Sarpeidon Chronicles Part 3

YESTERDAY'S LEGACY

Chapter 1

"Mother, it's Jarrod! He's coming up the path!"

"Lidia, my love, that isn't possible. He's taking his first proficiency exams this week. He'd never have time to visit us."

"Do you think I don't know my own brother? He's here - come and see for yourself."

Lidia was right. Zarabeth went to the window and instantly recognized her teenaged son's tall figure striding up the stone path toward the house. The small travel bag he'd left home with two months earlier lay slung over one shoulder, and he carried another, larger duffel in his left hand. Street clothes had replaced his Academy uniform, and his shaggy black hair had outgrown Starfleet regulations several weeks earlier. Of course, it was hard to say how long he'd been traveling; Amphitrite, the Federation base where they had made their home for the past fifteen years, was easily two days' journey from the Academy, assuming a direct transport could be engaged at all.

"Shall I go and tell Father?"

"Only if you compose yourself. He wouldn't approve of -" Zarabeth stopped when she noticed her son's sullen expression. "No, Lidia, not yet. Perhaps Jarrod wants to surprise everyone. Why don't you go out and be the first to greet him?"

"Very well." Visibly struggling to restrain her emotions, Lidia rushed from the house. Outside, Jarrod dropped both bags and opened his arms to his ten-year-old sister. Any semblance of proper decorum vanished as both of them began to laugh openly.

When he set Lidia back on her feet, Jarrod paused and glanced up at the house. After scanning the windows to see who might be watching, he scooped up his bags and hauled them inside.

Zarabeth knew why he was looking around. "He doesn't know you're here yet. He's in the study, going through the morning dispatches."

Jarrod's face softened with obvious relief. He leaned in to give his mother a proper embrace.

"Can I tell him now, Mother?" Lidia looked as if she were about to burst if she kept the news to herself for another moment.

Zarabeth looked at Jarrod, who offered a resigned shrug. "She can if she wants. He'll realize I'm here soon enough."

"All right, then. But remember, no shouting."

When they were alone, Jarrod occupied himself with pushing his luggage into a corner by the stairs.

"I see that you're not in uniform. Are you on leave?"

"In a manner of speaking." Leaving the bags, he turned to study her. His jaw was set in a stubborn lock she'd come to know all too well. "Mother, I've left Starfleet. And I'm not going back."

"What? Jarrod, no! You can't mean that."

"I knew the end was coming weeks ago - almost from the moment I got there, in fact. Perhaps I could have done something to improve my situation, but in the end, I chose not to. Some measure of disgrace seemed adequate compensation for my freedom, though I do not expect you or Father to agree."

"But how can this have happened? You were clearly one of the most capable students at the Academy. It can't have been your scores."

"No, it was nothing like that. I don't want to talk about it just now, Mother, and besides, I don't care. Starfleet was Father's idea, never mine. I found that I was unsuited to it, just as I tried to tell him before I left, and I know that I always will be. Besides, you surely don't expect me to go on serving an institution with an ideology so completely contrary to my own. That is not in your nature, any more than it is in mine."

"You are quite mistaken if you believe that is our wish."

Spock's voice came from the back of the room, where he stood watching them. His mouth, framed by the short, silver-flecked beard he'd grown as an emblem of diplomatic authority, was set in a grim line.

Jarrod met his father's stern gaze with a defiant stare of his own. "I feel somewhat fatigued after my journey. Perhaps I could take my things to my room now...assuming it is still my room. Or has Adonia taken it for herself?"

"She's been mounting a campaign," Zarabeth admitted. "As of this morning, though, your things were still there."

"I suppose she'll be even less happy to see me than you are, then." Jarrod scowled, retrieved his two bags, and started up the stairs. "Is she here?"

"She is. For the moment, you are excused. Your mother and I will send for you when we require further discussion."

"Fine." Jarrod turned his back on them and slouched upstairs. He paused on the top step. "You know, to be perfectly honest, I considered not coming home at all. But in the end, I couldn't come up with a single other place where I'd be any more - or less - welcome."

"That's absurd. You know you're perfectly welcome here," Zarabeth reminded him, but he didn't respond. She turned instead to Spock. "You heard everything, I suppose. I keep forgetting that I have the least sensitive ears in the entire household."

Spock nodded. "Did you know of this?"

"No! How could I? Don't you remember that we viewed his last message together? He said nothing in it about leaving Starfleet."

"That is unsurprising, since I doubt he left voluntarily."

"You think he's been dismissed? I can hardly believe that. Maybe it's all some kind of misunderstanding - something we can clear up."

"We shall know that soon enough. I shall return to the study and send a communication at once."

"I suppose that makes sense. Can I come with you?"

"Of course."

They walked back through the house together, with Lidia following at what she obviously believed was a discreet distance. Closing the door, Spock went to his desk to key in the message while Zarabeth paced the room.

"We should have a reply within a few hours, assuming the Academy knew he would return to Amphitrite today. I have not discounted the possibility that he left without authorization."

"Why don't we talk to him while we're waiting? Give him a chance to tell us his side of things."

"Agreed."

Sending that message required no technical expertise whatsoever; Zarabeth simply cracked open the door and asked Lidia to send her brother back downstairs as soon as he cared to come. He returned more quickly than either of them expected, this time with Adonia trailing along as well. With only two years separating her from her brother, the rivalry between them was as strong as the bonds of affection. Therefore, she was as blatantly curious as Lidia to see how much trouble he was actually in. The two of them hovered behind the seat Jarrod took. His shoulders were tight and his posture rigid, as if he were ready to leap up at the slightest provocation.

"Perhaps your sisters could find something to do while we discuss the matter at hand," Spock suggested.

"I don't see why they can't hear what I have to say. It's not as if we all won't be talking about this for months to come - unfortunately."

"Very well, if that is your wish," Spock agreed. "And now I am waiting to hear how a promising Academy career came to so abrupt an end."

"It was only promising as far as you were concerned. For me, the situation was virtually intolerable."

"Surely you cannot discount the many advantages you had over the other cadets."

"I suppose you would consider my background an advantage; I didn't. You don't understand that it was never me they were seeing in those classrooms or on the training green. It was the son of Spock-to some, I might as well have been Spock himself. No one, not even Captain Taylor, gave a single moment's thought to who I was. It was expected that I would be and do everything my father did before me, in exactly the same fashion. But I am not you, Father."

"Agreed, since that would be a logical impossibility. It remains unclear to me why you would deliberately sabotage a promising career in order to prove a self-evident truth about your paternity."

"It was also assumed that I would follow the Vulcan way. No one cared that I am half Sarpeid, but only one-quarter Vulcan. I'm sorry, Father. But I cannot and will not tailor my life to fit your expectations, any more than you were willing to meet Grandfather's fifty years ago."

"No one in this house has ever asked you to pursue any course of action you might find distasteful or unconscionable. However, surely you do not think it unreasonable I should aid you in choosing a career. No one forced you to enter Starfleet. At the time, you raised no objection."

"Would it have mattered if I had? My life hasn't been my own since the day I was born. You and Mother, and Grandfather for that matter, had everything mapped out for me. What I wanted never entered into the equation. Besides, I freely admit that my dissatisfaction with Starfleet began only after I learned more about both their methods and their ideology. I'd be pleased to go into more detail about that, but I have a feeling you would prefer not to hear me."

"Perhaps at a more appropriate time. For the present, may we inquire how you intend to occupy yourself? Have you some alternate plan for your future?"

"Do I have to decide right now? Even if I had a ready answer, which I don't, you'd only reject it as unworthy of these supposed talents of mine."

"That isn't true," Zarabeth said. Spock remained unmoved.

"All the more reason you should be willing at least to consider our recommendations," he said finally. "Since you have no definite goal of your own, you might have accepted ours as at least a preliminary step."

"I'm sure you'd have liked that very much. Never mind if I'm miserable. I could pretend to be the model son, the love child who embodied and surpassed every perfection his parents ever envisioned."

A hint of green burned and then faded just above Spock's collar. "Perhaps this discussion has reached an impasse. After a suitable interval, I will personally contact your instructors at the Academy. It is possible that I can get you reinstated, provided you will take responsibility for your initial difficulties."

Jarrod lurched to his feet. "Don't," he snarled. "Even if they agreed-which they won't-I have no intention of returning. And you're right about this so-called discussion coming to an end. I'd like to unpack my things now. Perhaps my sisters will assist me."

"Very well. We shall speak more about this later."

"I suppose that's inevitable, though I'd rather not."

He left the room without waiting for Adonia and Lidia, though they quickly exchanged a knowing glance and followed.

His parents waited in silence for a few minutes. Then, warily, they looked at each other.

"I assume we will be the topic of conversation upstairs for the remainder of the morning."

"Yes. But he is right about one thing," Zarabeth said. "He is very much a Sarpeid. As you know, we always were a hot-tempered, impulsive race. Sometimes, when he's angry, I can hear my brother's voice again."

"That may be so. However, Jarrod will gain nothing by rejecting every opportunity presented to him."

"I'm sure things will fall into place. I know you're disappointed that he won't be a Starfleet officer. But as we both know, he's a highly capable young man. He'll find out what he wants to do eventually, and he'll excel at it."

"No doubt you are correct. I must confess, however, that such a prospect also concerns me."

--

The main course at dinner that evening was tension, seasoned with just enough reserve to prevent a fresh outbreak of controversy. Adonia watched her parents warily, alert for the slightest sign of discord between them. Spock said nothing to Jarrod, though Lidia peppered her brother with questions about his experiences away from home.

"Did you meet any Gorns at the Academy? My Exotic Cultures teacher showed us a holographic program about them last week. I have a report to complete on them, too, and I'm longing to meet one."

"Gorns have not yet fully allied themselves with the Federation," Jarrod watched his father closely while he answered. "Therefore they are not yet eligible to serve in Starfleet. Perhaps one day, if they can be gulled out of their independence, that will change."

"The Gorns are not an especially gregarious race, " Spock said, ignoring the previous remark. "I suspect they would be less receptive to your overtures than you presently imagine."

"That's not what Professor Setto told us. He says they are the product of a great civilization, who have much wisdom to share if they can be approached in a properly respectful manner."

"In my experience, Lidia, Gorns are best not approached at all."

"Spoken like a true Ambassador of Federation goodwill," Jarrod mumbled into his drinking glass. "If a culture wishes to retain its singularity, simply dismiss it as primitive and warlike."

"Anyway, she probably thinks they're like those Karmessian salamanders she kept in her room last year," Adonia said. "I'll never forget the way that hideous thing crawled into my schoolbag."

"A Gorn would never fit in your schoolbag, Adonia," her sister shot back. "Don't be so xenophobic."

They had almost managed to conclude the meal without a major eruption when Base Security summoned Spock to the front entrance.

"A visitor requests an immediate audience with you, Ambassador. He is an Andorian, and claims to be a friend of your son."

"An Andorian?" Overhearing, Jarrod left the table and hurried into the next room. "Can it be Therov?"

"That is the name he offered, sir," the security officer acknowledged. "Shall I send him in?"

"Please do," Jarrod urged. The guard sought confirmation from Spock, who nodded.

Moments later, a young Andorian swept into the room, splendidly attired in a brocaded shirt and elbow-length cape. The silver fabric draped over his shoulders almost perfectly matched the pale sheen of his abundant hair.

For the first time since his return, Jarrod's face seemed truly animated. He and the Andorian clasped one another's forearm with comradely enthusiasm.

"Therov! I can't believe it! How did you get here?"

"I was halfway home when I decided that things were likely to become a little...uncomfortable. I felt unprepared to deal with such personal upheaval, and then I remembered your invitation to come and see you anytime. So here I am. I hope your parents don't object."

"Therov and I became friends at the Academy," Jarrod explained." I told him he would welcome to stay anytime, though I had no idea he would accept my offer so quickly. It is all right, I hope?"

The last question he directed only to his mother.

"Of course," she said. "I can make up the guest room for him."

"You don't have to, Mother. I'll take care of it. Therov, come and meet everyone."

"No need for formal introductions; I already know each of you through Jarrod's vivid descriptions." The Andorian walked over to Spock first. "Ambassador, it is an honor to meet you, as it was to befriend the son of Spock in the first place. And ma'am, of course, it is an equal privilege to meet not only Jarrod's mother, but the last surviving Sarpeid. If all the people of your planet were as lovely as you, our universe has indeed suffered a grievous loss."

"I take it you, too, are on leave from the Academy?" Spock interrupted.

"Ah...leave would perhaps not be the most accurate term, sir."

Jarrod rolled his eyes. "You might as well know, Father, that Therov left school when I did. Let's not go into that again right now." When he noticed Therov looking at his sisters, he quickly shepherded his guest across the room. "This is Lidia," Jarrod said, obviously relieved at the distraction. "And Adonia."

Therov took their hands in turn. He held Adonia's for an extra moment. "In this case, I must confess that your brother's description was startlingly inaccurate. Clearly he views you as a younger sister, whereas I see a most striking young woman."

"Thank you," Adonia said. She twisted her hand away from his nervously, but continued to stare at Therov's face for so long that Spock interceded.

"Perhaps you would like to show your friend to his room. Therov, where are your bags?"

"I left them on the steps at the request of your security detail, where they are presumably under heavy guard already. I can get them later."

"Don't you think we should offer him dinner first?" Jarrod demanded. "We have plenty left. Mother?"

"Of course he can have whatever he likes. Please, Therov, help yourself."

"You are most gracious, ma'am."

"Come on." Jarrod escorted Therov to the table, cleared away a few plates, and offered him Spock's chair. Adonia and Lidia followed them inside, but Spock held them back.

"I believe your brother would like to entertain his guest privately."

"On the contrary," Therov called out, lifting his cup in a mock toast. "The ladies are most welcome to join us if they wish."

"They do not," Spock said. "You will both assist your mother and me in clearing the food preparation area. Then, Lidia, you may complete your research on Gorns in your own room."

"And what about me, Father?" Adonia challenged. "Am I to research the social habits of Gorns, too, just to give Jarrod and his friend some privacy?"

"As a matter of fact, you can help your sister if you have nothing better to do," Zarabeth said.

"I may have a report of my own to write. My class isn't studying Gorns, though. We've moved on...to Andorians."

Spock could not quite suppress his mortification, so Zarabeth stepped in.

"Never mind the food preparation area. Your father and I will take care of that. Please go upstairs and do whatever you need to before bedtime."

"May we play music?" Lidia asked.

"Yes, that's fine, but not too loud." She shot an apologetic glance at Spock as they trudged away. His sensitive hearing had long been assaulted by the ultramodern cacophonies the children downloaded regularly from the Federation's public-domain database. Despite their father's best efforts to reform their tastes, they had never come to like anything quite as much. The louder, the better.

From the other room came the Andorian's boisterous laughter, with their son's voice joining in affably.

"I think it would be best if we didn't fight Jarrod on this. Listen-at least he sounds more like his old self."

"I have no intention of embarrassing him in front of his guest. But I cannot help thinking that there is something more going on than we are aware of."

"I have to agree there. I take it no one from Starfleet has answered your communication yet?"

"You are correct. My assumption is that the Academy is preparing an official letter of termination, and no information can be released until it is complete."

"It's all very frustrating," she admitted, leaning against him. "Still, I do believe that the situation will resolve itself."

Briefly, gingerly, he touched his cheek to her forehead. "Certainly there is nothing more we can do tonight."

"Not for Jarrod, true. For one another...I can think of a few possibilities."

Half an hour later, the dishes dispatched down the chute for cleaning and the replicator reset for the following day, they glanced into the dining room again. Jarrod and the Andorian were talking more seriously now, hunched over the table, their voices low and solemn. Sensing they were being watched, the two young men stopped the conversation and looked up at them. The Andorian smiled, but this time his eyes glinted like steel.

"Good night," Zarabeth said to them, and they answered politely, then pointedly waited to be left alone again.

On the landing, Adonia had been peering through the half-open door of her bedroom. It swished shut behind her as she withdrew without a murmur.

In their room, Zarabeth suddenly felt exhausted. Sliding into bed, she curled against him as she used to in simpler times, when her life in this time was new, mysterious, and apparently perfect. Jarrod himself had been a distant ideal then, and the rest of the world had seemed little more than a backdrop to a bond that had transcended fifty centuries.

Chapter 2

The following morning, Jarrod's official letter of expulsion arrived from Starfleet Academy, accompanied by a personal communication from Michaela Taylor, who had served as his academic advisor and personal mentor, expressing deep regret over what happened.

The reason for his dismissal was listed simply - and unsurprisingly - as "Insubordination." Captain Taylor's missive hinted that there might be more to tell, but that she was under orders to reveal nothing further until a follow-up inquiry was complete. The former cadet's parents would, of course, be notified of any new developments in the investigation.

In the days that followed, the Andorian made himself at home, and during the day, he and Jarrod often went off to explore the base and sample its various entertainments. Before long, Adonia began to join them when she wasn't in school. Neither of her parents could invoke a valid reason to keep her home, so they had no choice but to watch her walk away, her attention fully focused on Therov while he and Jarrod talked earnestly about matters they did not share with anyone else.

One afternoon, Zarabeth noticed the two of them walking toward the abandoned structure at the edge of the property. Though workers had long ago filled in the artificial waterway that once flowed past it, the shelter was still commonly, though somewhat incongruously, referred to as the boathouse.

She decided to follow them at a discreet distance, staying behind the imposing row of hedges than ran parallel to the old canal lines.

"At one time," her son was explaining to Therov, "before the Federation came to Amphitrite, the entire city was linked not by roads, but by a system of waterways. The first buildings, including the prototype for this house, were built on raised hills, and the primary mode of transportation was by small aquatic vessels. They were kept in here."

"That must have been magnificent," Therov cast an admiring gaze around the vast grounds and sighed as if he could envision a sparkling lagoon there instead. "What a shame someone decided to fill it in."

"Oh, that was over forty years ago, long before our time. Apparently a series of natural disasters made it necessary to implement more conventional landscaping. Still, most people kept their boathouses. They use them to store things, mostly, though a few ambitious citizens have turned them into garden rooms or even guesthouses. My sisters and I used ours as a recreational site."

"That must have been quite diverting for you."

"I also liked coming down here alone. I acted out some rather intricate scenarios, many of which I never did share with my sisters, or with anyone else, for that matter. The boathouse could become a starship, a palace, even a jail cell. It just depended on my mood."

Therov laughed. "I can't say I ever played at being a prisoner. I suppose I always valued my freedom too much, even as a child."

"I usually ended the game by breaking free and escaping. Or my mother would come looking for me. I never told her exactly what I'd been doing, though. I feared it would distress her."

"You said your mother came looking - but never your father?"

"I wouldn't say 'never.' 'Seldom' would be more accurate. His Embassy duties kept - and keep - him moderately busy, or away. But I don't mean to sound disrespectful. I'm sure he did the best he could. And my mother always made it easy for him."

"Andorians are apt to overindulge their children, and I fear I was no exception," Therov mused. "You know, in one respect it's rather humorous. No subject is of more interest to every known culture than the ideal way to raise its offspring. Yet as far as I know not a single one has been able to master it in the entire history of the universe."

"You're right. It's like a constant trial-and-error procedure with no definitive outcome."

"Perhaps they should run computer simulations, such as those Captain Taylor developed for us at the Academy, demonstrating how to create wormhole effects for the purposes of time travel."

"I remember." Jarrod's voice grew softer, as if the recollection troubled him. Then he abruptly changed the subject. "Come, let me show you the inside. Some of the modifications I made during my bursts of youthful creativity are probably still there."

They slipped into the boathouse, and Zarabeth took the opportunity to slip back to the house. The conversation had been perfectly innocuous, the usual confessions teenagers shared with one another. Yet it left her with a sense of apprehension she could bring herself to share with no one, not even Spock. As she went about her daily tasks, a single image remained with her: that of her young son, alone in the boathouse, looking around at what he perceived as the impenetrable walls of a dungeon.

---

Within the week, the Andorian apparently sensed that he had overstayed his welcome at his friend's home, and transferred his possessions to a hostel closer to the base facilities. He continued to call almost every evening, though, and one day he arrived in the company of two more young people. The pair introduced themselves as Xertes and Callinda, the twin children of an Issonian diplomat Zarabeth recalled meeting at a reception some years earlier. Both of them were striking, with strong, intelligent features, free-flowing gold hair, and deep black eyes. Still, Zarabeth knew it was Therov, not Xertes, who commanded Adonia's interest whenever the three of them came to visit. Every night, they seemed to stay a little longer in the small sitting room on the ground floor of the house. Their intense philosophical discussions occasionally gave way to impassioned debates that were loud enough to prevent Lidia from concentrating on her Gorn research upstairs.

Somehow, it seemed inevitable that she would next find her daughter struggling to decipher a book printed in a highly unusual typeface. A digital translation aid sat blinking on the table beside her.

She blushed when she noticed that she was being watched. "Therov thought I might like it," she said, a little too quickly. "He knows I'm interested in learning other languages."

"What is it about?"

"Well...it's sort of a love story. He says it's a classic, very popular with the women on his planet."

"I see. And do you like it?"

Adonia shrugged and averted his eyes. "Oh, you know...it's different. Learning about other cultures is always beneficial."

"Of course. Perhaps you could translate some of it for me."

"I'd be happy to, Mother, but not just now. Jarrod's friends are coming again after dinner and I have to get ready."

Grabbing the book and the translator, she fled the room with a glance that was only half-apologetic.

That night, in the small sitting room, the usual political discussion dragged on for hours. However, the nature of the gathering seemed to have evolved. Now, voices were raised not in dissention but in excited laughter and even more ecstatic speechmaking - most of it Therov's.

For a long time, Spock lay motionless in bed, his arms folded and his head tilted back as if he were asleep. Zarabeth knew that he was actually listening to the conversation taking place in the room below theirs. Eventually he opened his eyes to find her watching him expectantly.

"Well? What's going on down there? What did you hear?"

"Enough to decide that we have extended sufficient hospitality to Jarrod's acquaintances. And it is long past the hour when Adonia should have retired." Standing, he pulled on his dressing gown. "You need not attend me if you would prefer to remain here. I doubt Jarrod and his guests will welcome my intrusion."

"No, I'll come. I want to make sure Adonia goes right to sleep."

"As you wish."

Without waiting for her, he swept downstairs and into the sitting room. From the stairs, Zarabeth heard the conversation come to an abrupt halt. Next, Spock said something she couldn't quite make out, and then the door opened and angry voices spilled into the hall. Loudest among them was Jarrod's.

"Why are you so determined to silence us, Father? It's because you know what Therov says makes perfect sense. If you can't admit that, it's because you've bought so completely into the Federation's hoax of peace and fairness that you can't even see what's in front of your eyes!"

"No political entity can ever function perfectly; it is a practical impossibility. Yet I might remind you that the alternative Therov proposes has been attempted many times, not only in Federation history, but previously. It has repeatedly proved one of the least successful systems ever implemented."

"How can you say that? You haven't even listened to his ideas. You're too busy defending your own benightedness."

"It is not necessary for me to examine every nuance of your friend's argument. When one has heard the same piece of music hundreds of times, a single strain is sufficient to recall the entire movement. So it is with derivative political theories."

Jarrod started to protest, but Therov cut him off. "Let it be for the moment. As I told you before, we can never hope to sway the unopened mind. Your father is, understandably, heavily invested in a bureaucracy that has done him more damage than he may ever realize. Give it time. Meanwhile, let us bid you goodnight."

"Adonia, you will go to your room," Spock ordered. "Jarrod, remain here so that I may speak to you privately."

Considering how heated things had gotten downstairs, Zarabeth decided to wait for Adonia on the landing. She listened for - and heard - the sounds of footsteps moving through the house and through the front door, but to her surprise Adonia did not appear. Clutching the front of her dressing gown closed, she crept downstairs and outside. When she turned the corner of the house, she stopped and stared in amazement.

Adonia and Therov were leaning against the wall, their mouths locked in a passionate kiss while Amphitrite's double moons swelled just as ardently behind them.

"Adonia," she said, causing them to break apart and whirl around. Their mouths were still open. "You were told to go to your room."

"I was...I was just on my way." Bursting into tears, Adonia fled into the house.

Far from looking embarrassed, Therov flashed her his most charming smile, nodded, and disappeared into the shadows.

"I love him," Adonia wept pitifully, burying her face in her pillows before her mother had even asked her anything. "When that other girl - Callinda - started coming over every night, I knew I had to tell him how I felt. And he is drawn to me, too, Mother, he told me so."

"Adonia, you're only 16. You don't need to rush into anything."

"Why do you and Father hate him so much? Even if you disagree with his beliefs, he has every right to express them to his friends."

"I'm less concerned with his beliefs than with the fact that Therov isn't right for you. He's too old, and besides, he's from a very different world."

"How can you say that? You told me yourself that plenty of people didn't think you were suitable for Father, including Grandfather. The reasons they gave were almost exactly the same. Yet you are happy."

"You know those circumstances were very different."

"I don't know that at all. Perhaps you are beginning to think like Father-you want me to marry a Vulcan, is that it?"

"I don't want you to marry anyone-at least not for a long time. Don't you think it's a little early to think about such matters?"

"But I love Therov. And he and Jarrod have been talking about going away - "

"Going away?" Zarabeth's eyes widened. "Where?"

Adonia, realizing that she'd betrayed a confidence, backpedaled quickly. "Oh, not now - just sometime, that's all. You know that Therov is only here temporarily. He hasn't even seen his family in almost a year."

"Therov may go when and where he likes. Your brother is a different matter."

"I knew it - you wish Therov to leave at once. You and Father care nothing for my happiness!" Adonia looked miserable, but finally gave up when even a fresh volley of tears failed to move her mother. "Please don't tell Jarrod what I told you just now. He won't let me sit up with them any more."

"I'm not sure that's even an option after tonight. In the first place, I don't think Therov and his friends will be welcome here any longer. In the second, it is not Jarrod's place to permit or deny you anything. I think you know who has the power to decide that."

Anger flooded back into Adonia's voice as quickly as her sobs faded. "You might be able to forbid them to come to the house, but you can never order me not to love Therov! I will do as I think right - just as Therov will act on what he believes in. There's nothing you can do to prevent that!"

She met Spock coming up the stairs.

"I have attempted to reason with him," he informed her, but she didn't need to ask to know that he had achieved nothing.

"It's even worse than we thought," she said. Instinctively, she brought her hands together and rubbed them. Despite the placid warmth of Amphitrite's night air, her skin felt bloodless and cold.

---

Jarrod had stayed up all night. She saw it in his haggard eyes, the shadow on his unshaved chin. He leaned against the counter beside the food replicator, hands jammed in his pockets, a vacant gazed fixed on his bare feet.

"Jarrod, please," she said, reaching for his arm. He didn't pull away, but neither did he react to her touch in any way whatsoever. "You used to confide in me. Please do so again."

"I was a child then, Mother."

"I don't like what's happening to you - these ideas of Therov's seem to obsess you." What she wanted to tell him, but couldn't quite bring herself to, was that she'd seen it all before: the endless discussions behind the closed doors, the hurried smiles and excuses when she passed too close to a hastily exchanged whisper. And then the entire world of her youth had been brutally swept away.

His head came up, eyes flashing with anger. "Maybe it's just a shock to see the truth clearly for the first time. But we've already established that you wouldn't understand the things we speak of - or, should I say, you would refuse to."

Stung, she pulled away. Argus had used almost those exact words when she inquired about his private conversations with her uncles and cousins. "This is the business of men," he would tell her. "You wouldn't care to understand it." Sometimes he would close the door in her face. When she tried to listen, she heard nothing. And, in the end, she had been punished as grievously as any of them.

She wasn't about to be brushed off as easily by her son. "Why don't you try to explain yourself to me, then? Why is it easier to turn away and say nothing?"

Jarrod took coffee from the replicator, tasted it, then slammed it down on the counter.

"I find it interesting that when I was away at Starfleet Academy, you had no issues with letting me pursue my own interests. But perhaps that was because I was doing Father's bidding."

"Why do you resent him so much? It makes no sense. You have no reason."

"I am not surprised to hear you say that. It is not him, but what he stands for. He has devoted his life to an institution that oppresses and corrupts, all in the name of progress and peaceful transformation. The Federation would have been content to let both of us die the very day I was born. You told me so yourself. And yet you persist in defending their policies as if we owed them our lives."

"But we do, in a very real sense."

"As I said before, it is pointless to try to reason with you, Mother. Suffice it to say that the Andorians have seen through the Federation's sham for decades. It is Therov's hope that one day his world will be free again, and that he will be in a position to assist other civilizations in freeing themselves. He believes it will be possible to create a new way for all the planets to come together, but not under the supervision of a military entity. It would truly be a free exchange of cultural ideals."

"It sounds admirable in theory, but I think it will be far more difficult to put in practice than Therov realizes."

"I knew you'd say that."

"There's another factor I want you to consider as well. Adonia is in a highly impressionable state. I think it would be better if you stopped including her. Her interest in Therov can't lead to anything positive."

"Adonia is old enough to make her decisions. You would do well to begin accepting that. You and Father both."

Zarabeth shook her head in exasperation. "You know, Jarrod, the world I was born into considered itself advanced, but it was beyond primitive compared to this one. Your father would never admit it, but my options here were really somewhat limited. I couldn't live long enough to learn half of what you and your sisters have the luxury of taking for granted, but at least I thought I had done a creditable job raising all of you. Now I have to wonder if I've deceived myself about that."

Jarrod hastily averted his face. "It pains me to think I am a disappointment to you, Mother."

"I didn't say you were. It is your behavior that troubles me."

He grabbed his coffee. "I'm sorry. I have to finish this and go to the city."

He pushed past her into the dining area. Moments later, Adonia came and sat beside him. Her head was bowed as Jarrod spoke to her in a low, tense voice. Neither of them looked up at her.

The remainder of the day proved uneventful, but that night, she dreamed of Argus.

They were in the prison again. Memory had preserved every detail perfectly, from the mind-numbing plainness of the pale green cells to the cloying antiseptic smell of the uncirculated air. Pressed against the bars of their adjacent cells, they received the news of their cousin's execution without flinching, even when the Tyrant's guards described the manner of his death in mirthful detail. The event had been nothing less than a public spectacle, with compulsory attendance for every citizen. He had not died quickly.

When they were alone again, stoicism gave way to despair.

"We're the last two," she said. "That means we must be next. And do you know something? I hope we are. I can't go on like this another day. I don't want to."

Wincing with the discomfort it caused, her brother forced his arm through the narrow bars that separated them and clasped her around the wrist. "It's too soon to wish for death. Please don't," he urged. "Maybe it doesn't make sense now, but somehow I feel that you and I will find a way out of this. We just have to wait until the worst has passed. Promise me you'll do whatever it takes to survive - with or without me."

She wept openly, uncontrollably. "I don't know if I have the strength. This has gone on so long already. How many months have we been here? I don't even know any more. It's torture."

"Torture? No." Argus lifted his eyes to the ceiling and sighed, as if he were trying to will himself to dissolve and float up and out that way. "I don't think we've experienced torture yet...not by any means. But I have a feeling we will."

She woke in a cold sweat, convinced for a moment that the ice was blowing across her face again, the way it had the day she'd first stepped through the portal. In front of her stretched nothing but the glistening white shroud of death.

Fortunately, the illusion was short-lived. Almost immediately, Spock was there, shaking her back into the present.

"It has been many years since your sleep has been troubled in this manner," he said, watching as her panic gradually subsided.

"I know." Turning, she clung to him until her fingers left greenish-blue impressions in his skin. "But it hasn't ended - it's all going to happen again. We're going to lose Jarrod. And this time, not even you will be able to undo it."

"Zarabeth, be rational. You are experiencing the residual effects of a psychosomatic disturbance. Dreams of the past, however disturbing, can have no bearing on present reality."

"Then I'll give you a chance to prove yourself correct," she said, throwing back the covers. "Come on. We have to go and check on him."

Minutes later, they stood in the threshold of their son's room, which had been stripped of every personal possession.

"This is my fault," she said, making no attempt to hide her anguish. "Why did I give him my family name? I've doomed him to follow them into ruin." Suddenly, she looked up as a fresh horror dawned on her. "Adonia," she said.

Their daughter's room was locked. Tearing open the control panel beside the door, Spock triggered the latch and they rushed inside to find Adonia on the bed, crying hysterically.

Her agony turned to outrage when she saw them staring down at her.

"It's bad enough that you broke into my room," she snarled. "But you don't have to look so happy about it."

Chapter 3

Thanks to a generous dedication of resources by Xertes and Callinda, including a complete set of falsified credentials for each of them, the group was able to charter a piloted transport to Starbase Dawkins. Factoring in an uneventful two days' journey, Therov calculated that they would arrive well before the end of the Terraforming Conference. Even on Amphitrite, when their prospects of actually attending seemed slim to nonexistent, he had talked of almost nothing else. Now that they were on their way, he could hardly contain his excitement.

"I still don't see why we couldn't simply register for the conference like any other special-interest group," Jarrod said. "Xertes, Callinda and I all have parents with diplomatic standing. Surely they could have arranged for us to address the assembly with our concerns."

Therov sat beside him, casually twisting his plush seat back and forth while he sipped the Daruvian wine he'd coaxed from the onboard replicator.

"I already explained that it would be hypocritical of us to employ a Federation-sponsored transport when our intent is to criticize their proceedings in the strongest possible terms. I am surprised your infamously clever mind cannot grasp that."

"My point is simply that an anonymous presentation could be far less effective than a concerted effort to argue our case systematically. Some of the Federation's finest scientific minds will be present at the conference. Surely if our - or your - ideas are sound, we will find at least a small audience."

Abruptly, Therov stopped spinning in his chair. His narrowed eyes flashed with anger as he planted both feet on the deck and leaned forward, clutching his wine goblet in both hands. "And do you honestly think we would be given a fair hearing? Terraforming, and preparing new territories for Starfleet to annex, is a highly profitable venture for the Federation. The only way we can ensure that we won't be laughed off the floor is to force people to listen. And the only way to do that is to take action they'll remember."

"Yes, yes, I'm not disagreeing with you there. It's simply our methodology I'm questioning. Wouldn't it be better - "

"You are beginning to sound like your father," Therov snapped. Suddenly, Xertes and Callinda left the viewscreen they'd been standing beside and moved to flank Therov's chair. "I feel compelled to advise you that it is rapidly becoming tedious."

Callinda's hard gaze never left Jarrod's as her hand strayed toward Therov's shoulder. She stopped just short of touching his shirt.

Jarrod hesitated, then retreated to one of the other seats. "Sorry," he muttered.

"No harm done." The Andorian's easy smile returned. "All I meant was that you're always so serious. You ought to make more time to enjoy life. In the grand scheme of the universe, it is really so short."

"Maybe you're right." Huddled in his chair, Jarrod raked a hand through his hair and watched a star shoot past the viewscreen.

Therov gestured expansively with his glass. "Of course I am. Callinda, get him one of these. We have another fifteen hours to travel, and I don't want him brooding the whole time."

"I'd be delighted." Callinda walked away and returned with the drink. Its taste did not please him, but when he noticed the others watching him intently, he forced down a few quick swallows. Thankfully, the wine made him feel tired and ready to sleep.

"Did you know Jarrod was born on a shuttlecraft?" Therov was speaking in a loud, indignant voice that kept him from drifting off peacefully. "He might have died there, too, for all the Federation cared. They were willing to sacrifice him, his mother, and even one of their own starship captains, simply to retain their Danaan territory."

"Appalling," Xertes agreed. "Yet entirely predictable, given all you have told us."

"You're wrong," Jarrod thought testily. He might even have said it aloud; thanks to the effects of the wine, he couldn't really be sure. "Nothing in this galaxy is ever entirely predictable."

--

After nearly forty-five hours in the controlled climate of the shuttle, it felt strange to emerge into the intense heat outside Starbase Dawkins' thermo-regulated dome. It felt even stranger to wear the uniform of a Starfleet cadet again.

"I can't believe you kept them," Jarrod said, tugging out a few wrinkles. "Security made sure I turned all mine in the morning we left the Academy."

Therov laughed. "You need to learn to think ahead, friend. I knew I wasn't going to last at the Academy; I also knew that a few of these uniforms would come in handy. I made sure that I packed some away before anyone came looking for them. And you see I was right."

"I don't see why we had to be put down here," Xertes complained, squinting through the heavy reddish haze. A magnificent array of buildings and skywalks shimmered in the distance. "How are we going to get inside the base?"

"Not to worry. I tucked away a few more items as well." Opening a flap on the biological sample case he carried, Therov pulled out an Academy-issued communicator and toyed with the buttons. "Before we left, I downloaded a complete set of transporter coordinates for every Federation colony and Starbase in this sector, as well as the protocols for remote transport. I can simulate an authorized transport from one area of the base to another, all the while blocking our original coordinates and the particle trail from the shuttlecraft. You see, Jarrod? I was paying attention in class, even when no one else realized it."

"Apparently so." Uncomfortably, Jarrod wondered how much more stolen hardware was tucked into Therov's bag. Still, eager to be out of the deadly heat, he said nothing while the Andorian keyed in the transport sequence. The four of them quickly dissolved, then reappeared in the shadow of the enormous biolab that served as the centerpiece of Starbase Dawkins' state-of-the-art research facilities. The grounds were lively with hundreds of conference attendees,

"Come on," Therov said, tucking his sample case under his arm. "Let's go right in. No sense in lingering long enough to attract attention."

The security officers posted at the front entrance barely glanced up as the squadron of four neatly attired cadets walked into the building with a purposeful, disciplined stride. When they reached the long stretch of corridor that led to the biospheric labs, however, they encountered slightly more skeptical guards.

"We are students of Professor Setto from Starfleet Academy," Therov said smoothly, holding up his sample case and pointing to its refrigerated lock. "His lecture on atmospheric particle generation is scheduled for this afternoon, and his samples must be given time to generate before he can display them. Please, don't delay us any further. Dr. Kraeliss is waiting to prepare the entire set, and I'm afraid we're already late. If we wait much longer, the samples will degrade sufficiently to ruin his entire presentation. All four of us will be disciplined, and I'm sure you can see that we'd prefer to avoid that."

The guard looked at each of them in turn, then down at the sealed case. "Very well," he finally said, punching a code into the door panel and waving them through. "Dr. Kraeliss' office is at the far end of the left-hand corridor."

"Many thanks. Your cooperation will not be forgotten, I assure you," Therov said.

Inside the secure lab area, the corridors were oddly deserted and eerily silent except for their own footfalls and the distant buzz of hundreds of generators. Instead of following the guard's directions, Therov led them to the right and down another maze-like set of access tunnels. They gathered at a locked door, which Therov quickly disabled with an electronic passkey he'd kept tucked in his sleeve. The panel slid open to reveal a vast set of glass-walled, room-sized terrariums. Each displayed a rapidly developing model of a Class-M feature: one contained a miniature coral reef, another a desert, a third a swampy concoction that suggested the archetypal primordial soup.

"This is amazing," Jarrod said, looking around. "It's an entire planet, broken down into sections."

"And I needn't remind you of the mercenary purpose behind it all," Therov sneered. Abruptly, he lifted the sample case, pressed a button on the outside lock, and thrust it into Jarrod's arms. "Take this to the center of the catwalk, put it down, and then clear the area. You have exactly four minutes - and counting."

Jarrod stared at him, dumbfounded. "Four minutes until what? You said this was a biological sample that would slowly degrade their specimens from within. It wasn't supposed to be dangerous to us."

Already, Therov and the twins were backing away. "It will destroy their samples, all right, along with a lot of other things. We're trying to make a point here, remember? A few withered plants and leaky aquariums won't be enough. Now go. The chronometer is running."

"I won't do it! Absolutely not!" Jarrod held the case out, but Therov pushed him through the doorway and swiftly reapplied the passkey to the control panel. The door held despite Jarrod's desperate pounding from the other side.

"Swiftly," Therov hissed through the door. Then he, Xertes, and Callinda ran for their lives

Exactly four minutes later, a bone-shattering blast rocked the science building to its gargantuan underpinnings.

--

"Fortunately, the explosive device was placed in a biohazard disposal chute. That helped to contain the damage significantly, and since most of the lab personnel were attending the conference, there were no recorded casualties."

Michaela Taylor would have preferred to face her former Captain and her friend of almost twenty years under more congenial circumstances. However, she was also grateful that Starfleet had agreed to let her bring the news - and continue the official inquiry - on her own, and in person.

"We did lose a few expensive pieces of lab equipment," she continued when it became clear that neither of them could find the words to respond. "That will set the base's Terraforming research back a few months, at least, which was probably Therov's intention. But that's far preferable to any lethal consequences."

"I still want to hear proof that Jarrod was involved," Zarabeth said after another minute or so of uncomfortable silence.

"Well, we do have a description of the four people who entered the building, presenting themselves as Academy cadets. We also heard that they gave Professor Setto's name at the door. Records indicate that he is actually a teacher at the base school here."

"That is correct," Spock confirmed. "He is Lidia's teacher. The man who is preoccupied with Gorns."

"I agree that isn't proof, but it does suggest a connection. And Starfleet has to pursue any lead at this point."

"Understandable, of course."

"If you say you haven't heard from your son, you know I'll believe you. But if you discover any way to let him - or Therov - know that we desperately need to speak to them, I hope you will. I promise that I'll personally look out for Jarrod's best interests if he's willing to turn himself in to me."

Spock nodded. "You may be certain that we would contact you at once."

"The two you have arrested - Xertes and Callinda - what do they have to say about Jarrod's involvement?" Zarabeth asked, flashing her husband a disapproving glance.

"They've admitted nothing except that they decided to attend to conference out of scientific curiosity. Therov has completely disappeared, so we can't ask him anything. Essentially, we have nothing that would hold up in a formal inquiry, and I'm as relieved about that as you are. But I have been charged with locating him - and Therov, if possible - and bringing them in for questioning."

"For trial, you mean."

"It hasn't come to that yet."

"Perhaps I ought to go and look for him," Spock suggested.

"Where would you begin? He and Therov seem to have slipped away from the conference before anyone even thought about detaining them. They apparently had transportation waiting, and after five days, they could be anywhere in the sector. To be honest, you'd probably have a better chance of finding him if you simply remain here. Most of us are of the opinion that they'll most likely return to Amphitrite at some point. We just don't know how extensive their resources might be."

"I'm sorry to say we really don't know, either," Zarabeth said. "He's our own son, but in many ways he's become a total stranger."

"Believe me, I feel the same way. Not only did I deliver him, I mentored him at the Academy. If he'd only come to me and explained what he was going through...well, we might not be here today."

"There is little point in speculating how things might have turned out differently." Spock rose. "Our time would be better spent devising a strategy to bring him back."

Taylor stood, too. "I need to go back to the Embassy and file my report with Starfleet. I'll be there for a few hours, at least. Please contact me right away if anything develops."

"We would expect the same of you," Zarabeth reminded her.

"I know. I promise you I'll do the best I can, but I do have my orders. I hope you're not angry with me."

"No one will blame you for maintaining your integrity as a Starfleet officer," Spock told her. "You must conduct the investigation as you see fit."

"I am sorry this has been such a strained visit. Let's make sure the next one is better." Taylor left the house quickly and with obvious relief. Spock stood by the window and watched her climb into a waiting Embassy ground conveyance.

"It will do our son no good to avoid his responsibility in this matter," he said after a while. "Starfleet has good reason to believe that role this disturbance was significant. Surely he must realize that running away can only increase their suspicions."

Zarabeth looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Well, I still refuse to accept that Jarrod would do such a thing. I'd be sorry to learn that you disagreed, Spock."

"As a general principle, I do not. However, young men - and women - have been known to exceed the boundaries of wise behavior when they believe their actions serve a just cause. The probability of recklessness increases when strong emotions are involved."

"Does that mean you blame me for what's happened, because I allowed him - all of them - to express emotion?"

"It is a fact that our children all display emotional temperaments not unlike your own. I can, and do, accept that. However, the manner in which Jarrod chooses to express that temperament has always been his own choice."

She shook her head, her anger fading into quiet distress. "He's always been more like me than he is like you. I've never really known why."

"It is most likely a quirk of genetics that cannot be fully explained." He crossed behind the sofa she still occupied, then rested his hand on the back so that it lightly touched her hair. "In any case, there is nothing inherently negative in being like you, Zarabeth."

She turned, caught his fingers in hers. "I think sometimes Jarrod doubts that you love him. In that respect, at least, he isn't like me at all." Sighing, she leaned her cheek against his sleeve. "I also know that Jarrod does have a rational side he inherited from you. And sooner or later, it's got to kick in."

"Let us hope you are correct."

"Can this really be happening again? I've already had one family destroyed by politics I didn't even fully understand; and here I am a hundred years later, facing exactly the same prospect."

"No one has been destroyed. Jarrod will return when he is prepared to face the consequences of his actions, or at the very least, those of some ill-chosen associates."

"Do you know that for certain? He could remain in hiding for weeks, months. A year. We might not hear from him at all. I'm certain he feels he can't trust us. And the part that frightens me most is that I'm not even sure he should come back."

"That is not rational."

"No? Would it make more sense for me to wish that he'd be found, and thrown into prison? You'd be disgraced along with him."

"That is the very reason he should return, either to clear himself or to take responsibility for his mistakes."

"I still think Therov is more to blame than any of the others. And to be perfectly honest, I'm less convinced of Adonia's innocence than I am of Jarrod's. It won't do any good to question her again - she's already decided to tell us nothing. We'll have to watch her carefully. Sooner or later, she'll reveal what she knows."

"Why are you so convinced she would protect him?"

"Because, as we've already established, she's a little too much like me. And if you were the one Michaela Taylor was under orders to arrest, I know how far I would go to keep you hidden and safe." In spite of her own worry, she had to smile at his perplexed expression. "They really aren't children any more, Spock. Even Lidia will be thinking very differently in a few short years."

He considered her words gravely. "In that case, I shall go and speak to Professor Setto myself," he finally decided. "We may just have time to put a stop to her interest in Gorns."

---

Tenting the covers over her head, Adonia turned over her pillow and pulled out the stolen communicator she'd stashed deep inside it.

"Therov, where are you?" she whispered, keying it on. "Can you hear me?"

His cheerful tone soothed her jangled nerves. "Don't worry," he whispered back. "I'm right here. In fact, I can see the light from your bedroom."

"I'm glad...though I don't like you hiding so close. If my parents catch you, they'll turn you over to Captain Taylor in a nanosecond. She's been here, you know - several times over the last few days. And my mother keeps asking me about you. She suspects that I know where you are."

"Don't worry about them. They're not quick enough to catch me. If you remember to keep your voice down, we should be fine."

"I'm so worried about you, Therov. I'm afraid you'll be caught and thrown in prison, and I'll never see you again."

He laughed softly. "You'll see me again, my love. Tonight, if you want. Wait until your parents fall asleep and then meet me at the old boathouse. And bring me something to eat, if you can. I've been out here for a few hours now."

"All right. I'll get something from the replicator as soon as I can and sneak outside with it. I can't do it now, though. I think my father is still downstairs, writing dispatches. He thinks he can find Jarrod that way. And you."

"Adonia, to whom are you speaking?"

Her bedroom door slid open to reveal her father. She let the communicator drop back into the pillow and hugged it against herself as if she'd been trying to fall asleep.

"I wasn't speaking to anyone," she said haughtily. "I was declining Vulcan verbs, the way you told me to. We have a test this week in school, and I know you expect me to do well."

"Under ordinary circumstances, that would be true. However, considering all that has happened this week, I would not fault you if your score did not meet your usual standards."

"You mean because Jarrod and Therov are still missing?"

"Precisely. Do you believe they are hiding together, then?"

"How should I know? Are you trying to trick me? Don't waste your time, Father, because I know nothing."

He scrutinized her so intently that Adonia shivered. It was as if he could tell just by looking at her that she was lying. Of course, she knew that was impossible.

"May I stay for a moment?" he asked.

Adonia shrugged. "Please yourself. It's your house, as you never tire of informing us."

"Technically, you are incorrect. This house is Embassy property, and our residence here depends on my continued diplomatic affiliation. In any case, that is not the subject I wished to address. Adonia, you may believe that I am unacquainted with the effects of strong emotion, especially on the adolescent psyche. However, you would be incorrect."

"I don't believe any such thing. In the first place, I'm sure you've researched it thoroughly - along with every other topic under every Federation-charted sun. In the second, I know you love Mother - or at least I assume so. She seems to believe it, though I suppose she might be deluding herself."

"Your mother is not prone to delusions. In fact, she is unusually perceptive for an emotional being. Therefore I must take her seriously when she suggests that you may know more of Therov's and Jarrod's whereabouts than you will presently acknowledge."

"Mother isn't perceptive, she's paranoid. Besides, why would either of you want them to be caught? Do you really hope they'll go to prison? Although I suppose that would be one way you could control my brother, which has always been your primary goal."

"There is no reason to believe that Jarrod is guilty of anything that would warrant imprisonment. As for Therov - Captain Taylor is inclined to believe that his actions warrant further official scrutiny. If she is wrong, and he truly has nothing to hide, he should come forward and answer Starfleet's questions willingly. The same is true for Jarrod, of course. If you did have the ability to convey this information to either or both of them, I trust that you would do so."

"You're just trying to manipulate me. Nothing would give you and Mother greater pleasure than to see Therov arrested, even if it's for something Jarrod did. That way Jarrod wouldn't be held responsible, as usual, and Therov would be taken away from me. That's your real goal, and you might as well admit it."

"Jumping to conclusions, Adonia, is not the mark of a rational mind. I cannot order you to reveal anything, either to me or to your mother, but I do request that you carefully consider all that I have said to you tonight. It is quite possible that your brother's safety, as well as his freedom, is at stake. As for Therov, clearly you are in a better position to know his mind than I am."

He turned to go, while Adonia hugged her pillow and pretended to ignore him.

"Incidentally, your conjecture concerning my regard for your mother is correct. And I trust that you are no more given to delusional states than she is."

She finally turned to him, her face burning. "I'm sorry if I behaved disrespectfully, Father. But I do love Therov, even if no one else in this house is willing to believe or understand that. I had hoped that you and Mother might at least try."

"Our reluctance to approve of your relationship is not necessarily the result of an inability to understand."

"Well, you're wrong about him, then," she said quietly.

"Perhaps so. Sleep well."

Adonia's sleek brows glided up her forehead. "It's usually Mother's job to bid me goodnight."

"This time, I am taking her place."

He left his daughter frowning after him and returned to his own room down the hall.

"How did it go?" Zarabeth asked him as he turned back the covers.

"As you predicted, she was willing to talk about everything except the matter at hand. She did pause to inform me that I am a wholly inadequate parent and a disingenuous husband."

She stretched out with her head in his lap and her right hand caressing his face.

"If it's any consolation, I get that from her at least once a week - the parenting part, at least. As for the kind of husband you are, let's just say that after almost eighteen years, at least I know what to expect."

"Perhaps her argument does have some merit. I had not envisioned both Jarrod and Adonia becoming so...rebellious."

"At least we'll never have to worry about Lidia. She's the most like you of any of them."

"Your assumption that I possessed excellent judgment in my youth is somewhat mistaken."

"I know I didn't always make the best decisions at Jarrod's age, not that it mattered too much in the end." Her mood darkened, as it always did at the mention of that other time, those other lives so cruelly lost and ruined. "Well, whatever he's done, and whatever happens to him, we've both survived worse situations. Luckily, my love for you has always been stronger than any grief, any hopelessness I've ever felt. Perhaps that isn't rational, or even particularly wise, but it still gives me comfort."

"Your effect on me has always been similarly inexplicable. Yet I find sustenance in it as well."

"You know...before, when I was alone, I relied on memories to get me through some of those terrible black nights. Right now, I just want to forget everything - especially the chance that we may never see our son again."

"Zarabeth, I give you my word that I will not disappear like Jarrod, or the others."

"I think I could learn to accept almost anything, as long as I had you."

He bowed his head to accept her kiss. Grief and anguish gradually melted into a desperate passion they hadn't known since the day Jarrod was conceived, deep in a world of endless winter.

--

Adonia had never felt anyone hold her so close, or clutch at her heart the way Therov did as they kissed each other, hungrily, in the darkened boathouse. Idly she wondered if her parents had ever known such a flood of all-consuming, mind-bending desire. Somehow, she doubted it. Her father's Vulcan blood could never burn the way Therov's did, and her mother was too headstrong even to dream of surrendering to a man as completely as Adonia longed to surrender to Therov. Emotion - the very thing her father constantly warned her about - consumed her utterly. She was only mildly surprised to discover how gratifying it could be.

"I didn't mind hiding here alone until now," he whispered, breaking their kiss with obvious reluctance. "All night, I'll be dreaming about what could have been if you'd stayed."

"I can't. My parents seem to know everything I do these days. They watch and question me constantly now that Jarrod's run away."

"How distressing." Therov trailed a long, blue-skinned finger down her cheek. "Adonia...why don't you run away, too? With me."

"What?"

"You heard me. We'll leave here at once, together. Then we can be free of your parents, and Captain Taylor, and all this nonsense about your brother."

She looked at him for a long time, watching the shadows move across his lips, his eyes. Something in his gaze troubled her, though she couldn't exactly say why. She swallowed before asking him the inevitable question, the one she'd avoided until now.

"Therov...do you know where my brother is? I know you told everyone else that you didn't, but this time I'm the one who's asking. And you know you can trust me."

"Yes...yes...I do believe I can." Therov sighed wistfully, cupped her face in his hands, and rubbed his chin against her forehead. "You know, you and Jarrod bear a superficial resemblance to one another, it's true, but in the ways that matter most, you are nothing alike. You have the fire, the courage, he only dreamed of."

Adonia pulled back from his embrace. "Why do you speak of my brother in the past tense?" When Therov paused and glanced away, she pushed him away in horror. "Therov! Is Jarrod dead?"

Therov shook his head. "I cannot answer that, my dear, because truthfully, I am not sure. What I do know is that he pledged to help me, pretended to believe in my cause, but when the time came to act on our convictions, rather than simply talk about them, he did not have the stomach to follow through. He was always more comfortable dealing in abstracts - impossible, useless ideals - than in bringing about actual change. Rather like your father, in fact. I suppose that's not too surprising."

"But what happened to him, Therov? You'd better tell me everything."

"All I can accurately report is that I trusted him with something very important at the Terraforming lab and he failed me, miserably. He made not the slightest effort to follow my simple instructions."

"You sent him in with the explosives Captain Taylor found? Did he know he would be carrying them?"

"Let's just say he didn't ask as many questions as he might have." Clutching at her hands, Therov drew her close to him again. Adonia felt a chill race through her, but she forced herself not to shudder. "I know things would be different with you, Adonia. You shared my ideology from the beginning. I have always felt that I could tell you things openly. We are like two halves of a whole. Why do you think your parents are so eager to keep us apart? It's because they sense the strength of our connection, too, and they resent it. They want to control you. Let me offer you an escape. Say you'll come away with me, first thing tomorrow. We'll stow away on one of the freighters scheduled to leave the city in the morning. No one will be able to trace us."

Caught in his arms, her mind spinning, she stared at him wide-eyed and bewildered.

"Yes..." she finally murmured. "Yes, Therov, we must be together. I'll need to go back to the house and get a few things. I can steal some money from my father's desk, too. We'll need it for our travel expenses, now that Xertes and Callinda can't provide any more funds."

"Yes, I had meant to suggest that. But do you think they won't notice?"

"Tomorrow, maybe, if Lidia asks them to buy her something. But we'll be gone by then."

He paced the boathouse, nodding, murmuring happily to himself.

"Yes, yes...this is good. This is right. You will bring the money here, and we will slip away just before dawn. Understood?"

"I understand. I should get back now, before someone notices I've left the house. Lidia often gets up and prowls around for no reason."

"All right, go." Turning back to her, he grasped her wrist and dug his mouth against hers hungrily. This time, his lips felt clammy and damp. Adonia fought back her revulsion. "Be sure no one sees you take the money. I will wait for you - impatiently."

"It will be a few hours at least. Meanwhile, stay here, quietly, so no one will see you. You can sit and eat the food I brought you."

Nodding, Therov withdrew into the shadows. Adonia could see only the white of his eyes, glowing, as she backed out of the boathouse and ran into the darkness.

--

Just before dawn, with several hours of sleepless torment behind her, Adonia stood in the doorway of her parents' room, holding the communicator out toward them.

"Therov stole this, and a few others, from the Academy. He gave it to me so we could talk to each other at night. We have been doing so for the past three nights."

Spock took it from her and examined it. "We may be able to use this to locate him."

"There's no need for that, Father. Therov is hiding in the boathouse."

"The boathouse!"

"Yes. When Jarrod used to play there, he moved one of the walls to form a hiding space. Therov has been in there for nearly two days while I brought him food and drink. He thinks I'm going to meet him there later. I'm sorry, Mother. I know what I did was wrong."

"At least you did the right thing by telling us. And now you must tell us something else. Do you also know where Jarrod is?"

"Yes...and no." Adonia began to cry. "Therov admitted that he sent Jarrod into the lab with the explosives. He thinks it's possible that he was killed."

"What?" Zarabeth was incredulous. "Spock...."

"Possible, but unlikely. Numerous scans have failed to detect any fatalities. It is far more probable that Jarrod wished Therov to interpret his disappearance as a death."

"That would mean they were no longer working together at the time of the explosion," Zarabeth said. "Maybe he won't be facing prison after all."

"Tat may be the case. However, let us deal with the more urgent matter first." Moving to the wall, he engaged the security panel. "Security, we have an armed intruder at the boathouse. Beam someone over directly. I will meet you there in a few minutes."

"Wait here," he said as he tied the front of his dressing gown and took a phaser from a locked compartment on his desk.

Neither of them did any such thing. After checking on Lidia, who got up and came with them, they followed him to the front door.

"Please don't go out there, Spock. If something should happen...."

"A security contingent has gone ahead of me. I shall be well protected."

Before he had time to leave the house, a group of gold-shirted officers came up the lawn toward him.

"All clear, sir. There were signs someone had been there recently - food, some broken dishes - but he's gone now." The security officer looked pointedly at Adonia, who ignored him. "And we found this." He held out a second communicator, identical to the one Adonia had already turned over.

"Very well. Continue to monitor the grounds and set up checkpoints in the immediate vicinity."

"Yes, Ambassador."

"He planned to stow away on a cargo ship," Adonia said tearfully. "Perhaps you can still catch him there."

"Doubtful. Having told you his intentions, he will have no course now but to alter them."

"He knew I was going to betray him." Adonia stared at the communicator. "I thought I had him fooled...but he saw right through me. Now I have lost him, and Jarrod, and gained nothing in return."

"That's not true," Zarabeth consoled her daughter. "You've gained something you probably don't recognize yet. But you will, I promise."

--

Over the next several weeks, neither Starfleet's exhaustive physical searches nor Spock's inquiries through diplomatic channels managed to uncover any trace of Jarrod or Therov. Somewhat more encouraging were Taylor's series of follow-up scans on the destroyed lab, all of which failed to identify humanoid remains or any evidence of lethal injury.


Life on Amphitrite continued, though the house seemed quieter than it had in a long time. Lidia ceased to play loud music after dinner, and before long her interest in Gorns had waned, too. Adonia's behavior became equally subdued, as she began to spend hours on end in her room, studying and practicing conversational Vulcan with her computer.

One evening, she informed her parents that she wished to speak to them. Expressionless, her voice as cool and steady as the distant stars, she stood in front of them as if she were making a formal presentation in front of her class.

"Father, Mother, I have come to a decision," she announced. "It is my intention to enter Starfleet myself when I complete my studies on Amphitrite next year. I believe I am better suited to it than Jarrod was, and I expect to succeed where he did not."

"This is rather sudden, isn't it?"

"It may appear that way, Mother, but in fact I have put considerable thought into it. My goal is to become the first Vulcan woman to command a starship. It will take many years of difficult study, I realize, but I believe that I am equal to the task. I have also taken the liberty of contacting Captain Taylor for advice. She believes I have an excellent chance of being accepted in spite of my brother's...choices, and she is willing to mentor me as she once did him."

"Adonia, you are only one quarter Vulcan," Spock reminded her.

"Indeed, Father. But in my opinion, that should be enough."

The communication from Jarrod came six months later, forwarded via another planet's diplomatic pouch in order to conceal its origins. The letter was brief, expressing regret and shame for his actions both at the Academy and at the Terraforming conference, and hoping that he would one day be able to return and earn their forgiveness. In the meantime, he hoped that they would imagine him happy and take some comfort in the fact that his own exile, unlike that of his namesake, was voluntary.

Since they had no way to respond to his missive, they were unable to tell him of Adonia's acceptance to the Academy, or of the other fortunate result of their shared ordeal: the night their suffering had driven them together, Spock and Zarabeth had conceived a second son.

Sometimes, when the familiar grief came over her, she would take out the letter again and read the last few lines, hearing his voice in every word.

"It may take years until I can redeem myself," he wrote, "but I exhort each of you to remember me in your own way, and wish me peace, as I do you. And I promise that I will see all of you again."

"We will hold you to that promise," she would say when she finished. Sometimes she would look up at the night sky while she said it. "And we trust you enough to know that you will return."


Part 4 is now available:
click on the link below

Part 5 will be online in March, 2004

Other Sections

Part One: The End of Yesterday
Part Two: Journey to Tomorrow
Part Four: Paradise Deferred