try and understand his son, instead of being judgmental and always
finding fault, the ambassador shook his head.
And yet ... what could he have done differently? He had only done his
duty. Amanda had understood .. why couldn't his son? ' James T. Kirk sat
in the captain's chair, waiting.
"Captain," Uhura said, an odd note in her voice, "I'm picking up a
subspace transmission, sir. It's on the frequency reserved for personal
communiqus and mail ... "
Kirk glanced over at her, sitting up straight. "A message?"
"Yes, sir." She looked over at him, her dark eyes compas sionate. She
knew, of course, that Peter was missing.
"What does it say?"
"It says, "To Captain Kirk. Visit Sector 53.16, at coordinates 39 mark
122, before thirteen hundr ed hours stardate 9544.6. A certain redhead is
waiting, will die if you don't show. Come alone. Tell no one.'"
Kirk drew a deep breath. "Uhura, trace that message back to its point of
origin. I don't care how many substations they routed it through, follow
it back all the way. Understood?"
"Aye, Captain," she said, her lovely features set in lines of
determination that matched his own.
"And message Commandant Anderson that we've just received the ransom
note."
Wing Commander Taryn was dreaming ...
He did not dream often, but when he did, it was always the same dream
... or, at least, if he dreamed other dreams, he did not remember them.
The Dream (as he had come to think of it) was the only thing in the
universe that he consciously feared. Each time he awakened from it, he
hoped that it would be the last ... but, though months and years of
peaceful slumber passed, somehow, when he was least expecting it, the
dream would come back ...
In The Dream he was small ... too short to reach the viewport in normal
gravity without being lifted up. He was running, running down a
neutral-colored corridor, a corridor that seemed to loom inward on him
as he scuttled along.
His short legs pumped harder, trying to hurl him forward faster, but he
was afraid--afraid! he shoum not be afraid, he shoum be calm ... he
should be brave, he shoum not run away ... but he was afraid, he
was!--and his feet kept slipping out from under him. Try as he might, he
could not reach the end of the corridor ... it seemed to expand before
him almost infinitely.
He would never reach it ... never, he would always be here, trapped,
knowing that horror and absolute devastation lay behind him. And he,
Taryn, deserved no better. He was a coward, a fearful, sobbing, cringing
coward ...
Gasping, he stretched out both hands, making his short legs churn faster
as he ran ... ran ... toward a goal that would never grow any closer
...
And then, with the suddenness of dreams, he was there, at the end of the
corridor, standing on tiptoe, yanking frantically at the emergency
release on the airlock door. The life-support pod lay in an alcove
beyond that door. He knew how to open it, how to activate it, and the
button to push that would launch it. Taryn knew all this, just as he
knew that it was time to abandon ship, just as he'd learned in the
drills.
He punched in the code, slowly, not Wanting to make a mistake, his ears
straining for noises from behind him.
Would they come after him? What would he do if they did?
He gnawed at his lower lip, waiting, until the airlock door indicated
acceptance of his code. Finally it was time to grasp the opening bar in
both hands and pull it downward.
Even as he touched it, it began to move in his hands.
Horrified, he leaped back, and then the door began to slide open.
Choking in terror, he fled back down the corridor, running from this
new, greater fear. He reached the end of the corridor, and there was the
himself to be a coward. The control-room door. Placing a hand on it,
Taryn began to pull it open.
No! No, don't! His elder self screamed silently at his younger self, for
all the good it did. Taryn pushed the door open, slowly, slowly, and
saw--
nothing except darkness as he jerked upright in bed, gasping. Slowly,
reality began to trickle in. He was back on Freelan, in his own home.
His wife Jolana was not here beside him, because she had gone to Romulus
to visit their two grown children.
Taryn shivered, feeling cold despite the sweat on his bare chest and
arms. That had been a bad one. He couldn't remember much about the dream
... which wasn't unusual.
He had a vague impression that in it, he was a frightened
child, but the details were always lost. Frankly, he didn't want to
remember that dream ... ever.
Stress, he thought. I've been working too hard again. But the im, asion
is so close ... nothing must go wrong! The Praetor made it clear that
he has complete confidence in me.
He has given me more authority than I have eer had ... and I must be
worthy. Nothing must go wrong ... we must be victorious.
Taryn forced himself to take deep, relaxing breaths. He glanced out the
window, seeing the stars, as hard and cold and sharp in the blackness as
spearpoints. He knew better than to look for Vulcan's sun from here ...
it was too distant.
Vulcan's primary sun, Nevasa--or 40 Eridani, as the Federation charts
recorded it. Taryn wondered, not for the first time, what it would be
like to walk across the deserts of Vulcan--a world that was as hot, by
all reputation, as Freelan was cold. A world where logic was revered,
even over power. Sarek's world ...
Taryn had known for days that Wurrl had failed to kill the
ambassador--the Klingon hadn't been fast enough, it seemed. He'd been
disappointed to learn about the Klingon's failure--but also, in a way,
the officer was pleased that that particular plan had failed. It would
be so much more satisfying to overcome Sarek personally; after all the
times the ambassador had defeated him at chess, victory at long last
would be sweet indeed.
The wing commander sighed as he slumped back against the hard bolster.
How much does Sarek know? he wondered, for the hundredth time. Sarek, he
was sure, was the only one who could alert the Federation to their
plans, the only one who suspected the true nature of Freelan and its
inhabitants.
He suspects, but he has no proof, he reassured himself.
And things were moving so fast now, that within a few weeks--perhaps
sooner, if the fleet was ready ahead of schedule, as the praetor had
promised yesterday it would be--the war would begin. At that point,
keeping the identity of the Freelans secret would no longer be
necessary.
Taryn's mouth curved upward slightly as he thought of
what it would be like to be present when Sarek realized his defeat. The
Vulcan had beaten him again during their last chess game. He usually won
because he baited Taryn into recklessness ... but soon, Sarek's days of
winning would be over. Soon ...
Pleasant anticipation relaxed him; the officer lay down again, reminding
himself that the dream had never come twice in one night. But it was
still a long, long time before he slept ...
Sarek also was dreaming. Full-blooded Vulcans did not dream often, but
it did happen from time to time.
The Vulcan dreamed that he was on the surface of Freelan. All around him
were glaciers, jagged buttresses of ice, sharp-fanged and glittering in
the sunlight. He was walking toward a house ... Taryn's house, he
knew--though the Freelan had never described anything about his home, of
course. Still, this house fit in with what little was known about
everything about it designed to maximize the capture and retention of
heat, as well as keeping snowfall from crushing the building.
Sarek walked, experiencing the icy wind off the glaciers, yet not
chilled by it.
Beneath his feet the snow crunched and he continued his journey.
As he neared the front of the house, the door opened and a Freelan
stepped out, his muffling robes stirring in the icy breeze. "Sarek," the
Freelan said, and the Vulcan recognized Taryn's voice. "Why are you
here?"
"I was searching for you, Taryn," Sarek said. "My wife is dead."
"What is that to me?" the Freelan asked haughtily.
"If it were not for you, I could have been at her deathbed," Sarek said,
knowing he spoke truth. "My son would not now despise me."
"What is any of this to me?" Taryn was almost sneering.
"Your domestic problems are your own concern, Vulcan."
"And your deceitful world is mine!" Sarek raised his
voice, and, darting forward, he savagely ripped the concealing mask from
the Freelan's head and stared in shock as he Amanda's face beneath the
muffling cowl and mask.
"Amanda!" Sarek said, stepping forward to touch her, to embrace her, but
even as he did so, his treacherous, logical mind insisted, Amanda is
dead ... And he awoke.
He was lying in his bunk in the VIP cabin aboard the Enterprise ...
Freelan's icy surface and Amanda's face had been a dream, he realized.
Sarek experienced once again the desolation of knowing his wife was
dead. Her absence in his mind was an aching void, one that he could not
imagine ever being filled.
Knowing he would not be able to sleep again, he arose from the bed, then
padded barefoot across the sleeping compartment to the small lounge, a
slim red-covered volume in his hand. Seating himself on the low divan,
the ambassador opened the book and began to read ...
December 7,2237---the Twentieth Day of Tasmeen I have paced until I am
exhausted my legs are trembling so that I must sit ... but I cannot
rest. I see that this entry is nearly illegible, and that is because my
hands are also shaking.
Spock is missing. He apparently left soon after sunset, and we have no
idea where he has gone. He is only seven years old!
Sarek is in his office. I glanced at him as I went past, and he appears
to be working! How can he? lf I were to ask him how he can work while
our son is missing, he would gaze at me with infuriating Vulcan calm and
say, "Amanda, I have reported Spock's disappearance to the authorities.
They are far more fitted than I to search for him. Pacing back and forth
and indulging in emotional outbursts will accomplish nothing.
Simply because I am working does not mean I am not concerned about our
son." I must try to calm myself. Getting furious at my husband will not
help bring my son back, and I suppose that he is right--but it is
maddening when he remains so calm when I am upset.
Spock is missing--my child is out there in the desert, with all its
dangers. And my husband is worki ng!
If only he had been more understanding of Spock, made some effort to see
things from a child's viewpoint but no, the son of Sarek must be
perfect, must be better than all the other children--I overheard him
tell Spock that himself today. He told him that if he does not pass his
kahs-wan ordeal next month, the first time he attempts it, that he,
Sarek, will be disgraced. He didn't use that exact word, but the
implication was clear.
This admonishment followed on the heels of Spock's fight with those
schoolboys, the ones who torment him every day with taunts of "Earther!"
and "Haljblood!" and "Emotional Terran--can't control himself. l?"
There have been times that I've had to dig my nails into my palms to
stop myself from rushing out there and giving them all a slap. But of
course that would only make things worse. This has been going on ever
since Spock started school at age four ... It is torture to watch him
try and fit in with the others.
My son, so tall, so slender, with his black hair and this thin, somber
little face ... it breaks my heart to see him so abused. I've begged
Sarek to talk to their parents, but he refuses. He g pointed out
(logically and correctly, I'm afraid) that such intervention on his part
would only make the other boys torment our son more ... I cry when I
see him trying to endure it, knowing how such teasing hurts. Why can't
Vulcan children be as civilized as their parents?
The boys tormented him once again today, and his father was totally
unsupportive, let alone sympathetic.
So he has run away. Where?
After several minutes' reflection, I think I know. I believe he has set
off into the wilderness in order to deliberately expose himself to
danger. Spock is setting himself up for his own private survival ordeal,
because
he would rather die out there in the desert than disgrace his father
next month.
If our son dies out thereti will blame Sarek. I know it is not just, but
I also know that I will do it anyway. I will blame my husband, and I
will be unable to bear the sight of him.
At least I-Chaya appears to have gone with his young master. The old
sehlat wouldn't be much use as defense, I suppose, but at least the big
furry creature will keep Spock warm. Nights in the desert are chilly,
even by human standards.
Someone else may also have accompanied Spock, but I am less sanguine
about Sarek young cousin, Selek.
Although the young man was perfectly poised and polite, I gained an
impression of duplicity from him. His eyes never quite met mine when he
introduced himself and explained who he was. And later ... I caught him
gazing at me when he didn't realize that I saw him doing so. There is
something about Cousin Selek ... something false. I am certain that he
was lying about the purpose of his impromptu visit here. Perhaps he was
lying about being related to my husband.
No, that cannot be it. There was a definite family resemblance between
them. But still, there was something ... something I cannot put roy
finger on ...
I have never heard of any Vulcan adult abusing a child. Surely Selek
only went after Spock because he saw the chim running away and realized
Spock could be in danger.t Surely Selek intends my son
no harm ...
He seemed like a very nice young man, despite everything. There was a
warmth in his eyes when he gazed at me that I found touching, despite my
reservations when I realized he was not being fully truthful with I long
to take the aircar myself and go looking for Spock. Writing in my
journal usually helps to calm me when I'm upset, but not this time. I
cannot sit still an instant longer--perhaps Sarek and I should take the
aircar and go looking for Spock ourselves in the Llangon Mountains. It
will soon be dawn ...
Sarek glanced up from the pages of the journal and sighed, remembering
...
"I cannot stand this for one more instant," Amanda burst out, pausing in
her jerky pacing to glare at him. Sarek, reluctantly, had abandoned his
work to join her in the living room of their residence in Shikahr. "I
don't care what you think--I'm taking the aircar and going to the
Llangon Mountains to look for him myself." Turning on her heel, she
headed for the door. Her husband stepped in front of her, barring her
way.
"Amanda, there is no reason to--"
"Don't you dare use that infuriating calm voice on me!" she cried. At
the moment, Amanda Grayson was a portrait in fury. "This is your fault,
Sarek!" she flared, cheeks red, blue eyes blazing. "If you had tried to
understand Spock, rather than demand perfection from him, just because