Chapter 1
Jim Kirk was splitting wood for the fireplace and enjoying it.
Strange, he thought. All my life I've detested this particular chore, yet here I am swinging away with a smile on my face.
Pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow, he drew in a deep, cool breath of mountain air. Idaho was beautiful this time of year. The morning sun shone on his uncle's sturdy log house—a two-story affair that blended in nicely with the surrounding woods.
He stared at the upper story. No. Wait a minute. Uncle Lemuel lives in a cabin. This was not Plum Creek, but some property he had once owned. And now he was staying here with his current lover.
The axe slid from his hand and struck the ground with a thud. His memory awakening, he rushed into the house. Something was burning. In the kitchen, he snatched blackened bread from a toaster and put in fresh slices. Cracking blue-shelled eggs into a pan, he added salt and a touch of dill weed, and scrambled them. Then he buttered the toast and poured coffee. Placing everything on a tray, he headed upstairs, for today was T'Beth's birthday.
Balancing the tray with one hand, he opened the bedroom door and walked in. A pungent odor of horse manure filled his nostrils. The tray was no longer in his hand. A gray Appaloosa stallion nickered from a stall, and Jim went to him.
"Good boy," he said, stroking Warcloud's noble head. "You want to go for a ride, don't you? You want to get out and run."
Jim saddled the stallion. Mounting up, he headed out of the stable. Warcloud danced with impatience until Jim gave him the reins. Then they were cantering down a wide, easy trail that snaked through the hills. Heart beating fast, Jim leaned low over Warcloud's streaming mane. He felt young, trim, and strong. He could ride like this forever.
All at once, hoof beats sounded behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of a slim, dark-haired woman atop a golden Palomino.
Was it a race she wanted?
But the sight of his paramour put different thoughts into his mind, and he drew back on the reins. Warcloud reared in protest. By the time Jim could dismount, T'Beth stood by her horse, waiting for him. They kissed playfully, and the sweet pull of her Sy energy set his blood aflame. Jim drew her into a stand of trees, and they made love in the soft grass.
Sometime later he awakened, fully clothed. The hot Arizona sun felt good, and he stretched languorously on a lounge chair beside T'Beth's pool. His mouth watered at the aroma of grilling steak. Putting his hands behind his head, he looked over at Spock, who sat beside him wearing the outdated blue tunic of a Starfleet science officer.
There was a splash in the pool, and children's laughter. Jim turned at the sound and discovered his daughter Tru playing with Spock's daughter, Teresa. It made him smile.
"Look at those two."
"Indeed," Spock said agreeably.
Jim wondered how his Vulcan friend felt about Tru. After all, she was living proof that Jim and T'Beth were intimate.
"Daddy, watch me!" Tru called out.
He glanced her way again, then did a double take. Tru was paddling alone in the water.
Bolting from the lounge, he called out, "Tru! Where's Teresa?"
Tru swam to the edge of the pool and said, "I don't know, Daddy. She was here a minute ago."
Spock did not seem concerned that Teresa was missing, and it infuriated Jim. He had a feeling that Teresa had gone missing before.
"She's your daughter!" Jim shouted at the impassive Vulcan. "Don't you even have any feelings about that?"
When Spock made no response, Jim went to the water's edge and dove in, clothes and all, searching beneath the surface. He came up in a slow-moving river and swam to the bank where Warcloud waited, ears pricked forward. Swinging into the saddle, he rode up a gravel track that meandered through a California canyon. As he continued searching for Teresa, the sun rose high overhead. The air smelled of warm vegetation and trail dust.
Mile by mile, the road deteriorated until the deep erosion forced Warcloud to step carefully. They entered a clearing. A man dressed something like a pirate stepped out of a weather-beaten shuttlecraft. His long black hair was pulled back from his handsome, arrogant face.
"Khan!" Jim knew him instantly. Dismounting, he strode toward the killer. "Khan, what have you done with Spock's daughter? Where's Teresa?"
Khan stared at him in maddening silence. A hot breeze swayed the trees as Kirk approached the shuttle's entrance. Flies swarmed, and there was a smell of death. Revolted, he drew a phaser and stepped inside.
Jim pulled up short. Spock's Spartan quarters were impeccably neat, like Spock himself. Light from an attunement flame flickered over the alcove where the Vulcan sat in meditation. Alerted to Jim's presence, Spock opened his eyes.
Jim did not remember why he had come to Spock's quarters, but it was good seeing his friend behaving in a traditional Vulcan way. He said, "I'm glad you've left that Yanashite cult behind. I mean, there's nothing wrong with a little religion, but sometimes it got downright embarrassing. I could never quite wrap my mind around it. No offense, Spock, but…"
"A Vulcan," Spock reminded him, "has no ego to bruise."
Yeah, Jim thought. Right, sure. There was a twinge inside him, and he expressed the strange feeling aloud. "Something is wrong."
Spock stood. "Wrong, Admiral?"
"Something about this…right here…the two of us."
"I see nothing wrong," Spock reassured him.
Abruptly Jim turned and exited the Vulcan's quarters. He stopped midway through a living room and stared at the Native American baskets arranged in a neat line on a fireplace mantel. His eyes rose to a painting of himself mounted on horseback. He stepped closer. Even without his glasses, the artist's signature was crystal clear: Antonia Cordova.
The name seemed familiar. A friend of T'Beth's? Or was she something more?
As if conjured by his thoughts, T'Beth came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist.
"Hungry?" she asked.
He seemed to smell steak grilling…somewhere. Turning, he studied her hazel eyes and said, "This isn't right."
She laughed. "Why? Because of my father? I'm a big girl now, remember?"
Jim tried hard to remember. That was the problem. He could not seem to remember anything clearly. He had been at her pool in Arizona…or had he?
Slipping from her arms, he went over to a window. He could see Tru playing with her ducks near the old barn, where an overnight cloudburst had left a puddle.
A sudden, dark shape loomed up. Something slammed into the window with startling force, but the glass held. Recovering his wits, Jim stepped out on the porch and found an injured quail fluttering helplessly. The members of its covey were calling to it from every direction. Tru, a great lover of birds, appeared beside him and cried, "Help it, Daddy!"
As Jim watched the bird struggle, a bizarre thought made him back away. This is me. I'm this bird, ramming against the glass, helpless to stop myself. "No," he said aloud, "I'm not." He repeated the words slowly and firmly. "I…am…not…this…bird."
Somehow, talking to himself stirred a dormant sense of reality. Something was wrong. He had said it before, he was certain. And suddenly he wanted to go home. But wasn't this ranch his home? Wasn't Antonia Cordova his wife?
Jim stared at his reflection in the glass—not a window, but a mirror. Aloud, he asked, "Am I insane?"
"Crazy?" Doctor McCoy snorted. "Jim, there's not a damn thing wrong with you…aside from your weight creeping up a bit."
Jim turned from the mirror and glanced around the Enterprise sickbay. He gave his gold uniform tunic a tug, then went up to the bridge.
Settling into the center seat, he ordered, "Uhura, send a message to Starfleet Command…" But he did not know how to frame it. Starfleet, something is wrong…?
"Come on, Jim," he said under his breath, "you've been in plenty of tight spots before."
From the science station, Spock looked at him. "Captain. Did you say something?"
"You know damn well I said something," Jim snapped.
Right on cue, the Vulcan eyebrow rose. Like a puppet. But suddenly Jim wondered, What if they aren't puppets? What if all this is real? Keep this up and I can kiss my command goodbye.
Rubbing at his jaw, he leaned forward. Spock and Uhura gazed at him expectantly. "Never mind," he said, headed for the turbolift and the welcome privacy of his quarters.
It was a short ride to deck five. The turbolift doors slid open and he entered a vast, illuminated cavern featuring abundant plant life and a distant waterfall. A young man with fair, curly hair stepped toward him.
Jim's heart lurched. His son was alive! "David!"
"Dad!" David's strong arms crushed him in a quick embrace. "Dad, I knew you'd show up!"
Jim could not take his eyes off him. Oh, what did it matter where his son came from? It was David…and he was here!
David said, "I've got a little house around the corner—come see. Are you hungry?"
Jim nodded. He could not remember his last meal, but there was an aroma of meat grilling.
"Steak," David said, leading the way. "You like steak, don't you? It's almost done."
They arrived at a prefab hut and talked while they ate. Jim did not question how it was that David had the food ready. What good did it do to question any of this? With his last bite of steak, he decided that he would never leave. He would remain here in the Genesis cavern and David would never die under a Klingon knife. Together, they would reclaim the lost years, before David even knew that Jim was his father.
With that thought in mind, Jim closed his eyes. He opened them and found a tousle-haired boy of seven grinning at him.
"Daddy," the boy said.
Jim's throat tightened with emotion. His son was beautiful.
Young David jumped up from the table and caught hold of his hand. "Daddy, come outside. I want to show you something."
Jim happily followed the boy to a lantana bush near the hut. Colorful little butterflies flitted over the bright orange blossoms. It was a magical place—one of Jim's favorite haunts on the farm where he grew up. Smiling, he reached toward a perched butterfly and caught it by its closed wings. After a moment he let it go, watching it flutter into the cloudless Iowa sky.
Someday, he thought, I'm going to fly, too. Like his dad, George Kirk, who died in the service of Starfleet.
Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he felt among the small toys and pulled out his prized miniature of the starship on which his father was serving. Holding the ship high, he arced it through the air, pretending he was aboard, at the helm, flying it far across the galaxy.
A hand appeared out of nowhere and snatched the toy away. Jim whirled and came face to face with his big brother, Sam.
Outraged, Jim yelled, "That's mine! Give it back!"
Sam laughed and took off running. Although Jim knew that his brother could easily outdistance him, he chased after Sam and the pilfered starship, out past an equipment shed and a field of ripening corn.
"You'll be sorry!" Jim shouted.
The ground rushed beneath his feet. To his amazement, he began to gain on his brother, until Sam was just beyond his fingertips. With a sense of triumph, he leaped forward and knocked Sam into the dirt. Sam wrestled Jim off his body and leaped to his feet.
Jim landed flat on his back and looking up, beheld the grinning face of his Academy nemesis. "Finnegan!"
"Nice try, Jimmy boy," taunted the handsome upperclassman.
Jim hooked Finnegan's leg and knocked him off balance. Then they were rolling in the grass, landing punches until weariness overtook them. It was an enjoyable fight. Afterward, they lay side by side, gazing into the tall trees at the Academy grounds in San Francisco.
Somehow Jim knew that those trees should be underwater. Somehow he knew that San Francisco no longer existed. With a sigh, he said, "I want to go home."
Finnegan rolled onto an elbow and stared at him. "Leave the Academy? So you're a quitter, is that it?"
Irritated, Jim said, "I don't want to leave the Academy—I just want to go home."
"But that makes no sense at all."
Jim got up and straightened his cadet uniform. He focused hard on a single thought: I can do whatever I want, and I want to go home. Determined, he set off walking toward the hangar. As his plan began to solidify, his pace quickened.
Finnegan bounded after him. "Jimmy boy, what are you doing?"
"I'm taking up a Phantom."
"But you're not fully certified—you have no clearance—they'll kick you out!"
Jim experienced a pang of uncertainty and slowed down. Since earliest boyhood, he had wanted to attend Starfleet Academy like his father. Now was he about to throw it all away?
Finnegan said, "You're nuts, Jimmy! Go ahead then—run back home to your mama. A plowboy, that's all you are!"
Jim whirled to confront the annoying Irishman, but he was gone. The Academy grounds were gone. Jim stood in the hangar beside a sleek, space-worthy Phantom Star. His heart began to race. You're going home…hold tight to that thought…get on board…do it now…do it while you can.
Climbing in, he sealed the hatch behind him and settled behind the controls. A touch of his hand, and it powered up. Fully fueled. Good.
As Jim taxied from the hangar, two men in coveralls ran toward the Phantom, waving their arms wildly.
A voice burst over the com system. "S-12, stop and identify, you are not cleared for takeoff. I repeat, S-12, stop and identify, you are not cleared for takeoff…"
Jim silenced the com and moved the Phantom toward a landing pad. There he activated its thrusters, lifted off, and angled into the sky. Increase power! He aimed for a puffy white cloud. An instant later, it was below him. As he headed through the upper atmosphere, the ship began to lurch and an alarm sounded. Sensor readings poured in. A strange, fiery tendril caught the Phantom and hurled it out of control. The ship spiraled into the blackness of space.
Jim struggled to shake off a sudden sense of disorientation. Under his hands, the ship steadied. It was free of the turbulence. Checking the rear view, he could see the disturbance behind him, writhing like a monster. Earth was nowhere in sight.
"What the hell…" he muttered. But he knew that energy ribbon, for he had seen it from aboard the Enterprise B during its maiden voyage, had rushed down to Engineering in an attempt to free the ship.
Getting a grip on himself, he consulted the navigation computer and discovered that he was in the Orion system. The confusion returned in force. His hand trembled as he opened the com and listened.
A signal was coming through. "…Curie hailing Phantom Star S-12. Please respond. This is Starfleet science vessel Curie hailing Phantom Star S-12. Can you respond?"
Jim's mind reeled. The Curie? Out here, hailing him in his little Phantom? But all Starfleet ships, no matter how small, carried a distinctive signature. If the Curie was nearby, it could easily scan the Phantom and identify it.
He checked the sensors. Though they had suffered some damage, he managed to verify the presence of another vessel. It was relief to know that he was not out here alone.
"Curie," he responded, "this is James T. Kirk aboard Phantom Star S-12, requesting permission to dock."
A pause. Then, "Phantom Star S-12, this is Curie. Kindly activate your com screen."
Jim brought up a captain's image and recognized the man immediately, though he did not know him by name.
The captain's eyes widened. "Kirk! It is you!"
Jim nodded. "My ship sustained some damage."
"I can well imagine," said the Curie's captain. "Prepare to dock."
oooo
"One year, eleven months, and ten days." Jim spoke the words slowly as he worked to absorb their impact. He lay on a diagnostic table in the Curie's little sickbay while an attractive female doctor examined him. Under other circumstances, he might have indulged in some flirtation, but just now his mind was fully occupied. "One year, eleven months, and ten days," he repeated. "Doc, you're kidding me. Have I really been gone that long?"
She stopped what she was doing and gazed down at him. "Yes, sir. Apparently you were drawn into the Nexus when the Enterprise hull breached."
Yes, he remembered the breach. "So all that time, they've been searching for me?"
She hesitated, then very gently said, "Captain. The Curie is here studying the Nexus because of its destructive potential. Almost no one believed that it could support human life. After the accident, you weren't reported missing—you were reported dead."
Dead! That explained the looks of astonishment from everyone he encountered. As Jim struggled to process the startling information, the doctor went on to other matters.
She said, "Physically, your stay in the Nexus doesn't seem to have done you any harm. You're in better than excellent health."
"Better?" Jim questioned.
"I've compared your present status with your health records. The Nexus seems to have suspended the natural aging process."
"What?" Jim sat up.
"Oh, it was only temporary," she explained. "Your cells are behaving normally now."
He swung his legs off the table and let them dangle. So everyone thought he was a goner. His mind reeled from the growing influx of reality. A wife…Antonia. His daughter Tru. Lame Wolf, his Native American ward. The horse ranch in Idaho. And intermixed with them all, the tangled images of the Nexus…
One year, eleven months, and ten days…
"Captain." The doctor was watching him closely. "Captain, are you feeling alright?"
Numbly, he nodded.
oooo
The call left Antonia in a state of shock. Jim alive! So Spock had been right, after all. Now Jim had found his way out of the Nexus and confirmed the fact with a brief message forwarded to her by Starfleet. He sounded healthy. He looked wonderful. And he was on his way home.
Shaken, she froze the image of her lost husband and stared at the screen. As Sam played at her feet, a thousand thoughts rushed through her mind. She was glad that Tru and the boys were at school, glad for this time alone before the first press release triggered an onslaught of publicity. Closing her eyes, she offered a brief prayer for strength. Jim alive! He had every right to reclaim her affection, but in his absence, her feelings had undergone a change. Not that she no longer wanted him. No, her heart throbbed with an astonishing love…even while it yearned for another.
As always, the thought of Spock aroused a strange mixture of shame and desire. She had never intended to love him in that way—not as a woman loves a man. It was the loneliness that did it, driving her to divulge her feelings to him, and now both Spock and his wife knew her embarrassing secret. Not that they would deliberately tell Jim, but secrets sometimes had a way of slipping out.
And what of Jim? In the Nexus, had he given up hope of ever returning? Had he found others trapped like himself? Perhaps one special person, someone who…
She stopped her speculation. The lonely days were over. Jim was coming home—to her—and nothing else mattered.
oooo
Tru stared at the antique clock between the Indian baskets on the mantel, willing the hands to move faster, but it kept ticking at the same excruciatingly slow pace. Through an open window, she could hear Lame Wolf working a young horse in the paddock. Mama was off with Sam, meeting her father, but Tru had not wanted to go where strangers could watch them. Her stomach felt queasy and her palms sweated at the thought of seeing him face to face. Would he still love her? She was not the cute seven-year-old he remembered. Nine now, she was taller, thinner, and a lot more serious. She had gone to his funeral. She had given him up for dead. She had learned how to live without him.
Tru heard a groundcar and her heart seized. Jumping from her chair, she hurried to the window. She could see him from here—opening the car door, getting out from behind the controls. A great pain filled her chest. Panicking, she turned, ran upstairs, and hid herself in her bedroom.
Outside, Jim stood beside the car and let his eyes slowly take in the scene. Home looked almost the way he remembered it. This ranch, this family, belonged to him. Yet everything felt so strange.
It had been an awkward drive, with Antonia jumping in to fill every lapse in their conversation. And then, like so many other people, she had asked, "What was it like in the Nexus?"
"Just like this," he had found himself saying, "but not at all like this."
His eyes had travelled to the rear view mirror, with its reflection of little Sam in the back seat, sleeping. A son! Who would have imagined? The friendly toddler had taken an instant liking to him, but Jim could not help feeling resentful about the situation. Circumstances had cheated him out of David's childhood, and now he had missed this son's infancy, as well.
Just as they were turning onto the property, Antonia had asked, "There in the Nexus. Were you…alone?"
An uneasy feeling had sidled through his gut, but he had forced a light response. "Alone? No, there was an entire cast of characters to keep me entertained."
Now, at the sound of footsteps, Jim turned and received Lame Wolf's happy greeting.
"Welcome home, Uncle!" The teenager had grown considerably and matched Jim in height.
Jim clapped him on the shoulder. "The place looks great; you've done a good job."
"Spock's son, James, deserves equal credit," Lame Wolf explained. "He lived here while you were gone, but now he has moved back to Plum Creek."
"So I've heard. I'll have to thank him, too."
Antonia had Sam out of the car. Jim took the sleepy boy into his arms and carried him indoors.
To Antonia, it was like a dream come true. Now that Jim was safely home, she could hardly take her eyes off him. Her heart warmed at the tender way he held Sam.
"Better lay him down, he's still tired," she said. "It's the bedroom at the head of the stairs."
Once inside, she poured two glasses of iced tea and returned to the living room. By now, she had expected Tru to come bursting in, but when Jim came back down, there was only the two of them. Antonia offered him a glass. Taking a swallow, he turned and stared at the painting above the mantel.
Antonia came up behind him. Nervous and uncertain, she wavered. Then, overwhelmed by his nearness, she embraced him with her free arm and nestled against his back. She mean to say, I love you…I want you. That she was impatient for the moment when they could be alone, truly alone, and renew the intimacy that had been lost between them. Instead, she merely asked, "Are you hungry?"
Jim turned so abruptly that she was forced off-balance. Steadying herself, she looked into his eyes and glimpsed a stranger before he relaxed into a charming Kirk smile.
"Guess I'm a little jumpy," he said.
Up in her room, Tru counted the minutes. She had heard them enter the house, heard her father's footsteps as he went into Sam's room and came out again. She had held her breath, expecting him to knock on her door. Instead, he went downstairs.
Tears wet her cheeks, then dried. An hour passed. Mama came and spoke to her, but Tru did not have the courage to go down and face him.
Then, at last, he came. Lying on her bed, she stared at the ceiling.
"Tru," he said softly. "Tru, I'm home."
Holding tight to her emotions, she said, "You don't care about me."
She wanted him to put his arms around her and say, "Where did you get that idea? Tru, you've always been my special girl." The father she remembered would have done it. Instead, he just turned around and left without a word.
oooo
Tru was not the same child that Jim remembered, and the change in her made his adjustment period even more difficult. He didn't know what to do about her, so he occupied himself with a steady round of welcome home parties. In between, he gave interviews to the press and appeared on popular programs shown all over the Federation.
Antonia finally said, "I'll be glad when everything settles down."
He only shrugged. "Would you deny me a little vanity?"
But it wasn't really a matter of vanity, at all, nor was it only the problem with Tru. He could not seem to connect emotionally with Antonia, either. Though he tried to act the part of an attentive husband, his heart wasn't in it. He was restless. The Nexus had been full of novelty and excitement—somewhat like his days as a starship captain—but now he found the plodding pace of life intolerably boring. In the daytime, he began to notice a strange feeling of pressure in his head, and he could hardly sit still. At night a shot of bourbon helped him relax and fall asleep, but soon one shot was not enough.
He no longer liked the ranch. Whatever made him think he could be content stuck on a mountain raising horses? He felt as if he was back in a wheelchair—a paraplegic, like when he first met Antonia. Trapped, half dead.
When public interest in him dwindled, he arranged for the construction of a landing pad and hangar in the upper meadow. This triggered a heated argument with Antonia, but his mind was made up, for he had successfully laid claim to the old Phantom Star. The retirement pay that Starfleet owed him easily financed the venture, and he decided to sell off some breeding stock, as well. He had lost interest in the Appaloosas. These days he only ventured into the stable to saddle up his favorite mounts for wild rides through the mountains. When he returned the horses heaving and lathered, Lame Wolf's disapproving look annoyed him.
The day of the horse sale arrived. Jim expected Lame Wolf to help show the stock, but the Indian rose early and rode away on his horse. Shortly after breakfast, Father O'Day drove into the yard, and Jim knew it was not by chance. Antonia must have called on her pastor for moral support. It would not be the first time since Jim's return.
Simmering with anger, Jim went out to meet the buyers as they arrived. He was in the midst of negotiating a sale when Tru came up and tugged on his arm.
"Dad." She had stopped calling him Daddy.
"Not now," he said.
She tugged again. "But Dad…"
He swung around and glared at her. "I said, not now! Can't you see I'm busy?"
Her tearful eyes pleaded with him. "But Dad, I'm getting kind of big for Shiloh, and you always promised me a horse." She pointed out the stable door, at some yearlings in the paddock. "I really like her…the little white filly…the one with hardly any spots."
Jim brushed her aside. "Forget it. I'm not keeping any of those."
"But Dad…" Her voice quavered. "Dad, you promised."
"I said no!" he repeated, and the little nuisance ran off.
Jim was selling the filly when Father O'Day came out of the house.
"What a nice little horse," the priest commented.
Obviously Tru had moaned about her mean, stingy father. "This nice little filly is helping pay for the Phantom Star's upkeep. Tru will get her share of rides in that."
O'Day got into his decrepit groundcar and glided away.
Later that evening, Antonia complained, "Jim, one little horse! How could you?"
It had been a long, trying day. Jim was pouring himself a stiff drink when Antonia gathered the children and bundled them into the car. By the time Lame Wolf finally made an appearance, Jim had emptied a bottle.
Struggling to his feet, he confronted the Shoshone youth. "Where the hell have you been?!"
Lame Wolf stopped and stared at him. "Far from here, Uncle. Away from you and your strange ways. Will you hit me, like my old Aunt Lydia's son?"
Jim's hands were clenched. His head throbbed with the odd, nagging pressure as he moved toward the youth. In the Nexus, he would not have hesitated to lash out, but here it was different. Here, he had to watch himself.
He snarled, "I can't depend on you anymore! If you don't want to do your share of the work, get out!"
The dark eyes shone with sorrow. Softly Lame Wolf said, "I will stay because Tru needs me."
"Needs you?"
But Lame Wolf said no more.
oooo
It was nearly midnight when Antonia drove in. With a heavy heart, she got Sam and Tru into bed and made herself a nest on the sofa, but sleep eluded her. Hour after hour, she lay listening to the night sounds, thinking of Jim. When she first met him years ago, he had been fighting alcoholism and ultimately won the battle. During their marriage he had rarely touched liquor, but now drinking had become an easy escape—from the tension between them, from the inner demons that made him so cold and testy.
In the morning, Lame Wolf and Tru picked at their breakfast and went off to school. Around ten, Jim downed a hangover remedy and dragged himself downstairs. Wrapped in his robe, he lay on the sofa, waiting for his stomach to settle. After a while he sat up, and rubbing at his chin, noticed Antonia seated in a chair, watching him. Sam was playing near her, on the floor.
Focusing on Sam, he said pleasantly, "There's my boy,"
Antonia gathered her courage. "Jim," she began.
"Don't say it," he snapped.
She said it anyway. "Look, maybe it's my fault as much as yours, but this drinking has to stop. You're hurting Tru and you're scaring Sam. And as for Lame Wolf…"
"Your fault," he glowered. "Miss holier-than-thou?"
Stung by his sarcasm, she said, "I've never claimed to be holier than you or anyone else. Don't get defensive. We have a serious problem here."
"So I've been drinking a little too much. Don't worry, I'll cut back."
"No, Jim. You'll stop—stop completely."
"The hell I will!" By now, he was shouting. "There's no harm in a drink or two…"
"Or three," Antonia countered hotly, "or five, or seven! Where does it end?"
Whimpering, Sam dropped his toy and stared at them. Then he opened his mouth and wailed.
oooo
Strapped in beside her father, Tru felt the now-familiar tug of acceleration as the Phantom Star arced into the stratosphere and raced headlong toward an unknown destination. Her stomach felt tense and nauseous with dread. She hated riding with Dad in the Phantom, and Mama was dead set against it. Tru had been heading out to school when her father took her to the meadow and forced her to board the ship. There was going to trouble over this. There were going to be more arguments.
Tru sneaked a sidelong look at her father. His eyes seemed overly bright and his face looked flushed as he guided the ship into a series of aerobatic maneuvers.
"Hang on!" he said, as if she needed such a warning.
"Please don't," she begged. "I…I don't feel so good."
In the midst of a roll, he glanced her way and laughed. She smelled alcohol—the kind from the bottle he drank in the evening. It was bad enough smelling it at night, watching the golden liquor transform him into a frightening stranger. But this was broad daylight. The sun was barely up.
"Dad." Her voice quavered. "Mama's going to be mad."
He mimicked the words back to her. "Mama's going to be mad." Then he said, "I thought you were Starfleet material. Well? Aren't you?"
She started to cry. She couldn't help it. And then she couldn't help throwing up.
Now her father had no choice but to take her home, and his cutting words made it painfully clear how he felt about the inconvenience, and about her. The moment they landed, Tru ran toward the house. She could hear her father following her and ran harder.
Mama was standing by her car, getting ready for a drive to her art gallery. Sam was strapped inside, waiting. As Tru burst into the yard, Mama's mouth dropped open.
"Young lady…." she began, then noticed her soiled clothes. Catching sight of Dad coming, she turned her anger on him. "Jim, why isn't this child at school?"
Tru reached Mama's side and clung to her, out of breath.
Dad stopped a short distance from them and assumed an air of authority. Mama called it his "command face". "It's the last week of school," he said. "No one does much of anything the last week. Besides, she's sick, can't you see that?"
"Oh, I can see it," Mama replied hotly. "I heard the Phantom landing. That's why she's sick. You made her go up. You know how I feel about it, but you kept her out of school and took her up, anyway."
"It's educational," he said with importance. "We were galloping after the galactic ghosts."
That's what he called his flights in the Phantom—"galloping after the galactic ghosts".
"Ghosts!" Mama shot back. "More like spirits, right out of a bottle! You want to get yourself killed, is that it? Well, fine…but don't take our daughter with you!"
Dad looked furious. Tru could feel Mama trembling with emotion. Mama looked down at her and Tru saw tears in her eyes. In a strangely quiet voice, Mama said, "Go inside and get yourself cleaned up. I'll drive you to school."
Tru hurried into the house. Later in the car, Mama explained that Dad needed some time alone, that he had taken the Phantom and would not be coming home any time soon. But Tru had listened from a downstairs window. She knew that Mama had kicked Dad out, and just now, Tru was glad.