The floodwaters had receded from ShiKahr, leaving only a lingering trace of humidity in the hot air of late Belaar, the Vulcan summer. Built on a natural rise, Sarek's house had escaped damage, but the gardens of the estate had clearly suffered under the relentless rain. Outside, T'Beth looked things over. Only the Earth plants were thriving—Grandmother's fat red tomatoes and candy-colored dahlias. Even her cactus had appreciated a good watering.
But despite this, Amanda was not in the best of moods. Her husband and son were not speaking and they had both taken off for Earth, leaving her alone with a teenage granddaughter who was probably more trouble than she was worth. No, this was not a good time to rile her, but T'Beth's parting promise to her father hung over her head like a black cloud. If she had to go back to the Council of Elders, she wanted to get it over with, preferably before Sarek returned. Maybe then her grandfather's anger would have time to cool. Maybe he wouldn't punish her for taking his skimmer and running away. Maybe he would actually be proud that she had admitted to her mistakes. There was only one way to find out. Her mouth went dry as she headed for the front gate. No sooner had she touched the latch, than a voice called out to her.
"T'Beth—where are you going?"
She turned and found Amanda standing in the front doorway. "Into town," she answered.
"Why?" came the predictable response.
T'Beth shifted nervously. "There's…something Father wanted me to do."
Her grandmother eyed her with suspicion. "You're not going anywhere unless you tell me more than that."
T'Beth frowned in irritation. "Never mind. I'll find something else to do." That is, some other way to do it. Walking around to the side of the house, she jumped at the garden wall and pulled herself over the top, into the neighbor's yard. In a matter of minutes she was at the council pavilion in the heart of ShiKahr.
She had no appointment to see the elders. The male receptionist pointed her to a seat where she waited for so long that she almost gave up. She was counting the tiles on the floor when a council page came to the door with a delivery for the reception desk. As the youth turned, his dark Vulcan eyes lit on T'Beth and they stared at one another in shock.
"Samar!" said T'Beth. On the day of her hearing she had encountered him outside, but she hadn't realized that he worked at the pavilion.
Samar approached her, his eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?" he demanded in a low voice.
"Is that any of your concern?" she coolly replied. She saw that he was, in fact, deeply concerned and that gave her a great deal of satisfaction. "I will tell you, Samar, because I want you to know. I have come to change my testimony regarding the vandalism of Golheni Temple."
Samar paled. "Do not be a fool!"
"Are you telling me to stand by a lie?" she asked him loudly in his native tongue. "Vulcans do not lie—do they?"
Samar glanced at the receptionist. The man was watching them with an expression that left no doubt as to whether or not he had overheard. Turning back to T'Beth, Samar spoke just above a whisper. "What is done, is done. Your testimony has gone into record. The incident is finished."
"What's the matter?" T'Beth taunted. "Are you afraid? You didn't seem so frightened that night on the desert. By the way, did your father ever find out? Was that Golheni who chased us a friend of his?"
"Be silent!" the boy hissed.
T'Beth looked on him with contempt. "Coward. Sniveling Vulcan coward."
His black eyes grew murderous. "You will regret this. You will see what happens, offworlder."
Turning on his heel, he strode from the antechamber, leaving behind an uneasy silence. Had his words been intended as a threat? At one time T'Beth had actually liked the tall, handsome boy. Under cover of night he had sometimes seemed brave, even noble, but the harsh light of day was revealing his true qualities. Would it be the same with Soldac and T'Jhur? No truth, no substance? Shadow people moving through a shadow world?
The receptionist stood and motioned T'Beth to the hearing room door. With pounding heart T'Beth went into the chamber. Nothing had changed—the heavy smell of furniture wax, wood panels gleaming from lamps mounted on the walls. This time she noticed a huge rough-hewn block of granite in one corner—representing, she supposed, the unyielding rock of Vulcan justice.
T'Beth tore her eyes from the stone and found the three elders gazing down at her from their judgment seats. Swallowing hard, she approached them, glad that at least this time she wasn't clunking around in her father's boots.
"Your name," prompted the male elder in a brusque tone.
They knew exactly who she was, but there was no choice but to follow the age-old ritual. "I am T'Beth, daughter of Adrianna, daughter of Justrelle."
"Why," he demanded, "have you come before us?"
T'Beth felt her courage slipping away. Maybe Samar was right. Maybe she was a fool. But then she thought of Jim Kirk on Earth, facing up to his own misdeeds. She remembered her father's pride in her when she told him that she would also confess. By now her mouth was too parched even to swallow. "I…I would like to reopen my case…and change my testimony."
Dead silence. The three elders glanced at one another with raised eyebrows. T'Beth had lived among Vulcans long enough to recognize their understated shock. In asking to revise her testimony she had, in effect, already admitted to deceit.
The blood rushed to her face. "I didn't tell the truth," she said openly, and lest she lose her nerve, she hurried on. "I went to Golheni Temple in a skimmer with my…companions. We had laser saws. When we got there, we…I took one and used it on some statues."
Scarlet shadows lay over the room as the elders conferred in low voices. Then they turned back to T'Beth. The male elder touched a computer pad and the chamber door opened.
"The bailiff," he said, "will take you to the holding area."
Finished so soon? With a sense of relief, T'Beth left the hearing chamber and followed the bailiff to a room where she was seated under the watchful eyes of a middle-aged Vulcan woman. The minutes crawled by as she shifted in the hard chair.
"Good woman," she asked respectfully in Vulcan," when will I be able to go home?"
The Vulcan looked at her curiously, as if trying to categorize her Ildaran/Standard accent. "You are a minor. You will be held here until you can be released into the custody of a responsible guardian."
T'Beth felt a stab of apprehension. That meant her grandmother would arrive soon "And then?"
"You will be given the opportunity of a formal hearing before you are sentenced."
oooo
The sky flamed orange and purple with the setting of Eridani. T'Beth was glad to be free at last, even if it meant enduring her grandmother's anger. She meekly walked beside Amanda through the quiet streets of ShiKahr.
"You might have told me what you had planned," Amanda was saying. "At least then I would have been prepared. This is a disgrace—a complete and utter disgrace."
T'Beth scuffed at a pebble on the otherwise immaculate walkway. "Aren't you pleased that I told the truth?"
"It would have pleased me," Amanda said, "if you had told the truth the first time. It would have pleased me even more if you had not run wild in the streets with…with a gang of juvenile delinquents."
"But we weren't really a gang," argued T'Beth, "we were only trying to—"
"Enough!" Amanda's eyes flamed at her in the dusk. "Don't try to justify what you did. Don't expect me to praise you for this belated, clumsy attempt to set things right. If that's what it really is…"
Shamefaced, T'Beth moved along beside her. "It is," she insisted. "I…I felt so bad, I just wanted to stop lying about it. And Father said—"
Grandmother stopped. "You mentioned your father before. What does he have to do with all this?"
T'Beth blinked back tears. "He knew I did the damage at Golheni. He knew I lied to the elders, and he wanted me to go back."
"Did he tell you to keep your intention secret from your family?"
She hung her head. "No." Even when she tried to do something right, it turned out wrong. "Gram—when will they hold the hearing? What do you think they'll do to me?"
"The hearing will be postponed until Sarek or your father returns. As for your sentence—we humans are a race of liars, the Vulcans know that. Their laws are stringent, but fair."
oooo
Stringent but fair. T'Beth had many days to consider her grandmother's words. There was little else to do this time of year, with school recessed for the hot season. Her friend Rachel had gone with her family to the northern encampment at Pashir. Her twice-weekly sessions with the psychiatrist made it necessary that they stay on in ShiKahr, just Grandmother and herself alone in the estate house.
T'Beth sat on the cool tile floor of her bedroom, her eyes closed. Morning light streamed red through the high windows, making a restless glow on her eyelids. Word had come from Earth that the court martial was over. Admiral Kirk had been broken to captain, but would be given command of a starship. All charges against his officers had been dropped.
That much was good news. It was said, however, that Spock had once more donned the uniform of Starfleet. That meant he would not be returning to Vulcan anytime soon. Sarek would act as her guardian at the hearing…and even now Grandfather was on his way home.
Little currents of fear sidled through her stomach. This, more than anything, she had hoped to avoid. She had wanted the whole thing to be finished before Sarek returned. Now he would sit in council chambers, watching while his granddaughter admitted to the sins of vandalism and deceit.
A knock at the door startled her. She opened her eyes.
"T'Beth," came her grandmother's voice, "you have a visitor."
A visitor? Warily she got up and followed Amanda into the living room. A dark-haired Vulcan girl stood near the door. T'Beth's heart lurched as she recognized the teenager. Somehow she controlled her outward reaction, but there was no easing of suspicion in Amanda's eyes.
"Hello," T'Beth said carefully.
"Chatai," the girl responded in Vulcan, impossibly calm.
"T'Beth…?" prompted Amanda.
Collecting herself, T'Beth said, "Grandmother, this is…T'Jhur. An acquaintance from school. T'Jhur, this is my grandmother, Amanda Grayson."
T'Jhur faced Grandmother and inclined her head to the socially correct angle of deference. "Lady Amanda, I am honored."
The clock in the hallway chimed. T'Jhur glanced curiously in its direction as T'Beth led the way to the back garden. Already it was hot outside, but at least here they would be assured of privacy. T'Beth went to the shaded corner farthest from the house. Once there, she could no longer contain her emotions.
"What are you doing here?" she coldly demanded. "Have you come to beg—like Samar? 'Please don't tell on me', she mimicked, 'I'm so afraid. Please don't get me into trouble'. Is that it?"
A suggestion of pain stirred in T'Jhur's dark eyes. Sitting down on a bench, she reached beneath the ankle of her loose-fitting Vulcan trousers and drew out a dagger. For an instant T'Beth thought her former comrade intended to stab her—but no, T'Jhur hunched forward and listlessly tossed the weapon into the sandy soil at her feet. Reaching down, T'Jhur pulled the blade from the ground and tossed it again and again, a graceful but deadly play of shimmering steel and jade.
"Samar is beautiful," T'Jhur said quietly as she worked the knife, "but he is weak and useless. It is wrong for me to say so, but I do not care what happens to him."
"Why should you care?" T'Beth wondered aloud. "What is he to you? Just a foolish malcontent."
The knife sank into the ground. T'Jhur sat up and sighed. "For me, he is more. Since our seventh year we have been betrothed."
T'Beth stared at her. "Why are you telling me this?"
T'Jhur's gaze locked with hers. "Because you have courage, and I admire that. Pay no attention to Samar. Soldac and I are agreed—do whatever you must do at the hearing."
T'Beth's anger subsided. T'Jhur had always been so aloof. It must have taken great effort to open herself. "Come with me to the hearing," T'Beth urged. "We can stand together."
A shadow passed over T'Jhur's youthful face. Retrieving her dagger, she wiped the blade clean on her pant leg and returned it to its sheath. With downcast eyes she said, "It is different for you. Eventually you will leave for some other world. Vulcan and its ways will no longer hold any importance in your life."
T'Beth saw that T'Jhur was as fearful as Samar. T'Jhur had failed to live up to the lofty standard of Vulcan behavior. To reveal the truth would expose her entire family to disgrace and condemnation. Maybe T'Jhur was right—maybe it was different for T'Beth. Sarek and Amanda could retain a certain degree of immunity because she wasn't even half Vulcan like their son. She was an unschooled mixed breed who could not be expected to behave as flawlessly as a planet-born native.
T'Beth found that she felt a little sorry for T'Jhur, trapped in the sticky web of Vulcan culture. "Don't worry," she said. "I won't testify against you."
oooo
T'Beth awoke from a deep sleep. The first pink light of dawn slanted into her bedroom. She thought she had heard her father's voice. Sitting up sleepily, she listened. The voice came again, but it did not belong to Spock. It belonged to Sarek. He was back!
An icy jolt of panic drove every trace of sleep from her. She had not seen the ambassador since the night she took his skimmer and ran off to Seleya. What would he say to her? What would he do? Or would he just ignore her the same way he had ignored his son for eighteen years? And now those two were feuding again—all because of her. With a pang she remembered the bitter argument between Spock and Sarek on the night of the big storm.
T'Beth hurried out of bed and dressed. What use was it to sit around and worry? She would go and get the confrontation over with. Then she would know what to expect.
Steeled by determination, she left her room and wandered through the house until her search led her to her grandparents' bedroom. She could hear them talking behind the thick, expensive wood of the old door. Summoning all her nerve, she knocked.
The voices went silent. A moment later the door opened. Wearing a bathrobe, Grandmother looked at T'Beth with a peculiar little smile that reached the very depths of her blue eyes. T'Beth had not expected a smile. Gazing back in confusion, she said, "I…thought I heard Grandfather."
"You did," Amanda said, opening the door wide. "He's here. Come in."
T'Beth's eyes found him across the room. Dressed in his traveling clothes, he stared back at her, a graying study in solemn-faced Vulcan dignity. T'Beth's knees went weak. "Chatai, Grandfather," she said, a slight quaver in her voice betraying her.
Sarek said nothing. He didn't have to. His eyes spoke eloquently of ruined hopes and failed expectations. Even so, she ventured a step nearer. "Grandfather, I'm sorry I vandalized the temple and lied to the elders. I'm sorry I took your skimmer and ran away. Please don't be angry with Spock because of me."
The room became so still, she could hear leaves rustling in the warm breeze outside the windows. Finally Sarek said, "Spock and I have reconciled. As for the rest—I have noticed that you are so often sorry. Apologies come easy for you—easier, it would seem, than the sort of behavior that would make them unnecessary."
T'Beth hung her head, a bit of happiness stirring at the center of her heart. The longer she stood there, the greater the realization grew. Sarek was speaking to Father again. No wonder Gram looked so happy. And suddenly, T'Beth also began to smile. Sarek was not pleased by it.
oooo
The following day the wind gathered force and roared in from the desert, withering the oasis of ShiKahr with its searing breath. The air filled with fine particles of sand that irritated the eyes and made breathing difficult. Because of the weather, T'Beth had hoped that the hearing might be postponed, but she had not reckoned with the native toughness of the Vulcan race.
Gritty and windblown, she arrived at the pavilion with her grandparents and was ushered into the somber presence of the elders. For a time she sat off to once side with Amanda while Sarek quietly conferred with the council of three. T'Beth's eyes roamed the paneled walls as she listened. Faces seemed to form in the wood grain. Wicked faces, knobby and misshapen as Klingons. That's what they were murmuring about—her background, poor unfortunate child—as they flipped through the printed psychiatric report Sarek had brought along.
T'Beth felt her hands sweating and wiped them on the legs of her Vulcan pants. She told herself, It's a good thing that Grandfather is bringing all the private little details into the open. He's doing it to help me. Isn't he? Not just trying to lessen the disgrace she had brought to the family name?
Her head began to hurt. Leaning against Gram's shoulder, she closed her eyes. Amanda smelled good, like warm flowers in the evening. Then Grandmother nudged her. T'Beth glanced around and found Sarek back in his seat.
"It's your turn," Amanda said, her eyes sympathetic but stern.
T'Beth's heart slammed. Taking a deep breath, she approached the high bench. It was a repetition of the first questioning, almost line for line, only this time she responded truthfully. Yes, she was at Golheni Temple. She had gone there to make a political statement by her vandalism. She had taken a laser saw and she had used it. The damage had continued until she was interrupted and chased, narrowly escaping the angry clutches of a Golheni. "I knew then it was a mistake," she admitted. "I think we all did—only we didn't want to back down in front of each other. I'm sorry," she finished. "I wish I could go back and do things differently, but I can't. All I can do now is ask for your mercy and understanding." And she hoped that would end it.
The male elder fixed her with a penetrating gaze. "You have admitted that you did not act alone. How many were with you?"
Her response was no different from that of the Golheni who had sighted them. "Three others."
"What are their names?"
She fought to draw in another deep breath. She could not seem to get enough air. "I…I respectfully decline to answer." A military response she had once read in a book.
One of the female elders leaned forward. "Are they Vulcans or outworlders?"
"I'm sorry," T'Beth said, "but I can't answer that, either."
The elders turned to one another and conferred in whispers. Not so long ago they might simply have ripped the information from her in a mind trial. Now, thankfully, such practices were outlawed. But what would today's Vulcan have in store for her?
Once more the elders looked at her. One of the women said, "Do you consider yourself better than the Golhenis?"
T'Beth's face reddened. She had thought she was prepared for any question, but this one took her by surprise. "Perhaps…on that night I did."
The elder's eyebrow climbed. She sat back in her chair. "Interesting. Did you not find it illogical to use the Golheni's own violent tactics?"
How very like what Father had said. T'Beth glanced at her grandparents, but the looks on their faces only made her feel worse. "I guess…I was not thinking logically," she admitted.
"You guess."
"No," she said firmly. "I'm sure of it."
The male elder spoke. "The Golheni Temple is a monument to Vulcan's savage, bloody past. It is to be preserved as a reminder of what the Vulcan people once were, and what we must never again allow ourselves to become."
"But there still are Golheni," T'Beth boldly interjected.
His hawk-like eyes bored into her. "It may be that there are a few misguided individuals who espouse that dangerous, archaic philosophy, but if so, they are not to be despised or harassed, but rather pitied."
There was a pause. The elders whispered among themselves, then one of the women addressed the chamber. "Does anyone wish to submit any further statement?"
No one spoke.
"Testimony is at an end," she declared.
Wordlessly the elders rose and filed out of the chamber.
T'Beth turned to find Sarek and Amanda standing by their chairs. "Is it over?" she asked nervously. "Can we go home now?"
"The council has not yet dismissed you," Sarek replied. "We wait."
"But they said the testimony was at an end."
"Yes," Amanda explained, "but now they have to consider the testimony and make a ruling. If they don't reach a decision right away—say, in the next hour—we will be able to go home. It all depends on whether or not the elders are in agreement."
T'Beth sat between her grandparents and lowered her head into her hands. Time passed slowly. The pain in her temples had gotten worse. She felt hot and gritty and a little sick to her stomach. Why didn't the elders let them leave for a while? At home she could clean up, she could lie down until she felt better.
The creaking of chairs roused her. She glanced up. Her grandparents were standing again.
"T'Beth," prompted Sarek.
She pulled herself to her feet and saw that the elders had returned to the bench.
"The council has reached a consensus," intoned the male elder, "on the case of T'Beth of the clan Talek-sen-deen."
A female elder spoke. "We have found her record to be a matter of grave concern." Referring to a screen, she read:
"On 38 Belaar of her thirteenth year the subject, while at Pashir, took up a rock and struck a Vulcan minor on the head, rendering him unconscious.
"On 39 Tasmeen of her fourteenth year, the subject was reported missing from the home of her uncle and temporary guardian, S'chn T'gai Sparn, having run away.
"On 47 Belaar of her fifteenth year, the subject was reported missing from the home of her paternal grandfather, S'chn T'gai Sarek, present here. It was on this night that by her own testimony the subject committed acted of vandalism at the Golheni temple beyond the safebelt of ShiKahr.
On 51 Belaar of her fifteenth year, while in this same chamber, the subject committed perjury while responding to questions regarding the aforementioned vandalism.
On 52 Belaar of her fifteenth year, the subject was reported missing from the home of her paternal grandfather, S'chn T'gai Sarek, having taken a skimmer belonging to the aforementioned grandfather, and having once more run away."
"She was upset!" Gram spoke so loudly that her voice echoed. "She went to Mount Seleya to see her father!"
"Amanda," Sarek said tiredly.
Gram ignored him. "She ran away from the home of her uncle because he mistreated her. I would never leave my son with Sparn. I should never have left T'Beth with him, either."
T'Beth looked on, mouth open with amazement. She had never before heard Amanda speak a word against Sarek's brother. Grandfather stood gazing at the ceiling as if he wished it might fall down and bury them all.
The elder waited to see if the interruption was over. Coolly she said, "The testimony is at an end. In reaching our decision we have taken each and every submission into account. Before we proceed, let me remind you. True justice must be blind to all privilege and clan status, including that of krenath."
T'Beth heard a faint sound from Sarek, like a puff of breath passing between his teeth. He was looking at the elders now, stone-like, a hint of anger stirring in the depths of his dark eyes. Amanda moved to his side and rested a hand on his arm.
The male elder consulted the screen. "The council has so ruled:
"First. The subject must refrain from any and all illegal activities and let her whereabouts be known to a legal guardian at all times.
"Second. The subject must continue to receive appropriate psychiatric care on a regular schedule approved by this council.
"Third. The subject and/or her family must pay one-quarter restitution—an amount yet to be determined—for the purpose of repairing the damage at Golheni Temple.
"Fourth. The subject will surrender herself for fifty days of meditative confinement, where it is our hope that she will learn some appreciation for society's rule of order and for the home her family has provided.
"Fifth and final. Following confinement, the subject will be paroled for the duration of two Vulcan years. Failure to honor any of these conditions will be cause for review, and may result in severe penalties."
The chamber went silent.
T'Beth felt the blood drain from her face. Wide-eyed, she grasped Amanda's arm. "Confinement…? You mean they're locking me up?"
Grandmother's eyes seemed unfocussed as she stared into empty space. "I had hoped you would be spared this," she said very quietly. "If only you hadn't run away so many times…"
T'Beth's insides crawled with dread. She turned to her grandfather. Sarek had the same faraway gaze, as if he were already distancing himself from what was certain to be an unpleasant scene.
"S'chn T'gai T'Beth," boomed the voice of the male elder. "You will go with the bailiff."
Her chest heaving, T'Beth looked back and forth at her grandparents. "Now? Right now? Don't let them take me—please don't let them!"
"Go," Sarek said in a pained voice. "The matter is out of our hands."
A soft mist of tears filled her grandmother's eyes. "You must, child. The time will pass quickly, you'll see."
T'Beth felt rooted to the spot. Sarek motioned to the bailiff, and T'Beth found herself pulled by the strong Vulcan woman into an adjoining room. The door shut behind them. The bailiff handed T'Beth a neatly folded bundle of cloth and ordered, "Remove your outerwear, then put this on."
T'Beth's heart cried out to her father. Where was he? Why wasn't he here to stop this? Hadn't he known what they would do? Didn't he care? Fighting tears, she changed into the plain dark robe.
A pair of attendants came and firmly guided her down a long, empty corridor to a Spartan, windowless cell with adjoining bathroom. As the door locked behind her, T'Beth's mind fled to another time, another imprisonment at the hands of her cruel Klingon captor. She began to sob and no longer cared who heard it. Let them despise her weakness. She wasn't a Vulcan. She had never asked to be a Vulcan. She didn't want to be alone! Angrily she thought: Father, are you happy? Are you satisfied now? He must have known about this as they talked at the foot of Mount Seleya. He must have know exactly what they would do, yet he had encouraged her to go back to the council and confess. She had trusted him…and he had betrayed that trust.
T'Beth felt the old bitterness taking root and spreading like poison inside her. All Spock had done was use her—a tool, that's all she was to him—a handy little weapon in the ongoing power struggle between father and son. Well, he had certainly scored a hit this time, even if it was going to cost him some money in temple repair costs. Ambassador Sarek, dragged into court. The ambassador's granddaughter branded a criminal and locked away. I bet that's more than worth the money—isn't it, Father?