Note: to read previous installments, go to the following URLS:
Part 1:
http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1425915
Part 2: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1467249
---
The 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.
-- to be continued
Part 2: http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1467249
---
The 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.
-- to be continued