After a beep from the intercom Scotty's voice could be heard from speaker, and it sounded urgent.

'Mr Spock.'

'Mr Scott?'

'Sir, you'd better get down here...better hurry.'

Suddenly the whole atmosphere on the bridge changed, not just by the words, but by what they implied from the tone. Something very bad had happened.

Without hesitation, Spock jumps to his feet and raced for the lift. Everyone on the bridge watch him go and by the urgency of his pace, they had the sense not to say anything.

It is one thing to suspect the worst, quite another to have it confirmed.

Spock slowed down as he reached Scotty and stared at him. Scotty gave a despondent look, then he lowered his head and shook it.

It took Spock a moment longer before his gaze picked out a young Vulcan child, his child, El'dar, lying on the floor bleeding from his mouth and chest. He was still alive, but only just.

Spock stared down in shock for a few seconds at the green blood leaking from the open wound and pooling on the floor around him, then turned back to Scotty.

'What happened?'

'He was shot, by the a man, trespassing on the ship, sir. Me and security tried to detain him but he beamed off before we could reach him.'

It became apparent that whoever had shot El'dar had quite clearly aimed for the heart with some considerable accuracy, not realising that Vulcan hearts are located slightly differently from human hearts, but still close enough to cause great internal damage.

'Did you verify the identity of who the man was?' Spock asked.

'No, sir.' replied Scotty. 'He was hooded in black, his face was obscure, security cameras couldn't pick out much facial detail of the man, he moved so quickly.'

Spock breathes hard, anger rushed though his body, he wanted nothing more than to pursue and capture whoever this dangerous criminal was at that moment before he could strike again, but instead he tended to his son.

He kneeled down beside El'dar and studied his wounds. Responding to the adult Vulcan's presence, El'dar slowly opened his eyes.

'Father...' He said, in a tiny weak voice.

'Yes El'dar...' Spock responded. 'I'm here.'

'He...harmed me father.'

'Be at peace now, my son.'

'He...shot me in the chest.'

'He will pay...my child. Who was he?'

El'dar looked up, his eyes desperate.

'Am I going to die, father?'

Spock swallows hard, trying to keep himself composed, but evidently about to falter.

He not know the right words to use to explain, the only thing he wanted to do was comfort his child by telling him he was going to be fine, to reassure him...but he was Vulcan and could not lie. All he could do was state facts. But for once in his life, he wished to deny all evidence in front of him. This could not be happening.

With some extensive effort, he tried to give the most direct and appropriate, yet not too harshly honest response he could.

'We all die at some point in our lives.' Spock explained gently. 'It's inevitable...death is a natural process.'

El'dar lifted his head so that his eyes met his father's.

'He...murdered me father...'

'Who murdered you my son?'

El'dar's gaze drifted around him.

'Everything's going dark.' He said, distressed.

'I'm here, El'dar.' Spock repeated.

El'dar looked up at the ever fading vision of his father, his eyes frightening, pleading for help. A tear rolls down his increasingly pale cheek.

'I'm scared father...' He said, his fear now very evident in his voice. 'Help me not be.'

At that moment, something within Spock broke and his Vulcan demeanour began to crumble, his expression finally revealing the true extent of his emotional agony. His child was pleading for help and he could do nothing. He lowered his head, he is too overcome and cannot respond at first.

'How do I choose not to feel?' El'dar asked. 'How do you?'

Spock lifts his head once again, his eyes brimming with tears. He exhales heavily, trying to stay in control and failing. He wasn't used to being emotionally available in most situations, let alone knowing how to give comfort to a fatally injured 8 year old.

'I do not know.' said Spock, his voice cracks, his expression becoming increasingly distraught. 'Cause right now I'm failing...because you are my child.' He said, brokenly. '...because I love you.'

'I love you too, father...' El'dar replied, weakly.

The tears finally realised themselves from Spock's lids and ran down his face and cheek bones.

Exerting some supreme effort El'dar reached out his right hand towards Spock who did the same and they touch hands in the traditional Vulcan farewell salute, El'dar's half the size of Spock's. He wanted to feel he was there, as his world had now gone black, he could see nothing but darkness. Spock took another deep breath.

'I will avenge your death...my son.' he vowed. 'Who was the man?'

'His name was...' said El'dar, struggling to get the final word out. His erratic breathing was slowing down.

Spock momentarily considers melding with El'dar while he was still alive to extract the vital information, but he did not wish to experience his son's final moments of pain.

'...his name was...Khan.'

El'dar's eyes begin loosing focus and drift off...and stopped moving, his lids remaining half open. His slow erratic breathing ceased.

Spock breathed heavily. He was experiencing the greatest loss any parent or anyone could imagine. Slowly he reached over with his right hand and closes his son's eyes.

Then he takes him in his arms and holds him close, burying his head in his chest as he silently wept. Memories flash back of when he first held his son like this, when he was only a few minutes old and a whole lot smaller. The only other time Spock had felt on the verge of weeping because of El'dar but had managed not to, but now he was and for the reasons that couldn't be more opposite.

'I have failed.' He thought, struggling to contain his emotions. 'I could not protect him...I could not insure his safety.'

Scotty stepped forward cautiously and put his hand on Spock's shoulder, but Spock was in no place to be comforted.

'Leave me...' He said, his voice distant, but firm.

Spock sat there, his head bowed for long moment, his son's blood stained on his uniform.

When he lifted his head again, his tear stained face contorted as his mouth opened and a single word, more of scream than a word, an almost tribal-like cry of grief and anguish as he howled at the top of his lungs. A name.

KHHAAAAANNNNNNN!

He knew then, that any brink of mental or physical defeat he may encounter during the upcoming vengeful task he now solely focused on, that the image of his son drawing his dying breath would keep him going till the man responsible would draw his last. If it was the last thing he did.