Note: The character Sola Thane, and her past relationship with Spock, are drawn from the Star Trek novel "Triangle", by Sondra Marshak and Myrna Culbreath.
Chapter 1: The Untamed
"Nayo!"
The sharp command echoed in the training chamber and brought Nayo running. Anticipating a rebuke, he bowed his head before the master, hoping that the show of subservience would ward off any chastisement coming his way. At 6'1'', he stood considerably taller than Romak and he sensed that the difference in their height irked the Dark Master. But rather than punishing Nayo, Romak led him into an office and issued startling new instructions—the first in over twenty-three years.
"You will immerse yourself in the heretical society of Yanash."
Nayo experienced a rush of emotion, for he knew that Spock was a prominent member of that sect. It could only mean one thing. Now he was glad that he had held onto his early skills—the music, the languages, the tedious minutiae of science and interstellar cultures. Deep inside, a white-hot rage boiled away, pressuring him for release…and it focused on Ambassador Sarek's son. His feelings for Spock had not always been so fiercely negative. In the early days of conditioning, Nayo had been taught to proudly bear hunger and beatings and other trials, knowing that his resemblance to Spock gave him a singular value to the Black League. But when Spock left Vulcan and entered Starfleet, Nayo's usefulness diminished. Overnight he lost status among his fellow initiates, including the woman who stirred his interest. At the times of pon farr, as well as some other occasions, she had been willing to serve his needs, but after Spock's departure, her seductive eyes turned from him with disdain. For that he would have liked to slice her throat, but contented himself with poisoning the rare baroma plant that she tended so faithfully.
Later, Spock had died while saving the starship Enterprise. Nayo, who had once been the treasured centerpiece of Black League operations, was viewed as worthless. Even after the fal-tor-pan restored Spock to life, Nayo failed to regain any standing. The ensuing years had been bitter. But now, suddenly, all that was changing. Once more, Nayo's life would have purpose. The same physical characteristics that had kept him confined to the secret compound all his life would soon bring him a vitally important mission. He would burst upon the stage, an actor in a devious role that the other operatives could only envy. Knowing this, the mother of his son might seek him out. Once again they might share stolen moments of pleasure.
oooo
Nayo's master observed him working hard in the physical arts, and cuffed him across the ear. Though Nayo burned with resentment, he did not dare strike back.
"No!" Romak snapped. "Spock's body is soft. He is an instructor of priests. Let me see you explain the Kuru ritual, let me see you quote Yanashite scriptures from memory and speak convincingly of the days when you walked with the Shiav. Can you do that? No, you are too undisciplined. With you it is all about combat and mating. How can you hope to convince anyone? How can you discredit the Yanashite prigs if you are not believable?"
"I shall be," Nayo replied, all but strangling on his anger. And though he still worked his body in private, from that moment on, he threw all his energy into proving the master wrong—not only because of the mission he coveted, but also because of Kalen.
Nayo and Kalen had been boys together, and during the grueling years of formation, a friendship developed between them, even though it was strictly forbidden. Secretly they had shared their pain and their hopes until one day this same Master Romak called them forward. His cold sharp eyes had observed the signs of friendship, and now, in front of the assembled children, he demanded an explanation.
Nayo and Kalen had been taught to lie skillfully, but even though Kalen denied their relationship, Nayo could not look Kalen in the face and do it. Inwardly quailing, Nayo had stood beside his young companion—a frightened eight-year-old awaiting certain, harsh discipline.
But Romak had not raised the dreaded sturpa. Instead he told Nayo, "There are no friends in this compound. Therefore one of you must die."
In those days Nayo was of more value, so the master ordered him to kill Kalen.
Nayo stood frozen with horror. Master Romak did not repeat the order. Instead, he reached out and expertly snapped Kalen's neck himself. The boy fell into a lifeless heap, his moist brown eyes staring in disbelief. It was the last thing Nayo remembered before the sturpa fell. There beside Kalen's body, the master beat Nayo, and though his name was derived from a word meaning "cry of pain", he made no sound before he fainted.
For a long time afterward, Nayo's courage was questioned because he had refused the master's command. Then, at fourteen, he slayed a stranger who happened upon the hidden compound, and subsequently enjoyed an interval of respect—but he never forgot Kalen, nor the manner in which he died.
oooo
At last the moment of departure came. Nayo walked out of the desert compound and did not look back. The League had carefully arranged every detail of his passage. He could not travel to Earth by normal means, where sophisticated scanners would challenge his identity and uncover the contraband weapons he carried. A berth awaited him on a pirating freighter, and in a matter of days he slipped into Denver, Colorado along with a shipment of Romulan Ale.
Nothing in Nayo's training had adequately prepared him for a firsthand experience of Earth. Fat white clouds floated in a sky of blue, and the rich moist air was redolent with pleasing aromas. Everywhere plants grew in abundance, but it was the trees that left him staring—green trees of every shape and variety clustered the rugged, snow-capped mountains.
There in Colorado, as Nayo enjoyed the benefits of Earth, a plan began to form in his mind. Not the League's plan, but a different plan of his own making. All his life, he had studied the half-breed Spock, awaiting the moment when he could begin his campaign of deception. Unlike Spock, he had never known the guidance of a father or a mother's gentle attention. From earliest childhood Nayo had been schooled in hardship and cruelty, trained to carry out missions on behalf of the Dark Masters, to obey without question or argument. But now, as in the case of Kalen, he did not obey.
Well past the age of most fledgling operatives, Nayo traveled northward on his very first assignment, bypassing the taverns where he was supposed to drink liquor, womanize, and draw attention to himself. Instead, he grew a goatee and took his time on the back roads of Wyoming, devouring the lush beauty of Yellowstone Park. With the new plan settled in his mind, he turned west toward the Sawtooth Mountains of Idaho. The plan was simple. He would kill Spock. He would kill him and assume the Yanashite's identity. Of course, he could not hope to fool Spock's wife, the lovely and perceptive T'Naisa. A quick snap of the neck would finish her—an unfortunate accident while horseback riding. Spock had warned her of the danger. Grief-stricken, Nayo/Spock would abandon his Yanashite faith and his family, as he had done before. T'Beth would take her halfwit sister Tess, leaving Nayo/Spock free to denounce the Yanashites while enjoying Earth's exotic pleasures. As for women, he could not think of settling upon just one when there were so many that found Vulcans irresistible.
It was a good plan, one that provided for his needs while also serving the needs of the Black League.
oooo
For three days, Nayo lurked in the woods of Plum Creek. The seminary was not in session, and he watched undisturbed as Spock and his family went about their mundane activities. A spotted gray horse and a burro stood in the corral. Nayo knew them by name. He recognized Tess as she played in a clearing near the cabin or helped her exquisitely beautiful mother. T'Naisa's hair flamed red with sunlight as she tended the flowers and vegetables that grew so profusely in this natural paradise. All was peaceful until the son named James arrived and began nosing around in the woods. It did not take long to discover the reason why. Up the creek, Nayo saw him extract ore from a watery hole in the ground. After James left, Nayo went to the spot and found gold.
A dark thrill of excitement made his heart race. The gold settled it, then. As soon as James went home to his family, Nayo would find an opportunity to eliminate Spock. Meanwhile, his eyes followed Spock's movements with a bitter hatred born of envy. The thought of phasering the half-breed into oblivion was no longer satisfying. No. He longed to set hands on him, to feel Spock's flesh cringe with pain, as Nayo had cringed beneath the master's cruel lash for years on end. What horrors Nayo had suffered while Spock led a life of freedom and ease! Soon Spock would also know a moment or two of horror.
oooo
The horse in the corral nickered as Spock left the seminary building and headed for the cabin where Tess awaited him, her nose pressed to the window glass. T'Naisa would keep her inside, for it was almost dinnertime and the child had been washed clean from her outdoor play.
Spock glanced at the horse. As he had expected, Sultan's ears were pricked and attentive…but not in Spock's direction. The Appaloosa's eyes were firmly fixed on the woods.
Slowing, Spock tracked Sultan's line of vision and noticed a shadowy figure on the far side of the creek, loitering among the trees. He stopped, his first thought for the gold. But the stranger did not act as if he had anything to hide. It was a bearded man, Spock could see that now. He was dark of hair, and as Spock started toward him, the man openly beckoned…
Waiting across the creek, Nayo tensed in readiness as Spock approached. The fool—coming out alone and most likely unarmed, against a stranger. His overconfidence would be his downfall.
Twice Spock hesitated, but Nayo beckoned him onward in a friendly manner. At last Spock forded the little creek, stepping carefully from rock to rock, saving his shoes from the water. Then they stood face to face.
Hatred choked Nayo. He read the simple curiosity on Spock's face and knew that even now, the half-breed could not see past the beard's disguise.
Spock asked, "Can I be of assistance?"
Nayo loosed a derisive laugh. In the next instant, he lunged. The chopping blow knocked Spock flat, but Vulcan and Starfleet training brought him quickly to his feet. In combat stance, they circled slowly, eyes locked.
"Who are you?" Spock questioned.
Nayo lashed out and purposely let Spock deflect the move, only to counter with a fist that slammed the half-breed against a tree trunk. Rich green blood flowed from Spock's mouth and spotted his clothing.
"Weakling!" Nayo hissed. "When I finish with you, Plum Creek will be mine, but I will not finish with you quickly. You see, I am enjoying this."
The battle waged on, with both of them silent, fully focused on the blows they were trading. But Nayo's long, taxing hours of physical training gave him the upper hand. He reveled in Spock's pain, and tasting blood, escaped a nerve pinch as Spock's fingers dug impotently at the shoulder guard beneath his shirt.
They fell to the ground together, grappling among the pine needles. In the corner of his eye, Nayo saw a stone—large and smooth, its dull gray surface projecting from the dirt. His lips twisted into a cruel smile, and he rolled Spock beneath him. Now the half-breed was pinned, and taking full advantage, Nayo used knees and fists with savage precision. He could see Spock losing strength.
"Beg for mercy!" Nayo taunted him, but perhaps Spock sensed that there would be no mercy for him or his family, so he struggled on, though with little effect.
Nayo beat him to the brink of insensibility. Then, with hands on the half-breed's throat, he slammed the back of Spock's head against the rock. And again.
Spock sagged into unconsciousness. The fight was over.
Nayo surged with triumph as he picked himself up. Standing over the inert half-breed, he savored the moment of victory before reaching for the holster under his shirt. It was empty!
Here was trouble. The burst of phaser disintegration was vital to his plan—a clean kill, leaving no evidence of the half-breed's body. Turning, Nayo commenced to scan the ground for the missing phaser…and came face to face with the red-haired woman.
His phaser was in her hands.
With astonished fury, he watched T'Naisa's finger tightening over the trigger. How could this be happening? He had considered Spock foolish for meekly joining him in the woods, but as the phaser beam streaked toward Nayo, he saw the bitter truth, that in his own way, he had been just as foolish. The driving force of his own passions had been his undoing.
Spock hovered on the painful edge of awareness, unable to move, yet hearing each and every sound. A phaser discharge, the collapse of a body, hurried footsteps rustling the pine needles as someone approached him. Even without seeing her, he recognized T'Naisa, and concern for her safety and that of Tess spurred him toward consciousness.
"Spock…" A hand settled gently on his shoulder. "Oh, Spock…"
He cracked one eye open; the other was too swollen. He found T'Naisa on her knees, phaser in hand. Her left arm rose to her mouth and she began speaking into her wrist phone. "Emergency…we have an emergency!"
Spock glimpsed his Vulcan assailant lying disabled on the ground, and said, "No, T'Naisa!"
He tried to rear up, and failing, winced with pain. He had taken a formidably beating, but his bones were intact and he did not seem to have any life-threatening injuries. "No," he repeated, "I am alright. As for our guest, I want to question him before calling the sheriff."
Looking doubtful, she cancelled the call and helped him into a sitting position. He used the Vulcan mind rules to sublimate the discomfort, then took the phaser from T'Naisa. He saw at a glance that it was Starfleet issue—an outdated model, but nonetheless deadly. It only added to the mystery at hand.
"Get rope," he urged his wife. "Hurry."
She sped off, and fighting dizziness, he struggled to his feet. He could feel blood congealing on his face, feel it dripping from a wound on the back of his scalp, but he turned all his attention on the stranger. The Vulcan had fallen awkwardly, with his bearded face in the dirt, but Spock remembered the chilling quality of his brown eyes, so full of hatred yet so hauntingly familiar. It had put him in mind of his uncle, Sparn, in the days before Sparn came to know Yanash. Sparn, only younger and less disciplined.
T'Naisa returned with a length of rope and they trussed the man, hand and foot. Spock felt a measure of strength returning. Together, they lugged their prisoner into the tack room that adjoined the small stable, and laid him on the floor. T'Naisa fetched a wet cloth and used it to wipe Spock's face and staunch the cuts on the back of his head. Then she used the same cloth on the stranger.
Though Nayo was now awake, he gave no indication of it. He had been trained to lie motionless in enemy territory and appraise his surroundings before revealing any sign of consciousness. Judging by the odor, he was in a building near the stable, with his side pressed against a hard floor. His hands were drawn behind him, bound tightly with rope that pinched, and his ankles were likewise secured.
Nayo's head throbbed ferociously and his stomach churned as he listened to Spock and T'Naisa discuss him.
"Plum Creek will be mine," Spock said, puzzling over Nayo's words. "This man was not just out to harass Yanashites. He somehow intended to take our property."
"He intended to murder you," T'Naisa remarked. "When I picked up the phaser, it was set to kill."
"He very nearly succeeded. If you had not come…"
"Tess saw you look toward the creek and head into the woods. I thought maybe you'd seen something interesting, and I was curious."
"A human trait that we share," Spock noted. "I have often found it quite useful—none more so than in your response today."
The words reminded Nayo that Spock's wife was also a Vulcan-human half-breed. Their banal conversation chafed at him even worse than the rope. In Spock's place, he would not waste his time talking to a female with her alluring beauty. There was a more pleasurable way for men and women to commune, though Nayo had enjoyed precious little of it.
Thinking of his lost opportunity, a helpless anger roiled in him. The stink of horse excrement intensified the phaser sickness, and he was forced to vomit.
Spock sent T'Naisa back to their daughter, and Nayo knew he was alone with him—alone with the man he had tried to kill. What would happen now? Spock called himself a Yanashite, but any man might take revenge, given an opportunity like this. Inwardly, Nayo braced himself.
"So," Spock said in a level voice, "you are already back with us."
With fear sidling through his sick belly, Nayo opened his eyes and looked upon Spock's battered face. He had allowed Spock to best him. Unless he could escape, there remained only one course of action acceptable to the League. Suicide was the duty of every operative who fell into enemy hands—but thus far, Nayo had not strictly adhered to duty.
He wondered what had become of the phaser. He wondered what sort of pain Spock was enduring. How clearly could the half-breed think after the beating Nayo had given him?
"My hands…" Nayo said in a play for sympathy. "The binding is too tight."
Spock did not move from the stool where he was sitting. "Who are you," he asked, "and why did you attack me?"
Nayo hesitated and took on a shamed expression. "My name is Storn. I came in the hope of entering your seminary, but when I saw the gold…" He choked off the words convincingly. "Forgive me, I have sinned."
Though Spock continued to stare at him, he made no remark about their resemblance. The beard and the marks left by fighting made them look less alike.
Slowly Spock shook his head. "I don't believe you."
"It's the truth," Nayo insisted. "I am Yanashite. I came seeking the priesthood, but greed overpowered me."
"You came seeking the priesthood with a phaser?"
"For protection. There are bears in the forest, and cougars."
Spock's good eye narrowed with suspicion.
Nayo said, "Touch my mind and you will see that I am telling the truth." Having said it, his mouth went dry and his heart pounded wildly. Here might be another chance. If Spock entered his mind, Nayo might impose his own will upon the half-breed, forcing Spock to release him. And then…
Nayo would kill him swiftly, this time.
Nayo's eyes pleaded most innocently until Spock rose from the stool and came over. Favoring his ribs, the half-breed dragged Nayo away from the soiled spot on the floor and sat him against a wall. Then dropping onto one knee beside him, Spock paused for a moment of recollection before touching Nayo's face…
At first, Spock's cautious probing brought no real surprise. Beneath the veneer of falsehood, he quickly discovered that Storn was no Yanashite. The stranger's effort to conceal his true identity did not fool Spock. Evil lurked in this soul like a coiled snake.
Instinctively Spock reinforced his mental shielding, and just in time, or the stealthy fang-thrust of Storn's mind might have disabled him. The psychic burst spewed such strange memories and venomous thoughts that Spock shrank back from the meld in horror. He lost his balance and landed on one elbow. For a long moment he remained frozen there, struggling to process the glut of information as the prisoner richly cursed him in both Vulcan and Standard.
The man twisted his legs around and landed a fierce kick. Numbly, Spock rose and backed away, his attention riveted on the bruised yet hauntingly familiar countenance.
Then, for the first time, he said it aloud. "Nayo. Your name is Nayo…and you are my brother."
oooo
"Your brother!"
Spock met T'Naisa's disbelief with an outward show of calm. They were standing in their bedroom behind a closed door, and Tess could be heard playing the piano. For Spock, the sound of that particular passage of music would be forever linked to this moment.
"Yes," he said, hardly believing it himself. "My brother—my identical twin brother."
T'Naisa was not ready to accept it. "Spock, a face can be surgically altered. False memories can be implanted—I once even did that myself—and you paid the price for it."
He shook his head. No. Apart from the memories, he had seen something more, something of himself that would have convinced him even if he had not run the confirming tricorder scan. Something of himself, blurred and distorted like a reflection in a damaged mirror.
"No," he said with grim certainty, "this man is truly my twin. Sarek once said to me, 'You should have died with your brother'. At the time, I thought he meant my half-brother Sybok. Now I know he meant Nayo." And Spock told her what he had learned of their birth.
Following an ancient custom, his mother Amanda had delivered him in the birthing caverns of Talek-sen-deen, assisted only by a clan midwife. Immediately after entering the world, Spock was presented to Sarek, who expressed dismay at the lusty cry that made the newborn seem so human. While Sarek held Spock, Amanda delivered a second time. This boy was quiet—too quiet—and she scarcely glimpsed the dark, still body before it was whisked away for medical care. Before long, the crushing news came. Spock's twin was stillborn.
Vulcans did not cradle dead newborns in their arms or even look upon them. They did not give them names or even record their births. Sarek ordered the body cremated and personally scattered its ashes in the desert wind. Henceforth he would not speak of the child, and since Amanda was studying the Vulcan disciplines, she too kept silent. Though her heart must have ached for her loss, it was a private matter that she discussed with no one—certainly not the surviving boy, who would be reared in the Vulcan way.
But unknown to Sarek and Amanda, the twin had lived. The ashes Sarek scattered were from a slain animal. Black League agents had seen an opportunity and rushed the infant to a secret location where a diabolical program was underway. There, along with other "stillborn" children, the boy was educated in matters that would serve their vision of Vulcan's future. The League dealt in deception, intrigue, and destruction of the status quo—all those dark but politically useful arts that most Vulcans no longer considered civilized.
The twin son of Ambassador Sarek was a singular prize. Someday, when Spock assumed the role of ambassador, a double would be invaluable. But when Spock defied his father and entered Starfleet, it had seemed for a time that all Nayo's training was for naught. Spock's prominent role in the Yanashites changed everything, and after accumulating the necessary knowledge, Nayo was sent to embarrass and discredit the new religion by impersonating Spock.
"Impersonate you?" T'Naisa's brown eyes shone with apprehension. "But he tried to murder you!"
"Nayo acted against his orders—remarkable, considering the brutal methods employed by the Black League." Spock went on to tell her what he had glimpsed of the League and its operation, but there was much more to be learned from Nayo.
"It's time to call the sheriff," T'Naisa said.
Spock disagreed. "In light of these revelations, that is no longer advisable. This is not a matter for local law enforcement or even the immigration authorities. The investigation must be covert or the Black League will go to ground. I have a contact…"
oooo
That very day, a Federation agent arrived at Plum Creek, and a jolt of recognition knifed straight through Spock. Taken by surprise, he could only stand and endure the embarrassment as the half-Zaran's tawny eyes lingered upon his battered face. Close by his side, T'Naisa acted as coolly as any woman who felt her marriage suddenly threatened, for she knew that Sola Thane had once briefly shared his bed.
The present conversation centered on business. It was quickly established that Nayo would remain secluded on the mountain. A secure blockhouse was transported into the woods, a study little jail with living quarters for Thane, who would have full authority over the prisoner.
At the first opportunity, T'Naisa drew Spock aside. "Sola Thane!" she hissed. "Living right here! Why didn't you tell me she was coming?"
Spock sighed. "I was advised only that the Free Agent would be someone known to me and Jim Kirk, providing a cover if she was observed."
"Some cover," T'Naisa complained. "Spock, I don't want her here. I don't trust those Zaran powers of hers. She made love to you! You even bonded for time!"
There was no possibility of denying the fact, even had it occurred to Spock. Vulcan marriage brought a sharing of memories that was not always convenient.
"The bonding was incomplete," he reminded her, "otherwise I could not have taken a wife. As for our…interlude, it happened only once, long ago, when I was feeling the effects of pon farr."
T'Naisa huffed. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? I saw the way she looked at you. And I saw you blush."
"With shame," Spock said honestly, but he could see that T'Naisa was still not satisfied. Drawing her close, he stroked her soft red hair and felt her relaxing. In a gentle voice he urged, "Forget the Zaran. Nayo is the issue here. When Thane finishes with him, she will leave. They'll both leave."
oooo
It was a relief to be free of the ropes. In the confines of his cell, Nayo took a turn in the sonic shower and donned clean clothes left by his jailer, who watched in silence through a transparent force field. The woman was as lithe and muscular as a feline, with a golden mane of hair that accentuated the effect. She moved with smooth, powerful grace, and though Nayo's life had been one of subservience and humiliation, he was still very much a man and he liked the sight of her. But from his studies, he recognized her as Zaran, so her psi-quotient would be higher than any Vulcan's. It meant she had the power to interrogate him in painfully intrusive ways.
Hour after hour she stared at him, her mane glistening in the hall light, until at last Nayo broke the silence between them. He bluntly asked her, "Do you intend to rip my mind?"
"For Spock's sake, I should," she replied, "but since you are his brother, I'll be as gentle as possible. However, don't believe that you can hold anything back from me."
At that she left him, but Nayo did not have long to wonder how she intended to carry out her inquisition. It was night when she next appeared, and he was resting on his bunk. He scarcely had time to notice the strange instrument in her hand before it paralyzed him. He lay utterly helpless as the force field disengaged and she walked up beside his bed.
"Now," she said, "we will explore the truth together."
oooo
Sola Thane kept to her business. It was Spock who found himself drawn to the deep shadows where the blockhouse stood, but not out of any attachment to Sola. He did not mind that T'Naisa accompanied him, for he had nothing to hide. He came only to look at his brother.
Nayo had shaved off his beard, and with the bruises fading, it was now easy to see they were twins. Spock thought of his mother—their mother Amanda—who had died, never knowing that she had been robbed of a son. He thought of Sarek on Vulcan, who had denounced his association with the Yanashites, yet now spoke to him occasionally. What would Sarek make of this other son, reared as a criminal? This man was an uncle to Spock's children, yet Spock dared not tell any of them—not now, and perhaps never.
Each day Sola Thane uncovered new, horrific visions of Nayo's life in the secretive Black League. A clear picture was emerging, and already Federation operatives were at work behind the scene, preparing to move in and crush the evil at its source. As time went on, it seemed that the sessions might be producing another, unexpected, benefit. Through the steady process of mental extraction, Nayo had shown signs of positive change—if such outward signs could be trusted. He no longer seemed quite so arrogant and angry, and occasionally he even volunteered information that tested true when Thane looked into his thoughts.
Today she suggested to Spock, "The improvement might be due to catharsis. I've seen it happen before, but never in someone as troubled as Nayo." As she spoke, her eyes were on her prisoner and she said the name softly, in a way that took Spock aback. Remembering how his own name had once sounded on those lips, his face warmed. Could it be? Could it possibly be?
He looked at the two of them and wondered.
oooo
There was no way for Nayo to fool Sola Thane. The transformation within him had come about honestly, bit by bit, until there were times when he scarcely recognized his inner self. Though a part of Nayo still resented the Zaran's mastery over him, he had come to yearn for the moments when her mind entered his, neither judgmental nor dispassionate, but with a feminine tenderness unknown to him before now. Nayo knew that she loved Spock. She could not hide it from him, and the knowledge was disturbing. He felt uncomfortable in those rare moments, such as this, when Spock spoke to Sola without his wife present. Nayo saw how the hall light fell on Sola's golden mane as the two of them lingered outside the cell, talking quietly.
"Tell me," Sola was saying to Spock, "do you like being a Yanashite?"
"Yes," he replied, giving her but a fleeting glance.
"Your mountain is beautiful," she said, "and so is your wife."
Spock turned toward her with an appreciative expression that made Nayo's blood burn with something more than anger. Had Spock touched her, Nayo might have flung himself at the force field. He relaxed only after Spock left, and even then, not completely. His heart pounded hard, willing the Zaran to enter his cell, and she rewarded him with a look more needful than she had ever levelled upon him. And in that telling moment, the balance of power shifted.
Shaken, Sola abruptly left the blockhouse and strode deep into the woods. There was a decision to make, and it consumed her to the point where she neither saw nor heard the wealth of nature around her. Nayo's deep desire had reached out and touched her bonding center. Even now, she could feel him calling, tearing at her heart, putting an end to any semblance of professional objectivity.
From the beginning, there had been this danger; he was so like Spock. At first, the mental contact between them had aroused her pity, and as it continued, the wretchedness of his existence had moved her in other ways. But it was the thought of Nayo's young son that finished her—the miserable little boy born of lust and sentenced to life in the Black League, even as Nayo had been sentenced.
She had known of the child for a week, yet broke with interrogation protocols and kept the information from her superiors and even from Spock, who was the boy's uncle. It seemed a very private matter, between Nayo and herself. He had sired D'Gar soon after he began training for the Yanashite mission, and like all children of the League, this three-year-old now resided in a common nursery where beatings and indoctrination were the daily norm. The thought made Sola's heart weep for him and his father. What would become of them? One thing was certain: she had grown too emotionally involved to continue as Nayo's interrogator. But how could she abandon him to another?
It was a small sound, but Nayo noticed it at once and swiftly rose from his bunk. Sola? No. A young, auburn-haired girl gazed at him through the invisible force field. And suddenly she began walking toward him as if the field did not exist.
"No, stop!" Nayo warned, and she obeyed. He explained, "You cannot see it, but there is a barrier between us, and it will hurt you."
Wide-eyed, Spock's daughter stared in confusion. "Daddy…?"
Nayo's mind raced. Mentally assuming the role for which he had spent his life preparing, he nodded. This halfwit child would be eager to help her father. Nayo's fortune had turned. Freedom was within his grasp.
"Tess," he said, pointing an impossibly steady finger, "there is a switch on that wall beside you. Push the red button and Daddy will come out."
Her eyes roamed over the area and found the switch. She went over to it. "Here?" she asked, reaching.
"Yes," he said, "just push it."
Tess pressed the switch, but when the field disengaged, an alarm sounded. As she covered her pointed ears, Nayo rushed out of the blockhouse and vanished into the woods.
The ringing of the alarm brought Spock and T'Naisa running to the blockhouse, only to find Tess standing inside, alone and frightened. As Spock silenced the alarm, Sola Thane emerged from the trees, and her cheeks flushed to find Nayo's cell empty.
T'Naisa confronted the Zaran. "Where were you? How could you let this happen? He might have hurt my daughter! He'd like to kill every one of us, and now he's on the loose!"
"You're right, this is my fault," Thane acknowledged with an unusual degree of emotion. "There's no need for anyone else to go out there. I'll find him."
Spock's eyebrow climbed. It was not like the capable Sola Thane to walk off and leave a cellblock unguarded. She seemed restless and distracted, as if her mind was already focusing on the object of her search. Before his eyes, she took on the telling glow of a Zaran huntress.
"Very well," he said, as if any objection of his would have diverted her from an impending matehunt. He had no doubt that she would find Nayo and deal with him in the manner of her people. Then she would return him—either slung over her shoulder or walking at her side like an equal.
The assignment had gone badly and Sola was not proud of it, but just now only Nayo mattered. In her life there had been other men—both Spock and Kirk among them—but none to whom she could give herself completely. There was something different about Nayo, an untamed element that made his need for her all the more touching. From the beginning she had felt him respond to her overtures of respect, seen him rise from his misery, and discovered glints of goodness that the Dark Masters had been unable to extinguish completely.
But was he capable of loving her? Of loving anyone? And if he could not…
Knowing what a negative outcome would do to her, but no longer caring, she surrendered herself to the inevitability of matehunt. Pausing on the trail, she stripped off her outer garments, freeing her sensitive skin to seek out the direction of Nayo's call. Lonely and desperate it came, tugging at her bonding center. And then there was no stopping her.
Spock and T'Naisa walked Tess back to the cabin. The child was no longer crying.
"Daddy," she repeated yet again. At ten years of age, she had become quite talkative. "I did what you said. I pushed the button that made the big noise. Why did you go away and leave me?"
Feeling uncomfortable, Spock finally replied, "The man only looked like me."
"No, Daddy, it was you!" she insisted. "But you were wearing different clothes. Where did the little house come from? It wasn't there before."
T'Naisa shushed her. "Quiet, Tessie! You've caused enough trouble. I told you to play in the clearing."
Spock realized that T'Naisa was short-tempered from worry. She did not understand Zaran mating practices. "I believe," he said carefully, "that on some level Thane may actually have wanted…her guest…to escape."
T'Naisa halted beneath a towering old pine. "What?"
"It is the Zaran way." With Tess listening, he chose his words carefully. "Between men and women. They…make a hunt of it."
T'Naisa's eyes flamed. "With her prisoner? That's unconscionable!" Her quick mind reached an even more unsettling conclusion. "She…that woman…once hunted you?"
He would have preferred not to answer, but there was no avoiding it. "In a manner of speaking…yes."
For a long moment T'Naisa just stood there, considering. Then the tension went out of her body. "So it's Nayo she wants. But he's so…so…"
Tess tugged at Spock's arm. "Who's Nayo?"
He ignored her and told T'Naisa, "I did not foresee this eventuality, but there is some logic to it. Zarans also have a streak of wildness. There is no one better suited to take him on."
Twice Nayo heard someone coming through the trees, and veered off in another direction. The third time, he hesitated before moving on. His heart pounded with a strange certainty that his pursuer was Sola Thane. Inwardly torn, he happened upon a narrow trail and followed it to the brink of a cliff. Though there was ample time for escape, he stopped there, knowing that she would find him. In a matter of seconds she appeared, and the sight of her scant attire jolted him to the soles of his feet. In that instant he wanted her in a way that he had never wanted another woman.
Devoid of any weapon, Sola stepped toward him, her tawny eyes flaming with Zaran energy.
"Nayo," she said in an astonishingly tender voice.
Perhaps he could have overpowered her and claimed her body then and there, but for the second time in Nayo's life, he rejected the idea of brute force. It was not only her body that he wanted, but also her heart—as if a heart like hers could ever belong to him. No. She had come only to retrieve a prisoner, but he had no intention of returning to the cell.
Raising a hand, he warned her, "Stand back—I don't want to hurt you."
He was breathing hard now, for he realized how this must end. It was not in him to harm her; like his boyhood friend Kalen, she had broken through his defenses and touched his heart. He might not have said that he loved her, even had he understood what love meant. He knew only that she had become precious in his sight. Poised at the cliff, Nayo could not tear his eyes from her. This woman knew him from the inside out—the bitter dregs of his past and the glaring emptiness of his future. There was no possible way for him to win her, and logic offered but one alternative.
Nayo backed until the heels of his shoes found the rim. Pebbles broke loose and bounced down into the void.
At the sound of the pebbles, Sola's heart seized. "Careful!" she cried.
Behind him the mountain dropped off sharply, and distance made the nearest peaks almost as blue as the summer sky. She knew from the look in Nayo's eyes that he intended to kill himself.
"Don't," she pleaded. There was no time for subtlety, but any word from her mouth might be the wrong one, sending him on the deadly plunge. "Nayo, listen. In the cell I felt you calling to me; I heard you as if you had spoken aloud. How else do you think that I tracked you so easily?" She showed him her empty hands. "No tricorder. I didn't need one, because my need for you was enough. We Zarans call it…matehunt."
The updraft from the cliff stirred his dark hair as he gazed at her.
"Come away from the edge," she pleaded. "Nayo, come here to me. I love you."
The breeze sighed in the trees and she could see his mind working, could feel what it was costing the Vulcan to hold himself in check.
Tears welled in her eyes. "Nayo, do you hear me? I love you. If you step over that cliff, I'm going along."
For Nayo, it was more than the words. He knew how easily one could manipulate language and facial expressions for the purpose of deception. He knew because he was a liar. But deep inside, he felt a growing connectivity to the Zaran that made him certain she was telling the truth. And with that realization came a fresh surge of hope. Yes, Sola knew him inside and out—yet she loved him even more than Kalen had, for she was willing to die for it—to die for him.
Nayo stepped away from the cliff and slowly moved toward her. Reaching the Zaran, he crushed her close, and she returned the embrace fully. For the moment it was enough just to feel her smooth, soft skin and lithe muscles.
In his arms, she whispered, "You understand then; you know what this will mean?"
He gave her a searching look and asked, "Do you?"
She answered him with a searing kiss before they moved into the trees. There, in the privacy of the woods, she welcomed his advances. If she thought him rough, she did not complain, for as Nayo soon discovered, the strength of a Zaran huntress was enough to challenge even an operative of Vulcan's Black League.
Dusk was settling over the land when they found their way back to the garments Sola had discarded along the trail. Nayo watched her cover up, then took his rightful place at her side. As they walked toward the blockhouse, their minds remained linked in a pleasant way that would last until death parted them. Knowing that Sola Thane had chosen him and him alone as her life mate, Nayo stood tall.