Although it was morning according to the Enterprise's

twenty-four-hour schedule, it was twilight

on Rigel V, and the tip of a blue giant sun

glimmered above the sylvan hills, bathing the scene

with a bluish-gold tinge that was improbably

beautiful. The sky was deep blue, shot with

flaming-orange swirls of clouds. Teska had

never seen anything like this place. This part of Rigel

V was a paradisewa lush, overgrown, unkempt

paradise.

She turned to see Captain Kirk smiling.

"Very impressive, don't you think, Mr.

Spock?"

"Indeed," said the Vulcan, opening a

tricorder.

"This valley is quite fertile."

The Rigelian children began to laugh and run around,

chasing each other, as people on the hillside spotted

them and waved. There came a tinkling sound, and

Teska whirled around to see columns of sparkling

lights transform into Hanua, Vitra,

Mon-dral, the other Rigelians, and a grinning

Dr. McCoy.

In this overgrown glade, filled with the beauty of

twilight, the glittering transporter beams seemed

entirely normal.

"Yep," said the doctor, "it's as

gorgeous as I heard. What did I tell you,

Spock? You can't go wrong in this solar system!"

"Momma!" cried the children as they rushed to hug the

adults. One thing Rigelian children never lacked,

thought Teska, was physical displays of

affectionwthey were hugged and kissed whenever possible. The

young Vulcan wondered what that would be like.

People were now pouring out of the lodges and majestic

ruins that hugged the overgrown hills.

Teska could see the narrow steps that linked the

hill dwellings with the valley, and she saw

footbridges spanning a creek below them in the

hollow.

A short thick man rushed down the hill and across

a bridge, waving frantically at them. "Hello!

Hello!"

he shouted.

"That would be the prefect," explained Hanua.

"We don't have many governmental bodies, just

local prefects and the Assembly, which meets

twice a year."

The little man ran toward them as quickly as he could.

Like the other Rigelians, he was dressed entirely

in black, although his outfit included a stained white

apron. Teska shied away from him as he

rushed up to Kirk and Spock.

"I am Oblek, the prefect of Ancient

Grace. Welcome to our fair city!" He

stopped to wipe his hand on his apron, then realized

he was wearing an apron.

He ripped it off and handed it to one of the children.

Then he extended a hand, which Kirk shook and

Spock ignored.

Kirk performed the introductions on their end, then

said, "This area seems a little... pastoral, for a

city."

Oblek grinned proudly. "We are spread out.

Twelve hundred years ago, this was a very great

city, of the type you are familiar with. On these

hills stood great buildings many stories high, with

massive white columns and porticos. We were a

different people then--very competitive, distru/l,

possessive, always seeking an edge. The

numerologists warned us to change our ways."

"Please," said Denker, cutting in, "don't

bore him with the long version of the story. The short

version, Captain, is that a plague decimated our

population.

Our cities went to ruin, but the plant life

flourished, as you see here. Once the

plague had burned itself out, the survivors formed a

vastly different culture, one that was rural and

decentralized. To avoid having our families

decimated again, we formed a different kind of

family, with scores of members. We began

to live more for today and less for tomorrow, or the past."

"But we remain poor," said Vitra, "compared

to other Federation planets. Our blessed forests give

us some biomedical products, which we sell, but we

have no fleets, no trade agreements."

She leveled a fiery gaze at Ambassador

Denker.

"This is not the way we can approach the next

millennium. We need open trade; we need

Federation credits and markets for the wares produced

by our craft guilds. This low-technology

lifestyle comes with a price, and you know it, Denker."

"Bah!" snapped the ambassador. "I am not

the one who is holding up progress; it is you."

He stomped off toward the creek.

"Oh, dear," said Prefect Oblek. "Should I

take it that the trade negotiations did not go

well?"

"It's not over yet," muttered Vitra, charging

after Denker, with Mondral right behind her.

Hemopar glanced at Hanua; at her nod, he

dashed after the departing delegates.

Hanua turned to Spock. "We must be going,

too.

The solar transporters stop running shortly

after dark. It's been a pleasure meeting you,

Captain Spock. You, too, Captain Kirk,

and especially Teska."

She bent down to pinch Teska's chin, an act

to which a Vulcan should have objected, but affection

seemed natural coming from the kind Rigelian.

"Good fortune on your big day, Little One.

Visit us if you ever have the chance."

Teska clutched the locket given her

by Falona.

"Thank you." She looked for her friend and found her

standing in the clutch of Rigelians, many of whom were

gazing worriedly at the setting sun.

"Falona," she said softly.

"Teska!" shouted the young Rigelian. She ran

over and grabbed the girl's hands. "It's goodbye for

only a short time, isn't it? You will come and visit

us, won't you?"

Teska glanced at Spock, whose expression

gave her little encouragement. "It may be a

long time," she answered, "but someday I will."

Waving, Falona ran to join her family. Like

mourners headed for a sunset funeral, the

black-suited Rigelians walked slowly into the

shadows of the forest, away from the city on the

hillside. Teska wondered how long the journey

was to the lodge of the Heart Clan.

McCoy sidled up to Spock and smiled. "How

about that drink you promised me?"

Spock produced some copper-colored,

triangular-shaped coins. "I am prepared,

Doctor."

"Why, Spock," said Kirk with a smile,

"you're buying?"

"It would appear so. But our schedule only

allows forty-six minutes for this stop."

The prefect eyed the coins with interest.

"Gentlemen, near my home is a visitors"

lodge, which accepts donations to its endowment. They have

ale, mead, and other refreshments."

"Lead on," said McCoy.

With a wave, Oblek headed toward the gurgling

creek with its picturesque footbridges. They

passed scattered ruins, including the vine-covered

foundation of an ancient building, which now

seemed like a fanciful wall stuck in the middle of

nowhere. All of the ruins had a sort of otherworldly

appearance in this lush glade, like glimpses of

another dimension phasing in and out of reality. The

peaceful calm and gentle breeze had a lulling

effect as they walked, and soft lights twinkled on

across the hillside. Teska began to think that she had

never seen any place as grand as this one.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" said McCoy. "I

hear Romulus is a paradise, too. You know,

Spock, when they were handing out planets to your genus of

human-oids, it looks like the Vulcans got the

short end of the stick."

Spock nodded thoughtfully. "That thought had occurred

to me, Doctor. By all accounts, my ancestors were

much more violent than either Rigelians or

Romulans. Perhaps Vulcan was originally a

prison colony, much like Georgia in the United

States."

McCoy blinked at him, aghast. "Are you

speaking ill of Georgia, sir?"

"Merely a statement of fact."

"Well, it may be true," said McCoy, "but

those convicts built a very genteel society."

"As did the Vulcans." Spock

glanced at Teska, and she fell back a step.

The girl was walking close on their heels, so as not

to miss a word of their conversation.

"But, Bones," said Captain Kirk, "that

genteel society kept slaves."

"Yes," conceded McCoy. "Underneath the most

genteel societies there's often a rotten core."

Teska thought about the pen fart, the kal-(f-fee,

and the other violent Vulcan rituals. The fact that

these moments of madness were rare didn't make them

any less unsettling, and they were indeed at the core

of the Vulcan being. She tried to forget about the ordeal

ahead of her as she followed the men across one of the

bridges.

Teska stopped on the bridge to look down into the

creek, and she could see dark shapes gliding under the

water. With the failing light, it was hard to tell if the

shapes were fish or plants, but the sound of the running

water was oddly soothing.

She felt a presence beside her, and she looked up

to see Spock. Captain Kirk and Dr.

McCoy were striding ahead of them, keeping pace with

their friendly host.

"I am sorry to delay you," said Teska,

jerking to attention.

"It would be illogical to hurry," answered

Spock, leaning on the handrail. "I brought you down

to the planet so that you might relax and feel

refreshed, before we journey to Vulcan."

"Spock!" called a voice. They looked up

to see Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and the

prefect waving to them from the base of a narrow

staircase. "Come on!

We don't want you to get lost!"

"Come," said Spock, lightly touching her

shoulder.

As the Vulcans approached the staircase, more

lights blinked on across the sprawling city of

Ancient Grace, giving the dark hill the

appearance of a giant Christmas tree.

Staircases zigzagged crazily up the hill,

intersecting lodges, dilapidated ruins, and other

staircases. Lights hung in many of the bleached

ruins, glowing like giant lanterns to light the way.

Spock and Teska joined the others, and they began

their meandering ascent, their boots scraping the rough

stone.

After several minutes Teska saw a large

gathering of people on a staircase twenty meters

away. They were laughing, talking, and hugging

one another, as various groups came and went.

She wasn't the only one who noticed the crowd.

"What's going on over there?" asked McCoy.

"Oh," said Prefect Oblek, pausing to catch his

breath. "Do you see the amber light above the

alcove? That's a solar transporter. It

appears to have shut down for the night. People are meeting

their families, pausing to chat on their way home,

that sort of thing."

"How far can you go on one of those solar

transporters?" asked Kirk.

"Not far, about eight of your kilometers. They are

programmed for each direction--this one goes north,

for example, and the Heart Clan took another one

east. You have no choice in your destination; it takes

you to the next transporter station, where you can

transport again, if you wish, or walk. We

keep the power requirements low that way. To make a

journey of any distance, you have to transport many

times."

"Charming," grumbled McCoy.

"Don't mind the doctor," said Kirk with a

smile.

"He hates transporters."

They were about to resume their ascent when

Teska heard a strange shuffling sound. She

turned to see an old woman climbing

laboriously toward them. She was dressed shockingly

in brown, not the usual Rigelian black. The

prefect noticed her, too, and he hustled down

to help her. She appeared to be as ancient as these

ruins, as old as T'Lar, T'Pau, or any of the

renowned Vulcan high priestesses.

The prefect conducted the old woman into their

midst, and Teska saw that her brown dress had

hand-stitched numbers, symbols, and figures all

over it, many of them faded and unrecognizable. More

than a few of the stitches were unraveling, and the

woman's hair was a bramble of gray with twigs and

leaves shot through it.

"Mother Ganspul, come this way!" said Oblek with

great pride. "Come meet our guests, from the

Enterprise! Captain Kirk, Dr. McCoy,

Captain Spock, and the little girl--"

"Teska," she informed him.

Oblek steered the woman toward Spock. "Can you

enlighten them, Mother, with your wisdom?"

Mother Ganspul eyed Spock appraisingly, and

Teska wondered if he had been selected for

scrutiny because he held the coins.

Ganspul snorted in disdain.

"Three men and a child? They don't think much of our

customs, do they?"

The prefect looked embarrassed. "They don't

know our customs, Mother."

She looked earnestly at Spock, as if

recognizing him from some incident in the foggy past.

The Vulcan didn't change his expression or

reveal what he thought about numerology--he simply

returned her gaze and waited.

"How many letters in your primary name?" asked

Ganspul.

"Five."

"How many in your entire ship's complement?"

Spock had to pause to compute the number, then he

glanced at Teska. "Counting our single passenger,

forty-nine."

The old woman clucked her tongue, as if that

wasn't very good. "How many wives do you have?"

"Yes," remarked Kirk with a smile, "how many

wives do you have, Spock?"

"Zero."

andmiddot; Mother Ganspul nodded, as if that only

confirmed her unfavorable impression of him. "You have

come here out of balance, and you will not leave

until you add or subtract from your number."

"That is out of the question," answered Spock.

Nevertheless, Mother Ganspul held out her withered hand

as if expecting payment. Prefect Oblek laughed

nervously and tried to escort the soothsayer down the

stairs. "Come along, Mother, they don't understand our

customs."

"On the contrary," said Spock, "I understand your

customs quite well." He took a coin from his

jacket pocket and placed it in the old woman's

hand.

She studied the coin suspiciously, nodded, and

shuffled off.

Oblek looked pained. "You never know what they'll

say! But three men traveling with a child is a known

omen of ill-fortune. I think we can ignore her

warning because you came down here with so many people. In

reality, you have already changed your number!" This

numerical rationalization seemed to please the

prefect, who led them at a brisk pace up the

stairs.

Captain Kirk tried to put the best light on

the subject. "On Earth, we have our share of

numerical omens. I can remember one I used

to hear around the corn fields in Iowa. It

involves crows."

"Crows?" asked Spock doubtfully.

"Yes," said Kirk, "it depends on how many

crows you see together. It goes like this: "One crow

sorrow, two crows mirth, three crows a wedding,

four crows a birth. Five crows silver, six

crows gold, seven crows a secret which must never be

told.""

"Oh, I like that one!" said Oblek. "But what's a

'crow?""

"A large black bird," answered Teska.

"Often a scavenger."

"Ah," said the prefect, "we don't have many

birds. Maybe I could adapt it to dung

beetles. How does it go again?"

They passed the rest of the climb teaching the nursery

rhyme to the prefect, and Teska began to have more

respect for Vulcan logic. Vulcans had their

lapses, but not on a daily basis.

All but the two Vulcans were out of breath by the time

they reached a landing two-thirds of the way up the

hill. An adjoining staircase led down to a

small lodge nestled among overhanging trees.

There were a few colorful lamps twinkling in the

doorway, and Oblek charged ahead with great

relish. "Refreshments are at hand!" he

promised.

"And not a moment too soon," replied

McCoy.

The humans picked up the pace, and Teska and

Spock followed them into the visitors" lodge.

The communal home, which appeared warm and friendly from

outside, was surprisingly tawdry in side. There

were dingy furnishings in the outer room--little more than

wooden frames with animal skins covering them. The

walls looked as if they were made of splintered

bamboo, and nothing but a curtain of beads separated

the common room from a hallway that led to rows of

sleeping quarters. Teska could hear voices from beyond

the curtain, some of them laughing, arguing, or cooing

romantically.

Two black-suited residents apparently

heard their voices and scuttled through the curtains,

sending the beads clattering into one another. One was an

older man, and the other was a young woman, who kept

her eyes lowered.

"Hello! Welcome to the Sundial

Visitors' Lodge," said the man with a smile.

He cast a disapproving glance at Oblek.

"Prefect, you didn't warn us we were

having off-world visitors."

The prefect shrugged. "I didn't know. After the

crew from the Enterprise paid their respects, they said

they wanted some refreshments."

The lodgekeeper looked doubtfully at

Teska. "We have far too many adults in the

lodge to accept a child--it is out of balance. For the child

to pass some time, I would suggest the cooperative

school by the old library. They have a playground, and

children are always playing there."

"Come," said Oblek to the girl, "I'll show you the

way."

Spock started after them. "I will come, too."

"There is no need, Uncle," said Teska,

anxious to get out of the seedy lodge. "You should stay

with your companions."

"We won't be here long," said Kirk, checking

the time on his wrist device. "It's just another

twenty minutes before we have to leave."

"Besides, Spock can't leave yet," said

McCoy.

"He's buying."

"Very well." Spock looked at Teska. "Do

not go far away."

"I won't," promised the girl.

"I'll probably sit and watch the people go by."

She was relieved to step outside into the cool

scented air, away from the animal skins and

unhealthy atmosphere of the visitors' lodge.

Teska couldn't explain her adverse reaction to the

lodge, except that she wanted all of Rigel

V to be beautiful and unspoiled, when this was

clearly impractical.

She reminded herself that travel on Rigel V

was time-consuming with a solar transporter range of

only eight kilometers, so weary travelers

probably weren't too selective when it came

to choosing a place to sleep.

Oblek pointed her toward the staircase they had

already ascended. "Go back the way we came and

climb to the next landing; go to the right and keep bearing that

direction until you see a large ruin with many

lights. You'll probably hear the children's voices

before you see the place. It's close."

"Thank you," said Teska with a polite bow.

Oblek nodded and headed toward the lodge, and

Teska could see Spock standing in the doorway.

For a moment she thought he would come after her, but the

prefect shepherded the Vulcan back into the

lodge.

Suddenly the girl was struck by the novelty of being

alone in a strange place. During so much of her

young life she had been shunted here and shunted there,

at the whim of adults. For once, they were giving her

a small taste of autonomy.

Teska nearly skipped along as she hurried

to the staircase. Three Rigelians walked by and

nodded pleasantly at her, and she fought the temptation

to smile back. The girl followed the Rigelians

to the next landing and turned to the right, as instructed.

She saw many ruins with lights dotting the

hillside, but one was substantially bigger than the

others.

Sure enough, she heard the laughter and shouts of

children wafting on the evening breeze.

But Teska was in no hurry to join another throng

of strangers. She was enjoying this brief respite

on her own, and she knew it would be her last

solitary moment for many days to come. She was quite content

to stand in the darkness, listening to voices and watching the

lights twinkle on the hills of Ancient

Grace. She wandered a few more meters along the

maze of steps, always remembering how to get back

to the lodge. In fact, she kept the lodge in

sight, so that she could see Spock and the

others when they came looking for her.

The girl finally found a place to sit on a

deserted stretch of stairs, and she decided to wait

there until it was time to leave Rigel V. She

clutched her locket, wondering how old she would be

before she could return to this planet to visit the Heart

Clan. It was definitely something she intended to do.

If she were a human planning to get married, she

could come here on her honeymoon. But she wasn't a

human, and Vulcans didn't have honeymoons.

Suddenly she heard the rustling of bushes and a

muffled shout, followed by footsteps running.

Teska jumped to her feet and turned in the

direction of the sound, but all she saw was a man

walking slowly toward her down the staircase. As

he drew closer, she saw that something was wrong with

him. He was staggering and not looking where he was putting

his feet. When he saw her, he waved

frantically, clutched his throat, and made horrible

rasping sounds. She watched, dumbfounded, as the man

collapsed and tumbled down the stairs.

He looked like a wounded bird as he flopped

down the stairs and came to rest at her feet. The

young Vulcan stared in shock at the lifeless body,

trying to remember the training she needed

to stay calm and unemotional. But it didn't help

when she saw who it was Ambassador Denker--with a

crude dagger sticking from his throat!

"Help!" she called. "Help!"

But the two of them seemed alone in a vast

necropolis of ruined buildings. Even the sound of the

children's laughter was gone.

Teska was about to run to the lodge for help, when

Denker reached a bloody hand into the air and tried

to grab her. Teska stumbled backward. Denker

gurgled and croaked in desperation, but his vocal

chords had been severed by the daggermhe had no way

to speak. Overcoming her shock, Teska gripped his

hand and knelt beside him, to do what she could for the man in

his final moments of life.

If he were a Vulcan, she knew exactly

what she would do--she would mind-meld with him, so that he

could pass his katra on to her. Then his memofides,

experience, and knowledge would not be lost but would be retained and

passed on to his family. His soul would live in

their collective consciousness.

But Denker was not a Vulcan.

"Help!" she shrieked again, sounding as desperate

as the dying man.

Now he gripped her tunic, spreading

blood across her chest as he tried valiantly

to speak. Nothing came from his mouth but frothing green

liquid, and his body rattled in its death throes.

Still, he gasped, trying to tell her something.

So urgent was his need to communicate that Teska

forgot her usual caution. She spread the fingers of

her right hand and laid them upon the dying man's

cheekbones. His spasms instantly subsided, and a

peaceful expression spread across his face.

But Teska's face twisted in agony, and she

screamed.

Chapter Six

Spock rose to his feet, walked to the

doorway, and peered into the darkness. If he were a

human, he might be accused of pacing nervously, so

he tried to think of a logical reason to leave the

bridge and check on Teska. He had heard some

childlike shouts, but he wasn't sure if they

came from outside or from one of the back rooms.

Suddenly the forty-six minutes they had to spend on

Rigel V seemed like a very long time.

Behind him, McCoy laughed at the antics of

Oblek, who had proven to be an adroit juggler as

well as a jovial host. Kirk and Spock were

nursing their first glasses of ale, and

Kirk glanced at him sympathetically. Spock

remembered that his friend had been a parent, even if he

had never watched his son grow up. If unwarranted

concern was part of being a parent, he was glad that he had

been spared such unpleasantness.

Oblek noticed that he was losing his audience, and he

dropped the four sacks of seed he had been

juggling. They hit the floor and spilled open.

"Hey!" the proprietor cried. "We don't

pay you to make a mess around here, Oblek."

"Sorry," said the prefect, looking

crestfallen.

Kirk slapped his hands on his thighs and stoot

up.

"I think it is time to be going. We can beam up

from here. Spock, you are the only one with any

money."

"This is all I have," said Spock, handing a

stack of coins to the proprietor. "Will that be

sufficient?"

"Oh, my, yes!" said the man with a big grin on

his face. "Half of that would be enough."

As he returned a few coins to the Vulcan, the

man's face dissolved into shock, and he stared past

Spock. The Vulcan whirled around at the

same time the others did, to see the cause of his

alarm.

Standing in the doorway was little Teska with a vacant

look on her face, and covered in blood.

Kirk rushed to the girl's side. "What

happened to you?"

McCoy was right behind Kirk, and he opened a

small medical pouch on his belt and took out a

diagnostic instrument. Despite the blood all

over her clothes, she didn't appear injured.

"She's suffered some kind of trauma," said

McCoy. "Alert Sickbay, Jim, and tell

them we're on our way."

"No!" said Teska forcefully, as if snapping

out of a trance. "I am not hurt. But Ambassador

Denker is dead."

Prefect Oblek gasped and sunk down into one of the

seedy chairs. "Denker is dead?"

"Murdered." The girl looked up at Spock.

"I did not intend to do it, but he was dying."

"Do what?" asked Kirk. "What did you do?"

Spock's jaw tightened. "You performed a

mind-meld."

The girl nodded. "I saw it all. They argued,

and Denker walked off. Vitra sent

Mondral after him, and they fought. Mondral stuck

a knife in his throat."

"You saw this?" asked Oblek, amazed.

"Yes."

"No," said Spock. "She did not actually

witness the murder. But she did a mind-meld with

Denker, and she shared his vision of it. Is that right,

Teska?"

The girl nodded vacantly.

Oblek shook his head, confused. "What is a

mind-meld?"

Kirk looked at Spock and sighed. If

anybody was going to have to explain the Vulcan

mind-meld, it would be Spock.

"Wait a minute," said McCoy, "maybe

Teska is mistaken. Maybe the man is still

alive." He was headed out the door when they heard

shouts and running footsteps coming closer.

The girl suddenly jerked her head and looked

outside, as if reminded of something. "I know why he

did it, too. So Denker could not tell the

Assembly about Vitra's illegal

activities. Denker refused to falsify his

report."

"Let me note the time," said Oblek,

fumbling in his pocket for a timepiece.

"I want to see the body," insisted McCoy.

Before he could get out the door, two Rigelians

ran up to the doorway, shouting, "Prefect!

Prefect! There's been a murder!"

"Yes, I know," grumbled the pudgy

bureaucrat.

"Ambassador Denker."

The Rigelians looked at each other in

amazement.

"That's right. But we just found his body."

"Are you sure he's dead?" asked McCoy.

"I think so," said one of them. Then his eyes

trailed down to the blood-covered girl, and he

gasped. "Was it her?"

The prefect muscled past Spock and Kirk and

headed for the door, with McCoy in pursuit.

"Don't anybody jump to conclusions. We have a

witness, I think. I'm not really sure," Oblek

said.

"Prefect, we can appreciate your

difficulty, but we must return..."

"She cannot leave!" growled the prefect. "Not

until there's an inquest." He turned to the

proprietor.

"Give them all beds for the night, at city

expense. And don't let that little girl out of your

sight."

As Oblek and McCoy rushed off with the others

to examine the body, the proprietor crossed his

arms and stared at his unexpected guests. He

didn't look very happy, and neither did Captain

Kirk.

Spock picked up a cloth napkin and began

to dab the blood from Teska's face. "Do you have some

clean clothes that would fit her?"

"Yes," admitted the man. He turned to the

woman standing motionless in the curtained doorway.

"Clothes for the child," he ordered. She rushed off,

sending the beads clattering.

Kirk bent down and whispered to Spock, "We

can't stay here. We'll miss our rendezvous on

Vulcan."

"I know," replied Spock, still cleaning

Teska. "But we cannot ignore the laws of a member

world of the Federation."

The proprietor moved closer to them. "What are

you two talking about?"

"We understand the need for Teska to testify," said

Kirk, "but the Enterprise is on a

mission. How soon will the inquest be?"

"Can't be until tomorrow at the earliest," answered

the man. "We need a balance of twenty-six men and

twenty-six women to hear her testimony.

And we have to have numerologists examine the body."

Spock said nothing. It was important to bring a

murderer to justice, but his main concern was Teska.

Frowning, he gazed into her eyes. "Are you in

any discomfort?"

She paused as if taking inventory, then shook

her head. "I am well. I was taken aback at

first--there was a knife in his throat. I called for

help, but no one came. He was dying, and he

wanted so badly to speak to me. Did I do wrong,

Uncle?"

"No, you behaved logically. However, if we are

delayed, your koon-ut-la will be delayed. The

ramifications of that are unknown."

Teska swallowed hard and looked down at the

floor. "I was not thinking clearly."

The Rigelian woman returned from the back of the

lodge with a stack of black clothes. She handed them

to Teska and gave her a sympathetic smile.

"Come with me. I'll take you to a room where you can

change."

"Don't let her out of your sight," warned the

proprietor.

As the two females filed out of the room, Kirk

slumped into a chair and drained his glass of ale.

"What are we going to do, Spock?"

The Vulcan cocked his head. "It would appear that

we will spend the night on Rigel V."

A moment later McCoy shuffled back into the

lodge, shaking his head. "He's dead, Jim."

"Any evidence that would help to back up

Teska's story?" asked Kirk.

"Well, the knife is very crude--homemade

with a wooden handle--but it did the job. The only

way Denker was going to communicate with anyone was through

a mind-meld. I can't speak for the Rigelians, but

Teska's story certainly sounds plausible to me."

"Several times he mentioned a report he was working

on," said Spock. "Has anyone found those

documents?"

"The prefect is looking for his luggage now, and

he's also trying to round up Vitra and Mondral.

Apparently, the three of them were staying at a

different visitors' lodge, farther up the hill.

No other witnesses have come forward, other than

Teska."

"Who is not really a witness," muttered Kirk.

He jumped to his feet, looking anxious to take

some sort of action. "I've got to report this

to Sarek. Bones, let's go back to the ship."

"Oh, no," said the anxious proprietor,

"you're not allowed to leave!"

"No, the girl is not allowed to leave. I have a

job to do." The captain activated his wrist

communicator.

"Kirk to Enterprise. Two to beam up."

The Rigelian proprietor was still sputtering in

anger as McCoy and Kirk disappeared. He put

his hands on his hips. "Does he always do exactly

what he wants to do?"

"Under most circumstances," answered Spock.

The Rigelian woman entered through the curtain and

approached Spock. "After she put on the clothes,

she lay down on the bed and went to sleep

instantly."

"That is to be expected," said Spock. "Do not

wake her."

"And you?" asked the proprietor. "Do you want

a room?"

"No," said the Vulcan, sitting in one of the

decrepit chairs. "This will be

sufficient."

"Suit yourself. It's going to be a long night."

Of that, Spock had no doubt.

Spock was awakened from a light sleep by a chirp

on his wrist communicator. He sat up, feeling

twinges of stiffness in his back, and activated the

device. "Spock here."

"Kirk here," came the captain's voice.

"Any new developments?"

Spock looked around the dreary foyer, which was even

drearier now that several lights in the doorway had

been extinguished. From the silence, darkness, and the

coolness of the breeze that wafted through the open door,

he judged it to be the middle of the night on Rigel

V.

"No developments," he answered. "But then,

I haven't spoken to anyone recently."

"Well," said the captain, "we may have gotten

a break, along with a tragedy. Can I speak

freely?"

"I am alone."

Kirk went on, "I've spoken to Sarek, and the

RO-MULANS have had their share of problems, too.

The boy's father was killed when his shuttlecraft was

destroyed by a Romulan border

patrol."

"Is the boy safe?" asked Spock.

"Yes. This apparently happened after the boy's

father turned him over to Pardek. The boy doesn't

even know his father is dead. And now Pardek is

afraid to venture very far into Federation space in a

Romulan scout ship, and I can't say I blame

him.

They're hiding out in the Duperre Asteroid

Belt, and they've requested that we escort them

to Vulcan."

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "I see. Then a

delay of a few days will not be fatal to our mission."

"No," said Kirk. "In fact, I can

probably go get them and be back for you by the time the

inquest is over. I have a feeling the Rigelians

are not very efficient about such things."

"Are you leaving now?." asked Spock.

"I hate to leave you and Teska down there all

alone, but we don't have much choice."

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the

histo figured you would say that," answered Kirk.

"Keep your communicator on you, and I'll see

you in a few days. Kirk out."

Spock stood up and stretched, trying

to get the stiffness out of his back. Not even a

Vulcan could sleep in these chairs, he decided,

perhaps not even a Klingon. Before falling asleep, he

had checked on Teska and found her to be sleeping

peacefully and breathing regularly. Often a

mind-meld with a non-Vulcan could be dangerous to one

or both parties.

But young Vulcans were very resilient, and Teska

had abilities and control beyond her years. Still

Spock regretted that his young charge had to grow up so

quickly.

Ignoring the cold, Spock stepped out of the

doorway into the night. Most of the lights on the

hillside had been extinguished, except for a few

on the main staircases. With no moons or

conventional city lights, with nothing to obscure the

stars, they spilled across the sky like spun sugar on

black velvet. He breathed in the cool air, still

filled with floral scents, and gazed at the

starscape. One of them suddenly vanished, and he

wondered if that was the Enterprise leaving orbit, or

if it was a meteorite burning up in the

atmosphere.

From the darkness came a cackling laugh, and

Spock whirled around to see a hunched

figure shuffling toward him. He didn't move

until the figure came close enough for him to catch a

glimpse of brown robes with numbers and symbols

stitched through the cloth.

"Here you are," wheezed the old numerologist,

Mother Ganspul. "I heard what happened."

"To Ambassador Denker," replied Spock.

"Not him," she said with a dismissive wave. "Y.

As soon as I saw your partywthree men and a

child--I knew that somebody would die. Denker had the

look about him of a tormented man, didn't he? But

your numberwnow that some of your comrades have left, how

many are you?"

"Myself and the girl."

She nodded with satisfaction. "One man, one

childtmuch better. You are almost in balance."

He turned away.

"You don't believe what I say, do you?" she

asked.

Spock shook his head. "I am not a believer in

numerology, astrology, phrenology, and other

pseudo-sciences and superstitions."

"Then what do you believe in?"

"Logic."

The old woman hooted with laughter

until spittle ran down her chin. "Logic may

work some places, but not on Rigel Vtand you seek

balance, no matter what you say."

"That is possible," the Vulcan conceded. He

reached into his pocket for one of his few remaining

coins.

"No," said Mother Ganspul, touching his wrist with a

hand that was withered and cool. "You cannot afford to give up

anything. Hold on to what you have, and add to it."

She reached into a dirty cloth pouch that hung from a

rope on her waist and took out a miniature

dog-cared book with a cover of brown parchment.

She thrust it into Spock's hand.

"It is the Doctrine of Lollo," she said

solemnly.

"Abridged. As you are new here, you will need

to read it. Even if you do not believe as we do, you will

andmiddot; understand us better. There is great wisdom

in this book."

Once again, Spock was polite and said nothing

to refute her illogical assertions. He held the

tiny book hesitantly, wondering if he should

refuse the gift.

However, the concerned look in her rheumy eyes

convinced him she would interpret a rejection

of the present as an insult.

"Thank you," he said, slipping the book into his

jacket pocket.

She winked at him. "And watch out for women.

They will try to fill your void. Good combinations

to you, Vulcan!" With that, the aged numerologist

shuffled off into the darkness.

Spock was suddenly curious about the miniature

book in his pocket. There was always value in reading

a text that the locals held in high regard.

Besides, he had little else to do, and this was the only

reading material at hand. The Vulcan reached

into his pocket and withdrew the book, wondering if

he would even be able to decipher it. The type was so

small that he was thankful for his Vulcan eyesight,

but it was written in Federation Standard, evidently

intended for export.

He turned at random to various pages in the

book and read. There were complex equations for determining

a person's balance in love, career, family,

gambling, athletics, and other endeavors, mixed in

with aphorisms and admonitions. According to Lollo, it

was a terrible risk to wear a shirt with nine buttons

on it, unless you had one hidden under your cuff. It was

desirable to have nineteen spouses--men or

women allowed--and a union of ten women and ten men

offered the most balance. Marrying beyond this number was

discouraged, however, as that began to throw the marriage out

of balance.

He saw some rules he already knew, such as the

wisdom of making important journeys with four

men, four women, and four children, the exact complement

of the Rigelian delegation to Earth.

Three men and one child traveling together was, indeed,

an omen of ill fortune. With Denker's murder, many

Rigelians were probably equating the two right

now, thought Spock.

The book contained several gruesome bits of

wisdom as well, such as the advice that the ideal

number in an assassination party was three women and

two men. There was a suggestion that children be given away

to attain certain combinations, which disquieted Spock.

He turned to the back and found food recipes which

depended upon strict numerical combinations of

ingredients. Strictly dictated by Lollo were the

numbers and types of animals to keep, plus the

dates and times when they should be slaughtered, neutered,

and bred.

In rules pertaining to clothing, he discovered that

Rigelian clothing was communally owned, and the

correct number of sets had to be kept in a

household.

He even learned why almost all Rigelians

wore black: Primary colors were assigned

numbers, and black was number one, the most in

balance. Numer-ologists and some other privileged

classes could wear brown, as such a humble color

balanced their importance.

He saw several references to the "void" and

recalled that Mother Ganspul had used the term

to describe his circumstances--one with a void was

seeking to add to his life.

His thoughts turned to their predicament, and Spock

closed the tiny book and put it in his pocket.

The Enterprise was gone, and he and Teska were

alone here, about to enmesh themselves in the Rigelian

legal system. As members of the Federation went, the

Rigelians were somewhat reclusive, sending few

youngsters to Starfleet Academy, seldom going

to conferences and trade talks. As Vitra had said,

only in the field of medicine did they contribute

much to the Federation.

There was no sense belaboring the unknown, thought

Spock. He should try to sleep; he would need to be

alert in the morning to shepherd Teska through

the legal procedures.

Spock returned to the visitors' lodge,

slipped through the beaded curtain, and walked quietly

down a foul-smelling hall to the room where Teska

was sleeping. The girl had turned upon her side, and

her face was gently lit by the light from the hallway.

Without the intellect of her dark eyes peering

outward, Teska finally looked her age.

The thought of returning to the barren common room with

its uncomfortable furniture had little appeal, so

Spock glanced around the tiny bedroom.

He spotted an animal skin in the corner, and

he picked it up and smelled it. The skin had only

a slight odor, which meant that it had been

well-cured.

In most of the Federation, trade in animal skins

had been outlawed, but it was still acceptable on

home-worlds where the use of skins was traditional.

Spock spread the skin on the earthen floor and

lay down with his arms crossed. He went to sleep

between Teska's bed and the door, guarding her like an

old watchdog.

Chapter Seven

SHOUTS AND FOOTSTEPS woke Spock, and

he bolted upright on the floor. The first

thing he saw was Teska sitting on the edge of her

bed, alert and calm; the second thing he saw were

slices of gray sunlight seeping through uneven

slats in the wall. The two Vulcans had no

opportunity to exchange greetings before the prefect

and two other Rigelians burst into the room.

"We are ready now," declared Oblek. "My

marshals have assembled the twenty-six men and

twenty-six women for the inquest, and it has not been

easy. But we know you must be in a hurry to leave with

your comrades."

Spock picked his lanky body off the floor.

"Our need for haste has been reduced, as the

Enterprise has left to attend to other business.

She should return in a few days."

The prefect nodded with satisfaction. "Then you

are alone, just the two of you. That is good--more in

balance."

The Vulcan resisted the temptation to debate this

conclusion. "Permit us a moment to speak and wash

ourselves, and we will go with you."

"All right, but don't be long." The stout

prefect herded his marshals down the corridor

toward the outer room.

Spock sat beside Teska on the bed and

asked, "How did you sleep?"

"I am rested," she answered. "I am still

troubled by what I saw in the ambassador's mind."

"They may seem like your own thoughts and experiences,

but they are not yours," said Spock.

"You must separate these shared thoughts from your own."

The girl nodded slowly. "I have. I believe

I can talk logically about what happened, without

emotion."

"Good." Spock gave her an encouraging pat

on the back. It was a human gesture, to be

sure, but it somehow seemed appropriate under the

circumstances.

If Teska had been human, he would have

reminded her to tell the truth--to avoid embellishing

her story. As a Vulcan, she would automatically

tell the truth; to do otherwise would not occur to her.

They took turns using a small washroom, then

uncle and niece took a long walk down the center

hallway of the lodge. Other guests peered at them

through slits in their doors as they passed, and both

Vulcans did their best to ignore the scrutiny.

Spock glanced at Teska walking beside him. In

her black tunic and black pants, she should have

looked more like a Rigelian than a

Vulcan, but her somber expression left little

doubt about her background.

He was gratified to see her coming through this experience

with such determination.

After they met Oblek and his marshals, they stepped

outside, and Spock was surprised by the density of a

fog that had crept into the valley during the early

morning. It chilled him despite his Starfleet

jacket, and he put his arm around Teska's shoulder

to afford her a bit more warmth. The fog was so thick that

he had to concentrate on where to walk on the uneven

landings and steps. Even so, he saw curious

Rigelians staring at him and the girl from doorways

as they made their way toward the top of the highest

hill in the City of Ancient Grace.

The fog bank ended just as they reached the summit,

and Spock turned to view the shrouded valley below.

A layer of billowy gray clouds stretched

endlessly in every direction, broken only by distant

peaks, which poked from the clouds like shimmering green

islands.

Teska tugged at his sleeve, and he turned

to see what she had been looking at--a gigantic

bunker dug into the solid rock. The metal

pillbox had gunnery slits on its

sides and a forest of advanced weaponry and

electronic equipment on its roof, all of which

looked out of place in this pristine forest.

Other than the solar transporter, the bunker was

the first overt sign of modern technology that

Spock had seen on Rigel V.

"That is our hospital," explained Oblek, "and a

meeting place and shelter for a thousand people in case of

emergency. It's also the place of last stand in case

of invasion--every populated hill has some reinforced

structure at the top."

Spock made no comment. Under the umbrella of the

Federation, an invasion of Rigel V was highly

unlikely, but it was hard to argue with tradition.

Besides, there was a certain logic in the idea of a

fortified hospital.

He and Teska followed the prefect down cement

steps into a sunken entrance, around which a clutch of

black-suited Rigelians were gathered. They parted

for the Vulcans, but not without giving them hostile and

suspicious looks. Spock tried to ignore the

hostility, but he was troubled because he couldn't understand the

basis for it. He and Teska were only trying

to help them apprehend a murderer.

Then again, thought Spock, perhaps these people were

loyal to Madame Vitra. She was a wealthy

individual by Rigelian standards, and she was bound

to have her share of followers, such as Mon-dral.

Or perhaps the Rigelians still harbored ill

feelings over the omen of the three men and the child, a

simple mistake that Spock wished he hadn't

made.

He glanced at Teska, knowing the girl would

relay the story with as much accuracy as she could. The

rest was up to the Rigelian authorities.

Spock had to duck as he descended hollow

sounding stairs into the bunker. For several meters all

he could see were metal walls on both sides of

him, but the staircase widened out on the lower level

into a large receiving area with information desks and

corridors leading off at odd angles. Spock

realized that the bunker was much larger underground than

above ground, and he had no idea how far it extended

into the mountainside. This was a formidable complex,

indeed, and one could easily mistake it for a prison

instead of a hospital and sanctuary.

He and Teska were ushered past a desk and down a

drab corridor into a gigantic room with a low

ceiling. It appeared to be the main shelter, where at

least a thousand refugees could be housed

during an emergency. At the moment about a hundred

Ri-gelians were gathered there--with an equal number

of chairs--and their animated conversation stopped when they

caught sight of the Vulcans.

Little Teska shuffled beside him, and Spock

followed her gaze to the far wall, where Madame

Vitra, Mondral, and several other tough-looking

Rigelians had gathered. Vitra looked somewhat

saddened, which might have been an act, but Mondral

glared at the girl. Spock stepped in front of

her, breaking their eye contact. He could sense

Teska's fear beneath her calm exterior. Most of

it was due to Denker's terrified memories, seared

inside her mind.

He was about to warn Teska to remain calm and

ignore the guilty parties, when a young woman

dressed in a tailored black suit came striding

toward them. She held out her hand in the human

fashion, and Spock took it, sensing from her warm

smile that she was an ally.

"I am Jeshul," said the young woman.

"Officially, I'm your interpreter, but you can empower

me to speak for you. Look upon me as an advisor."

"I see the accused is here," said Spock.

"Is there a prosecutor?"

Jeshul scratched her spiked black hair.

"No, inquests on Rigel V are not conducted the

way they are on Earth--I studied Federation law

there for two years. On this planet we have a panel

of twenty-six men and twenty-six women, and

essentially all of them are prosecutors, entitled

to ask questions."

Spock looked around and saw most of the assembled

crowd starting to take their seats. Many of them kept

stealing glances between Madame @yitra and the

Vulcans, as if expecting them to go for each other's

throats. This crowd seemed more curious than

hostile, and Spock reminded himself of a human

aphorism:

The truth will out.

"We are almost ready to begin," said Jeshul.

"They've saved us seats over here next to the

microphone."

The microphone was on a stand that rose from a hole

in the floor and was adjustable. There was no place for a

witness to sit. Spectators in the front row of

chairs begrudgingly gave up their seats and made

room for the interpreter and the two Vulcans.

Despite what Oblek had said, finding a panel of

fifty-two could not have been all that

difficult, as there seemed to be twice that many in the

spacious but dreary shelter. Surely, they couldn't

all be witnesses.

"Attention! Attention!" shouted Prefect Oblek

for no logical reason, as no one was speaking. The

only sounds were chairs scraping across the floor.

"Shut the doors." Oblek motioned to his

marshals, who clanged the metal doors shut at the

far end of the shelter. "We have the fifty-two in

balance how many more?"

His assistants were scurrying around making a head

count, and Jeshul, their interpreter, gave them an

encouraging smile. Spock glanced at Teska

to see if she would smile back, but the girl stared

ahead with eerie self-possession.

"One hundred eleven in total!" announced the

prefect, to murmured agreement that this was a good

number with which to begin the inquest. "A balance has

been achieved! We begin the inquest into the death of

Ferlindo Omayo Denker of the Forgiveness Clan,

ambassador from Rigel @y to Earth and a member of the

Assembly."

Someone behind Spock began to sob, and he glanced

back to see a lone woman dressed in brown,

crying. Oblek strode in front of him, and

Spock had to turn his attention to the prefect, who

was consulting his notes on a computer padd.

"At fourteen past the hour of nineteen last

night, I was in the Sundial Visitors'

Lodge with our esteemed guests from the Enterprise--

Captain Spock, Captain Kirk, and Dr.

McCoy. They were so kind as to bring back our

trade delegation from Earth, of which Ambassador

Denker was a member. Captain Spock's niece,

Teska, was also a passenger on the Enterprise, so

she knew the murdered man.

"She had been playing outside, or so we thought.

At nineteen-fourteen, she entered the lodge

covered with blood, saying that Ambassador Denker

was dead, stabbed to death in the throat. Further

investigation proved this to be true. There were no

fingerprints on the weapon, except for his, so we

assume the murderer wore gloves."

The prefect looked troubled as he regarded his

star witness. "Teska made certain accusations at

the time that would give the impression that she was a

Witness to the murder, and that she heard Denker's

final words. I suggest to the panel that you question

Teska of Vulcan. Does anyone on the panel

move and second?"

An older woman raised her hand. "I move

we question the Vulcan."

"I second," said another woman, without much

enthusiasm.

Oblek went to the microphone and adjusted the

height, as Jeshul whispered to Teska, "Just take

your time and tell them what happened. When you're

finished, they may ask you questions."

Spock gave Teska a nod, and the girl rose

from her chair and walked slowly to the microphone. In

her black outfit, she looked tiny and

insignificant, and her childish voice sounded

disconnected as it spilled from a loudspeaker

overhead:

"While the adults stayed in the lodge, they sent

me out to find a playground. Near the old library,

they said. But I did not get all the way there--I

stopped and sat down on some steps, and just looked

around.

I heard a scuffle, like a struggle, then some

footsteps running off."

Teska's dark eyes grew large. "I turned

around and saw him coming down the stairs. I didn't

know who he was at first, and I didn't know he was

hurt until he tried to say something, but

couldn't. Then he fell down a lot of steps and

came to rest near me. That's when I saw who it

was. I shouted for help, but there was no one around.

No one came."

She lifted a small hand to her throat. "He

had a dagger in his throat, like this. He couldn't

talk, but he wanted to tell me something. He

grabbed me with his hand, and that's when he got blood

on me."

She swallowed hard. "He kept trying to talk

to me, and I knew he wanted to communicate before he

died. So I used the Vulcan mind-meld to link with

him--to see into his mind."

This final admission was accompanied by puzzled

expressions and whispered commentary among the panel and

spectators. Jeshul stood up and addressed the

crowd: "As interpreter, I would like to define this term

"Vulcan mind-meld" for the panel.

Specifically, I would ask Captain Spock to do

so."

"I move we hear from Captain Spock,"

grumbled an older man.

"I second," said a younger man.

Oblek adjusted the microphone one more time for the

height of Captain Spock, as Teska

took two steps back. Someone gave her a

chair, and she gratefully took it.

Spock folded his hands in front of him and

patiently explained the Vulcan mind-meld, in

both its ritual and practical uses. He

concluded by saying, "Even though Teska is young, she

is very adept at the technique. I will take questions

now."

Hands shot up all over, and Spock spent

half an hour explaining the finer points of the

Vulcan mind-meld.

The mind-meld had served him well in a variety

of emergency situations, and he hoped that his faith in

the technique would be impressed upon the audience.

If this terrible crime had occurred on Vulcan,

thought Spock, the inquest would be all but over.

Oblek nodded, still looking confused by the lengthy

explanation. "Thank you, Captain Spock.

That's an amazing ritual you have. Let me

adjust the microphone for the young lady." Spock

relinquished the witness stand to his niece, who once

again set her jaw determinedly. "Continue with your

testimony," ordered the prefect.

"Perhaps I should not have melded with him," said

Teska. "If he had not been dying--and so

anxious to speak--I would not have done it. But it

seemed logical at the time."

The girl swallowed hard, then she seemed

to become another person, a figure of authority and

sadness. "The moment I touched him, his pain, his

terror, and all his memories flowed into me. I could

tell you details about his life--his wives, the

deafness in his left ear--but they are not important.

"What is important is that he went to Earth with

Madame Vitra and the others to negotiate a

trade agreement. But the Federation is still insisting upon

an official finding from the Rigelian Assembly,

proving that Rigelians are no longer practicing

illegal activities, such as children marrying adults

and animal-skin trade."

There was a concerned murmuring in the crowd over this

news, delivered in such a straightforward manner by a

child. Spock gazed toward the back of the room, where

Vitra was fidgeting angrily. He was certain that

she was only waiting for her name to be mentioned again

to explode in anger.

Then the clear youthful voice rang out, silencing

the crowd. "Ambassador Denker was going to be

honest when he talked to the Assembly--he was not

going to suggest that they concoct a false

document to give to the Federation. He knew firsthand of

illegal activities within his own trade

delegation, and he was going to make them public, to show

everyone how serious the problem was."

Teska pointed to Mondral, and a hundred

necks swiveled in unison. "Mondral killed

him, on orders from his patron, Madame Vitra.

She is involved in various illegal

activities."

"Slander!" shouted Vitra, shaking her fists at

the girl. "Least All lies!"

There were a variety of reactions in the room,

ranging from outrage to confusion, and pandemonium ruled

for a few minutes as everybody had their say.

Teska stood her ground, even as people shouted questions at

her, even as Vitra stalked down the aisle toward

her. Spock rose to his feet to protect the

girl, but the prefect headed off Vitra and took

the brunt of her anger. At least Mondral had the

good sense to stay in the back of the room, leaning against

the wall with his head bowed low.

The prefect bumped Teska out of the way and

commandeered the microphone. "Quiet! Will this inquest

come to order?

With Oblek's frantic waving, the room

finally settled down, and so did Vitra, who

continued to stand near Teska, looking injured and

outraged.

"Before we go into a lot of questions about the mind-meld

and what this child really knows, we have some legal matters

to consider. I believe one of the panel members

made a motion to disregard the charges against

Mondral."

"I did!" shouted one of Vitra's surly

supporters at the back of the room. "The girl

didn't actually see or hear anything! Our laws

call for eyewitness testimony--we don't

recognize telepathy, mind-reading, channeling, and

other such claptrap!"

"The Vulcan mind-meld is a recognized

procedure throughout the Federation," declared Spock.

"There are thousands of incidents of clinical use

of the mind-meld. As Rigelians practice no

forms of telepathy, perhaps you lack a frame of

reference."

"Famous claptrap is still claptrap!"

snapped Vitra.

"In a local ease, local laws overrule

the laws of the Federation. At best, you would have to call

this girl's testimony hearsay. So she

found the body, and he wasn't quite dead yet. That

doesn't give her the right to accuse innocent people of

murder! Doesn't anyone second the motion

to disregard these lies?"

To their credit, no one else in the panel

seconded the motion. Perhaps they wanted to hear more

accusations and innuendo.

"It doesn't matter," said Vitra, glaring at

the little girl. "Other witnesses will impugn her."

This seemed an empty threat to Spock, for what

possible witness could impugn a mind-meld? Having

seen the panel reject Vitra's self-serving

motion, he felt more confident that justice would be

served.

The prefect cleared his throat and spoke into the

microphone. "It would be wise to remember that this is

only an inquest. We haven't voted to charge

anyone with a crime, and we do have more witnesses to hear

from. Can we excuse the witness Teska for the moment,

reserving the right to recall her.*"

The motion was made and seconded, and Teska

slumped wearily to the seat beside Spock and closed

her eyes. The last time they had eaten had been

aboard the Enterprise the day before, and Spock

wondered if he should demand food for the

girl.

"We have the numerologist who examined the body,"

announced Oblek. "Would someone motion to call Mother

Fergolin?"

After that formality, the brown-robed woman who had

been weeping behind Spock rose to her feet and padded

to the microphone. A moment later Spock joined

Teska in closing his eyes, and he wished that he could

close his ears, too, as he listened to a rambling

discourse on the numerical clues associated with

Denker's corpse. The pertinent facts included the

number of blood droplets on the ground, the

buttons that had popped off his shirt, the number of

stab wounds, and the time of death. From this, the

numerologist deduced that it had been a murder, a

violent killing, by someone who knew the man.

"That was helpful," whispered Jeshul, their

interpreter.

Spock nodded. As none of the woman's ramblings

contradicted Teska's testimony, he kept his

opinions to himself.

After the numerologist spoke, the prefect declared

a short and welcome recess, during which Spock and

Teska were given cups of bitter tea and some

sweet cakes. They ate hungrily and

silently, saving their energy for the ordeal to come.

As the day progressed, the panel heard from a

medical examiner, who gave an erudite and concise

report on the time and cause of Denker's death.

Once again, Spock was convinced that reason and

logic would prevail.

Then the panel made and seconded a motion to hear

from the accused, Mondral. The stone-faced

Rigelian took the stand and scrupulously avoided

looking at Spock and Teska. The prefect

began the questioning: "When you transported down from the

Enterprise, I personally witnessed you and Madame

Vitra arguing with Ambassador Denker."

"So what?" asked Mondral. "We'd been

arguing with Denker for two weeks, but that doesn't

mean we killed him."

Oblek continued, unfazed: "You and Madame

Vitra were also seen arguing with Denker at the

Summit Visitors' Lodge shortly before his

murder.

We know the time of death was a few minutes before

nineteen-fourteen, when Teska reported finding the

body. Where were you between the hours of nineteen and

nineteen-fourteen?"

Mondral scowled as if the question was beneath

him. "I was with my patron in the common room of the

Summit Lodge. We were not alone--others came

in and out, including Ambassador Denker. I

remember him stomping out of the room at about nineteen

hours, but I had no idea where he went. I

didn't follow him outside."

Oblek nodded, as if he had been expecting that.

"Can anybody verify your whereabouts at the time in

question? Someone other than your patron, Madame

Vitra."

Mondral finally smiled, in triumph. "Yes,

they can. There was another person in the room with us

during that period--Hemopar of the Heart Clan."

Spock raised his eyebrow. at this news, and he

glanced at Teska, who was frowning darkly. He

remembered that Hemopar had followed Denker,

Vitra, and Mondral up the hill at Hanua's

request, rather than leaving with the rest of the Heart

Clan.

So much else had happened that he had forgotten this

small fact.

Oblek was taken aback by the revelation, too, and

he was slow to react. Someone in the audience shouted,

"I motion we excuse this witness and question

Hemopar."

"I second!" shouted several people at once.

Spock gazed around the room with the rest of them,

wondering if Hemopar was even present.

Finally a slim Rigelian rose to his feet

at the back of the room and walked slowly toward the

witness stand. Hemopar was even more careful not to look

at Spock and Teska than Mondral had been,

and Vitra's thug gave him a knowing smile as he

stepped back from the microphone.

The prefect cleared his throat importantly and

turned to the member of the Heart Clan. "You were on

the trade delegation to Earth?"

"That is correct." Hemopar spoke so softly

that no one would have heard him were it not for the microphone

amplifying his voice.

"Please explain what you saw on the evening in

question."

"I saw nothing, really," answered Hemopar.

"As Mondral said, the four of us were in the common

room of the lodge, discussing our trip to Earth. Our

major disagreement was over what kind of

recommendation we should make to the Assembly. Most

of us wanted to get to work on the document required

by the Federation, but Denker wanted to first investigate the

charges of illegal activities."

The Rigelian took a deep breath and twisted

his hands in front of him. "Denker left the lodge

at about nineteen hours, but no one left with him. I

was with Madame Vitra and Mondral at the time in

question--they never left."

"He was not there," whispered Teska. "He was not

in Denker's memories of those final minutes."

"I know," answered Spock. However, they were the

only ones who shared this certainty as the room

erupted with people making motions.

"I move to disregard the slander against Madame

Vitra!" shouted one.

"I second!" shouted another.

"I move to bring a finding of murder

by assailants unknown," motioned someone else.

"I second!"

It was bedlam for several moments, but the prefect

took over the microphone and finally restored order.

"Order! Order!" called Oblek. "In the death

of Ambassador Denker, it has been moved and

seconded to bring a finding of murder by assailants

unknown. How say the twenty-six and twenty-six?

All in favor of the motion, say "Yay.""

"Yay!" echoed voices throughout the dreary

underground shelter. Spock looked down at

the floor.

"Well," said Jeshul sympathetically, "perhaps the

girl was mistaken."

"A man does not mistake his own murderer,"

said Teska with an eerie maturity.

Hemopar was trying to slip away into the excited

crowd, and Spock jumped to his feet and pursued

him. He caught him just before he reached the door,

grabbed his arm, and spun him around. Sensing some

excitement, people near them fell back while others

crowded closer to see.

"Why did you lie?" asked Spock.

"Uh, lie?" Hemopar stared down at his feet

and tried to get away, but Spock held him

firmly.

"Let me go!" begged the Rigelian.

Spock clamped his arm tighter. "I wish to know

why you lied."

Suddenly Spock felt a grip on his upper

arm, and he was spun around to find himself facing

Mondral, who was considerably younger, taller, and more

muscular. "Let go of him, Vulcan."

As he surveyed the hostile crowd of over a

hundred people, Spock saw the wisdom of such a

course.

He released Hemopar, who bolted out the metal

doors and dashed up the stairs, but Mondral still

held firmly to his arm. "I know you're a VIP

in Starfleet, but you're a long way from home."

"Release me," said Spock.

"What if I don't want to?" Mondral

sneered. He brought up his other hand in a fist, and

Spock was beginning to duck when the thug's expression

twisted into a look of pain and surprise. He bent

over and gripped his leg, Spock looked down and

saw Teska draw back her booted foot and

kick him in the other shin.

"Aaa)h!" cried the big Rigelian as he

dropped to his knees.

. With the crowd surging around them, Spock grabbed

Teska and ran for the door.

Chapter Eight

ONLY A HANDFUL of the 111 Rigelians in

the underground shelter appeared hostile, but they were enough

to alarm Spock, especially with Mondral leading

them. He pulled Teska toward the closest exit

and slammed the metal doors open, as curious and

excited people pressed all around them. Teska had

wounded Mondral's pride as much as his shins, and the

big Rigelian was hobbling after the two

Vulcans with revenge in his eyes.

He heard Oblek yell for calm, but Spock

couldn't rely on the prefect to save them from

Vitra's thugs.

His intent was to put as much distance as possible between

them and Mondral, and he would worry about the rest

later. So Spock struggled up the stairwell,

pushing people out of his way and dragging the girl after him, as

Mondral stomped up the stairs behind them. Maybe

he could seek refuge in the hospital, thought

Spock, until order could be restored.

Out of nowhere, a shrieking sound rent the enclosed

stairwell, and Spock and Teska gripped their

ears and sunk against the walls. Mondral and the crowd

of Rigelians fared no better as they collapsed

along the lower flight of stairs. The door opened

at the top of the stairs, and a uniformed man wearing a

helmet, dressed shockingly all in gray, stood

there with his hands on his hips. The horrid siren

stopped, and was replaced by the man's hollow voice,

amplified from inside his helmet.

"Order will be resumed inside this facility," said

the guard. "Please file out in an orderly

fashion."

"We need sanctuary from this mob!"

insisted Spock.

"Oh, no, you don't!" declared a brash voice.

Spock turned to see Madame Vitra

squeezing past the others and flashing him a gleaming

smile. "Captain Spock is in no danger."

She stared at Mondral as she passed him.

"Now go back and sit down. You will be the last one

out."

The Rigelian scowled at his patron, then at

Teska.

He slammed his fist into his palm and stalked

down the stairs.

Vitra turned to Spock with a mixture of charm

and outrage. "I'm sorry you were treated so badly,

but murder is very rare on Rigel V. It

inflames all sorts of passions. Can we go somewhere

and talk? I assure you, I can handle

Mondral." She smiled pleasantly at

Teska. "He doesn't like to be accused of things."

"He killed Ambassador Denker," said the

girl.

"You're welcome to your opinion. Can we

talk?"

Spock nodded slowly. "Very well."

Madame Vitra ushered them toward the

stairs, and Spock looked down at his niece.

She was calm, if slightly out of breath. Although her

attack on Mondral was opportune, it was also

ill-considered, and Spock would have to talk to her about

such rashness.

At the top of the stairs, Vitra spoke to the

guard.

"Captain Spock and I need to talk. And get

away from that crowd. Do you have a small meeting

room? An examination room?"

The gray-uniformed guard motioned for them to follow

him, and he led Madame Vitra, Spock, and

Teska down a corridor into the hospital wing, which

was as dreary and utilitarian a place as Spock

had ever seen. Buildings on Vulcan were more

interesting.

As he watched black-suited Rigelians

hurrying about their business in the hospital, he thought

about what a dichotomy they were. The Rigelians

were advanced technologically, yet many of them had

turned against technology in favor of an agrarian

communal society. Spock had yet to see

weapons on Rigel V, other than knives and

sickles, but he had seen an armored guard stop a

near-riot by unleashing a powerful aural

disrupter. Spock was grateful for the intervention of the

hospital guard, but the mysterious figure seemed

just one more oddity on Rigel V.

Vitra kept smiling apologetically at him.

Or was she flirting? Spock found the romantic

proclivities of the Rigelians to be rather

disconcerting. They should realize that a Vulcan would not

be swayed by such attention. Then again, Spock had

to remind himself that he looked like one of their own race

--he only acted alien.

The guard stopped, pushed a wall panel, and

opened a door. "This is an empty office, I

believe."

He motioned them into a small room with two

empty desks and two chairs.

Vitra instantly made for one of the chairs and

planted herself in it. She shook her head, and waves

of gleaming black hair cascaded over the back of

her chair. With an innocent smile, she brushed the

hair behind her pointed ears. Teska stiflened at the

sight of this, and Spock had to push the girl into the

room.

The door shut behind them.

Cocking an eyebrow at Spock, Vitra said,

"So what are you going to do next?"

"We are going to leave," answered Spock.

"Our efforts to aid you in bringing a killer to justice

were unwelcome."

Vitra gave him a pained expression.

"Captain Spock, it's not like that at all. The young

lady simply wasn't a witness to what actually

happened. Despite the well-deserved reputation

of the Vulcan mind-meld, it's not exactly the

same as firsthand eyewitness testimony. That's what

our laws demand. Did you enjoy watching the

Citizen's Court in action?"

Spock felt Teska stiffen beside him. "Acting

as an inquest," he said, "they reached the correct

conclusion Ambassador Denker was brutally

murdered.

However, the guilty parties will not be held

accountable."

"By guilty parties, I suppose you mean me.

"Vitra shook her head glumly. "May I

suggest that you forget about Ambassador Denker, who

can't use your help anymore, and think about yourselves.

I can send Mondral away, so he's no problem.

So why can't you just let this matter rest?"

Now, thought Spock, they came to the heart of the

matter. Vitra wanted to know if they were

going to make a report once they got back to the

Enterprise.

"I will tell Captain Kirk," answered

Teska. "He will come and put you in the brig."

Spock tightened his grip on the girl's shoulder

in order to warn her not to speak so freely. She stared

at him, misinterpreting his action. "Why should we

hide the truth?"

Vitra rose slowly from her chair. "Our

relationship with the Federation is at an impass we

can't continue to remain members and receive no trade

benefits. Denker tried to derail the trade

negotiations, even though he knew how many people needed

these agreements. People like the Heart Clan and rural

families have to have a better chance to be

self-sufficient. We must progress, we cannot

stagnate."

"Have you stamped out the illegal activities?"

asked Spock.

Vitra laughed and rolled her eyes. "Do you know

how many children some of these clans have? Scores of them!

They can't feed them all. If you want to stamp out

our tradition of children marrying adults, then you do

everything you can to get us these trade agreements."

"Do you have Denker's documents?" asked

Teska, surprising both Spock and Vitra.

"Persistent little thing, isn't she?" Vitra

cocked a suspicious eyebrow at the child. "Get it

through your head--he's dead!"

"Not while I hold his memories," answered

Teska.

For a microsecond, Vitra looked genuinely

frightened by the eerie certainty in the little girl's

voice, then she regained her composure and gave the

girl a snide smile. "I was like you at that age--

a tough little brat."

Spock stepped between them. "Is our business

completed?"

"No," said Vitra, "because I haven't made

my suggestion yet. I know you've got to wait

until the Enterprise comes back, and I was going

to suggest that you go to one of our rural retreats. There

your needs would be taken care of, and you could wait for

your ship in peace. If you still fear Mondral or

myself, then don't tell us where you've gone. There's

a transporter right here in the hospital."

"Thank you," said Spock, wondering if

Vitra's concern was at all genuine. She must know

that they would report Denker's murder to the Federation,

and there would be further investigations, whether the

Rigelians wanted them or not. On the other hand,

there was some truth to her assertion that a trade

agreement would benefit the poorest Rigelians,

making it easier for them to end their more onerous

practices. He didn't want to harm average

Rigelians, but people like Vitra had to be curbed.

Madame Vitra sauntered to the door and glanced

back over her shoulder. "It's only a suggestion,

Captain Spock. If I see the prefect,

I'll tell him you're here. Maybe he can make

arrangements for you. I sincerely hope that our next

meeting is more pleasant."

"As do I," said Spock.

The door whooshed open, and the Rigelian ambled

into the corridor. The gray-uniformed security

officer was also on duty, and he glanced into the room,

as if expecting Spock and Teska to leave.

"I wish to speak to the hospital

administrator," said Spock.

The officer motioned for them to remain in the room,

then he pressed a panel, shutting the door.

"I do not trust her," said Teska.

"Nor do I," said Spock. "In fact, I

am uncertain exactly whom we can trust."

Teska's hand went for the heart locket

around her throat. "The Heart Clan," she

breathed. "We know we can trust them, and I have their

address."

"I gather they are some distance away, perhaps more than

a day's journey. We would be all alone, and

conspicuous."

Teska smiled slightly and picked at her

black tunic. "I am inconspicuous in these

clothes, and you would be, too, in black."

"I am on official Starfleet business," said

Spock.

"It would be inappropriate to disguise myself under

these circumstances."

"But the Heart Clan would protect us," said

Teska with certainty. "I know they are our friends."

"The captain will expect to find us in this city,"

answered Spock, gazing doubtfully at the vacant

office. What had started as a simple attempt

to relax Teska and take her mind off her

to coon-ut-la had turned into a fiasco.

The door opened and the gray-uniformed guard with the

helmet stood outside their room. He motioned for

them to follow him, and the two Vulcans dutifully

filed out of the vacant office. Spock glanced around

the corridors but saw no trace of

Madame Vitra, Prefect Oblek, or the

jurors of the Citizen's Court. There were only

black-suited orderlies and nurses going about their

tasks in the hospital, and they paid little enough attention

to the Vulcans.

They followed the guard through the hospital wing

back to the main entrance and its information desks.

To Spock's surprise, the uniformed guard

proceeded straight through the doors and up the stairs

leading outside the massive bunker. Spock and

Teska exchanged wary glances, but Spock knew

how disjointed authority was on Rigel V. Perhaps

they would find the hospital administrator in the

back, weeding a garden. He nodded, and they followed

the guard into the sun-splashed forest at the top of the

hill.

The fog was gone, and the blue giant sun was high

in the sky but already beginning its descent toward the

peaks behind them. Spock judged it to be late

midday. As they followed the hospital guard across

a field of tiny blue wildflowers, Teska

looked up at him questioningly.

"Where are we going?" she asked.

The gray-uniformed guard turned and gazed at

them, and Spock wished that he could see his

face through the tinted helmet. The man reached down

to his boot and pulled out a small instrument, which

Spock feared was a weapon. As he grabbed

Teska to shield her, a rotund figure ran up

behind the guard and shouted, "They're mine!"

The guard whirled around to see Oblek, who had

apparently been lying in wait for them. "I'll

help them get where they're going!" he insisted. The

guard shrugged and handed the small device to the

prefect, then he walked back toward the

hospital.

"Oh, that's nice," said Oblek, studying the

instrument.

"He wanted to give you this portable diagnostic

device. It takes your blood pressure and such.

The hospital has been trying to distribute them,

without much success."

"I see, another girl." Spock took the

proferred device, recognizing his misjudgment in

thinking they were about to be attacked. Despite the

murder and the bungled inquest, Rigel V was still a

civilized planet, as old as Vulcan. He

couldn't distrust everyone on the planet, or their stay

would be extremely unpleasant.

"Are there hand weapons on this planet?"

asked Spock.

"No," answered Oblek. "The penalties for

possessing any sort of hand weapon are

extremely high.

Of course, people come and go from the planet all the

time, and who knows exactly what they bring with them. But

weapons are discouraged."

Teska nodded gravely. "Vitra has them."

Oblek laughed nervously. "Well, Vitra often

journeys off-world, so she has her resources.

Listen, I would suggest that you two lay low and stop

making accusations for the rest of your stay. I'm sorry

the girl's testimony wasn't accepted, but you have

to be realistic. This isn't Vulcan it's Rigel

V."

"We are aware of that," admitted Spock. "And

I am quite willing not to arouse any more enmity.

Where can we stay in privacy for the rest of our time

here?"

"You've seen our guest lodges," said Oblek,

scratching his chin. "They don't offer much in the way

of privacy. We have retreats in the country that are

more private."

"Vitra mentioned them. Are they safe?"

"Certainly," said Oblek, heading down a

path toward a staircase. "Let's go back to my

office, and I can give you a letter of recommendation.

A favorite retreat of mine is up north in the

Windmill Township."

"We want to go east," said Teska, "where the

Heart Clan lives."

Oblek smiled obligingly. "Wherever you want to go

is fine with me. I just want to make your stay

pleasantwmore pleasant than it has been."

In a copse of trees a hundred meters

away, the prefect's voice sounded clearly over

a tiny receiver, gripped by a hand with lacquered black

fingernails.

"This has worked out even better than I

expected," said Vitra with satisfaction. "That

fool of a prefect will send them to some backwater,

I'm sure."

Beside her stood Mondral in the gray guard's

uniform, his helmet under his arm. "I was alone with

themwit was the perfect time."

"No," said Vitra, listening for more voices. But

all she heard were footsteps. "You gave them the

listening device, now let it work. A killing in

front of the hospital would only bring more problems.

They must disappear altogether, so the Enterprise

will find nothing when she returns."

Her dark eyes narrowed. "I don't know what that

little girl has inside her mind, but she's not leaving

Rigel V. This time we won't take any

chances."

At warp five, the stars on the viewscreen were

little more than streaking blurred lights, yet Captain

Kirk found the view oddly soothing as he sat in the

command chair of the Enterprise. Movement--that's what

he liked--anything but standing still.

Desks stood still, which is why he didn't like them.

Many friends in Starfleet had suggested to him that he

could have his admiralty back. The only trouble was,

Kirk had never liked admirals; he hadn't

liked himself when he was one. He liked bending the

rules, not making them.

"Spock, what's our ETA?" he asked,

turning around.

Only Spock wasn't at the science station.

Instead an impossibly young woman with blond

hair piled atop her head jumped to attention and

punched buttons at the console until she came

up with the requested figures. "Um, fourteen and a

half hours, sir!"

He laughed. "I'm sorry, you're not

Spock. I mean, I'm not sorry you're not

Spock--I'm sorry I called you Spock."

"Understood, sir," she said nervously.

"What is your name, Ensign?"

"Patricia Donnelly," she answered.

Kirk stroked his chin. "You remind me of someone,

with your hair up like that."

"If it's not according to regulation?"

"No," he said with a smile. "It's fine. When

you reach a certain age, everything reminds you of

something."

"Yes, sir," she said brightly, not having a

clue what he was talking about.

There was a time when he would have chatted with the young

lady, but he could tell that he was making her nervous.

Once upon a time, he had been an equal with his

crew--the captain, yes, but a peer.

Now he was an icon, a legend, and younger

officers treated him as if he were not a real person,

which is why he preferred the company of his old

shipmates.

To those who held him in awe, he wanted to say that

he was still just feeling his way, still luckier than good.

Someday his luck would run out--Bones had always told

him that--and he hoped he would be alone when it

happened, not with a ship full of lives riding on a

rash decision.

"Captain?" asked the young ensign. "Are you all

right, sir?"

"Oh, fine. I was just thinking."

"Yes, sir," she said doubtfully.

Kirk tapped his finger to his lips, coming to a

conclusion. "Ensign, if you could be anyplace in the

entire universe, where would it be?"

"Why, here, sir. I've dreamed about this my

entire life."

He pointed a finger at her. "Don't ever lose

that dream. I envy you when I think of the star systems

you will map, the worlds you will explore. When you go, you

want to know you've been here, right?"

Ensign Donnelly nodded excitedly. "Yes,

sir.

What's the most amazing world you've explored?"

"Well," answered Kirk, gesturing in the air,

"there have been so many .... I'll have to sit down

sometime and tell you about them all."

"I would like that," said the young lady with a shy smile.

She checked her console. "We are due to be

relieved in forty-six minutes. Perhaps you would have a

few minutes to chat--" she continued

uncertainly.

Captain Kirk scratched his chin thoughtfully and

suppressed a smile. "I'll have to break a date

with Dr. McCoy, but I've heard all of his

stories before.

Certainly, Ensign, thank you for the invitation."

In front of him at the helm, Chekov did not

do so well suppressing a smile. "Keptin, all

systems operational. Nothing unusual to report."

"Thank you, Mr. Chekov." James T.

Kirk relaxed in his command chair. "Steady as she

goes."

Midway down the largest hill in the City of

Ancient Grace stood the prefect's thatched

office.

Spock had no difficulty picking it out from

similar humble buildings, thanks to a clutch of people

standing out front. As he, Teska, and Oblek

descended the stairs, Spock realized that the clutch

consisted of three people and one large tapered case--

black, about two and a half meters high, standing on

end. One of the citizens was the brown-robed

numerologist who had testified at the inquest, but

he didn't recognize the two men with her.

Spock had an uneasy feeling about the

large case and its contents.

andmiddot; "Oh," said the prefect with a

crestfallen look, "it's time to send Ambassador

Denker home." With a wave to the mourners, he quickened

his step. "I'm coming, Mother Fergolin!"

The numerologist was still dabbing her eyes as they

approached. "We've been waiting for you to release

the body," she said in an accusatory tone. "If

we can leave quickly, we can make it halfway to the

Forgiveness Clan by nightfall."

"Absolutely," said the prefect, rushing

into his office. "Let me get those documents."

While the prefect attended to official

business, Spock and the woman exchanged glances, but

her gaze settled on the little girl. "I, for one,

was impressed with your testimony," she said. "I

wish we had a ritual like the mind-meld."

"He loved you very much," said Teska.

The woman began to weep anew, and the two men

crowded around and tried to comfort her.

The numerologist brushed off her retainers and

took control of her own emotions. "I know he

did, Little One. He would have married me had he

been able, but I took a vow of solitude when I

put on this color. If only he had

been with me that night, instead of arguing with them--"

She shook her head at the injustice of it. "He

should be alive--he only wanted what was best for

Rigelians. But we are fiercely independent, and

sometimes we refuse to be helped." She bent down

in front of Teska and managed a smile. "Is

there anything I can do for such a brave little girl?"

"Yes, there is." Teska glanced at Spock,

who didn't dissuade her from asking for help. "We

are looking for a place where we will be safe until the

Enterprise returns. Might you know of such a

place?"

The woman frowned in thought, then nodded.

"We are going east, and there is a retreat in the

village of Atwater. It's not a big place, but

we should reach it by nightfall."

"Yes, east!" said Teska with a big smile on

her face. Spock looked at her, and she resumed

her usual impassive expression. He knew that

the girl was suffering some aftereffects from her

mind-meld with Denker, and he was willing to forgive

sudden bursts of emotion, as long as she could control

them.

The prefect emerged from his humble office a moment

later, holding various transparency

sheets with colorful markings on them. He handed

several sheets to Mother Fergolin. "Here are your

permits to transport the body, plus the death

certificate and the inquest finding. If you need more

than that, you'll have to send for it."

She rolled the documents up and stuck them into her

belt. "Thank you, Prefect. I don't know if

I will be coming back to Ancient Grace right away--

I may take a sojourn in the country."

Oblek bowed politely. "We will miss your

wisdom, and we will count the days until you

return."

With a grin, he turned to Spock. "Captain,

I have an idea! Since Mother Fergolin is headed

east, perhaps you could go with her. There is a retreat in

Atwater--"

"Once again, Oblek, we are ahead of you," said

Mother Fergolin with amusement. "We have already discussed

this, and have agreed to it."

"Excellent!" The prefect handed a clear

page to Spock. "This is a letter of introduction to the

proprietor of the retreat. It says that theymay

request payment from me for your stay." He winked.

"That doesn't mean I'll pay it, but there's

nothing to stop them from requesting it."

"Starfleet will pay our bill when the Enterprise

returns," said Spock, as he took the document.

The two pallbearers reached for the casket, and

Spock stepped forward to help them. "May I be of

assistance?"

"That's not necessary," said one of the men, opening a

panel on the side of the coffin. "It has

antigrav built in. All you have to do is to guide

it.

The child could do it."

As if to demonstrate, he pushed a button and

shut the panel door. The casket tilted slowly

onto the ground and then levirated half a meter

into the air, just enough to clear the stairs, Spock

judged. The other man gripped a handle on the rear

of the casket and guided it down the landing toward the first

flight of stairs. Despite the rakish angle of the

coffin, it maneuvered easily down the steps.

"The child could do it," said Mother Fergolin, "but it is

required that two men and a woman deliver the

body." She gave Spock a smile. "Fear not,

three men, one woman, and one child is a most

opportune combination. It denotes the winter

season, when the fields lie hallow, but there is still

the promise of spring. With Denker dead, this

is an appropriate symbol."

Spock nodded politely at the sentiment. There

was no point in commenting on the Rigelians" belief

system--if it brought some order to their chaotic

lives, then he would not dispute it.

He and Teska followed the coffin, the

pallbearers, and Mother Fergolin all the way down the

hill and into the lush valley filled with pockets of

ruins. They crossed the creek on one of the

picturesque footbridges and passed close to the

site where they had beamed down the evening before. Spock

could scarcely believe that such a short time had

elapsed.

With the murder, his restless night, the inquest, and

all the unpleasantness, it seemed as if he had

spent weeks on Rigel V.

Walking on the same trail that Hanua and the

Heart Clan had taken the day before, they soon

reached the solar transporter. Nestled inside an

alabaster alcove, it looked little different from

similar ruins, except for an array of orange

solar panels on the roof. The angle of the panels

in relation to the sun suggested that they adjusted

automatically as the sun drifted overhead.

Spock glanced inside the alcove and saw

only two transporter pads, which further reduced

power requirements. Lettering marked the left pad as

Out and the right pad as In, and a larger sign bore the

Rigelian symbol for East.

The pallbearers stopped the casket and made some

adjustments which righted it upon one end.

While they were doing that, two travelers arrived

on the In pad, stepped off, and hurried past them.

"Step off quickly, as they did," advised Mother

Fergolin. "Someone is likely to be right behind you."

"Understood," answered Spock. "How many

jumps will we have to make "to reach our destination?"

"Atwater? I think it's about fourteen."

Spock shook his head.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," replied the Vulcan. "I was merely

thinking that a shipmate of mine would certainly not enjoy

travel on Rigel V."

"We don't like the transporters either," said

Fer-golin, "but they are nonpolluting and still allow us

the opportunity for considerable walking."

"We are ready," said one of the men, shutting the

panel on the side of the casket. He then stepped

upon the Out transporter and promptly disappeared in

a blazing shaft of light. His partner

maneuvered the upright casket upon the transporter

pad, and it, too, was consumed in a shimmering glow and

disappeared.

After waiting a few seconds, presumably for

his partner to remove the casket from the transporter

eight kilometers away, the second man jumped

on and was gone. He was quickly followed by Mother

Fergolin.

Teska cocked her head gamely and jumped upon

the transporter pad. She was gone before Spock could

take a stride to follow her. With a heave of his

shoulders, he stepped upon the transporter and began

his journey deeper into the countryside of Rigel

V.

Chapter Nine

SPOCK STOOD PATIENTLY in the gloom of

twilight as another prefect in another village

dutifully checked Mother Fergolin's documents.

He had ceased counting how many stops they had made in

their journey east from the City of Ancient Grace.

This wooded glen looked like the last half-dozen

stops, except for slightly flatter fields of

grain surrounding it. As they had traveled east,

dramatic hills had been replaced by more gentle

terrain. Teska and the two pallbearers also

stood patiently beside the solar transporter, but the

same could not be said of the numerologist, Mother

Fergolin.

"It's getting dark!" she snapped at the

prefect, an older woman who steadfastly

ignored her. "We're not going to make it

to Atwater by nightfall."

"We have a nice visitors" lodge," said the

prefect, going over the documents again. "Is that

really Ambassador Denker in the box?"

Fergolin threw up her hands and stomped away.

"Somebody else deal with her!"

"It is, indeed, Ambassador Denker," said

Spock.

The prefect gave him a fishy look. "Who

are you.

And why are you wearing that red thing?"

"Captain Spock of Starfleet." He

produced his own slim transparency, as this

prefect obviously held such documents in high

regard.

As the prefect studied the letter of introduction from

Oblek, lights flashed in the nearby transporter

alcove, and a young woman stepped off the In pad.

She looked as if she was about to step

immediately upon the Out pad when she saw the party gathered

around the entrance. So she stepped politely off to the

side and waited. Two more women and two men arrived

on the transporter in quick succession, making quite a

gathering around the alcove. Upon seeing the party ahead

of them, they all stepped politely to the side.

"You can go ahead," said the prefect, motioning to the

newcomers.

They looked at one another, then at the quickening

darkness. "This is Kite, isn't it?" asked one

of the men. "And you have a visitors' lodge here?"

"Yes!" said the old prefect exuberantly,

smiling for the first time. "Finest one between Ancient

Grace and Atwater."

"Which is only two stops away," muttered Mother

Fergolin. As if hearing her complaint, the lights in

the alcove suddenly blinked on and off several times.

"Unless you hurry, you'll all be staying here,"

warned the prefect.

"That's fine with me," answered one of the young women,

glancing at her companions. "We're from the Truth

Clan, and we still have a long way to get home."

With frustration, Mother Fergolin snatched the

documents out of the prefect's hands. "All right,

we're all staying here. Are you happy

now? Where is the lodge?"

Now the old woman really smiled. "It just so

happens that I'm the proprietor. Follow me,

please."

The old woman hobbled off, followed slowly by a

self-levitating casket, two pallbearers, one

numerol-ogist, two Vulcans, and the three women

and two men of the Truth Clan. Spock shook his

head at the fact that he had dutifully counted up this

odd lot.

Only one day on Rigel V and he was already

acting like a numerologist.

As they strolled through the peaceful fields of the

farming community, with the sky darkening into a rich

purple, even Mother Fergolin began to relax.

Insects in the fields serenaded them with a dense

layer of sounds, and earthy aromas of loam,

manure, and fresh-cut grain wafted on the

breeze. Teska began to bob her head back and

forth as she walked, as if listening to her own internal

music. In this bucolic setting, Rigel V

seemed anything but dangerous, and Spock couldn't

blame the prefect for trying to fill her

visitors' lodge. He hoped that he had enough coins

left in his pocket to cover a night's

stay for himself and Teska.

The sky was awash with stars by the time they reached the

ramshackle lodge on the edge of a vast freshly

plowed field. The lodge was so small that Spock

hoped there was room enough for all of them to sleep there,

then he noticed a smaller bungalow and a latrine

behind the lodge. The endless horizon of stars and

fields left him with the illogical feeling that he was

standing at the very edge of the universe.

The old prefect stopped at the door and turned

on a light, illuminating a foyer that contained

several wooden benches, plus gaily colored

kites hanging on the walls.

She began to take a head count. "The price is

one triangle per person. Uh, Ambassador

Denker may stay outside for free. Let me

see, I have six compartments altogether, separated

by screens and curtains.

The Truth Clan may take the two in the rear,

which are the largest, Mother Fergolin the next, and the

funeral party the one beside hers. To whom does the child

belong?"

"Myself," answered Spock, thinking what an odd

sensation it was to claim a child as one's own.

She eyed his uniform suspiciously.

"Does the child sleep with you?"

"Yes. We are of the same clan." He glanced

down at Teska, who looked back at him with her

expressive eyes.

"Excellent! You take the compartment on the left.

That will leave me one compartment in case somebody

else shows up." The proprietress bowed

respectfully to Mother Fergolin. "I am sorry

to have delayed you, but we are honored by your presence.

Do the arrangements I have made meet with your

approval?"

"They might," said the numerologist, "if a hot

meal is included."

"Normally, that is extra, but due to the rank of

our esteemed guest, why not? Let me collect your

coin, and then I will get myself to the kitchen."

The guests dutifully paid in advance, and Spock

noted that he had two triangular coins left after

paying for himself and Teska. He didn't really see

the need to make small talk with his fellow

travelers, but his options were limited, unless he

wanted to retire early to a cot on the other side

of a flimsy thatched wall. In fact, he was quite

hungry, having eaten nothing since earlier that day

at the inquest.

For the next two hours, people sat on the wooden

benches and conversed, checked their accommodations, or

strolled in the night air, listening to the insects.

Teska was anxious to talk, and she regaled the

Rigelians with descriptions of Earth and San

Francisco, which she assured them was much like their great

cities before the plague of a thousand years ago.

Normally, Spock would have discouraged such a

talkative reaction, but he was relieved that everything

the girl said was pure Teska. For the time being,

Denker's influence over her mind seemed to have faded

with the tranquillity of the rural lodge.

The conversation drifted to the subject of the kites

hanging on the walls. Spock was able to contribute

some data on the aerodynamics of kites, and he

correctly predicted which kite was the best flyer,

as corroborated by the proprietress. Finally she

served them bread and steaming bowls of hearty stew, and

Spock suppressed the reflex to ask exactly

what was in the dish, but it was vegetarian, so he

nodded to Teska that it was acceptable to eat.

After dinner, conversation dwindled, and the old

proprietress bid them good night. The

sequential order in which the compartments were arranged

made it simpler for Spock and Teska

to remain in the outer room until the others had

retired, although this wasn't soon enough for Teska, who

fell asleep on one of the wooden benches.

Spock picked her up and carried her to her cot

behind the thatched wall. He could hear snoring from the

middle compartments, which were occupied by Mother Fergolin and the

pallbearers. He looked at his own cot

directly beside Teska's and decided that perhaps a

full night's sleep would be advisable.

While taking off his jacket, Spock encountered

his collection of Rigelian souvenirs. He took

out the diagnostic device, thinking that it might be

interesting to compare the tiny instrument to a Starfleet

medical tricorder. He would present the device

to Dr. McCoy for that purpose.

Next he took out the miniature book on

numerol-ogy, The Doctrine of Lollo, thinking that

it was hardly worth the effort to carry such a thing around.

Spock started to set the book in the corner in

order to leave it for the next guest, who would surely

appreciate it more than him, when some of the arcane

wisdom in the volume came unbidden to his mind.

Prescribed numbers for planting, mating, gambling

--even the prescribed number of people for an

assassination party.

Spock frowned and opened the book. Despite the

numerous thin pages, his fingers went directly to the

page he wanted. There it was in clear ink and paper:

The ideal combination for an assassination party is three

women and two men.

He gazed in the direction of some hushed voices

at the back of the lodge, but he could see nothing in the

darkness but the screens separating him and Teska from the

other guests. The three women and two men of the

Truth Clan were strangers to both Mother Fergolin

and the prefect, so there was no one around to vouch for their

identities. Still, thought Spock, it had to be a

coincidence that the Truth Clan had followed them to this

rural outpost, only to find their journey

interrupted by nightfall. As Spock himself was

traveling in a party of five, he could hardly

consider five to be an unusual number.

But it was the exact number from the book, in the

prescribed ratio of men to women.

Spock realized that he would not get a re/l

night's sleep. At the very least, he would have to stay

alert as Teska slept. But that was a defensive

posture, one that wouldn't bring him much tactical

advantage in case of an actual attack. How

could he, unarmed, repel live

assassins? With his Vulcan strength, perhaps he could

handle five humans if they attacked with knives

and crude weapons. In pure strength, however,

Rigelians were the match of Vulcans, and they would

be well armed if they were working for Madame Vitra.

Spock rubbed his eyes, wondering if he was

letting his imagination get the better of him. With a

hearty meal in his stomach and the tranquil humming of

insects all around him, it was difficult to believe

that he and Teska were in grave danger. Yet he

couldn't underestimate Vitra and her fear of what

Teska would do with Denker's knowledge. The ex-prostitute

had much to protect: her manufacturing

facilities, her position in the Rigelian

assembly, and, most importantly, the trade

agreement. She was determined to conclude that agreement

no matter what means she had to use.

Spock looked at Teska, who was sleeping

peacefully, as he considered his alternatives.

Running for it was an option, but until the solar

transporters started operating again, they would be

limited to travel by foot in unfamiliar country.

He and Teska could not outrun five young adults.

He needed a plan of action that was defensive in

nature but would afford him a tactical

advantage if necessary.

He looked around their sparse surroundings. Behind

him was a wall that separated their chamber from the

outside. In an emergency he felt that he could

break through the bamboolike material, but that would not be

a quick escape. To his right was a screen that

separated him from the sleeping pallbearers, and to his

left was the exit into the outer room. There was a

screen across from him, and it hid the compartment that was kept

empty in case another traveler happened along.

Perhaps it was time to fill that compartment.

Gently he picked Teska up and slipped through

the curtain into the empty compartment. The girl was

sleeping so soundly that he could transfer her to another

cot without disturbing her slumber. As quietly as

possible, he went into the outer room, which was barely

illuminated by a single tiny light, and picked up

one of the wooden benches. His actions made a

scraping noise, and he could hear the conversation

abruptly stop in the rear of the lodge.

Spock froze, holding the bench in the air.

Perhaps they wouldn't attack until they were certain

everyone was asleep; in which case, a little noise would

delay them. As he continued his preparations, the

Vulcan consoled himself with a human proverb

"often quoted by his mother: An ounce of prevention

is worth a pound of cure.

He carried the bench back into their original

compartment and laid it on his cot. Then he covered it

with a blanket to make it look like a sleeping

figure. Spock fetched a second smaller bench

and laid it upon Teska's old cot, also dressing

it to look like a sleeping figure.

Satisfied with his preparations, Spock slipped

into the supposedly vacant compartment and crouched in the

darkness, waiting and listening.

Only the self-discipline of a Vulcan and the

eclectic songs of the insects kept him awake those

long hours. Spock heard various sounds throughout the

night as the guests shifted on their rickety cots

or exchanged mumbled words. When Spock saw the

first rays of dawn through the slits in the outer wall,

he decided that he had wasted a perfectly good

night's sleep over the Rigelians"

numerology. Then he heard the first suspicious

sound of the entire night.

It was a modulated electronic burst that lasted

no more than a second--and it could have been an insect

at that. He remained perfectly still, wondering if

he would hear it again; and he did, a moment

later. The third time he heard the sound, he was

certain that he recognized it.

Phaser fire.t As quietly as possible,

Spock rose on stiff joints to his full

height. Five armed assassins were creeping through the

lodge, he warned himself, and they were so intent upon

killing him and Teska that they had followed the

numerical rules to the letter. Armed with phasers, they

could vaporize the bodies and leave no trace.

Spock's immediate reaction was to wake the girl and

tell her to run. But she couldn't outrun a phaser

or five determined adults. If he didn't

subdue the assassins here and now, there would be no

chance of escape.

With many hours to acclimate his eyes to the darkness,

Spock could see two shadows slip through a curtain

and pass on the other side of the screen into the compartment

where he and Teska were supposed to be sleeping. He

also heard running footsteps behind him, outside, which

meant that someone was headed to the prefect's bungalow,

probably to stun the old woman. As it was already

dawn, the transporter would be operating soon, and the

others would wake up to find all of them gone.

Spock steeled himself for the violence he would have

to commit.

He stepped quietly through the curtain, hoping the

slight rustle of beads would be interpreted as noise

from their comrades. As he hoped, the two assassins

were facing the cots in which two Vulcans were

apparently asleep. One of them shot a phaser

burst into Spock's bunk, giving him just the light

he needed to make out the silhouette of the man's

head.

Spock stepped forward and gripped him on the

neck with the Vulcan nerve pinch. As the man

slumped to the ground, his companion spun around with her

weapon, but Spock gripped her wrist with all his

strength, causing her to gasp and drop the weapon.

Then he pinched her neck, and she crumbled to the

floor, unconscious.

He dropped to his stomach as a phaser blast

screeched through the dark, Scorching a hole in the

wall and setting it aflame. Spock scrambled on

the floor, trying to find one of his enemy's dropped

phasers.

"Teska!" he shouted, waking the child. "Drop to the

floor!"

A phaser blast turned the unconscious

Rigelian beside him into a smoldering fireball, but

the additional light revealed the gleam of a

phaser under the man's leg. Spock grabbed it,

rolled onto his back, and fired in the direction of the

shots. His blue beam raked across an assassin's

face and dropped her to the ground. Spock hoped the

setting was on stun, but there was no time to change it

now.

"Pele-ut-la!" wailed Teska.

"Keep down!" shouted Spock, hoping his voice

would draw fire away from the girl. He jumped

to his feet and leaped through the burning hole in the

wall.

He hit the floor as a phaser beam sliced through

the door, cutting a beam in two. A piece of

flaming thatch dropped from the ceiling onto his leg,

and Spock kicked it off. The remaining two

assailants had to be outside, thought the Vulcan.

Alarmed by the flames and the phaser blasts,

Teska bolted from the back and ran out the front

door. Spock had no choice but to stagger to his

feet and follow her out. A protective blanket

of fog swirled around the child, as two phaser beams

crisscrossed over her head, causing an explosion

that lit up the clearing like a nova. In the blinding

light, the fog sizzled away like so much burning

meat.

Shielding his eyes, Spock could barely see

Teska as she stumbled along the uneven terrain. A

phaser beam ripped up a chunk of ground at her

feet, and she sprinted for cover. He dropped to a

crouch and squeezed off a burst that knocked the fourth

assailant off his feet, but the fifth one whirled and

fired in his direction. The narrow beam tore

into Spock's shoulder, spinning him around and causing

him to hurl his weapon into the darkness. His right arm

hung like an anchor from his useless shoulder, and he

barely had time to groan before another beam slashed

across his wrist and back.

Losing control of his body, the Vulcan pitched

forward to the ground, and he was unconscious before he

hit it.

Chapter Ten

TESKA KNEW INSTINCTIVELY that they weren't

firing at her any longer, and she skidded to a stop.

She turned to see Spock get hit by a phaser

beam and spun around, his weapon flying through the air and

landing a few meters away from her. She stared in

horror as a second beam slashed across his back,

and his slender body shuddered and plummeted to the ground.

The girl drew a sharp breath and seized control

of her emotions. If she didn't, she would

be dead, too. When the assassin knelt down for a

moment to check on her fallen comrade, Teska

lunged for the phaser on the ground. The woman looked

up at the same instant that Teska's tiny fingers

found the trigger mechanism. Their eyes locked, and

there was more fear in the Rigelian's eyes than in the

young Vulcan's.

Teska drilled the woman in the chest with the blue

beam, and she slumped on top of her fallen

comrade.

The seven-year-old ran to Spock, fighting

back the emotions. The Starfleet officer was

crisscrossed with burns. Calmly she reached for his

wrist and saw that his communicator device had been

fried into a lumpy bracelet, which had probably

kept his hand from being severed. Her slender fingers

encircled his wrist and, to her surprise, found a

weak pulse.

Despite his wounds, he was still alive!

Teska suppressed her initial excitement with the

thought that they were still surrounded by enemies.

With her phaser leveled in front of her, she

moved warily toward the woman she had shot, who was

slumped over a man that her uncle must have shot.

They had no phaser burns on them and were

breathing easily, so the girl reached the conclusion that

her phaser was set on stun. She looked at the

deadly instrnment and thought about how everyone that she and

Spock had shot would be waking up in an unknown

length of time. Whatever she was going to do, she had

to act fast!

She reluctantly came to the logical conclusion

that she could simply kill all the assassins now

while they lay unconscious. But Teska had been

brought up to consider life as precious, and to kill

defenseless people was beyond her capabilities. That

certainly wouldn't keep her from stealing their weapons,

though, and she shoved two more phasers into her bulging

black clothing.

She heard a snapping sound, and she looked up

to see the lodge burning fitfully and falling apart.

Sparks shot upward into the night sky and looked

like meteorites streaking in the wrong direction. She

worried for Mother Fergolin and her friends, but maybe the

numerologist was only stunned and would wake up any

second. So might the assassins.

Teska knew she had to do two things, escape and

get Spock some help. Everything else was

secondary.

If he died without transferring his

katra, it would be an incalculable loss.

Instinctively she touched the locket hanging around

her neck and thought of the Heart Clan.

They were the only ones she could trust. In the

wavering light of the burning lodge, she opened the double

hearts, looked at the engraving, and memorized it:

Heart Clan, Hermitage Township,

Tangle-wood Briar. Welcome.st

How could she move her uncle? The answer came

at once, and she looked up at the flames and saw

their reflection glimmering off the side of Denker's

black coffin. Braving the heat, she ran to the coffin

and tried to drag it away from the burning lodge, but it

was too heavy. The girl crouched down behind the coffin

and opened the small panel on the side; she tried

to remember all the times she had seen the pallbearers

activate the antigravity system.

As the intense heat singed her eyebrows, Teska

entered what she hoped were the correct commands, and she

shut the panel to activate them. The casket

suddenly bolted upright and levitated a meter off the

ground.

This wasn't exactly what Teska wanted, but

it was enough to maneuver the coffin away from the fire and

closer to Spock. She pushed the casket

like a butcher maneuvering a huge side of beef on

an overhead track.

When Teska reached her uncle's fallen and

scorched body, she began to experiment with the settings

on the coffin, while stealing glances over her shoulder

at the stunned Rigelians. The girl quickly

figured out how to rotate the coffin to either the prone or

upright position, and how to adjust the height of the

levitation. She set the case upright, hovering a

few centimeters off the ground, then punched

buttons, trying to get the lid to open. This was something

the pallbearers had never had to do, so she wasn't

sure if it was even possible.

She heard a groan behind her, and she turned

to see the man struggling under the woman's body,

trying to push it off. Their eyes met, and both of them

reacted swiftly, going for their weapons. Only

Teska had a weapon, and he didn't--so she

bathed his head with a blue phaser beam and sent him

back to the void of unconsciousness.

Desperately the girl punched and pulled on the

casket until she finally managed to spring the

latch.

The lid creaked open, centimeter by centimeter.

Teska took a deep breath and tried

to ignore Vulcan teachings against desecrating the

dead. As far as she was concerned, the good of the living

outweighed the good of the dead.

She threw the coffin lid open, only to reveal the

ashen corpse of Ambassador Denker,

resplendent in white with a black sash around his neck

where his throat had been hacked open. With clammy

hands, she reached up for his body, grabbed his

trousers, and yanked him out. The girl jumped back

as the stiff body tumbled from the coffin and hit the

ground with a crunch.

There was no time to bemoan Denker's undeserved

fate as she entered more commands on the side panel and

brought the open coffin back to the prone position.

Mustering all the Vulcan strength at her disposal,

Teska pushed, pulled, and prodded Spock's

body into the open coffin, and slammed the lid shut.

She slumped against the black box, panting, and

tried not to think that all her desperate action might

be in vain. She had to try to save him, disz he had

saved her.

Teska felt warmth on her face, and it

wasn't the fire--it was the sun. A layer of

flame seemed to be rising over the flat horizon

in the distance, and she knew that the

transporters would be running soon.

The girl set the coffin to hover half a meter

off the ground, then she pushed it away from the

visitors' lodge, which was still crackling with flames.

If she could have helped Mother Fergolin and the others,

she would have, but there was nothing to be done for them now.

As flames consumed the thatched building and

sunlight flooded the fields, a small figure

in black crept away, pushing a coffin in front

of her.

Without incident and without seeing anyone else,

Teska reached the solar transporter marked East.

From the sunlight glinting off the solar panels and the

amber lights aglow in the alcove, she assumed that

the transporter must be working. The girl stole one

last glance over her shoulder and could see a wisp of

gray smoke in the distance. She put that out of her

mind as she rotated the coffin into an upright position.

Because she had no one to help her on the other end,

Teska pushed the upright coffin onto the

transporter platform and stepped on with it. She

gripped the black case like a drowning man grips

a log, wondering if both she and the casket would be

able to transport at once. Within seconds, the

familiar tingle began to pulse along her

spine, and the scene before her eyes shifted from

wide-open fields to a more wooded terrain.

She steered the upright casket off the transporter

pad and checked all of the available markings, looking

for some sign of Hermitage Township or

Tangle-wood Briar. When she saw a sign that

read Flagstone, she pushed the casket back onto

the transporter and kept going through Atwater,

Gathering, Patio, Yellow Springs, and other

stops she scarcely remembered.

Twice she passed fellow travelers who

looked at her and kept on moving, as if it would be

extremely bad luck to talk to a little girl

transporting a coffin by herself. These encounters made

her nervous, because she expected another assassination

squad to be on her trail, materializing right behind

her on the transporter pad.

Every two or three stops, she opened the casket

to let in fresh air and check Spock's pulse.

It was weak, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that Vulcans

did not die easily they could reduce their rate of

metabolism and brain activity to sustain life

longer than most humanoids.

By midmorning, Teska was beginning to doubt whether

she would ever reach the home of the Heart

Clan, and her arms and shoulders throbbed with dull

pain from pushing the casket, despite the anti-gray

feature. But she dutifully heaved the cofin onto

another transporter pad and made another jump.

When the scene in front of her eyes transformed

into thickly wooded terrain with bleached ruins

scattered among the trees, her heart began to beat

with excitement. This stop reminded her of Ancient

Grace, and she wondered if a township with the name of

Hermitage might also denote a place of past

glory, one of Rigel V's crumbling cities

overgrown with trees.

With renewed energy, she maneuvered the casket

off the transporter and searched for a sign. Then she

saw the battered sign atop the alcove, reading

Hermitage.

A quick search revealed no other signs, and no

way of knowing how to get to her next destination,

Tanglewood Briar. Remembering how spread out

Rigelian communities could be, she decided

to take the closest footpath and keep searching for

other paths--one of them had to go there. She glanced

over her shoulder at the solar transporter,

relieved to finally be fleeing the rapid transit

system. Death could materialize too

quickly from that device.

Teska steered the black casket down a shadowy

trail with green-barked trees towering all around her.

Their willowy branches swayed in the morning

breeze, and she could hear the chattering of insects and

small animals in the dense foliage. Even though

it was close to midday, it felt like night inside the

forest, and the occasional ruins looked like the

mausoleums she had seen in a San Francisco

cemetery.

She stopped twice to give Spock air and

make sure he was still alive.

After traveling some distance, Teska came to a fork

in the road. There was a low wooden signpost stuck

in the ground, and she had to scrape off the mud to read

it. Upon seeing the words Tanglewood Briar on the

left arrow, she jumped to her feet and pushed the

hovering casket down the rutted trail.

There was no sign of civilization until she

came across a rather large cluster of ruins with a

colorful awning stretched across the top of them. Under

the awning stood a table covered with homemade

crafts, jewelry, and other accessories, and behind

the table sat a wizened old woman, apparently

asleep. Despite the urgency of her

mission, Teska took a few steps toward the table

to peruse the beautiful baubles.

The old woman suddenly stirred and bolted

awake, staring at the girl, and said, "Hello!"

Teska sunk back protectively toward the

coffin, and the woman's eyes widened in horror.

"The child and the dead!" she shrieked, grabbing her goods and

shoveling them into a box.

The child shook her head vehemently. "No, he is

not dead! He needs help from the Heart Clan."

As if to clarify her statement, she gripped her

locket and held it out to the woman.

The vendor raised a suspicious eyebrow. "You

say there is a live person in that coffin?"

"Yes, yes! You must help him? Teska fought

the temptation to reveal Spock's name. "He is a

friend of the Heart Clan. Do you know Hanua?"

The woman snorted. "Of course I know

Hanua.

Show me that he is alive."

Teska ran to the coffin and lowered it to the ground.

Then she opened the lid. The old woman looked

suspiciously at the burned and crumpled form, then

she fumbled in her purse for a tiny vial.

She opened it and waved it under Spock's

nose, and the wounded Vulcan shuddered and began to cough

weakly. The Vulcan grimaced in pain before lapsing

back into unconsciousness.

"Yes, yes, hurry!" said the old woman,

pointing down the trail. "The lodge is near! I

will alert them.

He needs airmleave the cover open."

Teska nodded and levitated the coffin again. She

pushed it as fast as she could down the trail, straining

her slender back and pumping her short legs.

The girl had only gone a short distance when she

heard a booming sound that shook the forest--an air

horn. This brought shrieking from animals in the trees

and shouts from somewhere ahead of her, but she tried

to ignore them all and concentrate on her mission.

As she rounded a bend in the trail, she could see

a pack of dark-clothed Rigelians charging toward

her, probably thinking that the old vendor was under

attack. To her immense relief, Hanua and other

members of the Heart Clan were in the lead.

"Hanua!" she called, stumbling to the ground.

With her last measure of strength, Teska rose

and pushed the casket a few more meters.

Then a wave of black clothes surrounded her, and

arms lifted her up and held her weary

body. She saw Hanua bend over the coffin and

peer inside, distress spreading across her kindly

features. "Quick," she said, "the infirmary."

Several Rigelians took over Teska's

duties and pushed the coffin away. The middle-aged

man she remembered as Rassero held her

tightly. "The child looks exhausted," he said.

"Bring her, too," ordered Hanua as she

strode after the others.

Spock floated somewhere between a dark shimmering

pool at his feet and a golden light overhead.

The light looked like the Vulcan sun. He

stretched his arms and reached for the sun, and the movement

brought him closer; but he still felt a drag, like

low-level gravity, pulling him toward the pool

beneath.

He could see the pool's soothing, concentric

circles blossoming ever outward, and he had a

strange notion that he had been here before, suspended in

this netherworld between two extremes. He didn't

remember having had a choice back then.

Now both choices were equally inviting, but a

strange homesickness pulled him to the light, because it

was so much like the barren reddish world of his youth. He

vageuly remembered that he had to go there for

some reason--some very important reason.

So he clawed upward, like a man caught in a

Jefferies tube on a starship with no gravity.

He had no idea why he was so weak, his movements

so ineffectual, or his thoughts so muddled--but he

knew that he had to reach the sun before falling into the

pool. He had fallen into the pool once before, and it

had covered him, drowned him in forgetful-hess.

Now he had a desire to remember.

As he drew nearer, the world above him opened into a

panorama of dramatic plateaus, wispy

spires, and jagged mountains, all bathed in the

golden light.

On a cliff, he saw the spare figure of

High Priestess T'Lar, resplendent in red and

yellow robes, beckoning him forward. He feared

her stern expression and her disapproving eyes, because

he was not supposed to be here--floating between the

planes.

"You belong to this world;" said her imperious voice,

if only in his mind. "Do not slip backward.

Come forward."

He tried to swim toward her, stretching out his

hands, but the drag was ever present, and his feet

seemed to hover constantly above the dark

pool.

Finally there were other voices, almost a chorus, and

they, too, beckoned him to rise up to the light.

He was reluctant to leave the peaceful pool, because

it was familiar, but he couldn't shake the nagging

certainty that he had a mission to accomplish.

T'Lar confirmed it with a nod of her plumed

headdress.

"Come home," she said.

Spock had no idea why he should believe a

dream, but he did. His feet finally pulled away

from the attraction of the pool, and he felt his entire

body breaking free. But it was not a pleasant

feeling, as itchy sensations surged along his body,

reaching places he couldn't touch. When he tried

to scratch them, the prickling turned to stabs of pain,

bringing a gasp from his dry lips.

Spock's thoughts became terribly clear, and he

could see his shoulder and leg being ripped by a phaser

beam--then his mind went blank. He could feel and

smell the scorching of his own flesh, and he could taste

the metallic dirt in his mouth. At the moment,

however, Spock had the sensation of floating--not in an

airy place but in a place that was dark and salty.

It felt as if he was in a coffin, sinking

into the ocean, and a croak erupted from his swollen

throat.

"Healer," came a calm voice. "He

awakens."

Spock blinked his crust-covered eyes, trying

to focus on the dim light of his surroundings. He

realized with astonishment that he was no longer in a

dream--that every prickle on his skin and every blurry

face was real.

He seemed to be floating in a tank, immersed

in a yellowish brine with wires attached to his

extremities and a buoyant device holding his

head above the liquid. Instruments beeped all around

him, but those sounds were soon drowned out by voices, as

more curious faces swirled before his eyes, chattering

like a chorus gone mad. He closed his eyes,

trying to block them out, but their hands and instruments

probed his aching body.

Then he heard a voice, more soothing than the

others and closer to his ear. "Captain Spock,"

came the voice, "this is Hanua of the Heart

Clan. You are on Rigel V, in our commune,

and you've been wounded. You were protecting your niece,

Teska."

Spock groaned as he opened his eyes

and stared into the hazy face in front of him. He

tried to say something, but only pathetic grunts

came from his raw throat. His arms and legs bobbed

uselessly in the yellow brine.

"There is no need to talk or move," said

Hanua.

"Teska has told us what happened. She

brought you here over a considerable distance. You are in our

infirmary, and you are safe. The cerebral shock from

the phaser was our biggest concern, but you responded

well to treatment. Immersion therapy is working

nicely on your burns, but I suspect you'll

walk with a limp and a cane for a while."

Another face loomed in front of the kindly

face, and they exchanged whispers. "You must rest

now," said Hanua in no uncertain terms. "I will

send for Her kindly face moved away from his

restricted field of view, and more black-garbed people

swirled around the tank in which he floated. One of

them adjusted the tubes poking into his wrist, and he

could feel a rush of well-being and forgetfulness.

Then he slipped back into unconsciousness.

On the bridge of the Enterprise, Captain

Kirk's face was set in a deep scowl as he

surveyed the scattered debris of a

planet destroyed before the dawn of history. Now it

floated in the guise of a billion asteroids,

ranging from fist-sized to moon-sized, spread in a

ring across a hundred millions kilometers of

space. If you wanted to play hide-and-seek, the

Duperre Asteroid Belt was a good place

to hide, but it was a lousy place to find somebody.

Kirk slammed his fist on the arm of his command

chair. "They must be here. These are the coordinates

wthey're supposed to be here."

"Aye, that they are," answered Scotty from the

science station, "but that doesn't mean they're here."

"Keptin," said Chekov at the helm,

"short-range scanners reveal nothing werry large

--no scout ship--but I am picking up a reading.

It may be a probe or a signal beacon."

Kirk glanced back at the communications station,

where Uhura had taken over. He missed seeing

all those fresh young faces on the bridge, but when

things got touchy, he wanted his old crew at hand.

"I'm blocking out interference and searching for

signals," said Uhura, pressing her headset

tightly to her ear. Unlike most comm officers, who

would have to run a detailed analysis through the computer,

she could often identify a gizmo in space

from its audio signal alone. Intermingled with those

billions of asteroids, it wasn't going to be

easy to find a ship, let alone a probe.

"Yes," said Uhura slowly, "there is a

beacon of some sort, and it's putting out a

modulated pulse.

Until we get more data, I can't tell

exactly what it is, but it's not Starfleet

design."

"Is there a crew?" asked the captain.

Scotty shook his head. "Not by the looks of it,

but there's a lot of interference. We need more data."

"How can we get more data?" grumbled Kirk.

The engineer frowned as though he didn't want

to deliver bad news. "She's floating along about

fifty thousand kilometers in, too far for a

tractor beam or a transporter. I wouldna try

either one with all those blasted rocks, and we can't get

any closer in the Enterprise."

"So we have to fly a shuttlecraft into an

asteroid belt," muttered Kirk.

"I wolunteer, Keptin," said Chekov with a

game Kirk smiled appreciatively. "Thank

you, Commander, I accept, but I can't let you have all

the fun.

I'll meet you in the shuttlebay in ten

minutes, after you arrange for relief." Kirk

sighed and then continued.

"And I thought this betrothal was going to be an easy

assignment."

The captain rose from his command chair.-"Mr.

Scott, you have the bridge. Get us readings on the

speed and headings of all the large asteroids.

When Spock opened his eyes again, he

successfully fought down the confusion which had gripped

him the first time. He was still floating in warm salty

liquid, and it was even darker inside the infirmary,

obviously night. He was weak and helpless, but

alive.

Unlike the first time he had regained consciousness,

Spock could now piece together what had happened

to him. He had survived an attack and phaser

burns, and Teska had somehow brought him to the Heart

Clan in time. Despite their penchant for

primitive living, the Rigelians were renowned for

their medical techniques, and he was the fortunate

There were, however, some realities he had to accept:

for the immediate future, he would be considerably dependent

upon the Rigelians, specifically the Heart

Clan. Plus the assassins had not been

stopped--they had only been thwarted temporarily.

They would return. Despite his infirm condition,

he would have to remain on constant vigil.

With that thought in mind, Spock surveyed his

surroundings and found that he was the only patient in a

drab room with mustard-colored walls and a ceiling

of roughly finished plaster. From the corner of his eye,

he saw a small black-clad figure sleeping

on a wooden bench a few meters away.

He croaked her name: "Teska."

At once, the girl sat up and rushed to his

side. A grin began to spread across her face before

she realized what she was doing. She quickly replaced

the happy expression with a somber look of concern, but

she couldn't hide the pleasure in her voice.

"Pele-ut-la, you are recovered, almost! They have

worked around the clock to care for you. You are out of

danger."

"Am IT' rasped Spock, thinking of

Madame @yitra, Mondral, and traveling

parties of three women and two men.

The girl shook her head. "We have seen nothing

of the assassins. There was a fire, and they may think

we are dead. But do not concern yourself with that, Uncle,

just get better."

"I am trying," he answered hoarsely. With

considerable effort, Spock lifted his arm--the one he

thought he would never use again. He actually raised his

fingers above the yellowish brine in which his injured body

floated. Teska immediately reached over the side of the

tank and gripped his slippery fingers with her tiny

ones.

"Any sign of the Enterprise?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. But I am not sure

they could find us, because your wrist communicator was

destroyed by phaser fire. We would have to go back

to Ancient Grace, and it will be some time before you can

travel."

andmiddot; "Your koon-ut-la--"

She patted his hand as if their roles were reversed

and she were the adult and he was the child. "I am alive,

and you are alive--that is all that matters.

There will be other boys."

Spock nodded. He supposed there would be other

boys, although they would not be Romulans willing to begin

the momentous journey that would result in reunification

between two long-separated races.

As if sensing his disappointment, Teska squeezed

his hand and said brightly, "The commune is a wonderful

place. It is much more than just a lodge--

they have this infirmary, and a school for the children, and a guild

where they make very interesting crafts. I am learning

to make jewelry and woven beltsmHanua says

I am very good at it. They have a harmonious life

here, Uncle."

"Do not grow too attached," he warned her.

Teska pulled her hand away from his, and he could

tell that his warning was too late. "Hanua wanted

me to tell them when you woke up, so they could

transfer you to a bed. I will see you later,

Uncle."

"Teska," he said hoarsely.

"Yes?" She was again an impassive Vulcan.

"How--how did you bring me here?"

"I stunned the assassin who shot you and took the

phasers, three in all. Then I put you in

Denker's coffin."

"Very inventive. You saved my life."

"We are family," said Teska. "I have

learned that nothing is more important than that." With

those words, the young Vulcan strode out the door.

Spock shifted, his back creaking with pain. He

tried to relax, but it was difficult. It was,

evidently, going to be a long recovery.

Chapter Eleven

A PANORAMA OF brown and black rocks

filled the cockpit window of the shuttlecraft

VespuccLike flowing in every direction as far as the eye,

or short-range sensors, could see. The vast herd

of boulders was moving slowly, or so it appeared, but

Kirk knew that a single false move within this

obstacle course would be disastrous, especially out of

range of the Enterprise's transporters.

"Keptin," said Chekov, seated in the pilot's

seat, "we have downloaded the coordinates of the

beacon, and the speed of the surrounding asteroids. To cut

across the asteroids would be suicide. My suggestion

is that we match their speed as closely as possible

and work slowly toward the beacon. That is the only

safe way to intercept it."

Kirk nodded. "Enter upstream and drift down

to the beacon. I approve your plan, as long as I

don't have to watch."

Chekov smiled. "You can check the grappling

hook, sir. Considering the speed of the asteroids and the

distance we have to go, I will enter ten thousand kilometers

upstream."

"Good luck," said Kirk, leaving the copilot's

seat to go to the back of the tiny craft. He sure

wished the shuttlecraft had a

transporter on it--maybe someday they would, but not

now--so they had chosen the Vespucci for this mission because

she had a grappling hook and a small cargo bay.

Kirk would be responsible for snatching the beacon with the

grapple.

He felt a slight jolt as they changed course

and decreased speed. He wondered if he should

hurry to his seat and strap himself in. No, he

finally decided, if they struck an asteroid, he'd

be just as dead strapped to his seat as he would be

floating around in the wreckage. Kirk might only

have one chance with the hook, and he had better be certain

there were no problems.

First he checked the control panel to make sure

the outer hatch was closed and all readings were normal.

Then he opened the inner hatch that gave him access

to the grappling mechanism, which appeared

deceptively fragile. Kirk climbed inside

the small cargo bay and inspected the robotic

clamps, servos, circuitry, cameras, and other

crucial components, while trying not to look over his

shoulder to see their shuttle floating insanely

close to giant chunks of rock.

He could feel and hear small bursts of energy as

Chekov fired thrusters to adjust their speed

and cruise along beside the behemoths. Kirk went

back to his inspection--the precision bearings looked

clean. Suddenly several thuds hit the hull in

swift succession, and Kirk felt as though he were

inside a kettle drum with a two-year-old beating

on it.

"What's that?"

"A few small meteorites," said Chekov,

"about andmiddot; the size of grapefruit. I can't

avoid all of them."

"Of course not," said Kirk. "I just hope

you're right when you pick which Ones to hit."

The shuttlecraft shifted dramatically, tossing

Kirk onto his rear end, and he looked up

to see-a huge meteorite go drifting by the window

at distressingly close range.

"A few are going in the wrong direction,"

explained Chekov.

"Right," muttered Kirk, thinking that he was going in

the wrong direction. This was a job for a

twenty-five-year-old ensign to command, not a busted

admiral who should be collecting a pension.

He was tempted to tell Chekov to turn back,

but that would be even more dangerous than just floating along

with the vast herd of asteroids.

Whenever there was a break in the flow of boulders,

Chekov kept bearing to starboard, getting them closer

to the beacon.

Kirk climbed out of the cargo bay, closed the

hatch, and ran a diagnostic on the entire

grappling system. Another staccato burst of

small asteroids pounded the hull, and he tried

to ignore them. Why, he wondered, was he risking his

neck like this? Was there something inherent in his makeup that

made him act like a damned idiot all the time?

The captain returned to the copilot's seat and

looked at the dazzling array of asteroids fanning

across the blackness of space. It looked like some

giant's rock collection. "What's our distance?"

he asked.

"Closing to a thousand kilometers." Chekov

made another maneuver to starboard and passed another

pack of asteroids.

"Let me see what I can pick up from the

signal."

Kirk sat in the copilot's seat tuned to the

frequency pinpointed by Uhura, but there was nothing but

the same monotonous pulse. It was probably some

kind of low-level warning, like an SOS, but he

hardly needed an alien beacon to tell him

this place was dangerous.

Kirk did a life-form scan and discovered that the

beacon, as expected, had no crew. A more

detailed scan was possible at this range, and it

picked up some markings on the beacon, which the computer

promptly identified.

"It's Romulan," said Kirk with a trace of a

relief in his voice. "They must have really been here

at one time, but they had to vacate." As more tiny

asteroids thudded against the hull, he couldn't blame

anyone for not sticking around here indefinitely.

"Closing to two hundred kilometers,"

announced Chekov.

"I'll ready the grapple." Kirk brought up

the screen for the grappling mechanism, complete with a

small window for the video input from the camera.

The video was blank at the moment, because he

hadn't yet opened the outer hatch.

Chekov swerved the shuttlecraft around a

floating mountain and had to decelerate to match a

phalanx of large asteroids directly in front

of them. Finally he found an opening in the line of

boulders and slipped through, closing the gap with the

beacon.

Kirk enlarged the video from the nose of the

shuttle'craft and got his first look at the object

of their chasewthe alien beacon. It was a tubelike

device about a meter and a half-long with a stalk of

antennas at one end.

"In critical approach," said Chekov,

"decelerating."

Kirk watched their speed and distance carefully, not

wanting to open the outer hatch until the last moment,

so as not to risk the grapple getting hit by tiny

asteroids. What the hull could easily withstand would

smash the delicate robot to bits, and he was only

going to do this once.

At two hundred meters, he opened the outer

hatch and activated the grapple. Now Kirk had

grapple-view video, in addition to a constant

array of other readings. The Romulans had done them

one small favor, at least, by leaving the beacon in

an area that was relatively clear of debris.

Chekov dropped their speed again, and they were floating

just a few centimeters per minute faster than the

mysterious beacon. And they were closing in. Kirk

transferred manual control of the grapple to his

fingertip panels, ready to override the computer if

it failed to snag the beacon on the first pass.

Chekov looked as though he wanted

to say something, but there wasn't much he could say. With

Kirk in command, they were going to grab this beacon one

way or another.

On his console, Kirk watched the video zoom

in and out as the computer made minute adjustments to the

robotic arms. The clamps were aimed directly

at the tubelike device, but Kirk couldn't see

any place on the smooth surface for the clamps

to grab ahold. So he decided that they would have to go

for the antenna array, even if it meant breaking them

off. He took manual control, his eyes riveted

on the video output.

"Keptin," said Chekov, noting his actions,

"twelve seconds to impact. Ten, nine, eight

--"

As his pilot counted down, Kirk lifted the

robotic claws and imagined that the stalk of

antennas were actually a Romulan's throat,

principally the one who had dragged them all the way out

here for nothing.

Even before Chekov reached "two," Kirk pushed

the claws forward and grabbed the Romulan beacon

by its top-knot of tiny dishes. A few of them

snapped off and floated away, but it was a clean

grab otherwise.

"Got it!"

"Yes, sir," answered Chekov with a sigh of

relief.

"I am slowing to match the speed of surrounding

asteroids--we can coast for a while. Is there room

to bring it in?"

"I think so." At his console, Kirk issued the

commands to withdraw the grapple and its captured prey,

and he nodded with satisfaction when all of it snapped

into place inside the cargo bay. He closed the

outer hatch and said, "Let's take a look."

While the shuttlecraft drifted through the

Duperre Asteroid Belt like just another piece of

space junk, Kirk and Chekov made their way

to the back of the vessel and opened the rear hatch.

Kirk jumped into the hold, grabbed the meter-long

beacon, and ripped it away from the robotic claws.

He felt no sorrow that the beacon would never be used

again to lure fools into this dangerous place.

"It's Romulan, all right," said the

Russian, studying the engravings along a center

band. "Do you want to try to get it open?"

"Make sure it's not booby-trapped first."

Chekov fetched a tricorder from the locker and

spent a good minute scanning the device.

"There are no explosive dewices--only a

small energy source. It is safe."

"Let's rip it open." Kirk grabbed an

ultrasonic tork wrench from the locker and attacked

the band around the middle. After removing four screws,

he gripped the top of the beacon and lifted it up for

Chekov to grab the bottom. "You turn

counterclockwise," he ordered.

With the two of them straining in opposite

directions, the device popped open, and a sheet of

neon-pink paper fluttered out of the inner circuitry

and landed at Kirk's feet. From the garish

graphics printed on the sheet, it appeared to be

an advertisement for some sort of recreational

lounge.

With a frown, Kirk picked up the sheet and

studied it. There was a message scrawled on the

back, so he turned the page over and read it

aloud: "Dear Enterprise, thank you for coming. If

you want to see the boy, Hasreek, alive again,

leave an unmanned shuttlecraft near these

coordinates and proceed to the Tarquolese

System. Come to the Bayool Cafe on the third

moon of the third planet. If you have done as

instructed, the boy and his companion will be

safe and waiting."

Kirk's jaw hung open as he stared at

Chekov. "It's a ransom note!"

"I've heard of that place," said Chekov.

"It's run by Orions."

Captain Kirk stuck the sheet into his jacket

and rubbed his aching temples. "The next time somebody

invites me to a wedding, I'm declining."

Spock sat in a wicker chair on the porch of the

lodge, feeling the warmth of the sun on his heavily

bandaged skin. The joyous sound of children playing filled

the air, and he watched their exuberant game of tag

as it flowed from one end of the compound to the other. He

cringed slightly to see Teska laughing and shrieking

with the others, but her training and koon-ut-la were now

hopelessly delayed. She might as well enjoy her

childish pleasures for a few more days, because there was

nothing he could do about the koon-ut-la until the

Enterprise returned.

Like the Rigelians, Spock now wore black

clothing over his bandages, and a casual passerby would

never know that two Vulcans had taken up residence

with the Heart Clan. Nor would a passerby know that the

man sitting in the chair had been near death

forty-eight hours earlier.

Spock was still far from robust, but he could walk with

his wooden crutch, and the skin grafts were healing at

an accelerated pace. He wished Dr. McCoy

could spend some time in the Heart Clan's infirmary

--not'only would he improve his medical knowledge but also

his bedside manner. It would have been impossible

to receive finer and more Compassionate care than he had

received from the Heart Clan's healer, Korinna, and

her volunteer staff. He was making remarkable

improvements every hour, and he could feel the strength

returning to his limbs.

Then why did he have such an illogical sense of

unease?

Part of the reason had to do with a middle-aged man who

was repairing the door on the craft building across the

commons. Hemopar obviously felt Spock's

scrutiny, because he kept peering over his shoulder at

the patient. They had not spoken since Spock had

confronted Hemopar for lying on the witness stand. As

no one else from the Heart Clan had attended the

inquest, Spock doubted if any of them knew that

they harbored a liar in their midst.

He decided that it was vital to know Hemopar's

intentions. In particular, was the man more loyal

to Hanua and the Heart Clan or

to Madame Vitra?

Spock felt as if he had regained enough strength

to confront Hemopar again, and there was no sense

procrastinating over it. His and Teska's lives

depended upon the trustworthiness of the Heart Clan,

and he didn't trust this man.

When Hemopar looked up from his work again, he not

only found Spock staring at him, but also waving. The

Rigelian looked around furtively, as if he were

hoping that Spock was waving at somebody else, but

there could be no doubt. With shoulders slumped,

Hemopar put down his hammer and walked slowly

across the clearing, looking like a condemned man going to the

gallows.

His head was bowed as he approached Spock, and

he avoided looking him in the eyes. Before Spock

could speak, two other members of the clan walked out

the entrance of the lodge and nodded politely to Spock

and Hemopar, and the Vulcan realized that the porch was

not the place to have a private conversation.

"Would you help me walk to the latrine?" he

asked Hemopar.

The man nodded, biting his lower lip. He went

to Spock's side and lifted him gently out of his

chair.

Although Hemopar was slight, he possessed the

same wiry strength common to most Vulcans and

Rigelians.

It took them a while to shuffle around to the side

of the lodge, as it was a substantial longhouse

built of brick and mortar, almost eighty meters

long. The building easily housed the twenty-nine

members of the Heart Clan in whatever sleeping

arrangements they wished, and it could have housed double that

number.

"This is far enough," said Spock, edging toward a

tree stump.

Hemopar lowered him onto the stump. "You don't

really have to go to the latrine, do you?"

"No, but I must speak with you."

The Rigelian nodded with resignation. "I am

prepared to leave the clan. After you tell them what

I did, it will be expected."

"I have not told them," replied Spock, "and I

have no intention of doing so."

Hemopar blinked at him in amazement. "I may

be directly responsible for your wounds."

"That is not entirely accurate, but you are

directly responsible for a murderer evading

punishment.

Why did you lie on the witness stand?"

"I had to." Hemopar looked around sheepishly

to see if anyone had heard him. But it was the middle

of the day, and the adults of the clan were occupied.

The children were still charging through the compound, but they showed little

interest in the conversation of two middle-aged men.

Hemopar twisted his hands with agitation. "We are

desperate for that trade agreement, and Denker was

trying to destroy it."

"Correction," said Spock. "Ambassador

Denker was merely trying to make sure that the

agreement wasn't signed under false pretenses.

He did not want to falsify the report to the

Federation."

Hemopar laughed derisively and motioned to the

lush forest, which surrounded and protected the buildings

of the commune like a nest protects its eggs. "Look

around you. We are secondary to nature, and all

Rigelians know that. It rose up and cut us down,

and now we accept it as our superior. We have no

quarries, mines, power plants, or pollution--but

we have no economy either. We have a few

industrialists like Madame Vitra, but most of us

are poor."

"That is why you sell your children

into marriage," remarked Spock.

Hemopar stared at him and swallowed. "You know about

that?"

"It is obvious," said Spock. "Given your

group marriages and your natural

multiplicative proclivities, your communes

must produce more children than they can support. On the

Enterprise, Hanua mentioned that your clan had

recently split, and she seemed remorseful about

it. I see no children here between the ages of twelve and

fifteen. I must assume that children marrying adults

is a way of life on Rigel V."

Hemopar looked down at the ground. "It's a

way to prevent inbreeding, and we consider it

unnatural to go without sex. The purpose is always

to form new clans of younger people with older--"

"And the older people "buy" the younger ones," said

Spock, completing his thought. "When you lied for

Madame Vitra, you were protecting both her

primary business and a secret that you all share. The

visitors' lodgesw"

"Yes, yes," muttered Hemopar, pacing

nervously.

"And what are you going to do about it?"

Spock looked up. "I am in no

position to do anything. However, if you do not end those

practices, which are patently illegal under

Federation law, you will not get your trade agreement.

Perhaps Rigel V will even be expelled from the

Federation."

"But if we had the trade agreement, we could

begin to change those practices?

"You must admit to them first," said Spock, "before you

can begin to change them."

Hemopar sat dejectedly on the ground.

"You're right--as long as we're hiding it, we'll

never change it. I made a mistake at the

inquest when I lied for Madame Vitra, but I was

confused. We had just come back from Earth, and it

seemed so hopeless! I thought I was protecting our

future."

"Of more immediate concern to me," said Spock, "is

whether you will betray Us again to Madame Vitra."

"No, no!" answered Hemopar, shaking his head

vehemently. "I'm done with her. I swear to you,

Captain Spock, I won't do anything to bring you

harm."

"I have heard you lie before," said Spock

matter-of-factly.

The Rigelian rose to his feet and

looked earnestly at the Vulcan. "By the primary

number, you've heard me lie for the last time,

Captain Spock. I am in your debt twice--for

lying against the girl, and for your kindness in not telling the

others. A debt of two requires extraordinary

service, and you will get it from me."

"I will settle for advice," said Spock. "You

know Vitramwill she come after us?"

Hemopar's lips thinned. "Yes, she will. Perhaps

not right away, because she had to appear before the

Assembly after our trip to Earth. But sooner or

later, she will get a full report about the fire,

and she will know that you are still alive. She will think of the

Heart Clan."

"Then we must leave," said Spock, "we are

endangering all of you by remaining here."

"We don't look at it that way," said

Hemopar.

"We are honored by your presence. We wish you and

Teska would stay--marry into our clan."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "That is a generous

sentiment, but I must decline."

"Our loss," said Hemopar with a bow.

Hanua came charging around the corner of the lodge,

a look of concern on her face, and

Spock realized that she was searching for him. "One

thing, Hemopar--"

"Anything."

"Bring me my belongings," whispered Spock,

"especially the phasers."

The Rigelian nodded as Hanua and Teska

charged into their midst. "Captain Spock, you are not

supposed to be wandering around. You're supposed to be

sitting still."

"I am sitting still," said Spock, glancing at

his tree stump. "Just not in the place you left me."

"You are supposed to be where Hanua leaves you,"

countered Teska, crossing her arms. Then she glared

at Hemopar. "And you are supposed to be fixing that

door."

"Yes," he nodded, hurrying off. "I will

remember our conversation, Captain Spock!"

Spock nodded appreciatively. "As will I."

With Hanua gripping his arm protectively,

Spock barely had to walk as she maneuvered him

into the lodge. She steered them past the outer lounge and

through the curtains into the corridor that separated the

sleeping compartments. In this sturdy lodge, the

compartments were actual rooms with walls and windows.

The room he had been sleeping in was

midway down the corridor on the left, and

Hanua steered him into it.

"Lie on the bed," she ordered, "on your side

with your wounded arm up." Spock did as ordered.

Hanua shut the curtains behind him and turned

to Spock with a no-nonsense look on her face.

"You need to begin your rehabilitation. Korrina has

left it to me, with certain guidelines."

Spock nodded appreciatively. "You have been

very helpful."

"Just doing my job," she said, kneeling by his

bed.

Hanua unloosened his black robe and pulled it

gently off his wounded shoulder and weakened arm.

She checked his shoulder, and gently worked his arm

back and forth. As she did, she brushed very close

to his face and chest, and Spock could smell a

fresh flowery scent on her skin and hair. He

began to pull away.

"Relax, Captain Spock," she said with a

calming smile. "We believe that the entire body

must be exercised for optimum health. Furthermore,

our studies show that sexually active persons are

happier and recover more quickly from injuries. This is

part of your therapy."

"I think not," said Spock, pulling his robe

back over his shoulder.

Her smile became bittersweet. "Isn't it

possible for you to enjoy anything without analyzing it

to death? Can't you accept the fact that we are here

to give comfort and love to each other, not to live alone

and withhold our love. You know I want you to stay with

us, but I accept the fact that your marriage is to your

shipmates. However, you must accept the fact that you

are an empty man, denying yourself more than you deny

others."

With that summation, the slim woman turned on her

heel and marched out of his sleeping compartment.

Spock let out his breath and rolled onto his

back.

He gazed at the rough swirls in the plaster on

the ceiling, thinking that Hanua had not told him

anything he didn't already know. With rare exceptions,

he had never been able to truly give of himself, even

in the limited ways that were allowed to Vulcans. He

had always stood apart, uncompromising, unyielding.

In the final analysis, only his long-term

friendship with Jim Kirk and his loyalty to his

shipmates had demonstrated selflessness on his part.

It wasn't much by Rigelian standards, but

Spock took comfort in the fact that he had good friends.

A human saying came to mind: A man is

judged by the friends he keeps.

His human friends. With all their emotional

displays, they were practically Vulcans compared to the

Heart Clan. No, despite their good intentions,

the Rigelians were too erratic and unpredictable

to give him the foundation of logic he needed in his

life. It would be more logical to devote himself

to Teska, who needed him more than anyone. Perhaps

Teska had come into his life at this moment to give

him the focal point he needed.

All of that was conjecture, but one thing was certain--

he and Teska could not stay with the Heart Clan any

longer than was absolutely necessary. As soon as he

was capable of travel, they had to leave.

Chapter Twelve

CAPTAIN KIRK PACED the bridge of the

Enterprise, glancing at his assembled brain

trust: Uhura, Scotty, Chekov, and Dr.

McCoy. It was either look at them or look at that

blasted field of asteroids in the viewscreen, which

only reminded him that he was getting shaken down for a

ransom.

"Ambassador Sarek has authorized

us to give up a shuttlecraft," he muttered,

shaking his head at the injustice of it. "We have

to erase all Starfleet records and codes from its

computer but leave it operational.

In fact, we are to follow the instructions in the

ransom note to the letter, as long as no one is put

in danger."

Kirk slammed his fist into his palm. "I still

hate to give up a shuttlecraft, even our

smallest one. I've decided that it's not enough

to erase the computer banksmI want to hear

suggestions on how we can sabotage the

shuttlecraft, so they'll be stuck in the middle of

nowhere. I want them to wish they had never seen that

shuttlecraft?

Scotty shrugged. "We could rig a plasma

device to the impulse engines."

"No, nothing that would blow it up," said Kirk.

"With luck, maybe we can retrieve the craft

after it's been disabled. I'm sure they'll do a

scan of everything before they try to fly it, so I

don't think any kind of obvious booby-trap would

work."

"How about a computer virus," suggested Uhura.

"It could gradually take over the

shuttlecraft's computer, then shut it down."

"I thought of that, too," answered Kirk with a

sigh. "The trouble is, we've only got a few

minutes, not enough time to write a virus program.

If we delay, the kidnappers, who are

probably hiding out in the asteroid belt, will know that

we're up to something. If I'm asking for too much and

should just forget it, let me know."

McCoy chuckled and scratched his chin.

"Yes, Bones?" said Kirk testily. "Feel

free to jump in anytime."

The doctor rocked on his heels and grinned.

"Maybe we need a biological

booby-trap. It just so happens I have some

embryos."

"Embryos?" asked Chekov doubtfully.

The doctor nodded. "I ordered them for a recent

study I was working on. They reproduce awfully

fast, and you never know when you might need some

tribbles."

"Tribbles?" asked Kirk, horrified.

"Bones, you've been keeping tribbles on this ship?"

"Just a couple of embryos," said McCoy.

"As long as they were kept in stasis, they weren't

going to do anything. Anyway, it would take

two minutes to hide a few embryos and a little

grain for food. If the kidnappers come to get the

shuttlecraft quickly, a life-form scan will show up

negative. But you know what that craft will be like in

forty-eight hours--complete chaos."

Kirk nodded with satisfaction. "Do it, Bones.

Scotty, you erase the computers, but leave them

operational--we want them to get far away."

"Aye, sir," said the engineer with a chuckle.

"I can pilot the shuttlecraft into the asteroid

belt from here," said Chekov, tapping his console.

"And leave it drifting."

"All right, I want to depart in half an

hour."

Captain Kirk reached into his tunic, pulled

out the pink handbill he had taken from the Romulan

beacon, and unfolded it. He turned it over and

stuck his finger into the scrawled words. "We've got

a date at the Bayool Cafe, Tarquolese

System, third moon of the third planet."

Spock sat on his stump at the side of the

lodge, watching the late afternoon shadows march from the

base of the forest across the compound. The breeze had a

bracing coolness to it that contrasted with the warmth of the

bluish sunlight. His wooden crutch lay

in his lap, and he was hobbling around with more proficiency

all the time. Since Hanua had told him not to sit

on the stump, he had turned it into his own

private station in the commune. Everyone knew that when

he was sitting on his stump, he was disobeying orders,

so they mostly left him alone.

All except Teska, of course. The

seven-year-old was striding purposefully toward him

with a stern look on her face. More and more, she was

acting as if she were the adult and he the child, and

Spock was trying to be patient, considering the

circumstances.

Teska stopped, put her hands on her hips, and

looked crossly at him. "Hanua says you are

refusing your treatments. Espera came to give you a

massage this morning, and you turned' her away!"

Spock cleared his throat. "Yes, I find the

massage therapy fascinating, but I believe I

am recovering well without it."

"You are not improved enough that you can ignore the

healer's orders," insisted Teska.

Spock rose to his feet and towered over

Teska. "I am considerably improved. In

fact, I am capable of travel, and we will leave

tomorrow at first light."

Teska's confident expression dissolved

into wide-eyed shock. She stared at her uncle and

shook her head in disbelief. "No, I do not want

to go. I want to stay here!"

Spock cocked his eyebrow. "Impossible. You

may be attracted to this lifestyle and these people, but you

are not a Rigelian. You have a destiny ahead of you,

and it is not here."

"I have got your destiny ahead of me," she

countered.

"These are your choices, not mine. If you really

cared about me, Uncle, you would let me stay here,

where I want to be!."

"I see," said Spock, collapsing back

onto the stump. He was neither prepared nor strong enough

to battle such total illogic, such a total

breakdown of Vulcan identity. He tried to tell

himself that the girl had been through a traumatic

experience, and she might still be suffering from mind-meld

identification with Denker. Or perhaps she had been

unduly influenced by the Heart Clan, who could be

persuasive.

Whatever the cause of this rebellion, he had

to stand firm.

"Teska," he said slowly, "you have

forgotten who you are. Perhaps someday you can abandon your

own race, but you are not old enough to make that decision.

Also consider that our presence here is a danger to the

commune--Vitra and Mondral could easily

locate us. There is no logical basis for this

discussion. We are leaving tomorrow to go back to Ancient

Grace and, if possible, to fulfill your

koon-ut-la."

Teska's jaw set with determination, and Spock

could see the thoughts churning behind her dark intelligent

eyes. She didn't answer but merely tossed her

head and walked away.

Spock let out a sigh. He had been thinking that

telling Teska the news would be easy compared

to telling Hanua, but now he had a certain amount of

trepidation. Perhaps it would be better to tell the

Rigelians in the morning, just before he and Teska

left. If he told them now, they were liable

to become very sentimental and melodramatic, and he

didn't want any going-away parties.

The Vulcan heard some branches rustle, and he

turned to see a figure crouching in the brush at the

edge of the clearing. He was about to call out in alarm,

when the figure stood up and revealed himself to be

Hemopar. The slim middle-aged

Rigelian ran to Spock, carrying a cloth bag

over his shoulder.

Hemopar crouched beside the Vulcan, looking around

furtively: "I was about to come over to you when I saw

your niece approach."

"Then you heard our conversation," said Spock.

"Yes, but I won't say anything. I agree

with you--you should leave in the morning." Hemopar

dropped the cloth bag in Spock's lap. "Here

are your belongings, but I could only get two of the

phaser weapons. Hanua holds the third one."

"Two is sufficient," said Spock.

"I'm making a cane for you, too," added

Hemo-par with a smile. "It's almost done."

"Thank you." Spock untied the string to open the

cloth bag the Rigelian had given him. The two

hand-held phasers were the most reassuring objects

he found inside, although he was oddly relieved to have

back his tiny numerology book, The Doctrine of

Lollo. The two triangular coins would be useful

if they had to spend the night in a visitors'

lodge, but two other objects were of dubious use

--his melted wrist communicator and the

personal-health device given to him at the

hospital in Ancient Grace.

"You may have this," he said, handing the health gauge

to Hemopar.

The Rigelian looked at the device with

curiosity and stuck it in his own purse. "Thank

you, Captain Spock. There are two of you, two

phasers, two coins--you are in balance."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "I am depending

upon you to say nothing until after we have left."

"Don't worry about me," answered Hemopar.

"I haven't really met that many gentlemen,

Captain Spock, but you are indeed a gentleman.

It's been a pleasure to serve you."

"Thank you," answered Spock. He was still

concerned about Hemopar's loyalty, but he was not about

to discourage the man's admiration. Hemopar backed

away, smiling at Spock, apparently pleased to have

been of assistance.

The Vulcan looked up at the twilight sky,

which had deepened into a royal blue shot with streaks of

crimson. Rigel V was physically beautiful,

by anyone's definition, but that couldn't hide the

ugliness under its surface. It also couldn't explain

Teska's enormous attraction to the place, because

she knew everything that Ambassador Denker had

known.

She knew the planet's dark side, yet it

made no difference.

The seven-year-old was not herself, and he hoped it

wasn't too late to undo the damage.

As the Enterprise rounded the sulfurous

mustard-gray planet of Yquitra in the

Tarquolese System, Chekov slowed to one-quarter

impulse. Captain Kirk jumped off the

captain's chair and began counting moons, each one

larger than the one before it. The third moon in distance

from Yquitra was the size of most planets, and from the

haze around the sphere, it seemed to have a weak

atmosphere. But there was no sign of life except

for an artificial bubble on the polar ice cap.

"That's got to be it," said Kirk. "Is there

air inside that dome?"

"Aye, Captain," said Scotty from the science

station. "Heat, too. They built the town over

ther-maI geysers, and I'm picking up several

thousand life-forms."

"Can we transport through the dome?"

"That shouldna be a problem."

"Captain," said Uhura at the comm station,

"I'm receiving various low-range frequencies--they

seem to be advertisements."

Kirk strode toward her, waving the handbill.

"Anything about the Bayool Cafe?"

She listened for a few moments, then suppressed a

grin. "Yes, Captain--there is nightly

entertainment."

Kirk shrugged and looked at Dr. McCoy.

"I suppose you want to go down with me."

"Wouldn't miss it," replied the doctor with a

smile. "But did somebody say this place was run

by Orions?"

"That's what I heard," answered Chekov,

"somewhere or other."

"We're beyond Federation space," said Kirk, "so

let's be careful. Uhura, have two armed security

officers meet us in the transporter room."

"Aye, sir. I'll send coordinates for the

cafe to the transporter room."

"Scotty, you have the bridge, and be ready to beam

us back at the first sign of trouble."

"Aye, sir."

Kirk started for the door. "All right, Doctor,

it looks like you get some more shore leave. But I

want to get in, get the boy, and get out. The last

time we hung around for a drink, look what happened.

We've followed that ridiculous ransom

note to the letter, so there shouldn't be a problem."

"Famous last words," grumbled McCoy.

As they exited from the turbolift and strode down

the corridor to the transporter room, they nearly

ran into two hulking security officers coming from

another direction. The officers snapped to attention

and let the captain and the doctor pass.

"Be ready for anything," said Kirk. "Phasers

set to stun."

"Yes, sir!" answered the officers, checking their

weapons.

The four men strode purposefully into the

transporter room, where Kyle stood at the

transporter controls.

"Get us down and back quickly, if you would."

"Yes, sir!" he said confidently. "The

coordinates are laid in, and I have orders to get

you back at the first sign of trouble."

Kirk nodded as Bones climbed onto the

transporter platform after him, followed by the

security officers with drawn phasers. Kirk

nodded and the crewman plied the controls and sent their

molecules spinning through an artificial bubble on

the third moon of the third planet of the Tarquolese

System.

Knowing the pugnacious attitude of Orions,

Kirk braced himself for action, but they transported

into an empty courtyard surrounded by picturesque

white buildings. Gurgling fountains and cheerful

cobblestones decorated the plaza, and the meticulous

buildings had a fairy-tale quality to them. No

one was in sight, except for two old people with green

skin shuffling slowly across the plaza.

Kirk and McCoy glanced quizzically at one

another, then at the security men, one of whom

motioned with his phaser toward a building. The captain

followed his gaze and spotted a nondescript

establishment with a tasteful sign in the window which read

Bayool Cafe. It looked like a sidewalk

cafe, with a handful of tables and chairs situated

outside the "door. No one was taking in the

artificially strong sunlight, as magnified by the

dome, and the care looked as deserted as the rest of the

town.

"Put away your weapons," Kirk told his

security officers, as he led the way toward the

sedate care.

McCoy strode along beside him, and he could tell

from the doctor's expression that this was not at all what

he expected.

Kirk strode to the door and opened it, causing a

tiny bell to tinkle, and he stepped cautiously

into a cafe that was cheerful and clean. There were alien

antiques, artwork, and pottery decorating the

walls, plus a number of sturdy tables and

chairs; the smell of pastries baking and tea

brewing filled the air.

There were a half dozen patrons inside the

Bayool Cafe, seated at different tables and

apparently ignoring each other. All of the patrons

had wrinkled green skin and stark white hair, and they

paid little attention to the intruders.

"My God, Jim," whispered McCoy, "it's

an old-folks" home."

"And a nice one at that. Too bad we don't

qualify," said Kirk. "It looks like it's only

for Orions."

The captain strolled across what appeared to be a

dance floor, and his movements tripped some sort of

sensor--a curtain rose on a small stage

to his right, and several handsome young Orions stood

there, their healthy pallor and dark hair contrasting

sharply with the wizened old people sitting in the audience.

"Welcome to the Bayool Cafe," said the

band-leader with a wide smile. "Are there

any requests?

We can play anything." Kirk looked around

to see if the bandleader was talking to him or somebody

else.

McCoy stepped beside him, aiming his medical

tricorder at the musical combo. "They're not

real, Jim. They're animatronic robots. I

bet they can play anything."

"All right," said the bandleader cheerfully. "How

about "The Bayool Stomp!""

"No!" groaned one of the patrons, slumping

into his cup of tea.

"Not that song!" a little boy shrieked. The little boy

had dark hair and pointed ears.

"Hasmek?" asked Kirk.

The boy whirled around in shock and fell down.

He stared at the humans, then screamed over the

music, "Master Pardek! Master Pardek!"

A pair of swinging doors flew open, and a stout

Romulan walked out, eating a sandwich. "What are

you yelling about now?"

At the sight of the intruders, he stopped and stared.

Then he ran up to Kirk. "You've come,

Captain! Excellent!" He turned to the boy.

"This is Captain Kirk--he's come

to rescue us!"

The boy jumped off the stage, ran over, and bowed

his head respectfully. "Thank you, Captain!"

"You're, uh, welcome," said Kirk. He

looked at the robotic musicians, who were

blithely sawing away at their instruments. "Let's

go outside where we can talk."

Kirk led the way toward the door, but one of the

old Orions stepped in front of him and grabbed his

jacket with quivering hands. "Take me, too!" he

begged. "Don't leave me here."

Kirk gently pried his hands off. "We're

only taking these people today. I'm sure your family will

be coming back for you."

The Orion spit on the floor. "They put me

here!

Why would they come back for me? You take me with

you."

"I can't." Kirk tried to get around the old

man, but he was very insistent, again grabbing his jacket.

Even an aged Orion was strong compared to a

human, and Kirk was nearly jerked off his feet.

An eager security officer drew his weapon.

"Release him, sir, and step back!" he ordered.

While the robotic combo played

sprightly music in the background, the Orion

turned to the human and snarled, "Go ahead and kill

me! You'd be doing me a favor!"

Suddenly another Orion jumped up, grabbed his

chair, and smashed it over the security man's head.

He collapsed to the ground, his weapon clattering

across the dance floor.

Kirk shoved the Orion with all his might, but when

the old man did nothing but stagger back a step, the

captain knew he was in trouble. Kirk grabbed

Pardek and the boy and pushed them out the door.

"Let's get out of here!" he cried.

One of the Orions dove for the fallen phaser, and the

other security man tackled him. As they wrestled

on the ground, an aged Orion woman jumped on

McCoy and tried to bite the doctor's ear.

"Ouch, damn!" he yelped. He reached behind and

tried to lift the woman away from his back.

"Hold still!" Kirk managed to pry the woman

off just as another Orion grabbed him, punched him in

the face, and sent him sprawling across a table.

To the happy strains of "The Bayool Stomp,"

the barroom brawl proceeded in full swing for

several exhausting moments. Finally Kirk managed

to send his attacker flying and buy himself enough

time to draw his own phaser. After checking to make

sure it was set to stun, he picked off the rampaging

Orions one by one, until they lay still on the dance

floor.

The band played on, and the bandleader crowed, "That's

great dancing!"

Panting with exhaustion, McCoy stared at

Kirk.

"Whatever happened to shuffleboard?"

"Come on," said Kirk. He and McCoy

picked up the injured officers and dragged them out into the

courtyard, where Hasmek and Pardek were dutifully

waiting.

Kirk gave the older Romulan a suspicious

look.

"When we have a moment, I'd like to hear about how you

wound up in this place.."

"Our pilot and the crew of the scout ship were

treacherous," said Pardek. "They demanded more money

for the risks they were taking, and I couldn't pay. So

they said they would collect from the Federation.

Did you give them a shuttlecraft?"

"Yes, and a few extra goodies." Kirk wiped

a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. "I

hope you won't mind that we've had some

delays at our end, too. But as soon as I

drop you two off at Vulcan, we'll get

everything squared away."

He tapped his wrist communicator. "Kirk

to Enterprise--six to beam up."

Teska lay awake in her bed until the sounds

of talking died down throughout the entire lodge. She

knew she wasn't the only one awake, as she had

been exchanging hand signals with her friend, Falona,

on the other side of the room all night long.

By now, they had to be the only two people awake in the

entire compound.

The young Vulcan climbed out of bed and waved

once more to her accomplice, then she pulled a sack

of clothing, food, and tools out from under her bed.

Falona crept over to her and whispered, "Shall I

go get it?"

"Yes." While her friend slipped away

to Hanua's compartment, which she shared with Espera,

Ras-sero, and others, Teska made sure that she

had enough food and a complete change of black clothing.

She made no effort to take the Vulcan clothing

she had worn on her arrival on Rigel V, as

Denker's bloodstains were still visible on it. Let

Spock keep it.

Falona returned, making less noise than the

breeze in the shutters, and she slipped something cold

and hard into Teska's hand. The girl looked at the

phaser and squeezed her friend's arm. They touched

foreheads together, which was their special sign of friendship,

then Teska grabbed her bag and motioned toward the

door.

They were extra quiet slipping past Spock's

compartment, but Teska knew that her uncle was sleeping

soundly these nights, as his weakened body hoarded

strength for healing. Within a few seconds, they stood

in the starlight at the edge of the forest, where they were able

to converse freely.

"Where will you go? What will you do?" asked Falona

excitedly.

Teska checked to make sure that her phaser was

safely tucked away under her clothing. "The first thing

I will do is hide until my uncle leaves

Rigel V.

He may stay an extra few days because I am

missing, but he will eventually have to go with the Enterprise.

Once he is gone, I can come back and live

with the Heart Clan. It would be more logical to marry

you than some boy I don't even know."

The young Rigelian squealed with

excitement.

"How will you know when he's gone?"

Teska grinned. "You will tell me, by flying your

red kite. I can see that kite from a great distance, and

when you fly it I will know he is gone."

"Great!" Falona clapped her hands, then she

looked thoughtful. "But what else will you do? Just

hide?"

"No," said Teska gravely, "I will

eliminate the threat of Madame Vitra and

Mondral, if I can."

Falona nodded somberly. "They deserve

to die."

"Do not reveal where I've gone." Teska

mussed her own hair so that she would look more like a

Rigelian.

"Never," promised Falona. "They may

torture me, or sell mewI'll never tell."

They touched foreheads one more time, and Teska

pulled a thin flashlight from her bag. She turned

it on and waded into the dense forest, which swallowed her

bobbing light in a matter of seconds.

For most of the night, Teska stuck to the woods,

moving slowly, searching out every vine or fallen log with

her light before she had a chance to stumble over

it. She heard rustling in the ferns and trees, which she

tried to ignore. Sometimes she followed the noises

with her light, but she was never fast enough to see anything but

quivering leaves.

Teska had heard of boadike Creatures in the

forest that might attack when cornered, but large

predaters were mainly confined to wilderness areas. The

adults in the clan often admonished the children not

to roam the forest at night; as there were few places

to go, this wasn't a difficult rule to obey.

Teska fought down her fear by clasping the phaser under

her clothing.

When she was certain that she wasn't being followed

by anyone, Teska skirted toward the main path

leading to the eastbound transporter. It was the only

transporter she knew about, although she wasn't

entirely certain if traveling east was in her best

interests.

If escape was her primary concern, then

traveling east might be wise, as she could exit at

any point to elude her pursuers. However, if

vengeance was her primary mission, then she should

travel west--and wait by an eastbound transporter

to intercept Vitra and Mondral. If Spock was

correct, then sooner or later they would be

coming for the Vulcans, and they wouldn't be expecting an

ambush. If Teska had learned one thing living

among humans on Earth, it was that a good defense was

a good offense.

The girl had time to consider her options as she

strolled along the path in the starlight. Despite the

ruts in the dirt footpath, she extinguished her

flashlight so as not to give herself away. She

didn't think that Rigelians traveled much

by night, but they were an unpredictable lot.

They were almost childlike in their naivete and lack

of initiative, thought the Vulcan. In some

respects, they needed people like Madame Vitra, if

her more unscrupulous tendencies could be curbed.

Once again the Rigelians found themselves at a fork

in the road, Teska thought as she passed the ruins

where the commune ran a gift shop. If these people

wanted to reach out to the Federation, they had to become more like

the Federation, while remaining independent and distinct,

as the Vulcans had done. Most importantly, the

Rigelians had to accept common ethics.

She would show them the way, thought Teska.

They needed her, much more than ulcans needed her.

Rigel V would be her workshop, as Starfleet had

been Spock's workshop. Why couldn't he

see how important this place was to her? He had

also deserted his homeworld, and that decision had turned

out to be beneficial to both worlds, as her decision would

be.

It was her youth, thought Teska, but she had already

been exposed to three different cultures in her

short lifetime, so she wasn't a typical

seven-year old. She could recognize the healthy as

well as the destructive tendencies in each

culture and act accordingly.

While Teska was thinking to herself, a hulking

figure jumped out of the trees and wrapped his arms

around her. Teska fought the impulse to scream, and

she bit him, gnawing into an old glove instead of

skin. The man ripped his hand out of her mouth and

squeezed her tightly, forcing the air out of her

lungs.

"This one's feisty," he growled with a laugh.

"She's a little small," muttered an

accomplice, who was no more than a shadow in the forest.

"She'll fetch something though," said her attacker.

Before Teska could get her breath, he wrapped a

rope around her arms, pinning them tightly to her

side.

"Put her with the others," said the man in the

woods. "We have our number."

The man jerked Teska off her feet, tucked

her under his arm, and carried her off like a rolled-up

rug. Before she could even cry out, he slapped his

gloved hand over her mouth. "You'll shut up, unless

you want trouble."

Teska shut up, but she couldn't stop herself from

shivering.

Chapter Thirteen

SPOCK BOLTED UPRIGHT in bed and sat

perfectly still, fighting the prickling sensations that ran

along his newly healed skin. Something had awoken

him, but he wasn't sure what it was--a noise

outside, someone stirring in bed, or perhaps his own

troubled thoughts. He listened, but there were no unusual

sounds in the quiet lodge or the commune, and

Spock concluded that his treatments had made his

nerves as prickly as his skin.

He gazed out the window at a sky that was so black

and sprinkled with stars that it reminded him of space, his

true home. Despite the obvious dangers of

space, it was a closed environment; people couldn't

walk across kilometers of forest to kill a person,

as they could here. By the wisps of fog on the ground and the

coolness of the air, Spock judged it to be

fairly close to morning. He might as well stay

awake, Spock decided, because the sooner he and

Teska were packed and gone, the better.

The Vulcan had decided that once they got

back to the City of Ancient Grace, he would

demand transportation off Rigel V. Without a

working comm device, there was no reason for them to stay

on the planet and make Captain Kirk's job

even harder. For all Spock knew, the captain

might have already returned to the planet and could be

looking for them now. He wondered why no one had

made the logical decision to seek them at the

Heart Clan.

With a grimace, Spock stood and stretched his

aching limbs, especially his right leg, which remained the

most tender. He could feel his strength returning with

every passing day, but that didn't negate the fact that

he would be slowed on the trail.

He hoped that Teska would not cause trouble on the

journey--at some point, she had to return to the

rule of reason.

He dressed in his uniform, ignoring the pain when

he maneuvered his right arm through the sleeve of his

jacket. Spock gathered up his bag of belongings and

put one of the phasers in his belt, but he

decided to put aside the crutch in favor of the

sturdy cane Hemopar had given him. As an

afterthought, Spock threw his black clothing into his

bag; he hated traveling incognito, but there was

always the possibility that he and Teska would need

to blend into the general populace.

Satisfied that he had everything he needed,

Spock stepped out into the corridor and hobbled on his

cane to the rear of the lodge, where the female children

slept dormitory-style. He went to Teska's

bed, thinking that she must be buried deep in her

covers, but when he rummaged through the blankets, he

found no one. Teska was gone!

A bed squeaked in another part of the room, and

Spock whirled around to find the remaining girls lying

quietly, apparently asleep. He supposed that

Teska might have gone outside to use the latrine,

but he had been awake for several minutes and had

heard no one leave. He quickly reached the conclusion

that Teska had run away rather than leave with him in the

morning.

In the unlikely event she was still nearby,

Spock limped out the front door and stood in the

coolness of the early morning, watching wisps of fog

swirl around the tree trunks. He heard

no footsteps and found no sign of Teska. He

fought the temptation to call her name, knowing that she

wouldn't respond.

In Teska's mind, running away was logical,

and she would be aggressive about it. She was gone, and

finding her would not be easy, especially for him in his

current condition.

Spock limped back into the lodge and found the

compartment that Hanua shared with three others.

He found her bed and gently shook her shoulder.

Without even opening her eyes, Hanua draped an

arm around his neck and tried to pull him closer for a

kiss. When he resisted, she opened her eyes and

stared at him for a moment before a drowsy smile spread

across her face.

"I was hoping you'd come," she whispered.

"I have not come for that," he answered, trying to keep

his voice low. "I was going to leave."

"To leave?" Hanua sat up and noticed his

uniform for the first time. "Well, at least you had the

decency to say goodbye."

"Do you know where Teska is?"

She frowned. "Isn't she in her bed?"

"No."

Hanua stood, her naked body

silhouetted briefly "in the starlight before she

pulled on her black tunic and pants. "Come

on," she whispered, grabbing his elbow and helping him

into the corridor.

After Hanua made sure with her own eyes that

Teska was gone, she dragged Falona out of bed and

took her outside, where she could raise her voice.

Spock had never seen the woman so angry.

"Where's Teska?" she demanded of Falona.

The girl looked down. "I don't know."

Hanua grabbed her by the peak of her ear and twisted

hard. "Where is she?"

"Ow!" yelped Falona. "I don't know where!

Only where she could be--"

"Where could she be?" asked Spock.

"Hiding. I don't know where."

Hanua let go of the girl's ear, but she continued

to glare at the child. "How long ago did she leave?"

"Hours ago, after everyone fell asleep," said

Falona, rubbing her ear.

"I've told you these woods are not safe at

night!" snapped Hanua.

"I didn't go into them!" replied Falona with

impeccable logic. "Can I go back to bed now?"

"No." Hanua crossed her arms.

"What did Teska take with her? You might as

well tell me, because I'll find out sooner or

later."

The girl looked down and kicked the dirt with her

bare toe. "Just some clothes and stuff."

"What stuff?." pressed Hanua.

"A flashlight, some cooking utensils, and--"

"And what?"

"One of those phaser things."

Hanua glared at the girl, and Spock

interjected, "I have two of the phasers, so it must have

been the one you were keeping. What is so dangerous in

the woods at night?"

The Rigelian woman still looked cross, but she

motioned to Falona. "Go back to bed. I'll deal

with you in the morning." The girl ran off before she could

change her mind.

"I am surprised by your strong reaction," said

Spock. "What is there to fear in the woods at

night?"

Hanua frowned. "I doubt if there's anything

to fear, but there are people who... who sometimes take children.

Usually runaways, children who don't have a proper

clan."

Spock leaned on his cane. "For the

purpose of marrying them to adults?"

"Yes," said Hanua, rubbing her eyes. "So

what happened? You told her you were going to leave, and

she did this."

"We must find her," said Spock.

Hanua laughed derisively and waved at the

vast expanse of darkened forest. "Be my guest.

In the morning, maybe we can follow her trail, but

not now. Do you have any idea where she would go?"

"None. Perhaps we should question Falona more

closely."

"Oh, we will," agreed Hanua, "but maybe

Teska wasn't headed to a specific place.

She doesn't know this area and our customs."

The woman sighed. "At first light, we'll form

a search party, and we'll send out word to the surrounding

clans. If she's hiding, I hope she found a

good place."

Shaking her head, Hanua strode back into the

lodge, leaving Spock standing alone in the early

Rigelian morning. He surveyed the circle of

dark trees all around him, hearing and seeing nothing

unusual. After a moment he limped around to the side

of the lodge in what he knew was a futile effort.

Spock finally sat on his tree stump

and assessed the situation. In trying to protect the

girl, he had placed her in danger. Because she was

running from him, he couldn't help her even if he were

healthy. He had alienated himself from Teska and

failed to judge how deeply she had been affected

by her experiences on Rigel V. He had lost her

in more ways than one.

The brutish Rigelian finally set Teska on

the ground, but he tied her hands together with rope and led

her like a pack animal. She expected to be taken

to one of the solar transporters, so she was surprised

when her captors hacked their way through the forest with their

long knives, making their own path to some unknown

destination. From their grunted conversation, she deduced that

the men had hidden themselves on the path hoping for this

exact occurrence--a child wandering by, unaware of the

danger. They talked about reimbursing her clan, so

in their minds they had done nothing wrong in seizing

her.

Teska debated whether to tell them who she really

was--whether doing so would gain her freedom or more

trouble. From the surly demeanor of the big man who

had grabbed her, she finally decided that not speaking was

the best course of action. Only then could she avoid

saying the wrong thing.

Thus far, they hadn't searched her and found her

phaser, so Teska kept pushing it deeper into her

clothing. Apparently they didn't expect a poor

rural child to have such an exotic device, or anything

of value. If they found it, she would be forced

to reveal her identity as an off-worlder. Luckily,

Teska was slight, and her clothes were too big, so

there was no indication that she was armed. If she got her

hands free, she could use the weapon, but she knew

she would have to be aggressive--in all

likelihood, she would only get one opportunity

to stun her captors, and she would have to make the most of

it.

As dawn crept into the forest, they reached a clearing

where ten other boys and girls sat in a

semicircle, eating hot cereal out of bowls.

To Teska's surprise, all of them were older than

her, and none of them were roped and tied as she was. But

there were three other adults present--two women and

one man--who were clearly guarding the youths to prevent

escape. Like the other two, these adults carried

long branch-hacking knives on their belts.

One of the captured boys looked up and smiled

at Teska. "I'm glad you're here," he said,

"now we can get going."

"Is that so?" answered Teska, trying not to sound

like a Vulcan. "But I am hungry."

She held out her bound hands and looked

plaintively at the men who had captured her. If

they allowed her to eat, it might give her the

opportunity she needed to stun them and escape. But

she wondered about the likelihood of picking off all

six of the adults, and perhaps the children as well. There had

to be a few of them who didn't mind being dragged

Off to another life, away from their rural clans,

and they might try to stop her, too.

The Rigelian looked doubtfully at her and

touched the hilt of his knife. "You won't give us

any trouble will you."

"No," she lied.

He drew his knife and deftly cut her

ropes. "All right, get yourself a bowl."

Teska did as she was told, and one of the women

spooned some cereal into it from a silver pouch.

"What's your name?" asked the woman.

Teska bit back her first response and said,

"Lana of the Heart Clan."

"Not anymore," said one of the men with a smirk.

"You just graduated."

"She's awfully young," said the woman

doubtfully.

"That's what I told Pisko," muttered the

other man, getting himself a bowl.

"Well," grumbled Pisko, "she's old enough

to be wandering around by herself in the middle of the night."

He walked over to Teska and roughly gripped

her chin. "She's not homely, and there are some who like

them young. Besides, now we've got eleven to take

back. Mondral can decide what to do with her."

Teska blinked at the man, then looked down,

trying not to reveal her interest in the subject of

Mondral. She supposed that more than one person

on Rigel V could have that name, but she had a

suspicion that only one would be involved in

kidnapping children to become mates for displaced city

dwellers. Instinctively, she felt for her phaser

to make sure that it was still hidden in the folds of her

clothes. It was.

If going along with this scurvy band would bring her

closer to Mondral and Madame Vitra, then she

would do so. She would bide her time. They wouldn't

expect death to come from a small kidnapped child.

Teska went swiftly to the circle of children and

sat next to the boy who had spoken to her.

"You're not too young," he whispered

to her.

"Don't you want to get out of this stinking forest?

Always clearing land, planting crops, making

stupid crafts--I'm ready for the city2"

"I've been to the city," said Teska. Then she

added, "With my clan."

"Which city?"

"Ancient Grace."

"Oh, that's not a big city," scoffed the boy.

"A big city is like the capital, Nine Hills.

I hope that's where we go."

"Me, too," said Teska with all sincerity.

Nine Hills sounded like a good place to get

revenge and then hide.

"I'm Tonopar," said the boy.

"Lana," answered the Vulcan. She wondered

if this fate would someday befall her friend Falona and the

other children of the Heart Clan.

After their simple breakfast, the children were forced to their

feet to begin another trek through the forest. Once again,

they avoided the regular paths and took obscure

trails or made their own. Teska didn't have the

slightest idea where they were among the vast towering

trees, but the Rigelians never consulted a

compass. As they plowed ahead, they seemed

to have an uncanny sense of direction. If their

telepathic abilities were impaired in some

respects, they were acute in others.

The youths were allowed to talk in low voices as they

tromped through the forest, and Teska listened to their

similar histories. About half of them, including the

boy Tonopar, were from the Dusk Clan, and the others

had been secured from different rural clans.

Only she had been kidnapped, and only because the

slavers were in a hurry to get their prime combination--

six girls and five boys--and be on their way

home. None of the youths knew their destination, and the

adults were close-mouthed and businesslike, reminding

her of Vulcans.

By midday the terrain changed, and they found themselves

trudging up and down marshy, muddy hills where there

had been recent rains. They saw large animals

at a distance, herd beasts, and Teska tried not

to look too curious about them.

The ragtag band was climbing up a steep knoll

and was fairly spread out when Teska realized that there

was only one adult in the rear--one adult between her

and freedom. She could stun him with the phaser and be

gone before the others realized it. In all

likelihood this would be her last chance to get

away before walking into the lion's den.

She couldn't be sure how long her weapon would

remain undiscovered, because at some point, she would have

to change clothes or take a bath. If she had

to take off her clothes, she would have to use the phaser

then and there, no matter what the circumstances.

The Vulcan was about to make her move when a

high-pitched sound split the air overhead. She

looked up to see a large black shuttlecraft

come streaking through the cerulean sky, headed toward the

top of the knoll. The craft had no markings and

looked like a repainted Federation personnel carrier.

It vanished into a ring of clouds at the top of the

peak, and the adults finally broke into smiles and

cheers.

"Move it along," ordered Pisko behind her.

The moment of escape was past, and the mysterious

shuttlecraft was interesting enough that Teska moved

along as ordered. A shuttlecraft had to be

valuable on Rigel V, maybe valuable enough to be

piloted by Mondral himself.

The novelty of the craft had caused most of the young

people to hurry to the top of the knoll, and they arrived in

time to see the shuttlecraft drop into an extinct

volcanic crater about fifty meters

across, surrounded by a wall of lava rock about three

meters high. It was like a natural landing pad and

fortress at the same time, and Teska began

to despair that she could escape from the crater even

though she had a weapon.

The girl skidded down the sharp black gravel,

clutching the phaser for safekeeping under her shirt.

She fought down the crushing feeling that she had wasted

her only chance of escape.

Suddenly, the idea of boarding that big black

shuttlecraft sounded like suicide.

The port hatch of the craft lifted like a gull

wing, and a muscular Rigelian dressed in black

jumped out. It was Mondral! He waved

impatiently to his confederates. "Come on, we're

running late!"

Now Teska's heart began to hammer, and she

gripped the phaser with both hands. But how could she

stage an ambush on Mondral--he would

recognize her on sight! Her only chance was

to lower her head, sneak past him, and wait for another

opportunity when she wasn't surrounded by armed

cutthroats and walls of rock. Maybe she would have

a better chance of escape after they reached their

destination in the city.

As Teska had been lagging behind, several of the

youths had boarded the craft ahead of her. Tonopar

was almost at the hatch, and she ran to catch up with him.

She didn't want to enter alone, because Mon-dral

was checking his merchandise as it strolled past, looking

pleased, displeased, or noncommittal.

Teska ran up, grabbed Tonopar's arm and

giggled excitedly. She wanted to look and sound like

a fun-loving Rigelianmanything but a Vulcan. The

boy smiled at her, pleased that she was enjoying herself.

"I hope we go to the same clan," he said.

She gazed at Tonopar, which kept her face

away from Mondral, and she giggled again as if he were

telling her something funny. Suddenly a strong hand

landed on her shoulder and dragged her backward, and

Teska gripped her phaser, ready to use it.

Unfortunately, she hadn't had an

opportunity to change the setting to killmir was still

set on stun.

Mondral shook her by the scruff of the neck, but

he wasn't looking at her--he was looking at

Pisko and the others. "This one's too small," he

complained.

"Throw her back and catch her again in a couple of

years."

He flung Teska to the ground, and the phaser

tumbled out of her grasp and landed on the black

gravel in plain sight. Mondral stared at it.

"What have you got there?"

"Just my brush," she said, scrambling for the

metallic object. She clutched it in her lap,

trying to find the trigger with her thumb.

Now Mondral's gaze shifted to the girl, and

he looked even more suspicious. "Do I know you?"

His eyes widened with the shock of recognition, and his

hand went to his belt. Before he could grab his

knife, Teska lifted the phaser and fired a

blue streak into his abdomen, and Mondral

toppled over with a groan. Teska jumped to her

feet just as Pisko lunged for her, and she staggered

backward, sprawling across Mondral's

unconscious body.

As Pisko drew his knife, she hastily aimed

the phaser and fired. But her aim was off, and she

only nicked his arm, which wasn't enough to stun him.

He kept coming, along with the other adults, and

Teska had no choice but to jump to her feet and

run into the shuttlecraft.

Tonopar stood in the doorway looking shocked,

and Teska shoved him into the craft,

screaming, "Get out of my way!"

There were eight young people inside, and they just stared at the

mad seven-year-old as she brandished a phaser and

slapped buttons on the pilot's console until

she found one that shut the outer hatch. A woman with a

knife tried to slip through the descending door, and

Teska drilled her in the chest with the phaser,

knocking her backward. The hatch slammed shut with a

resounding thud, and the adults began to beat on the

hull and windows with their fists, shouting vile words at

her.

"Hey," muttered Tonopar, "what are you

doing?"

"Hijacking this ship," answered Teska.

With a scowl, a strapping young woman jumped to her

feet and rushed Teska, who immediately shot her with the

phaser. As her unconscious body crumpled to the

deck, the others began to back away from the girl.

Now she was relieved that her phaser was set on

stun.

"Stay in your seats!" she ordered, having to shout

over the adults who were pounding on the hull. "I am

not a Rigellen, I am a Vulcan." As she was

wielding an alien weapon and had just commandeered a

shuttlecraft, nobody cared to contradict

her.

"Can you fly this ship?" asked Tonopar with

amazement.

"No," admitted Teska glumly. Then she

realized that she couldn't fly a shuttlecraft, but

Spock could--and she had recently mind-melded with

him. She still possessed his knowledge, if only she could

concentrate and access the pertinent information.

"I lied," she said, slipping into the pilot's

seat. "I do know how to fly it, but I must

concentrate. If anybody bothers me, I will fly

us straight into a mountain!"

The others were still dumbfounded by the sight of the woman

lying unconscious on the deck and the furious

adults swarming around the craft, banging on

windows. Teska knew they would stop that noise

once she powered up the thrusters, but she had to act

quickly. The girl put the phaser in her lap and

took a deep breath, then she closed her eyes and

laid her tiny hands on the controls.

In her mind, she envisioned exactly what she

wanted to do--start the thrusters, lift off, engage

impulse engines, and fly a safe distance away where

she could land and let the others off. Teska envisioned

the flight pattern of the shuttlecraft as

if it were already happening, and she opened her eyes

to see that her fingers were plying the controls. The

thrusters popped on.

To startled gasps from the children, the shuttle-craft

lifted smoothly off the ground. Teska was now

submerged, and an experienced Starfleet officer

sat in her place, deftly flying the

shuttlecraft as he had hundreds of times before, every

movement sure and swift. The crater faded away

beneath them as they roared over the hilly terrain.

"By all the numbers!" cried Tonopar. "You can

fly it!"

"Obviously," replied the Vulcan with a cocked

eyebrow.

A moment later the pilot checked her readouts and

saw that they were already ten kilometers away from the

crater, so she banked the craft into a tight

circle and began to look for a clearing among the

trees and hills. She spotted a herd of

four-legged beasts watering in a broad valley, and

she swerved toward them, sending them scattering in all

directions.

With no wasted movement or fuel, she dropped the

shuttlecraft onto the mushy ground and killed the

engines.

"Let me out!" shouted someone in the back.

Teska blinked and shook her head, snapping out of

her trance. She looked down at her hands, which

seemed to belong to someone else, then gazed at the

unfamiliar terrain outside the window. She had

flown the ship! They were somewhere else!

She had to think about which button to push to open the

hatch, but she finally found it. As the hatch lifted,

she picked up her phaser and waved it at her

reluctant passengers. "All right, get out.

Tonopar, help the stunned girl off."

She didn't have to tell them twice, as the young

Rigelians piled out of the shuttlecraft and ran for

their lives. Teska assumed they were running in the

right direction and would eventually find their way back

to the crater. Or maybe some of them would take this

opportunity to return to their homes, having

satisfied their thirst for adventure.

Tonopar helped the unconscious girl off the

ship, and he looked back at Teska with awe.

"That was great! Is there anything I can do to help you?"

"Go to the Heart Clan," she answered, "and

tell them that I am all right."

"I'll never forget this," he said with a grin. "Good

combinations to you!"

"Thank you."

For several moments Teska sat in the pilot's

seat and studied the controls. What was she going to do

with a giant black shuttlecraft? She could fly

it, that was clear, but her weariness and disorientation warned

her that doing so took a tremendous psychic toll.

Besides, if she was trying to hide from people, a big

black shuttlecraft was rather conspicuous. In

addition, stealing was wrong, even from the likes of

Mondral and Madame Vitra.

She would have to abandon the craft, and this was as good a

place as any. With ten kilometers between her and the

slavers, she had enough time to get away, but she

didn't want them coming after her in the shuttlecraft.

Stealing was wrong, but sabotage was defensible under the

circumstances.

Teska rose from the pilot's chair and walked

to the back of the craft. She checked her phaser and

adjusted the setting from stun to disruption, then she aimed

the weapon at the control panel and cut loose with a

blue beam that melted instruments and sent smoke and

sparks shooting into the air. Holding her nose, she

dashed past the noxious fumes and into the clean air.

There were no signs of the other children, who undoubtedly

would not feel comfortable hanging around Teska.

It was odd, but her experience with the slavers, followed

by the ease with which she had flown the shuttlecraft,

made her appreciate being a Vulcan. What

other race was capable of such a thing? And like it or not,

Spock was not only her family, but he lived

inside her mind. She could run to the ends of the

universe, and she would never escape him, or what

they were. Vulcans.

Teska looked up at the azure sky with its

mighty sun and golden wisps of clouds. Rigel

V was a beautiful place, and she fel drawn

to it, but it wasn't her home. In that instant, the

girl knew that she had been rash to desert Spock

for her own selfish purposes.

He had nearly died risking his life to save

her, and she had repaid him with treachery. Now she was

at least twenty-five kilometers away from him, with

Mondral and his thugs between them, and she didn't even

know in which direction to travel.

Despite her training, a tear rolled down

Teska's smooth cheek, and she wiped it away.

With a determined look on her face, she picked a

direction and began to walk.

Spock, Hanua, and Rassero stood on the

path between the commune and the eastbound solar

transporter, studying broken branches and fresh

footprints in the dirt. Spock was no

woodsman, but even he could see a clear trail of

slashed branches and footprints leading off into the

forest.

Rassero shook his head grimly. "There was

definitely a struggle here. You can see where her

footprints stopped and these other footprints stepped

all over hers. I'd say they were waiting for her...

for somebody. After they grabbed her, they headed off in

that direction. Even though we tolerate these people, they

know enough to stick to the back paths and forests when they

travel. Nobody wants to see them and be reminded

of what they're doing."

Hanua balled her hands into fists and shook with

rage. "We've got to stop this foul custom! I'm

terribly sorry, Captain Spock. We

didn't warn either one of you as well as we should have."

But Spock was too busy examining the trampled

foliage to acknowledge Hanua's comment. Finally,

he turned his attention to Rassero. "Then in your

opinion, she was seized by slavers and taken to one of

your cities. There can be no other explanation?"

"None," answered Rassero. "That's what

happened to her. We can follow their trail,

but they have many hours' head start. I don't want

to get your hopes up."

"I understand," said Spock, leaning on his cane.

"However, she has a phaser--she may be able

to defend herself."

Rassero put his fingers to his lips and whistled,

and two more Rigelians who had been searching the

woods came to his call. "Come on," he said,

"let's follow their trail."

"Wait." The Vulcan took his extra phaser

out of his pocket and handed it to Hanua. "It is set

to stun.

Use it if you must."

She nodded, and without any further discussion,

Hanua, Rassero, and the other two Rigelians

waded into the dense vegetation.

Spock wanted to accompany them,. but he was

exhausted from walking a few kilometers on a

level path with a cane. He tried not to think about

what had happened to his young charge--to do so was

pointless. She had made a mistake, perhaps more than

one, but she didn't deserve this. If the

Enterprise would only return, perhaps they would have the

personnel and resources to find Teska, but a

wounded Vulcan and a handful of Rigelians

on foot did not offer much hope.

At this point, Spock didn't even care about

Teska's koon-ut-la and all the grandiose

plans they had for reunification between Vulcans and

Romulans. He didn't even care if Teska

stayed with the Heart Clan or returned with him

to Vulcan.

He only wanted her to be safe.

Mondral steeled himself as he turned on the

hand-held transmitter and tuned it to Madame

Vitra's private frequency. He wasn't

sure how he could tell her what he had to tell

her, except to blurt it out. She might personally

fly out to the country to disembowel him, but he had

to tell her. His comrades had wandered far away,

leaving him sitting by himself on a rock in the crater.

Cowards.

He sent out the hailing code and waited, hoping

she would be in a meeting and not in her office in Nine

Hills. But this was not Mondral's lucky day.

She answered the hail immediately.

"Vitra," she purred. "State your business."

"It's Mondral."

"Why are you calling me?" she demanded. "You should

be on your way here with the shipment."

"We've had a problem with the shipment."

"What problem? I heard we had a full

count."

Mondral cleared his throat. He could love

her, fight her battles, and kill people for her, but he

still feared her as much as anyone. Perhaps he should tell

her the good news first. "That little Vulcan girl--

we've found her."

"What!" barked Vitra. "Did you capture

her? Kill her?"

"No," said Mondral in a rush, "she pulled

a phaser on me and stunned me, then she stole our

shuttlecraft, with most of the shipment on it. She

got clean away."

There was silence on the other end, and he could

imagine the rage creeping across Vitra's face.

Finally she said, "I hope you've been drinking, and

you're trying to get out of trouble by making up

outrageous stories. A little girl did not steal our

personnel shuttlecraft and lose our shipment?

"Yes, she did. She flew it off better than

any pilot I've ever seen. We have no idea where

it is, or where eight of our recruits went."

"You moron/t's what I get for pulling you off

the line. You're no better than they are!"

Mondral's jaws tightened. "Don't worry,

I'll kill her as soon as I find her. I'm

putting everything on hold and going after her right now."

"No, wait! I'm coming there myself," declared

Vitra. "I don't trust you to do it right. Where are

you?"

"The crater. Remember to bring the tracker--the

homing device may still be active."

"I'll bring more people, too. Vitra out."

When she cut the connection, there was a squeal of

static in his ear, and MondraI scowled and hurled

the transmitter to the ground.

Chapter Fourteen

SPOCK LIMPED ALONG the path toward the

eastbound solar transporter, unsure how far he

would actually walk. His right side was stiff and

sore, and his progress was annoyingly slow. He

debated whether he should proceed with his original

plan to return to Ancient Grace, where his

shipmates were likely to look for him, or stay near

the commune. He didn't want to leave the Heart

Clan in case the search party found Teska or

needed his help.

Logically, however, it was doubtful how much help

he could give to able-bodied Rigelians

who knew the countryside far better. Before this

experience, Spock had never quite understood what the

term "moral support" had meant, but now he

knew--an inability to do anything but offer

encouragement.

"Hullo!" came a man's voice from afar.

Spock turned and looked back down the trail

to see a figure, who waved and started jogging toward

him. The Vulcan lifted his cane and waved back,

although he wasn't sure who it was.

As the figure trotted closer, Spock

recognized him as Hemopar, which was a relief.

He leaned on his cane and waited for the middle-aged

man to join him.

"Captain Spock," said Hemopar glumly,

"I just heard what happened to Teska. It's a

terrible shame."

"It is most unfortunate," agreed Spock.

"But I see you're getting along all right on the

cane."

"Acceptably," answered Spock. "The cane

is sturdy, but I am not."

Hemopar clicked his tongue with concern. "I

want you to know, if there's anything I can do--"

Spock cocked his head thoughtfully. "I

do have a need. With my communicator broken, the

Enterprise has no way to find me, so they would

probably go to Ancient Grace. With Teska

missing, I cannot go there, but you could. You could even get

word to Starfleet about what happened--you know all about

the inquest."

Hemopar cringed. "You had to bring that up, didn't

you? All right, I'll go to Ancient Grace

to look for your people. I agree that you should stay here.

Teska is a resourceful child, and I think you'll

see her again soon."

"Perhaps," said Spock guardedly.

Hemopar shook his head. "You know, your

communicator isn't the only thing that's broken. That

health gauge you gave me doesn't seem to work at

all. If I'm going to Ancient Grace, I

guess I might as well take it back to the

hospital and get a new one," he mused.

"But your first priority..."

"... is to find your friends. Yes, I know,"

Hemo-par grinned. "You go back and relax,

Captain Spock, I'll get word to them."

"One moment." Spock reached into his bag and

took out his two triangular coins. "You may need

these."

"Thank you." With a wave, Hemopar headed down

the trail at a brisk pace.

As Spock watched Hemopar charge up a

hill, he decided that perhaps he should conserve his

strength, rather than traipse up and down the trail.

He spotted a fallen log by the side of the path

that was about the right height to sit upon, and he lowered himself

carefully, feeling about 210 years old.

The Vulcan glanced back and saw Hemopar

disappear over the rise and around a bend in the trail.

Spock continued gazing down the path for no other

reason than that he was too tired to look elsewhere.

Suddenly he saw a strange lash of light and

heard a scream from that direction.

Spock's leg wouldn't allow him to bolt immediately

to his feet, so he rose slowly, wondering if he

was hallucinating. Then he clearly heard voices

shouting.

He scurried about ten meters into the forest and

dropped to his stomach in the sticky ferns, listening.

The Vulcan heard what sounded like chopping

noises, but the sounds faded away quickly. Without

birdsong, the Rigelian forest was deceptively

quiet.

Spock didn't want to move from his

hiding place, but he had to know what had happened on

the trail ahead of him. Stoically, he rose to his

feet, putting as much weight as he could on his

cane, and shuffled forward. Traversing the vines and

undergrowth was extremely difficult, and it was hard

to be quiet as he knocked away branches with his

cane. So Spock drew his phaser and held it in

his weak right hand.

He crept up the hill, hoping that he wasn't

walking into some kind of ambush, as Teska and then

Heinepar apparently had. But he took consolation in

the fact that if he couldn't see his foe in the lush

vegetation, they couldn't see him either. As he reached

the top of the rise, Spock again crouched down to rest

his aching muscles and listen for stirring, but the forest

remained eerily quiet. There wasn't even a

breeze to disturb the leaves. Finally satisfied that

he was either alone or pitted against a very quiet foe,

Spock rose up on his aching legs and crept

forward.

At the bottom of the hill, Spock estimated that

he had gone as far as Hemopar could have gone before he

heard the screams and saw the flash of light. He was

parallel to the trail and could see most of it, and no

one was there. So Spock came out of hiding

and made his way back to the path, which looked deserted

as far as he could see in either direction.

Remembering the detective work Hanua and

Ras-sero had employed while searching for signs of

Teska, Spock looked for footprints and broken

branches. He knew he didn't have far to look

when he found not only footprints but also a scorched

spot of earth. Some dirt had been hastily kicked

over the scorchmarks, but it didn't cover them enough

to hide them. Branches at the side of the trail

appeared not only hacked but trampled.

Leveling his phaser, Spock walked along a

trail of decimated vegetation that a

five-year-old could have followed. He didn't go

far, about twenty meters, before he saw a dark form

lying on the ground amid the humus and vines.

Spock approached the still figure cautiously,

even though he had an idea of what he would find.

Hemopar lay on a bed of bright green leaves and

dark green blood, his eyes wide open and half his

chest vaporized by a phaser blast. He had

apparently been shot on the trail and dragged back

here. But why? There was little need to feel for a pulse,

but Spock did so anyway. As expected, there was

none, but he found the health device given

to him at the Ancient Grace hospital--it was

clutched in Hemo-pars dead fingers.

Dispassionately, Spock assessed the situation.

Hemopar had been summarily executed on the

trail, which didn't sound like the way the slavers

operated.

It was, however, typical of the ruthlessness of

Madame Vitra and Mondral. But why would they

kill Hemopar, who had been their accomplice at

the inquest only a few days ago? Could it have been

a case of mistaken identity?

Spock bent down and pulled the health gauge out

of Hemopar's stiff fingers. He had never tried

to operate the device, but he deafly recalled when

the helmeted guard at the hospital had given it

to him.

At first, he feared it was a weapon, because it was about

the size and shape of a phaser. Only after

Prefect Oblek had assured him that it was harmless

did he take it.

Without thinking about it, Spock had given the

device to Hemopar, who found it to be

nonfunctional.

Now Hemopar was dead.

The Vulcan still possessed considerable

strength in his left hand, so he gripped the device

in his weaker right hand and pressed his fingers along the

seam that separated the two halves of the device.

Pressing and twisting at the same time, he

snapped the device open and scrutinized the internal

components.

It was obvious why it wasn't working. A

metallic object about the size of a coin was fused

to two contact points, which had shorted out the device.

He took out the second, smaller object and

pried it open with his fingernail. It, too, contained

something remarkable. Among the miniature circuits

he identified a transceiver assembly and a

krellide power cell--it was a transmitter. If

it were a homing device, that would explain how the first

band of assassins had tracked them so quickly after they

left Ancient Grace, and it also explained why

Hemopar was dead. Had Spock kept the device,

their status would more than likely be reversed.

Spock considered throwing the treacherous device

away, but then he realized that perhaps it could be

modified to send a signal to the Enterprise.

Unfortunately, he had no time at the moment to test

his theory. A band of murderers was at large in these

woods, and they would be headed to the commune of the

Heart Clan.

Spock had to warn the clan of the danger, but it

members were spread out all over the area, searching for

Teska or attending to their chores. He couldn't

run, and in his cranberry uniform, he stood out

among the black-clad Rigelians even more than

he stood out on the bridge of the Enterprise.

But Spock remembered that he still had his black

clothing in his bag, so he stripped down where he

was, checked his wounds, and put on the Rigelian

clothing. To do otherwise would make him a sure

target. In order to get back as quickly as

possible, he had to risk traveling on the main

trail, so he struck out for the commune, hobbling as

fast as he could.

"He's not here, Keptin," reported a puzzled

Chekov.

Captain Kirk rose from his command chair and stared

at the azure and olive-colored planet that was

filling the viewscreen of the Enterprise. "Not here?

This is Rigel V, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir, but Keptin Spock's

communicator is not working, at least not in this

hemisphere. We could always search for him on the other

side of the planet."

"He's not going to be on the other side of the

planet," said Kirk, sounding more confident than he

felt. So far, this had been the Murphy's Law of

missions, and the bad luck apparently wasn't going

to stop now. "Any way to isolate his life-form

readings?"

Scotty shook his head. "Not here, sir. Our

sensors can't tell the difference between a Vulcan and a

Rigelian. Without his communicator to find him,

Mr. Spock is just another Scotsman in a

kilt."

"Then we'll beam down to Ancient Grace,"

declared Kirk, heading for the door. "We have a

security team on standby--tell them to meet me in

the transporter room."

"Sir!" said Uhura, stopping' him in his

tracks. "I don't know if it's related, but

there's an automated distress signal coming from a

large shuttlecraft."

"I see it," said Scotty, "a wee bit shy

of two hundred kilometers from Ancient

Grace."

Chekov added, "I don't think the Rigelians

have many wessels like that."

"Send the coordinates to the

transporter room," ordered Kirk. "I'll

beam down with security and take a look.

Scotty, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir."

Minutes later Kirk stepped upon the

transporter pad with four security officers.

Two were women; the other two were the men who had seen

action on the Orion retirement colony.

"Phasers on stun." Kirk looked around

glumly.

"My tricorder officer is missing. Will

somebody volunteer to take readings?"

"I will," said a bald-headed Deltan female.

She roistered her phaser and detached her tricorder

from her belt.

"Thank you, Lieutenant. All right, beam us

down."

Moments later they materialized inside a boggy

hollow where the mud and weeds squished under their feet.

It was late afternoon, and a wind was blowing along with

dozens of dust devils that scooted around and kicked

up soggy leaves. The sky was gray, and the abandoned

shuttlecraft looked like just another boulder in this

rugged terrain.

The Deltan lieutenant studied her

tricorder.

"Life-form readings ninety meters to the

north-west--four of them."

Kirk looked around, but he didn't see

anybody.

Still he began to back toward the hulking

shuttle-craft mired in the mud. He didn't know

why he was being so cautious, except that he

expected his luck to keep getting worse. It

did, as a slight drizzle began to fall from the

gray sky.

"Fall back to the shuttlecraft," he ordered.

"We can use it for cover."

One of the male officers made it to the craft first,

and he peeked inside. "Wow, somebody took a

phaser to the instrument panel. They did a job on

it, too."

The mention of a phaser weapon made everybody

duck involuntarily, which was a good thing because at that

moment, two phaser beams streaked over their heads and

scorched the side of the shuttlecraft.

Kirk dove to the ground, landing on his stomach and

knocking most of his wind out. "I'm too old for

this." He groaned. He rolled over and saw two

of his landing party on the ground with him, one more

inside the craft, and another one running behind the

shuttlecraft. Despite two more phaser blasts

ripping the air, all of them made it safely

to cover.

Kirk tapped his wrist communicator and yelled,

"Scotty, beam us up!"

By the time the next volley of phaser fire

streaked across the meadow, the five members of the landing

party had dissolved into tiny nebulas of light.

Teska sat forlornly on a rock and finally

admitted to herself that she was lost. To be accurate,

she hadn't known where she was since her capture, so

it was redundant to say she was lost. Without knowing it,

she might have flown closer to the Heart Clan when

she escaped in the shuttlecraft, because one stretch of

pristine hills, woods, and meadows certainly

looked much like another. There were no landmarks, unless

you could memorize a bush. On top of that, the sky

was cloudy, and a cold drizzle was beginning to fall.

How did the Rigelians manage simply

to walk from one place to another, unerringly, without

maps or compasses? She had managed to walk in

an approximately straight line by using the old

trick of picking a tree in the distance and walking

toward it, then picking another one, and so

on. But she was guessing at a direction. Her

logic really must have broken down. How could she ever

think she would get away with hiding in the forest for days

or weeks on end? She couldn't even walk through it

without getting woefully lost.

Nevertheless, Teska had a rational plan for finding

her way back to the commune, and it had a reasonable

chance of success. Unfortunately, it also had a

real element of risk.

Just as she had used Spock's experience to pilot

that shuttlecraft, she ought to be able to tap

into Ambassador Denker's innate sense of

direction. In doing so, she might also tap

into unknown parts of his memories and desires that could

distract her and cause her problems. She had finally

gotten control over most of her emotions, after

suffering what her uncle had correctly called a

breakdown, and the last thing she wanted was to feel those

frightening urges of revenge again. Punishing

Mondral and Madame Vitra was no longer her

primary goal--she just wanted to find Spock and

get to safety.

But safety seemed remote when one was lost in a

wilderness, without a clue as to which way to turn. It

would soon be night as well, and she wouldn't

even be able to pick out trees and walk toward them.

Deep down she knew that Denker would be able to find

his way from here to the Heart Clan without any trouble.

It wouldn't even be an issue. She could almost feel

his strong personality trying to exert itself again, and she

worried about inviting him back.

But she wanted to return to the Heart Clan,

precisely because she feared that Mondral would go there

next looking for her. And it wasn't right for the Heart

Clan to suffer when Madame Vitra only wanted

her. The needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few.

The young Vulcan closed her eyes and invited

Ambassador Denker back into her consciousness.

As the rain began to fall even harder, Falona

stood., at the window of the schoolhouse, watching the

drops splash in the puddles. The children were supposed

to be seated at their desks doing homework, but their

teacher had excused herself to help unload a cart of

grain. The commune was shorthanded today with so many people out

searching for Teska.

The young Rigelian felt terrible, both for

getting into trouble and for giving her friend bad advice.

What was she thinking when she let Teska go off

by herself in the middle of the night? She knew about the men

who took children--they had been here only a

few weeks ago and had taken several of her older

siblings. But they had expected that to happen.

For some reason, she thought that things would be different

for an off-worlder, that Teska would be immune to the

seamier side of Rigelians' lives. But on a

dark path, they wouldn't know she was any different.

Falona sniffed, fighting back tears that

blurred the rainy scene in front of her. When it

rained and no one was playing or working outside, the

commune did not seem so cheerful. In the mud, it

seemed like what it was--a poverty-stricken rural

village.

She noticed a tall man in black clothing

crossing the courtyard, headed toward the school. At

first she thought it was Rassero, because he was so

broad-shouldered.

But there was no gray in his hair, and the suit he

wore, although black, was of a finer cut and material

than anyone in the Heart Clan wore.

She pressed her face against the windowpane and

looked closer; finally she recognized

himmMondral, the champion of Madame

Vitra!

Falona whirled around, frightened. She wanted

to shout a warning, but all of her

classmates were dutifully working at their desks or

whispering in childish voices. Besides, it wasn't

illegal for an outsider to come walking into the commune

or even visit the school. Perhaps she was mistaken

about who it was, thought Falona; she had better

check again. The girl looked back out the window, but

the dark-suited figure was gone.

Then she heard a door open, and she froze.

Footsteps sounded in the corridor, coming closer,

and the children who were whispering sat up straight at their

desks and tried to look busy. Everyone hurried

to get their work done; they assumed that their teacher was

returning. Falona was afraid that she would have to run

for it, but there was only one doorway into the room, and a

broad-shouldered figure suddenly filled it.

Mondral surveyed the surprised children as if he

were judging animals at the stockyards. The children sat

stiffly, confused by the face of a stranger. Falona

rushed toward her seat, trying to look

inconspicuous.

But her movement caught Mondral's eye, and

he looked at her and smiled. "I know you from the

trip to Earth. How are you?"

"I'm fine," she answered. "Our teacher will be

back soon."

Mondral snorted a laugh. "Perhaps, perhaps not.

Where is the little Vulcan girl?"

Falona tried to disappear into her chair, but her

siblings didn't help matters when they ali

turned to stare at her. Yes, said their eyes, she was

the expert on the little Vulcan girl The big man

strode across the room and stopped in front of

Falona's desk. "I said, where is the Vulcan

girl?"

"I don't know," admitted Falona, looking

helplessly at the man. "She ran away!"

"Oh, did she? And she hasn't come back

yet?"

Falona shook her head.

"And I suppose Hanua is out looking for

her?"

The girl nodded, grateful to have him answer for

her.

Mondral smiled again, but it wasn't a

pleasant smile. "Well, we have a surprise for

some lucky little girl. Since it can't be Teska,

it will have to be you."

"I don't want a surprise," said

Falona, looking down.

"That's too bad." Mondral reached

across the desk, grabbed Falona by the arm, and

rudely yanked her to her feet. Then he reached

across the aisle and grabbed one of her little brothers,

Dalafro. As they both screamed and squirmed

trying to get away, he dragged them toward the door.

"The rest of you are good students," he shouted, "so

you can remember this! Tell your parents that we have these

two, plus two adults, and we'll trade them

for the Vulcan girl. Understand?"

They sat in their seats, looking shocked.

"Understand?" barked Mondral angrily.

A dozen heads bobbed up and down. "Good,"

said the thug. "We'll send word after nightfall

on a meeting place."

With his clamplike grip on the children's arms,

Mondral pushed them out the door, down the

hallway, and into the rain.

As the trail grew muddier and the sky darker,

Spock had to walk even more slowly. He had just

passed the place where Teska had been abducted,

and now he was headed toward the ruins where the Heart

Clan kept their store. Spock heard a shout behind

him, and he turned to see Hanua, Rassero, and

two more Rigelians headed his way.

He could tell from their weary downcast

expressions that they hadn't found Teska, which was just as

well under the circumstances. Spock didn't want

the girl to be forced into prostitution, but it was better

than being dead. He leaned on his cane and waited for

them.

"We found their camp!" said Hanua, panting from

exhaustion. "But we couldn't keep going in the dark

and the rain."

"Understood," said Spock, "but that is now the least

of our problems. I found Hemopar's dead body."

"What?" snapped Rassero. "You're joking."

"I never joke. Hemopar is dead, and I have

reason to believe that he was mistaken for me. The

only logical explanation is that Madame

Vitra has sent assassins after Teska and me."

"No!" Hanua gasped. "They may be in the

compound!"

Spock nodded grimly. "Most likely. This

is the reason I wanted to leave as soon as

possible."

"We must hurry!" Hanua grabbed Rassero's

arm and pushed him down the trail.

"Wait!" called Spock. "We need help.

One of you, has to go to a prefect or a neighboring

clan, and I will try to contact the

Enterprise. Does anybody have any small

tools?"

Rassero answered, "There is a tool kit in the

ruins Where we keep our shop, for repairing

jewelry. Look in the storage chest, under the

awning."

"I will run to the Hedges," offered the youngest

Rigelian in the group. "They have a prefect and a

citizens' brigade."

"Hurry," said Hanua. The young Rigdian

waded into the forest, as Rassero and the fourth

Rigelian jogged down the trail toward the commune.

Spock and Hanua exchanged glances, and he could

see a mixture of anger and concern in her dark

eyes. "Do you still have your phaser?" he asked.

"Yes. I tried it to make sure it works."

She looked at him, nodded gravely, and dashed off

after the others'.

Hobbling on his cane, Spock followed them as

long as he could, but they were soon out of sight. As he

walked, he wondered if there was anything he could have

done differently to divert this tragedy.

Short of not beaming down to Rigel V in the first

place, he couldn't think of any overt errors.

If Teska had been standing somewhere else that

night, their visit would have been short and uneventful.

Now they were embroiled in a scandal which was bound to have

repercussions for all of Rigel V, not to mention the

lives that were being destroyed.

Of all the Vulcanish races, he decided, the

Ri-gelians were the least willing to confront their

violent tendencies. The Romulans were ruthless

conquerors who gave in to their bloodlust and

authoritarian streak, while the Vulcans

suppressed all emotions in an attempt

to suppress the violent ones. The Ri-gelians

converted their burning blood into sexual pleasure, as

they tried to convince themselves they were living in paradise.

And maybe their planet was a kind of paradise, but

judging from what Spock had seen, it certainly

wasn't populated by angels.

By the time Spock reached the ruins where the Heart

Clan sold their crafts, he could barely see the

white pillars for the black clouds and long shadows.

He had a suspicion that this night would be even more

eventful than the last. He ducked into the ruins,

knowing he had to work swiftly if he was going to be

successful.

He found the storage trunk behind the portico,

opened it, and removed the colorful awning.

To his relief, he found not only a complete

jeweler's kit, including a loupe, but a small

flashlight as well. He had the tools to modify

the frequency of the homing device to match a

Starfleet communicator; he only hoped that his

weak right hand was up to the task of such exacting work.

Taking care not to reinjure his wounded leg,

Spock hunkered down in the bleached bones of the

ancient building and began to disassemble the alien

device.

Thirty minutes later his eyes were watering from the

strain, and he had no idea whether he had succeeded

in altering the frequency. Without a receiver or test

equipment to pick up the signal, he had to operate

blindly. There was a strong possibility that he would

alert Vitra's assassins instead of the

Enterprise, and an even greater likelihood that the

device was simply not working at all after his tinkering.

Spock snapped the case shut, and a moment later

he heard footsteps running on the path, coming quickly

toward him. Was it a coincidence, he wondered.

Just in case it wasn't, Spock turned off the

flashlight. Quietly, he dropped the light,

jeweler's kit, and comm device into his bag, where

they clinked against the other oddities he had

collected during his stay on Rigel V.

Although he was better hidden sitting down, Spock

decided he should stand, or he would have no mobility

at all. Leaning against the wall for support,

Spock rose to his feet. He wasn't going

to fight off many assassins in his condition, but he

drew his phaser, anyway, and he tried to remain

perfectly still in the shadows of the ruins. For once,

he was glad to be wearing black clothes.

Several sets of footsteps pounded to a stop on

the path, and he heard muffled conversation. "Captain

Spock!" somebody called cautiously.

Rigdianand thought Spock, but friend or foe?

Since they came from the direction of the commune,

Spock decided to take a risk. He stepped out

of the shadows, his cane scraping on ancient tile.

"I am here."

Three young Rigelians strode toward him, still

panting from their run, and he recognized Espera

among them.

"Captain Spock!" said the young woman. "You

must come back with us. Mondral has kidnapped

two children and two adults from the clan, and he

threatens to kill them unless we turn over you and'

Teska!"

He limped onto the path. "Has Teska

returned?"

"No," she admitted.

"Then you have nothing to bargain with but me," said

Spock.

The Vulcan gazed up at a sliver of cloudy

sky visible between the dark treetops, but there was no

sign of his comrades.

Once again, Kirk stood on the transporter

platform of the Enterprise. Only this time he was

surrounded by six security officers, including the

barroom brawlers and the female Deltan, who already

had her tricorder open. Sometime he would really have

to take a few minutes to learn their names, thought

Kirk. This trip, all members of the security

team were armed with phaser rifles, and the captain held

a phaser pistol.

"Phasers set to stun," he ordered, checking his

own.

"Aye, sir," answered half a dozen voices

at once.

"Shoot first, ask questions later," said Kirk.

Chapter Fifteen

CAPTAIN KIRK AND THE security team beamed

into the middle of the Rigelians' camp near

the crippled shuttlecraft, and the black-suited

thugs were taken by surprise. Kirk dove to the

ground and rolled, avoiding the enemy's initial

shots, but three phaser beams converged on the

Deltan with the tricorder, vaporizing her in a

blue fireball.

The remaining security officers cut loose with

their phasers and dropped three of the four

Ri-gelians, who collapsed into the mud with wet

thuds.

The fourth one tried to run for it, and Kirk

lifted his phaser pistol and drilled him in the

back. He careened into the black shuttlecraft with a

loud clang and dropped to the ground.

"One casualty," said Kirk with a scowl, noting

that there was nothing left of the Deltan to bury.

"Any other life-form readings?"

Another member of the team whipped open his

tricorder and studied it. "No, sir, we're

alone."

"Search them," ordered Kirk, "tie them up and

give one of them a hypo. It's time for questions."

Hanua eyed Spock warily, and he felt

uncomfortable under her accusatory gaze, as if he

were supposed to feel guilty for what had

happened. Even if he were capable of feeling

guilt, he didn't think that response would be

logical because the Rigelians were equally to blame.

The two of them stood alone in the empty

schoolroom from which Falona and another child had been

abducted. This was a private meeting:

"So what are you going to do?" she demanded.

"I will offer myself to them in exchange for the members

of your family," he replied. "It is all I can

do under the circumstances."

Hanua paced with obvious agitation. "I don't

want to do that, Captain Spock, but I don't know

what else to do. Will they be satisfied with just you?"

"Unlikely," answered the Vulcan. "It is

Teska who knows everything that Ambassador Denker

knew.

She is the one they fear."

"I just want to end this!" said Hanua, slamming

her fist into her palm. "I want my children and my

spouses back."

"Understood," said Spock. "Do we know where

to exchange hostages?"

"Not yet. They said they would tell us after

nightfall, which could be any minute." The woman

slumped onto one of the desks and lowered her

head.

Then she brushed back her unruly black

hair. "It's not your fault--it's ours."

Spock hobbled over with his cane and put his hand

on her shoulder. "I will make the sacrifice, but so

must you. You must devote your energy to ending the

abduction and sale of children on Rigel V."

"I will," she vowed. "It's long overdue. I will

go to the Assembly myself and make the case that Denker

would have made."

As Spock nodded his encouragement, they heard

running footsteps, and Rassero burst into the room.

"He's here! Mondral!"

Hanua jumped to her feet and dashed out of the room

with Rassero, leaving Spock to limp after them.

Since he was already lagging behind, the Vulcan decided

to remain in the doorway of the schoolhouse, out of

sight, while Hanua negotiated for their side.

He could see most of the clan gathered in the

central courtyard, their gaze directed toward a

portable spotlight that had been set up on the

path. The bright light spilled across the compound, and a

tall figure paced back and forth in front of it,

like a panther in silhouette. No one spoke

until he spoke:

"We have no trouble with the Heart Clan," declared

Mondral. "But we know the Vulcans came here,

and you gave them shelter. Turn them over to us, and

we'll return the two children and the adults.

Refuse, and your clan will be looking for new

members to fill its number."

"But we don't have the Vulcan child!" shouted

someone. "Slavers took her to the city." Others

yelled in agreement.

"She escaped from them!" answered Mondrat..

"Trust me, she is free to go wherever she

wants, and I think she will come here."

Spock cocked his head at this news. If

Teska had escaped, she was only safe from the

lesser danger. He hoped she would return

to Ancient Grace, where the prefect knew her and

might be able to protect her.

Hanua stepped forward and shielded her eyes from the

powerful light beam. "If you can't find the girl,

how can we?"

"And how do I know she's not really here?"

snapped Mondral. "We are talking in

riddles. Do you want to see them alive again, or

not?"

"Captain Spock has agreed to be

exchanged for the hostages you now hold," said

Hanua.

"Not enough. Your daughter told me that Teska

ran away from Spock, so his presence won't mean

that she'll cooperate."

"Then I'll come, too," declared Hanua.

"You've already killed one of us--I won't let you

kill any more. You can hold Spock and me until

you find the girl."

The dark figure stopped pacing and stood

silhouetted in the light. "Very well. In one hour,

the two of you come alone to the ruins where you sell your

pitiful crafts. We will free the others at that

point.

But we will only free Spock and Hanua when

we have the girl, so you had better help us find

her."

"One more thing," said Hanua. "I want

Madame Vitra to be there."

"You're not making the demands," replied Mon

dral. "We are." He strode behind the spotlight

and extinguished it, and there was nothing but darkness in the

path.

Spock was about to step down from the schoolhouse

doorway when he heard rustling in the

bushes behind him. He whirled around, leveling his

phaser, but he saw only the twitch of a branch.

Then he heard more rustling, followed by footsteps

running off, but he was hardly spry enough to give

chase.

Somebody had been there, watching the proceedings, but

Spock assumed it was probably another one of

itra's thugs. They definitely had the upper hand

in this confrontation, and he hoped that he could talk some

sense into them once he became their captive.

Spock sat down on the stoop of the schoolhouse

door, opened his bag, and took out the tool kit and the

homing device. Perhaps he would have a few minutes

to try again to modify the frequency and contact the

Enterprise.

"They claim not to know anything," muttered

Captain Kirk, motioning to the four Rigelians

he held prisoner. They sat bound and gagged on the

ground in front of the shuttlecraft, giving him

dirty looks. "All they'll say is that they were

sent here by Mondral to guard Vitra's

shuttlecraft."

Dr. McCoy scowled. "And you think I might

have some truth serum? I'm a doctor, not an

inquisitor."

"I thought you might have some ideas," said Kirk.

"That's why I sent for you. Uhura talked to the

prefect in Ancient Grace, and we know that

Mon-dral and Vitra were acquitted of Denker's

murder.

And there was an apparent attempt on Spock and

Teska's lives before they disappeared. This is

serious, Bones."

"Why don't you let this bunch go?"

"Let them go!" snapped Kirk. "They killed

one of our crew and fired indiscriminately on

us."

"But you would have to follow through in Rigelian

courts," said the doctor, "and that doesn't sound like

a good way to go."

McCoy put his hand on Kirk's shoulder and

steered him away from the prisoners to whisper, "But if

you let them go and follow them, maybe they will lead you

to Mondral, or even Spock."

"How are we supposed to follow them through these

woods at night?"

"I've got something that might help." The

doctor reached into his medical kit and took out a

hypo.

"I've got trace amounts of a

radioactive isotope in here, and you could detect

it from a couple hundred meters away with any

tricorder. One of them has a nasty bump on his

head, and I could say that I was giving him something for the

pain."

Kirk smiled and pulled his tricorder off his

belt.

"See, Bones, I knew you would have a clever

idea.

Go ahead and give it to him."

"Just get that stubborn Vulcan back, will you?"

"I'm trying."

By the wavering light of an oil lamp, Spock and

Hanua walked alone on the dark trail, their

destination the ruins. The captain had changed back

into his cranberry-colored uniform, hoping it would have

some impact on these foolish gangstem. He

wanted them to realize that by threatening him they were

threatening the entire Federation, and they would have more than just

an injured Vulcan to deal with.

Because of Spock's slow pace, they had given

themselves plenty of time to make the walk. Both

Hanua and Spock insisted that no one else from the

clan could follow them; they agreed that no more innocent

people should be endangered over this matter.

Otherwise, the Rigelian woman remained

cool toward Spock, exhibiting a number of

emotions ranging from shame to grief.-He knew that

Hanua was a woman of good intentions; she had

simply closed her eyes for too long and was now

paying for her acquiescence. She had worked around the

clock to nurse him back to health, and they might

die together in a few minutes. He preferred not

to leave Hanua, or this plane of existence, on an

unpleasant note.

"I harbor no ill feelings toward you," said

Spock.

She scoffed. "You don't harbor any feelings

at all, do you?"

"I wish that were true," answered Spock. "I

have learned to master my emotions, nothing more.

These people are murderers, so I am concerned about our

safety."

"So am I," admitted Hanua with a shiver.

"Can I hold your hand?"

It was illogical, but Spock offered her his weak

right hand, while he kept his left hand on his cane.

He could imagine going through life with a competent

intelligent woman like Hanua at his side. Perhaps

she was right, and he had denied himself

companionship for too long. But there was still time for him

to change. He would live approximately 130 more

years if he had a typical life expectancy.

Of course, he had to survive this madness with

Mondral and Vitra first, and the probability of

doing so was not high.

"I am not going to turn Teska over to them," he

said in a low voice.

"I wouldn't either," answered Hanua with a jut of

her chin. "I'm not turning any more children over

to anybody. The first thing we have to do is to make sure

the innocents get home safely."

"Agreed," said Spock. "Do you still have your

phaser?"

"Yes, but I presume they'll search us for

weapons."

"We will not submit to a search until your

family has been freed," declared Spock.

"And if they aren't freed? If we have to fight--"

"I cannot run to escape," said Spock, "but you

can. I will lay down cover fire, and you escape with

your family."

She squeezed his hand. "We are together, and our

combination is good--one and one. We'll get out of this,

Captain, and then I'm going to beat you at

three-dimensional chess."

"I will look forward to it."

There was no more conversation between them as they moved

cautiously down the dark path, surrounded by a

golden aura from Hanua's lamp. At one point,

Spock saw a pinpoint of light off in the forest; it

faded quickly, and he assumed that it was one of

Vitra's thugs, keeping lookout. They gave

Vitra's guards no reason to be alarmed as they

shuffled along like two old people taking an evening

stroll.

Hanua gripped his hand tighter when they rounded a

bend in the path and caught sight of a light in the

distance, shimmering within the remains of bone-colored

pillars. That was their destination on this damp night, but

Spock was in no hurry to get there.

"I need my hand," he said, pulling it out of her

grasp and placing it on his phaser. "It might be

better if we walked some distance apart."

Hanua smiled gamely. "I wish we could have

met under different circumstances, Captain

Spock:"

"You will run, if necessary," he reminded her. "I

will stay behind and cover you."

"Businesslike to the end." She put her

hands on her hips and strode ahead of him. Spock

would have preferred to take the lead, but he couldn't run

to catch up. All he could do was limp along behind her

and hope they could free the captives before something

terrible happened.

When Hanua was about twenty meters away from the

ruins, a broad-shouldered figure stepped into the

ghostly light emanating from the bleached stones.

"That's far enough. Lift your arms, so that my people

may search you."

Spock was aware of movement in the dark forest all

around him, and he was not about to relinquish his weapon so

quickly.

"First we want to see our family!" demanded

Hanua in no uncertain terms. To emphasize her

point, she went ahead and drew her phaser. "Let

them go, and I'll hand over my weapon."

"Now, Hanua," said the silhouetted figure,

"I thought you were a pacifist. Put that thing down before

you hurt someone."

"Release the children and spouses, or I will hurt

someone. you!"

Mondral laughed and made a beckoning motion

to the old ruins. Falona and little Dalafro staggered

out, rubbing their eyes as if they had been

blindfolded.

When they saw Hanua, they shrieked, waved, and

ran toward her.

To her credit, the Rigelian woman remained as

calm and focused as a Vulcan. She kept her

phaser trained on Mondral and gave her lamp

to Falona instead of the hug the girl expected.

"Get your little brother home," ordered Hanua.

"Don't wait for us, and don't stop for anything.

Just keep going."

The girl nodded, held the lamp high, and grabbed

her brother's chubby hand. They hustled past

Spock, obeying Hanua's orders to the letter.

Spock kept his hand on his phaser as he watched the

golden light bob up and down the trail until it

was swallowed up by darkness.

"Now the others," said Hanua.

Mondral shook his head. "Hold on, I thought

this was a two-for-two trade. Nobody would trade

two-for-four--it's not in balance."

"Let them go," demanded Spock. "At this

point, it is you who are in no position to bargain."

"Right," said Mondral with a chuckle. "You are

thinking of your famous captain, who is wandering

aimlessly in the wrong part of the forest even

now.

You are surrounded by my people, and I could cut you down

in a flash. But I need you to bargain with Teska.

That's all we want--one little girl in this great big

galaxy. Who would miss her?"

"Let the others go," said Hanua, "and you will still have

us."

"Oh, stop this bickering!" growled another

voice.

Madame Vitra stalked into the glow and leaned

against a pillar, the light glinting off her black

leather jumpsuit. "Why are we bargaining with them?

They don't have what we want. Where is that

obnoxious little Vulcan?"

"Right here!" squeaked a voice.

Everyone's eyes darted upward to the trees, where

a bright phaser beam flashed into the ruins and sheered the

pillar behind Madame Vitra's head in half.

She screeched and dropped to the ground as the carved

stone fell on top of her. Mondral drew his

phaser and aimed for the tree, as did half a dozen

others, but little Teska dropped from the branch as their

beams converged in a horrific explosion.

Spock was thrown off his feet, and branches and

leaves showered on top of him. There was

nobody left standing, but that didn't stop Mondral

and his thugs from leaping to their feet and shooting

indiscriminately at everything that moved. In those

next terrifying seconds, Vitra's thugs

probably killed more of their own number than their

foes. Through the smoke and burning branches,

Spock could see neither Teska nor Hanua, but

he hoped they were hugging the ground as he was.

A Rigelian ran past him, firing at someone

on the ground, and Spock lashed his leg out to trip

him.

The Vulcan winced in pain as the man went down.

As he rolled onto his back and fumbled for his

weapon, Spock stunned him with his phaser blast.

Now he had given his position away, so he

scrambled to his feet and struggled to run as fast as

he could. As phaser blasts scorched his heels, he

dove off the path and into the dense vegetation. He

heard a blast over his head, and he looked back

to see a thug standing behind him with a raised knife.

Only the man didn't have a head anymore, just a

burning stump where the phaser had caught him. The

body crashed through the branches, and Spock had

to push it aside as it crumpled on top of him.

The Vulcan peered through the smoke and

chaos to see Teska charging down the trail, shooting

wildly with a phaser set on full destruct. She

was a menace, and she was starting to draw enemy fire.

So Spock made a quick decision to lift his phaser

and fire at her; his beam struck and dropped the

girl a microsecond before other beams rent the

empty air above her.

"Good shooting!" he heard someone yell.

The odd compliment seemed to bring a lull to the

shadowy battlefield, but it was impossible to tell

who had won the battle. The Rigelians would

assume Teska was dead, not stunned, and Spock

hoped that no one would inspect her body immediately.

He clearly heard a woman shriek in pain, but

he couldn't tell who she was. So he remained still,

lying in the bushes beside a headless body.

"Spock!" he heard Mondral yell.

"Spock, it's over!

The girl is dead, Hanua is dead, and

Madame Vitra will soon be dead if I don't

get her some help.

Spock?"

The Vulcan lay still. He would not dissuade

Mon-dral from thinking that he was dead.

"At least hold your fire while we

attend to our wounded," growled the Rigelian. "My

people, re-group at the ruins!"

Spock could see shadowy figures moving on the

trail, as the shocked Rigelians staggered toward the

aged stones. In the swaying light, he could see

Mondra! crouched over a fallen pillar, trying

to move it, as several of his comrades rushed to his

aid.

Spock glanced behind him, hoping that no one was

inspecting Teska's body, but the Rigelians were

slouching toward the ruins as ordered. Teska lay in

the path like a crumpled rag.

Then he heard a ghastly sound--a chorus of

bloodthirsty shrieks, like monsters or madmen. The

forest emptied in a swarm of black-suited

Rigelians carrying pitchforks and scythes, and they

descended upon Mondral and his men like an avenging

horde.

Spock felt strong hands grip his shoulder and

toss him over like a log. A scythe shrieked through the

air, aimed at his throat, but it stopped a few

centimeters short. A husky Rigelian woman

stared at him, with bloodlust in her eyes. "You're

wearing red--you're the Vulcan.""

"Yes," he croaked.

She nodded and ran past him, looking for someone

else to kill. Spock immediately staggered to his feet

and ran for Teska's lifeless body. As

black-suited figures surged around him, he

crouched over the girl and protected her.

The charge was led by the young man from the Heart

Clan, the one Hanua had sent to bring help.

Phasers cut down a number of the farmers, but the

citizens' brigade had overwhelming numbers and a

mad bloodlust. Vitra's private army fell

before the scythes like a field of grain.

A more terrifying shriek cut through the others, and he

saw Madame Vitra lifted above the heads of the

mob. She was still alive, if barely, and she

managed to screech epithets at her attackers.

Spock wondered if there was anything he could do

to save her life, but the crowd was in a frenzy,

exacting its own justice. As the farm implements

descended, she screamed like something not even

humanoid.

Suddenly Spock heard movement in the bushes

beside him, and he turned to see a figure in the forest,

staggering away from the carnage. With all the strength he

could muster, Spock picked up Teska's limp

body and rose to his feet. He hobbled

down the path in pursuit of the escapee, and he got

about twenty meters when a hulking figure leaped from

the shadows and grabbed his throat. Both Teska and his

phaser fell to the ground.

Mondral shook him like a doll and snarled in his

face. "You've caused me enough trouble! I'll take

care of you"

"I don't think so," came a familiar

voice.

Spock opened his eyes to see Captain Kirk

leap from the bushes, tackle Mondral, and wrestle

him to the ground. He and Mondral rolled in the mud

for several moments, trading punches. But finally the

stronger and younger Mondral got on top of Kirk

and pushed his face into the mud while he pulled a

knife.

"Any... time!" Kirk gasped.

Spock lunged for Mondral's shoulder with his right

hand, willing enough strength and accuracy to his fingers

to shut off vital nerve impulses in

Mon-dral's neck. He pinched hard, and the big

Rigelian Shuddered and fell over, unconscious.

"It is good to see you, Captain," said Spock,

helping his friend to his feet.

Kirk gulped and rubbed his throat.

"Good to see you, too, Spock. Scotty

detected some phaser fire down here, but I thought it

would be nothing, so I came by myself. It looks like we

hit the jackpot.

Should I even ask what's been going on?"

"There is a riot in progress." Spock bent

down to pick up Teska. As he rose to his

feet, there came a bloodcurdling scream from farther

up the trail, followed by gales of laughter. "We

should be leaving."

The captain lifted his wrist communicator.

"Kirk to bridge. Three to beam up." He

glanced at Mon-dral.

"Make that four to beam up, and have security

waiting."

At dawn, Spock materialized in the center

of the Heart Clan's commune, and he was carrying a

square box with a green bow on it. As he limped

across the compound toward the infirmary, his feet squished

in the soft mud, and shutters went up all over the

lodge. The Rigelians were still edgy after the events

of the night before, and Spock could hardly blame them.

He waved at the watchful eyes as he climbed the

steps and entered the infirmary.

A gray-garbed healer was on duty, and

she hovered over a Rigelian male who looked

badly burned.

He was floating in the same tank that Spock had

floated in a few days ago, and the Vulcan shook

off the memory. All of the beds in the infirmary were

occupied by wounded from the battle in the woods.

The dead had been gathered elsewhere.

"Hanua?" he asked.

The healer put her finger to her lips and pointed to the

far corner. Spock nodded and hobbled over to a bed

where a dark-haired woman lay sleeping. Her right

leg was elevated and was in a clear casing, and

Spock could see the stitches where the leg had been

reattached.

He expected simply to leave his gift and be

gone.

She would know who it was from. To his surprise,

Hanua opened her eyes as he set the box on the

table.

"A gift?" she rasped. "How sentimental of

you, Captain Spock."

"I am glad to hear that reports of your death were

exaggerated," said the Vulcan, sitting on a stool

beside her.

"It will take more than Madame Vitra

to stop me," said the woman. "You have a souvenir."

"I do?" asked Spock.

She nodded. "Mondral."

"Yes, we are taking him back to Earth where he

has agreed to testify as to illegal activities

here on Rigel V. The Federation will not have to guess

anymore. IfRigel V does not make

positive moves to end this practice, they may be

forced to resign from the Federation."

"As soon as I'm well," promised Hanua,

"I'm going to the Assembly. Things will change here

--you will see."

"I hope so." Spock rose stiffly. "I must

be going, because Teska still has her koon-ut-la.

Remarkably, the boy is still willing."

"Who would not be willing to marry Teska?" said

Hanua, managing a smile. "What's in the

box?"

"A small gift for your convalescence," Spock

replied.

"Open it, please."

Spock did as requested, and he pulled out a

three-dimensional chess set and a bag of pieces

shaped like starships. Carefully, he set the

multilayered board game on the table.

"It is regrettable that I do not have time for a

game," he said softly. "You were good competition."

"If you can ever stand more, come back," said the

Rigelian with a smile. "Take care of that little

one, Spock, and take care of yourself sometimes,

too."

Spock nodded and spread his fingers in the Vulcan

salute. "Live long and prosper, Hanua."

Chapter Sixteen

SPOCK STOOD ON A promontory at the

top of a butte which overlooked Mount Seleya and the

stark plains and spindly peaks which surrounded it. The

Vulcan landscape was bathed in the golden glow of

late afternoon, and a hot dusty wind stroked his face.

On this remote spot, there was no sign of

civilization except for a shuttlecraft landing port

some kilometers away. At the base of the mountain

stood the monoliths of the sacred grove.

A statuesque Vulcan woman stood beside him.

She was dressed in a glittering silver gown with

an ornate brush coiled in her luxurious black

hair, and her breath came in fits and starts.

Considering that she was suffering from the effects of port

farr, the young woman exhibited extraordinary

control over her emotions, and her doting

uncle was justly proud of her. It was all he could

do not to beam.

Head of her class at the Vulcan Science

Academy, a recognized expert in mind-meld

techniques with numerous scholarly papers to her

credit, now studying to be a medical doctor--

Teska had accomplished all of this at an age when

most Vulcans were just beginning their careers. Watching

her grow and blossom from a precocious child into a

leader of her people was a joy that Spock gladly

permitted himself.

Not only that, but she had finally grown into her

regal ears, and she was beautiful.

As a bride, Teska was not only blushing but

flushed. Although it was warm on the vast golden plain,

she rubbed her arms as if she were freezing.

"It is hard to believe that we stood here

twenty-one years ago and were joined. Twenty-one

years, and it seems like yesterday. I cannot wait

to see him!"

"Only a few more minutes," said Spock with

satisfaction. "Considering what we went through to get

to your koon-ut-la, I wondered if this day would ever

come."

Teska looked at him, her eyes

moist with tears. "I have no control over my

emotions at all, Uncle. to feel compelled

to tell you how much I respect you. Is that

permissible?"

Spock nodded. "Practically anything is

permissible when you are going through pon fart." She

stepped toward him and awkwardly patted him on the

shoulder, and he returned the simple gesture.

"You never gave up on me," she sniffed. "And

I know I was not an easy child."

Spock shook his head. "I would disagree.

Helping you grow up was one of the most worthwhile things

I ever did. It is I who am thankful to you."

Teska pulled away from him, dabbing a sleeve

to her eyes. "I will look like a fool out there. I will

not remember anything I am supposed to do or

say.""

"You have prepared all your life," said Spock.

"Just speak from your heart and blood. But do not

choose the wrong man--that causes problems."

"There is no possibility of that," she answered

with a brave smile. "When I saw Hasmek again

two years ago, I knew he was the one."

They heard footsteps on the old staircase that

led to the plateau, and Sarek emerged through the

open trapdoor, followed by Pardek. His father

looked much as he always did, but the Romulan had

grown stouter over the years and was huffing and puffing on

the final steps.

Although there were reasons to be suspicious of

Pardek, he had done an admirable job of raising

Teska's betrothed, placing him in a secret

Romulan colony that permitted outside teachings.

From Spock's conversations with the young man, he seemed

an open-minded, ambitious, adventurous sort.

Teska planned to return to Rigel V and take

her husband with her, so he could do archaeological

research while she studied medicine with the

Ri-gelians.

"All is in readiness," said Sarek with a somber

face but a joyous lilt to his voice.

Pardek chuckled. "Yes, it is. Poor

Hasmek is foaming at the mouth. We had to put

him in the brig!"

The Romulan caught sight of Teska, who was

also doing a pooJust: job of containing her emotions, and

he looked down with embarrassment. "Uh, I

didn't mean anything by that. In fact, this passion you

have is most impressive. I hope that someday, when

our races are reunited"

"Let us not talk about such things today," cautioned

Sarek. "Today we complete the bonding of Teska and

Hasreek, and nothing else matters."

"Right!" said Pardek cheerfully. "It is just so

amazing to me that something we did twenty-one years

ago is coming to fruition today! It makes you believe

in long-term planning2'

"Will you be staying on Vulcan long?" asked

Spock.

Pardek shook his head glumly. "No, I must

return home to deal with the terrible infestation of

tribbles.

Do you know, that problem has also been going on for

two decades now! We've had to abandon several of

our colonies by the Neutral Zone. It's

never-ending!"

Spock shook his head sympathetically. A

mysterious infestation of tribbles had indeed decimated

the Romulan Star Empire for two decades,

doing more damage than any previous enemy. They

seemed powerless against their tiny foe and were too proud

to ask for help. No one knew how the infestation

started, but Jim and McCoy used to chuckle whenever

it was mentioned. Spock had tried to invite the good

doctor to the wedding, but he couldn't locate

him on such short notice.

Bells tinkled on the far bluffs, and they turned

to see a long procession winding its way down Mount

Selaya.

"It is time," declared Sarek.

In unison, the men turned toward Teska and

caught their breath. She was suddenly radiant,

composed, and proudma formidable specimen of Vulcan

womanhood.

"I am ready."

Pardek hurried down the stairs, and Sarek

swept after him. Spock stood back to let

Teska go first, and she paused to lay her fingertips

briefly on his cheek.

She didn't meld with him--it was simply a

sign of affection. Spock nodded, grateful to have

been a part of her life, and her mind.

As they descended from the promontory, they could

see processions converging all across the stark mountain.

There were a hundred bell ringers, carrying chimes and

rows of perfectly tuned miniature bells. Then

came the hooded, half-naked athletes,

representing the array of Vulcan men from whom the

bride could choose a champion to kill her intended

mate. It was the female's right to choose

and the male's lot to be chosen or die. The

childhood bonding of the koon-ut-la had to be tested

immediately, or the koon-ut-kal-ijccfee could not be

sanctified.

At the end of the procession came the litter of

High Priestess T'Lar, borne aloft by a

dozen acolytes.

The thin aged woman sat regally in her chair,

staring straight ahead, mustering her concentration on the

task at hand. When the blood fever was upon two young

people, she knew that anything could happen --including

ritual fights to the death. Because this was the first

recorded marriage between a Vulcan and a

Romulan, it was historic, and T'Lar exhibited

the proper solemnity.

The tiny group wound their way down the staircase

to reach the reddish soil of Vulcan, and the men fell

in behind Teska as she strode toward the sacred

grove. Spock and Sarek were standing in for Teska's

deceased parents, and Pardek was standing in for

Hasmek's deceased parents--his presence with the

bride's entourage showed that he would respect

Teska's wishes even if she chose against

Hasmek.

The procession wound their way into the

sacred grove, which had spinally aged trees and was

ringed with open columns supporting a narrow

battlement.

The fortresslike appearance of the grove warned

everyone that combat took place here. A muscular

man in a hood banged the great gong as the

processions entered from various directions. In the

center of the grove was a lava pit of colorful

stones, which spit and bubbled sulfurous fumes into the

air. A priestess threw incense upon the

ever-burning flames, improving the fragrance.

Upon seeing his bride, Hasmek screamed like a

wounded le-rnatya, and it took four of his best friends

--confused but determined Romulans--to restrain him.

By Surak, thought Spock, he was foaming at the

mouth. The Romulans almost let him go when they

caught sight of Teska, looking radiant, and they

had to tackle him to the ground and hold him there, as he

ranted. Hasmek wore a purple sash around his

waist to let people know he was in port farr, but it was

hardly necessary.

Spock exchanged a glance with his father, and they were

both thinking the same thing. This was a very strong reaction

to the blood fever. Would Hasmek achieve control

of himself when the ceremony started? Unlike

Vulcan men, he had never witnessed a

koon-ut-kal-i. Ffee. In truth, they had

to depend upon the mastery of T'Lar, who had

mind-melded with Teska and Hasmek at the same

moment twenty-one years ago. She had implanted

a drive that took over their entire bodies and

brought them across space in a matter of days, unable

to resist their longing.

The only sounds were shuffling feet, miniature

bells, and Hasmek lying on the ground weeping. The

bearers lowered T'Lar's litter to the stairs, and the

High Priestess stepped off and climbed upward,

dragging her white and crimson robes behind her.

She ascended to the dais and looked over the crowd,

which instantly quieted, except for Hasmek's

poignant sobs.

Spock knew exactly what he was going through, as

he realized that his bride could choose someone else--

any man present--instead of him. That was a far

worse thought than the knowledge that he could also die in combat.

T'Lar ignored the weeping groom and raised her

hand in the Vulcan salute. "Our way of bonding

comes down from the time of the beginning. It is our

Vulcan heart and soul. He who denies the

koon-ut-kal-if-fee denies the

plaktau and the pon farr, and everything that is

Vulcan."

Her expression softened slightly. "We have many

off-worlders at this ceremony today. This is unusual but

appropriate. However, there is one off-worlder I

would like to see here, but he is no longer on this plane

of existence. I would like to acknowledge the friendship of

Captain James T. Kirk to the Vulcan people.

May he live in our hearts and our minds forever."

She looked with satisfaction upon the distraught

groom, who was still on his hands and knees, staring

helplessly at her. "Your blood burns! This is

good.

Stand, Hasmek."

Suddenly calm, the young Romulan staggered to

"his feet, and his concerned friends backed away.

The High Priestess turned her attention to the

bride. "Teska, do you burn?"

"I burn!" she shouted. "My eyes are

flame, my heart is flame?

Hasmek stepped toward her. "We meet at the

appointed place."

"At the appointed hour," answered Teska,

moving toward her mate. "We live in each other's

thoughts--"

Spock looked down and hardly heard the rest of the

ceremony. He was still thinking about the one person who was

missing:

Jim.

About the Author John Vornholt is the

author of 26 books, half of them Star Trek

novels for adults and children. He lives in

Tucson, Arizona, with his wife and children.

If you'd like to send him e-mail, please send it

to:

jbvazstarnet.com