Chapter 1

Simon had been to San Francisco Spaceport plenty of times before, and had always found it exciting to be around all the alien travelers. But today was different. Today he had come here to meet his father, and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. A lot had happened in the six months since Spock went away.

Simon stayed close at his mother's side as she hurried toward the terminal where Father would arrive. Her body had changed a lot since the twins were born. He liked her better this way, with her big stomach gone, so that when he hugged her, he wasn't hugging the babies, too. Glancing up, he noticed how tense her face looked as she searched the crowded concourse ahead of them. Now their hands were touching, and he could feel her tension seeping through his mental barriers. It made him even more nervous.

Before Father left, he had warned Simon to be on his best behavior and help around the house. This morning Mom had said almost the same thing—that he needed to be extra good because his father was still "recuperating". She had made it sound like he was sick, but Simon knew that wasn't the problem. He had heard rumors about how Spock had changed—"mutated" was the word they used. It had been on all the news broadcasts. Though Mom hadn't let Simon watch the news, his schoolmates had told him stories about a lizard-creature with a long sticky tongue that caught bugs. When he asked his mother about it, she said it wasn't like that at all. Father had never eaten bugs, and there was nothing to worry about because he looked completely normal again. But Simon knew for a fact that she was worried.

His heart pounded as they neared the proper terminal. Suddenly, Mom slowed. A throng of people blocked the way. Some of them held the small newscorders he had seen reporters use. A pudgy human male turned and looked straight at the two of them. The man's hand came up and pointed.

"Look!" he called out. "Over there—that's his wife and kid. Hey, Yasha!"

Every face in the crowd turned.

Yasha? Simon blinked in confusion.

The reporters stampeded his way, newscorders humming.

Simon heard the same man referring to him as "Captain Spock's son, another Jascha Heifetz". Now he understood and went hot with embarrassment. He did not consider himself equal with the great 20th century violinist. Obviously they were making fun of him.

"Leave my son alone!" Lauren demanded, but they thrust the newscorders even closer and began shouting questions.

Jerking free of his mother's grip, Simon turned and ran. He expected his mother to follow him. He was deep into the tourist shops, and thoroughly lost, when he realized that he was alone. Out of breath, he stopped near the entrance of an Andorian restaurant called "The Ice House".

Why had he run off? Just because they were calling him Jascha Heifetz? No. That had only been an excuse to get away from there, to get out of meeting his father because he was afraid of what he might find. Now, no matter what, he was going to be in trouble.

oooo

Toting a single piece of luggage, Spock left the terminal and was immediately besieged by a mob of reporters. Their queries so overlapped that a human could not have sorted them out. Spock acted as if he could not understand, either. Assuming an apologetic air, he announced that although he appreciated their interest, he simply hadn't time to give them the attention that their questions merited. He could soon issue a comprehensive statement through Starfleet.

There were groans of disappointment and more questions. Ignoring them, Spock cut a path through their midst and broke into the main concourse. He paused to scan the busy area for some sign of his wife. Lauren was here; he could sense her physical nearness along with an aura of distress that puzzled him.

Led by their bond, he found her off in the distance craning her neck, looking in all directions. For a moment he just stood watching her, taking pleasure in knowing that this time he was truly home, in body as well as mind.

At last he approached her and said, "Have you lost something?"

At the sound of his voice Lauren whirled. Her eyes met his, then quickly swept over his entirely normal face. She broke into a tremulous smile.

Spock was very much aware of some persistent reporters filming them from a distance, of how badly his human wife wanted to embrace him, and of the effort it cost her to hold back. Setting down his valise, he formally he offered his paired forefingers—the nails of which were still abnormally thick—and she returned the spousal touch with all the dignity of a Vulcan.

Her blue eyes went moist as she said, "Welcome home. And yes, I've lost something—our son."

As she explained the circumstances, Spock raised an eyebrow and considered. "He is most likely still within the complex. Have you reported him missing?"

"I was just about to."

After contacting the proper authorities, Spock thought back to his own boyhood, and what he had found most interesting about spaceports. Taking up his valise, he said, "I have an idea..."

oooo

Simon was seven years old now. On Vulcan he would be preparing for his manhood trial, yet here he was, his nose pressed to one of the vast windows of the observation room, his eyes so full of tears that he had barely seen the starliner's shuttle descend through the atmosphere and touch down.

By now, his father probably knew that he had run off and left Mom after promising to be good. How could he have been so childish, so…so illogical?

Suddenly he heard his name and description repeating over the loudspeaker for everyone to hear. "Please be on the lookout; we have a missing boy named Simon…" Then a familiar voice spoke nearby, overlaying the announcement. "There he is—thank God! Those reporters really must have upset him."

Heart pounding, Simon wiped his eyes and turned to meet his parents. Lauren bent down and put her arms around him, leaving Simon free to gaze up into his father's face. It looked exactly the way he remembered.

Feeling very foolish, he mumbled, "Hello, Father."

"Simon," Spock said. That was all.

oooo

Things were really different. After such a long separation, Simon felt strange around his father. He kept sneaking peeks at those weird thick fingernails that Mom said would eventually grow out normal. Even so, he still wanted Spock all to himself, but that was impossible with the babies around. Seeing Teresa and James in his father's arms made Simon feel very jealous. All day he worked hard at getting Spock's attention, but some baby always seemed to start crying or do something cute. Discouraged, he picked at his dinner and went off to bed without even saying goodnight. He was almost asleep when someone knocked on his door.

Father came in.

"G'night," Simon mumbled sullenly.

Father walked over, turned on a lamp, and sat facing him on the bed. Simon noticed a gift-wrapped box in his hands, and for a moment even forgot about those fingernails.

"As I recall," Father said, "I owe you a birthday present."

He put it on the covers over Simon's legs. The box felt heavy.

Simon stared at the belated present with mixed feelings. "I…I thought you'd forgotten."

"No, I did not forget. I promised you something from Space—something special. I intended to give it to you at your bedtime."

For some reason Simon did not quite believe him. He didn't think Spock had wasted any of his important time looking for a present. He had a feeling that he had just now remembered and gone and found something in the house to give him.

Simon had never before felt like his father was lying, and it bothered him. He didn't want to open the present. But sitting up, he opened it anyway. The wrapping came off easily. What he found underneath seemed to confirm his suspicions. The black velvet case looked identical to one he had once spotted high in the closet of Spock's study. Ever since then, he had wondered what secret it contained. At least now he would find out.

Aware of his father watching him, he opened the spring-hinged cover. Light from the bedside lamp glinted dully on the stone that was inside. It looked like something dug from the backyard. Bitterly disappointed, he said, "A rock."

"Pick it up," Spock told him.

Pick it up? Why? So Father could make up some stupid story about how rare and special it was? With a surge of anger, Simon shoved the whole thing off his bed. The stone rolled out of the box and came to a stop by his father's shoes. Simon's heart raced as he stared at it. Now he would be punished for sure. Though he told himself that he didn't care, he felt sick with worry until Father rose without saying a word, and left the room. Half an hour passed before Simon turned out his light. What a miserable day! Nothing had gone right. Why had Spock given him a stupid rock, anyway? Looking down, he could see the knobby thing on the floor, in a shaft of moonlight. Simon hated the sight of it. Hanging over the side of the bed, he tried to push it away. His fingers brushed the rough surface of the stone. It felt warm.

Curious, he got out of bed and picked up the rock for the first time. It was warm—almost as if it had been lying in the sun. Warm and—

A sudden vibration startled him. He dropped the stone and it narrowly missed his toe. Squatting down, Simon studied the mysterious rock for a couple of minutes. Then very carefully he retrieved it and cupped the stone in his hands. It grew warmer and warmer and began to tremble. As Simon stared, its pocked surface took on a strange purple glow. Then, to his delight, the rock started to hum softly.

Clutching the gift, Simon jumped up and ran into the hallway. From the head of the stairs he could see that the living room was dark. Turning, he found the door to his father's study ajar. The lights were out, but he heard voices, so he wandered inside. The sounds came from his parents', bedroom, behind the closed door that connected it to the study. Very quietly, Simon put the stone on the floor. The humming stopped. The purple glow faded and went out. Pressing his ear to the bedroom door, he listened.

Mom was talking about something being unfair; that she was doing the work she loved, but that Father's position at Starfleet Academy didn't make full use of his scientific training. That she realized now how wrong she had been.

Father said that he had accepted the Academy position for the best of reasons; that the time it allowed him with his family made it worthwhile. Then he said, "Lauren, it was due to the merit of the Donari mission, and T'Beth's involvement, that I chose to participate—not any lack of personal fulfillment."

Simon felt a fresh twinge of anger when his mother said, "Alright, but it's still not fair to you. Even with your work at the Academy, there are going to be chances for you to get involved in other projects. I can handle a few separations, as long as I know you're content. Honestly."

Simon was pleased to hear his father say that maybe she could handle the separations, but what about the children? He told her that he didn't want a "repeat of T'Beth", and then Simon heard his own name mentioned. "I already see problems arising with Simon. Either he is deeply resentful of my absence, or the boy has grown spoiled."

Spoiled!

Simon snatched up the stone and nearly hurled it. Only the sight of his father's desk stopped him. Somewhere in this house—maybe even in this very room—Solkar's sturpa might be hidden. On Vulcan, Father had said that he would never whip him…but that was before he thought Simon was "spoiled".

Clenching his jaw, he stalked back to his bedroom, shoved the stone into its box, and pushed it under his bed.

oooo

Starfleet Academy was on summer break, and Spock had not yet been cleared for active duty as its commandant. After a second day of physical and psychological testing, he was at home, perusing his Padd on the sunny back porch while the twins lay at his feet in a playpen. His eyes returned to them again and again. He could not seem to get his fill of watching their antics. After last night's conversation with Lauren, she seemed to understand this new sense he had—however illogical—of time slipping away. Had she not sometimes said that Simon was growing up too quickly? While it was true that Spock missed starship duty, Space would be there waiting for his return. The same could not be said for these children.

He heard footsteps in the house and glanced over his shoulder as the door opened. Simon stepped out on the screened porch in his baseball uniform. The word "Giants" was emblazoned across the jersey in orange and black lettering. His eyes looked very intense in the shadow of his ball cap, and his hands toyed restlessly with a player's glove.

"Ready for your game?" Spock asked him.

Rather than answer, Simon posed a question of his own. "Where did that rock come from?"

"It is a Helexian Moodstone," Spock replied. "Its elements draw on the energy in your body. The sound it makes varies according to your frame of mind."

Simon's dark, level eyebrows drew together in a frown. "I meant where did you get it? On Ildarani?"

"No," Spock said, "I did not acquire the stone during my travels. My father did, long ago, and brought it home to me when I was not much younger than you. It was so unusual for Sarek to give me a plaything, that I treasured it."

He saw a confusion of emotions fill his son's eyes, saw the eyes lower.

"Oh," Simon said at last, unsmiling. Then, a very restrained "Thank you."

As Simon turned to leave, Spock told him, "I can join you at the baseball field after your mother gets back. It has been a long time since I saw you play."

Simon stiffened. "That's alright…you don't have to. Joey's dad is picking me up; I'm sure he'll bring me home, too."

Spock held in his pain as he nodded. After Simon left, he thought about the Moodstone and the part of the story he had not told his son. Yes, he had treasured it…for a brief time. But only days after receiving the gift, he had overheard an argument between his parents. Sarek had been displeased to find Spock "playing childish games" with the stone. Sarek had intended it to be an educational tool, a way for his halfling son to gauge emotional responses and better learn to control them. Spock's face had gone white at the sound of fury in his mother's voice. "He's a child, Sarek! Only a child!

After that, all the pleasure had drained out of the rock. Spock put it away and seldom touched it again.

oooo

Simon's Little League team lost. All through the game he had kept glancing into the bleachers, looking to see if his father had come, after all. He had only said that about Joey's dad because he was angry, because he thought Spock didn't really care anything about him or the game; that he would rather be with the twins or at the starbase or off working on some project in his study.

He arrived home in a black mood. Dirt-streaked and sweaty, he walked into the house and found a strange boy sitting on the living room sofa, petting the family cat.

The boy stood and they stared at one another. He was about the same height as Simon, but built a little heavier. A lock of sandy hair hung low on his forehead. Reaching up, the boy pushed it out of his blue-gray eyes and shifted uneasily.

Something about him looked familiar.

"Who are you?" Simon asked in a less-than-friendly tone.

Spock and Lauren came out of the kitchen. Father was holding little James as he walked over to the stranger and rested his free hand on his shoulder. "Simon," he said, "this is our cousin, Gary Breskin."

Simon stared harder at the boy and recalled a vague memory from when he was three. They had been over at Aunt Doris' house in the canyon, and there was this little kid visiting her with his parents. He didn't recall saying much to Gary, or even playing with him. He remembered thinking how weird it was that this runny-nosed human kid was his father's cousin.

What was Gary doing here? Simon didn't like his father touching the boy.

Mom smiled sadly. "Gary was staying with Aunt Doris, but she's gone into the hospital."

Simon felt a stab of apprehension. He liked his great-aunt a lot. "Is she sick?"

"Yes," Father answered. "She called shortly after you left this afternoon. Since Gary's parents are off-world, he will be staying here for a few days."

Mom said, "Think of all the fun you two can have together."

That, Simon doubted. Wasn't there someone else who could take the kid? Simon didn't want a stranger tagging along, bothering him. He didn't want Gary poking around in his belongings. Was this Father's way of punishing him for being "spoiled"? Narrowing his eyes at his cousin, he asked, "Will he have to stay in my room?"

Lauren and Spock looked at one another. Father moved an eyebrow in the way that meant he was displeased.

"No," Mom said, much to Simon's relief. "Gary can sleep in T'Beth's old room. Now go clean up so we can eat dinner."

Simon stalked past Gary and ran upstairs. When he reached the bathroom, he shut the door so hard that it banged.

oooo

All the next morning Simon practiced his violin alone in his room. It was almost noon when Mom opened his door and brought in Gary.

Simon lowered the violin from his chin.

"It would be nice," Mom said, "if you spend a little time now with your cousin."

Simon objected, "But I'm working on a composition."

"Tell Gary about it," she suggested. As if Gary would care anything about his music.

"No," Simon argued. "I can't concentrate with him in here."

His mother gave him a stern look. "Then find something else to do with him."

She went out and shut the door behind her.

Simon and Gary stared at one another. Then ignoring his cousin, Simon took up his violin and continued playing.

"I like the twins," Gary said suddenly.

He would. Simon acted as if he hadn't even heard.

"I wish I had a little brother and sister," Gary persisted.

Simon played on.

After a while Gary pulled a bunch of little starships and fighters out of his pockets and began to make a spaceport on the floor. Soon he was zooming all around the room, pretend-flying a Bird-of-Prey.

Annoyed, Simon put down his violin. "What are you doing with that? It's Klingon. You're not a dirty Klingon, are you?"

"You don't have to be Klingon," Gary said, "to fly a Bird-of-Prey. The crew of the Enterprise did, and that includes your father." He brought the toy on a strafing run so low that the ship's metal nearly scraped Simon's violin.

"Hey!" Simon jerked the instrument out of reach. "Watch out! And you don't know anything about my father!"

Gary stopped playing and glowered at the violin cradled protectively in Simon's arms. "What's the matter, sissy—are you afraid I'll scratch it?"

Seething, Simon shut the violin away in its case. Gary glared at him, then coolly got down on the floor and resumed his game. Simon watched him bring in a fighter for a ground landing beside the bed. Suddenly his cousin reached underneath the bed and pulled out a black velvet box.

Simon lunged for it. "Give me that!"

Gary clutched it to his chest and rolled out of reach. Outraged, Simon jumped on top of the boy and easily wrestled away the box.

Gary got to his feet and scowled at him. "You're selfish—do you know that?"

"I am not!" Simon denied. "This isn't your house! You should ask for permission before you touch things!"

Pain flickered in Gary's eyes, and for an instant Simon almost felt sorry.

Then Gary said, "You are so, selfish! And my Grandpa Les says your father was selfish, too. He tells stories about when they were boys together."

Simon's hands gripped the box tightly. "What stories? You're lying. My father grew up on Vulcan."

"Shows how much you know," Gary muttered. He turned back to his toys.

Gary's words continued to rankle as Simon stood watching. I am not selfish, he thought to himself, and Father never was, either. Cousin Les is a liar and Gary knows it. That's why he dropped the subject.

Sitting down on the bed, he opened the velvet box. As he fingered the stone, it began to glow. Then it started to hum loudly.

Gary came over, bug-eyed. "Wow! What's that?"

"Don't touch it," Simon said quickly. He looked at his cousin with scorn. "You're the one who doesn't know anything. It's a…a Helexian Firestone. It's full of photon energy. If anyone handles it but me, it'll explode."

He almost smiled at the look of awe on Gary's face. Just for fun, he waved the glowing rock under his cousin's nose. Gary gasped and jumped back. Simon chased the frightened boy into a corner and tapped the stone on his shoulder.

"Ka-pow! You're dead!" he said, and started to laugh.

When Gary saw that he had been tricked, his eyes flamed. "Liar!"

"Takes one to know one," Simon retorted with the age-old schoolyard taunt.

With lightning speed, Gary's hand whipped out and snatched the rock from Simon's grip. Then he was out the door, the stone singing loudly.

Simon ran downstairs after him and chased his cousin all the way into the backyard. Gary tripped on a paving stone and tumbled into the grass. Simon leaped on top of him and as he jerked the pilfered rock out of Gary's hand, he experienced an onslaught of angry thoughts that were not all his own. The pitch of the rock abruptly deepened. Simon raised it over his cousin's head and Gary's eyes widened.

"Simon!" a voice snapped.

Simon froze at the sound. His mother's hand closed over the stone and yanked it away. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. Then she bent over Gary.

"Honey, are you alright?" she asked anxiously.

Frowning, Gary got up and brushed himself off. "I think so. He was going to hit me with that!"

The stone hummed in Lauren's grip. Lifting Simon's chin, she forced him to meet her eyes. "What on Earth has gotten into you, young man? Don't ever threaten anyone with a rock. Do you hear me? You could have seriously hurt your cousin."

Simon's face burned. "But he took it!"

"Well, now I'm taking it," she declared, "and it's going back to your father until you can show us that you know how to get along with other children."

Simon cast Gary a venomous glance.

His mother sighed and her voice gentled a little. "Come inside, both of you, and wash up. I'm making lunch."

Soon they were sitting on opposite sides of the kitchen table, wolfing down sandwiches and milk. Simon stretched out his leg under the table and kicked at Gary's foot. Gary reached hard, trying to retaliate, and almost fell off his chair. Simon laughed. Suddenly they were both laughing.

oooo

Spock watched, unnoticed, at the kitchen door as the two boys finished their meal. He was glad to see them enjoying one another's company, but how long would the truce last? He knew very little about Gary Breskin, aside from their common family connections. And—though the realization troubled him—it seemed that he no longer knew very much about his own son. The Simon he had left six months ago would never have threatened a playmate with a rock. Why had Simon done so today?

Perhaps, Spock reasoned, the boy had been seriously provoked. Spock knew what it was like to be tormented beyond all control. He vividly recalled the taunts from his own childhood that sometimes drove him to lash out, but when he looked at Gary's friendly face he saw no resemblance to those Vulcan boys.

"Simon," he said loudly enough to get his son's attention.

The boy gave a guilty start and looked over at him. "Yes, Father?"

"When you are finished there, find something for Gary to do, and come into my study."

Spock turned from him and went upstairs. He was seated at his desk examining the academy's final examination records when his son cracked open the door and stepped in.

"Over here," Spock said, beckoning him closer to the desk.

Simon obeyed. His eyes lit on the Moodstone beside the computer.

"It seems," Spock said, "that you and I have not gotten off to a very good start—have we?"

Simon stared at the floor and shook his head.

Spock picked up the Moodstone and placed it near the boy. It glowed briefly at his touch; a faint tinge of pink that faded to dull brown as Simon's glance flicked in its direction.

"This stone is not intended for use as a weapon," Spock said. "Explain to me, if you will, how it came to be raised over your cousin's head."

Simon drew a slow, unsteady breath. "Gary grabbed it. When I jumped on top of him, I saw everything he was thinking. It…made me want to hurt him. I don't know why." His eyes rose with a pleading look. "I want to be more like you."

Moved by the unexpected words, Spock said, "You are mostly human. From the beginning, your mother rightly insisted that you live in a human way…but even among humans, the free expression of emotions must be limited by self-control."

A sudden, discordant screech emanated from an upstairs bedroom—a bow drawn haphazardly over the strings of a violin. Simon's head jerked toward the noise, but not before Spock had noted the fierce flare of irritation on his son's face.

"Yet," Spock said, "you are not entirely human."

The violin gave forth another tortured sound.

Simon turned back to Spock with an anguished expression. "He won't leave my things alone! Father, make him!"

Spock regarded him closely. "You are not accustomed to sharing your belongings."

"He'll break it!" Simon cried.

"It can be repaired. Have you been practicing the mental exercises I taught you? Strengthening your barriers will reduce telepathic intrusion and leave you calmer."

"Sometimes," Simon said in a distracted tone.

"You must be vigilant at all times," Spock explained, "or your mental barriers will weaken from lack of use. It is not unlike practicing the violin."

"But Gary—"

"Perhaps if you show Gary how to use the bow properly, he can do better. Perhaps there is even something he can teach you."

oooo

Burning with resentment, Simon snatched his violin from Gary's hands and shut it away in its case. Then he put it in the back of his closet and closed the door. When he turned around, Gary was looking at him, his pockets bulging with toys, his hands fidgeting nervously.

"Don't be mad," Gary said softly.

Simon scowled. "It's not only you." Flopping on his bed, he thought about his father making him stand there and listen to Gary wreck his violin, telling him to let Gary play with it, and maybe even learn things from the kid. What kind of things? Gary was so ordinary. Ordinary Gary—it even rhymed.

Simon heard a baby start to cry downstairs. Soon they would both be squalling. What a rotten day.

Gary's hesitant voice broke into his thoughts. "Simon…Simon…can I look at this?"

Simon found his cousin pointing at a holo-viewer on a shelf. At least he was asking instead of grabbing. "Alright. Bring it here."

They sat together on the bed viewing pictures taken on Vulcan last year. Simon thought about how different things would be if his family lived on Vulcan. Like all seven-year-olds, he would be preparing for his manhood trial. He would prove himself in ways that no mere human boy could imagine. He would gain his father's respect once and for all.

As Simon gazed at the Vulcan scenes, his hand felt for one of his round, human ears—a gesture that had carried over from early childhood. He learned young that he was outwardly different from his father, but the blood was still there. It might not show on the surface where he would like it to be, but it showed in his mind—the way he would pick up on Gary's thoughts if he wasn't careful, just because their bodies were touching. Gary would never even know. Humans had no experience with telepathy and mental shielding. There were a lot of things humans couldn't do.

oooo

After a day of games and bickering, Simon stretched out beside Gary in the summer grass while the light dwindled from the sky.

Suddenly Gary said, "Hey, I have an idea! Let's camp out!"

Simon turned his head and looked at his cousin. "Camp out? Gary, there's the babies…and Father has some sort of conferences at the academy tomorrow morning."

Gary raised onto his grass-stained knees. "No, I mean right here in the backyard. All we need is some rope and a couple of blankets. I'll show you."

"You don't need to show me anything," Simon said crossly. "I know how to make a stupid tent."

Gary tagged along as Simon went inside to ask permission. Simon found his parents in the nursery discussing his little brother James in the low tones they always used when Simon was around.

Gary hung on the crib and gazed down at the sickly-looking baby boy. "Cousin Spock," he said, "I think it's nice that James has ears like you. How come his skin is so yellow? Because he's Vulcan?"

Father was unusually slow to answer. "No, Gary, it is because James is not well."

"Oh." Gary peered even more closely at James. "Will he get better?"

Simon saw an odd glance pass between his parents, and it made him so uneasy that he spoke up. "Of course he'll get better—just like Aunt Doris. Everyone does, sooner or later." Then he asked, "May we make a tent and sleep out in the backyard?"

Mom gave him a long, searching look and said, "I don't know—the way you two have been fighting…"

Simon's face went warm. Suddenly, camping out had become a matter of pride. He turned to his father. "Please? We won't fight anymore, I promise."

Spock studied their faces, then raised a slanted eyebrow. "At your age," he said dryly, "I survived the desert trial of kahs-wan. Surely a night in the yard will not harm you."

Gary gave a jump of excitement that made the toys in his pockets rattle. Tight-lipped, Simon stalked out the door. Of all the things for his father to say in front of Gary! But it was true. Camping out in the backyard was silly—for babies!

Gary followed after him and kept nagging until the stupid tent was made.

Darkness came. Simon lay on his back by his cousin, gazing out an open end of the tent, at the stars. The sound of his parents' flutes drifted from an open window. Normally their music would entice him to play along with his violin, but he was not in the mood tonight.

Beside him, Gary stirred. "What's cow-swan?"

Startled, Simon looked over at him, but it was too dark to see Gary clearly. "Not cow-swan. Kahs-wan." And he spelled the words. "It's the manhood trial Vulcan boys undergo when they're seven."

Gary rolled over onto his belly. His pale eyes glimmered with curiosity. "A trial? You mean with lawyers and judges? My father is a lawyer."

Simon sighed. "No, not that kind. It's like a test…in the wilderness. You go out into the Vulcan desert, alone with dangerous animals and plants. If you come back alive, people respect you. If you get scared and run home, you're nothing but a worthless coward."

Gary was silent for a moment. Then in a hushed voice he said, "Did you do it when you were on Vulcan?"

Something inside Simon twisted up tight, tempting him to lie. "No," he finally admitted. "I wasn't old enough then—but I would have."

Gary laughed. "Oh, sure."

Simon's dark hair brushed the tent-blanket as he bolted upright. "It's the truth! My father did it, and so could I! In fact…in fact…I've been thinking about doing my own kahs-wan, right here on Earth."

And he really had been thinking of it—for maybe a split second. Though the idea had never occurred to him before, he already liked it. He remembered a story Grandmother Amanda had once told him. She said that when Father was seven he took off into the desert before the kahs-wan trial. He was so determined to prove himself, that he was nearly killed by a vicious Le-Matya. His pet sehlat died trying to save him from the attack.

Lying back, Simon put his hands under his head and tried to picture it. Sometime later he awoke in a cold sweat. His ears echoed with the scream of unseen terrors. His mind swam with strange, fearful images. Moonlit sand, a darkened beach, a jutting mountain as black and forbidding as any peak in the hills of Gol. Only this mountain did not rise from any desert. It was surrounded by water—a vast ocean of cold, churning water as challenging as anything Vulcan had to offer.

Thinking of it, Simon shivered. He had never been a very good swimmer, not like his big sister T'Beth. Just last summer he had watched as she swam out to the black crag in the ocean beyond their family's beach house. At the end, he had needed binoculars to see her clearly. He still remembered how he had agonized until she made it there safely, how he had suffered all over again as, stroke by stroke, she swam her way back to shore.

Afterward he had yelled at her for taking such a risk, but now Simon could think of no better trial of his own strength and courage. He could take Gary with him as a witness and swim out at the first light of dawn. It would be over before anyone even missed them. Then he would call home and tell his father that he had met his own kahs-wan, and survived.

Simon's heart pounded with excitement as he reached down and shook his cousin awake.