would back off if they knew they'd lost the element of surprise, and
that they couldn't push the Federation and the Klingons into
hostilities."
"It is possible," Sarek pointed out, "that they might evacuate the
Freelan colony and deny everything. Taryn, I believe, is ruthless enough
for such an action."
"In that event, what would happen to the second-generation Vulcanst'
Spock wondered. "Technically, they are hostages. We are under a moral
imperative to free them."
"If these Vulcan kids have grown up brainwashed by the Romulans, they
may think of themselves as Romulans, rather than as Vulcans," McCoy
pointed out. "They may not want to be rescued." He turned to Sarek. "Do
you have any idea how many there are?"
The Vulcan shook his head. "From the numbers of Vulcans who were
abducted, I can speculate that there may be as many as one hundred ...
perhaps two hundred. No fewer than fifty, certainly."
Kirk's hazel eyes were bleak as he held the Vulcans' gazes.
"Knowing the Romulans, they're perfectly capable of simply eradicating
the hostages, rather than taking any chances of them being used as an
excuse for a military rescue by Federation forces."
Father and son nodded silently, grimly.
"I think we should--" Kirk began, only to be interrupted by the
intercom. "Kirk here," he said.
"Sir," Uhura said, "Commandant Anderson is standing by."
"Put him through," Jim ordered.
A moment later, Kyle Anderson's features coalesced on the small screen.
He was a distinguished looking black man, balding, with a heavy,
iron-gray beard. "Captain Kirk," he said. "You received my message?"
"Just a few minutes ago," Kirk said. "What's happened to Peter?"
"He's vanished without a trace, Captain. Our security people have
determined that he disappeared shortly after midnight on Wednesday
evening of last week. But we're having finals here, so nobody realized
he was missing until the day before yesterday. It took us a day to track
down your ship ... I'm sorry for the delay."
Kirk drew a deep breath. "But.. he's been gone for days! And you still
don't know where he went?"
"No. He's disappeared so thoroughly that we now suspect he was taken
off-world. We're in the process of tracing all ships that departed from
Earth or Earth orbit that night," Anderson said. "But, as you can
imagine, that's a tall order."
Kirk nodded wordless agreement. "What makes you suspect foul play?" he
asked.
"We managed to retrieve the last message that came in for him at his
apartment. It had been automatically scrambled after playing.. but they
unscrambled it just this morning." He pressed a button. "Here it is."
Kirk watched with growing horror as his own features replaced Anderson's
on-screen. He listened to himself demanding that Peter come over
immediately. Then the screen flickered, and Anderson's dark features
were back. "I never sent that message," Kirk said bleakly. "But it's no
wonder he fell for it ... he was expecting to hear from "We know that,
Captain. We have a record of Peter encoding a Priority One message for
you. May we have your permission to decode it? It might give us a clue
to his whereabouts."
Kirk hesitated. They'd agreed to keep their suspicions of the KEHL being
linked with the Romulans secret. "We'll investigate on our end," he
said, finally. "I'll let you see the message as soon as I clear it with
Starfleet Security. Can you please transmit everything you've got on
that message to my communications chief, Commander Uhura? There's nobody
better at tracing transmissions."
"Certainly, Captain," Anderson said. "We'll do that."
"I'll get back to you as soon as I get that clearance," Kirk said,
crossing his fingers underneath the table.
"My people suspect they were waiting for him on the street," Anderson
said. "And that they grabbed him there."
"So you're thinking kidnapping, rather than ..." Kirk swallowed." ...
murder?"
"We just don't know, Captain. But if somebody simply wanted your nephew
dead, why the elaborate hoax with the faked message?"
"Logical," murmured Spock and Sarek at the same moment.
"Abduction ... possibly kidnapping?" Kirk's mind was racing. "Has there
been any kind of message? Any demands for ransom?"
"Not so far."
"If any message comes through," Kirk said, "TII let you know. Maybe we
can trace its source, and learn something from that."
"Good idea. If I hear anything, I'll contact you immedi lately,
Captain," Anderson promised in his turn.
"Thank you, Commandant."
"Rest assured, we're doing everything we can," the man said, before
cutting the connection.
Kirk turned to the others sitting around the table. "If Scotty is as
good as his word, we should be casting off moorings by now. Ambassador
... you and Spock should begin working on those valits you mentioned.
I'll have Uhura get to work on tracing that message. I've got a hunch
this is all going to wind up connected, somehow."
Minutes later, Kirk was on the bridge, ensconced in his command seat.
With a glint in his eye, he surveyed the cavernous interior of the
Vulcan drydock through the viewscreen. "Status, s'bysh?" he asked his
helmsman.
"All moorings cleared, Captain. Docking bay doors will open in two
minutes, thirty-five point six seconds," she reported, crisply.
"Lay in a course for Freelan, Lieutenant." Kirk settled back in his
seat, his eyes level, jaw set. He watched s'bysh's
green fingers fly. "Ready, Lieutenant?" he asked, scarcely more than a
minute later. "Course laid in7"
"Aye, sir." Counting seconds down in his head, Kirk reached thirty-four.
"Ahead one-half impulse power, Lieutenant," he ordered, and thought he
heard Chekov mutter, "Not again?
"One-half impulse, aye, sir." Enterprise sprang forward like a cheetah
sighting prey.
The ship closed on the parting bay doors with a terrifying rush of
speed, blasted through them with only a few hundred meters to spare on
either side, and then they were out, into free space. Chekov's sigh of
relief was audible all over the bridge, and Commander Uhura chuckled
softly when she heard it.
"Ahead warp six," Kirk ordered grimly.
"Warp six, aye, Captain." Kirk settled back in his seat. No matter what
speed Mr. Scott managed to coax out of the warp engines, it was going to
be a long trip ...
After a long day spent refining valit programs, Sarek was weary, but
sleep eluded him. Remembering his promise, he extracted Amanda's
journal, and opened it, noting the date at the top of the page.
November 12,2231 It is the middle of the night, and quiet. I am tired
... but I am also too excited to sleep. I cannot neglect my journal
tonight of all nights!
I have a son.
Sarek and I have a son. He was born in the early hours of this morning.
Never having been through labor before, I worried that it mightprove too
much for me to bear (no pun intended) with
out shaming myself before the
Healers, but I believe I did well ... And our son is perfect. Even
though the Healers reassured me that all their tests showed that the
baby was normal, still I worried. After all, I had to be treated before
I could conceive, then monitored carefully throughout the pregnancy to
allow me to carry to term--nearly a full month more than the human norm!
Carrying a child for almost ten Earth months is not fun, and that is the
understatement of the century. I was so big yesterday that I felt as
though my sides would split open. I spent hours staring in wonderment at
my belly, unable to believe the size of it. I could barely waddle to the
bathroom unassisted! When I felt that dull ache in my back sharpen into
an actual contraction, I could have jumped for joy. What a relief it is
to return to something like my normal size!
For a while the Healers were afraid I would not be able to deliver
normally ... my son is very large for a human infant, though not
particularly so for a Vulcan baby. If it had not been for the
Healer-midwife coaching, I might have given up in despair. But she was
amazingly supportive for someone who must have been wincing inwardly
every time I betrayed what I was feeling.
My labor was intense, and seemed to take forever. I was surprised that I
was able to handle the pain as well as I did. It hurt, yes ... by all
the gods that ever were, it felt as though some diabolical presence were
trying to hammer a spike into the base of my spine, while simultaneously
squeezing my belly in a vise. But, unlike hangnails, stubbed toes,
barked shins, and sprained ankles, this was pain with a purpose. As long
as I could focus on that purpose, the pain did not ... could not
overwhelm me. I vaguely remember the midwife encouraging me, reminding
that my suffering was for a purpose, and that helped me to focus on the
results, not the pain.
Sarek was there for most of the time, holding my hand and thus sharing
what I felt. In a way, that seemed to lessen the agony. Perhaps he used
a meld to mind-block some of the worst of the pangs ... or perhaps it
was simply the quiet strength he projects that gave me courage.
I wish I could have my child with me tonight, but they have taken him to
the science academy, to run tests and keep him under close observation.
ds I held him in my arms after his first feeding, I beheld a tiny face
that was so Vulcan that I wondered if there was anything of me in him.
But just as I thought there was nothing human in him at all, my son
opened his mouth and began to wailresounding just like a human baby. I
saw somethingcould it have been disappointment?--fiicker across my
husbandg face as he heard those infant squalls.
Vulcan babies cry only for a reason--hunger or discomfort. And our son
was dry and fed ... and thus had little or no reason to wail.
Which proves that he is partly mine, after all.
Was Sarek disappointed? I suppose I will never know.
I love our son too much to ask--and risk "yes"for an answer ... The
newborn infant squirmed in his tiny, heated cocoon as his father watched
every movement, enthralled by the new life that he had helped create. My
son ... he thought, noting the tiny veins that pulsed greenish blue
just beneath the thin, delicate skin. My son ... what will we name you?
Your Name Day will not arrive for nearly a month, so we have some time
to choose a suitable appellation. Your mother will not even be able to
pronounce your 'rst" name ... Vulcan first names were always a
combination of syllables in Old Vulcan that denoted lineage and birth
order. But Sarek's son would be called by his last name, even as his
father was. Traditionally, in honor of Surak, the name would begin with
an S. The infant moved restlessly again, then opened his mouth, uttering
a faint squeak. His eyes opened, moved aimlessly for a moment, then
fastened on his father's face.
The birthing puffiness had lessened; the child's eyes were now far less
slitted, and Sarek could easily discern their color. Dark, like his own,
not blue, as his mother's were. Not surprising. All the Healers' tests
during Amanda's pregnan cy had indicated that Vulcan genes would prove
dominant in a human/Vulcan pairing.
The nursery attendant, noting that the child had roused from the
readings on her monitors, approached Sarek and his son. "He is awake,"
he announced unnecessarily.
"He is," she agreed. "Soon he will be hungry. I will give him his
supplement now. Do you wish to take him to your wife for his feeding,
Ambassador?" Sarek hesitated. His son was very small ... his own hands
before ... "If you would prefer," the nurse said, "I will do it." Sarek
watched as she quickly, efficiently, lifted the baby and administered
the oral supplement that would provide him with the nutrients that
Amanda's human milk did not contain. But before she could turn away, he
held out his arms. "I will take him," he said, firmly.
Obediently, the nurse placed the small, warm bundle into his arms. The
Vulcan stood rigid, his arms stiff, as she settled the baby into place,
making sure his head was properly supported.
The ambassador was faintly, illogically surprised to discover that his
newborn son, who appeared so fragile, so helpless, actually had
substance. The baby occupied space, and had mass ... he was a warm,
squirming, living, breathing entity. Sarek stared down at him,
fascinated. Dark eyes regarded him, locked with his own in an unblinking
regard.
As he stared into the child's eyes, all at once the infant became real
to Sarek, in a way he never had before. For all these months he had
watched his wife's belly grow, touched her delicately to feel the
movement beneath her skin, observed the child's heartbeat on the
monitors ... but part of him had never truly comprehended that an
actual child was forming within Amanda, and that that child was half
his.
Reality had not begun to manifest itself until he had grasped Amanda's
hand during labor, had directly experienced the agonizing pain that his
wife was enduring. He had been amazed that a human could endure such
pain without
blacking out--Amanda's fierce concentration, her comparative silence
except during the worst of the birthing contractions had impressed him.
His wife had always seemed frail to him, delicate, with her human
constitution. His own strength had always been so much greater--and yet,
today, he'd found himself admiring her stoicism as she'd endured such
intense pain. Amanda was stronger than he'd ever realized. Even the
Healer had expressed approval of her fortitude during labor and
birthing.
Now the ambassador gazed down at the tiny face with its fuzz of black
hair, noting the faint traces of the slanted eyebrows, the delicately
pointed ears, the slightly squashed nose.
Looking at his son, Sarek of Vulcan experienced a moment of insight so
intense it was nearly painful. Past and fu
ture, then and now and
tomorrow seemed to swirl around him, blending and coming together in the
small body so warm and breathing in his arms. This child was a link to
the long-ago, and he would be the future. Someday he would stand up and
walk the sands of his homeland, would gaze at The Watcher with wonder,
would go to school and learn the logic of his forebears. He would grow
to adulthood, tall and strong and handsome, and someday he might hold a
son of his own in his arms ...
"Our preliminary tests are complete," the nurse said, breaking into
Sarek's reverie. "They indicate that his intelligence potential is above
average, Ambassador. Considerably above average."
Sarek was not surprised, having gazed into the infant's eyes for these
long seconds, but he felt a surge of pride that he did not trouble to
repress.
The rigidity had somehow gone out of his arms. He held the child against
his chest, instinctively cradling him close.
"I will take him to his mother now," he said.
The nurse nodded, and Sarek, moving carefully so as not to jostle his
son, walked away ...
Closing the journal, the Vulcan sighed as he recalled his encounter with
his son yesterday at Amanda's memorial
service. If his wife knew the things they had said to each other, she
would have been terribly distressed. Remembering how she'd begged him to