Chapter 3
"Look at this!" Lauren exclaimed.
Surprised at the tone, Spock glanced up from his bed where he was undergoing a second day of medical treatment. Since last night Lauren had been rather somber, but now she entered the room with a brisk step and a radiant expression which he could see quite clearly. She looked lovely, smiling.
Eyes sparkling with excitement, she came up to the bed and deposited a Padd on his chest. "It was just on the news net—you won't believe it!"
Curious, he picked up the Padd and keyed it on. The recording began midway into a Vulcan news report. A large group of demonstrators—mostly human—were gathered outside the main entrance of Starfleet Headquarters in San Francisco. Many were shouting slogans similar to those on the placards they carried.
"Tell the truth!" "Open Luna!" "Prisoners have rights!"
Spock's eyebrow climbed as he spotted a sign at the rear of the crowd. "Vulcans don't lie!" The sign turned to reveal a similar message. "Vulcans don't murder!"
"It gets even better," Lauren said.
In a carefully modulated tone, the Vulcan commentator spoke of recent news releases that raised questions about Starfleet's lunar-based penitentiary, and the validity of an unnamed officer's conviction. The screen shifted, showing a pale captain seated before a window overlooking San Francisco Bay.
Spock experienced a shock of recognition. "Jim!"
An unseen interviewer was asking James T. Kirk his opinion regarding the turmoil at the Luna Correctional Facility, now spreading to the streets of Earth.
"It's certainly raised questions in my mind," Kirk responded. His jaw tightened visibly. "We in the Federation pride ourselves on how civilized we've become—but lately I've begun to wonder. If mistakes have been made, they need to be acknowledged, they need to be rectified…immediately."
The interview was so brief that Spock suspected it had been edited by the Vulcans, probably to delete some reference to him. Even so, it was gratifying to see Jim at home in his apartment, mentally alert.
The Vulcan newscaster went on to report that on this, the 83rd day of the prison work strike, Starfleet had yielded to increasing public and internal pressures. A team of Special Investigators was being formed to look into the tense situation at Luna, as well as "other pertinent matters".
The recording ended.
Lauren said, "I bet they cut Jim's interview to ribbons."
"Quite likely," Spock agreed, "but even so, it is enough." A lot had happened since the day he sat with Leo Kessler in their cell and first explored the idea of a prison work strike. It pleased him to think that Luna's days might be numbered, that the sadistic rule of Warden Cho and his cronies might soon be coming to an end.
Later that day Lauren permitted a broadcast monitor in the bedroom and together they watched an uncensored Federation release that repeated Kirk's interview in its entirety. Spock was indeed mentioned by name—the name that had been expunged from every Vulcan record and forbidden to every Vulcan tongue.
"Most specifically," Kirk had added, warming to his subject, "I'm referring to Captain Spock, former commandant of Starfleet Academy, unjustly convicted of a crime he didn't commit." Kirk raised his hands and leaned forward. "I am his supposed victim. I'm the man they say he tried to kill. Yet here I am, defending him, because the charge is patently ridiculous—just as ridiculous as this new charge of murder against him!" His hands trembled slightly and he lowered them to his lap. "My hat goes off to his wife—to Doctor Lauren Fielding, for setting Spock free. I'd have done it myself, if I were able."
Lauren perched on the edge of the bed, watching. "Starfleet's going to singe his tail for that—but it's good to see him in fighting trim again, isn't it?"
Spock's half-formed reply died on his lips as an angry-looking young woman appeared on the screen. The newscaster announced, "Cristabeth Lemoine, daughter of the escaped convict Spock, and stepdaughter of the fugitive Lauren Fielding was recently seen making connections with a starliner bound for Vulcan…"
T'Beth was dressed in civilian clothing. A reporter kept putting himself in her path as she attempted to move through the spaceport. "Ms. Lemoine, why are you going to Vulcan?"
"Sorry," she replied curtly. "I'm in a hurry."
"Is your father there?"
Her eyes narrowed. "My father has been exiled from Vulcan."
"Where is he? Do you know?"
"Do you think I'd tell you if I did? Now, if you'll excuse me…" T'Beth shoved her way past the reporter and disappeared from view.
The camera shifted to the young human male who had been questioning her. He shrugged. "Maybe she knows, maybe she doesn't. Obviously, she's not talking. We take you now to Pendama Ro in our central studio on—"
Lauren decided it was time for her patient to rest his eyes, and switched off the monitor. "Now why do you suppose T'Beth is coming here?" she wondered aloud.
Spock could think of only one reason why his daughter might be returning to Vulcan now, after all these years, and it troubled him.
oooo
After a brief pass through Customs, T'Beth headed out of ShanaiKahr's spaceport on foot. Here in the capital it was mid-morning, in the dead of winter, but plenty hot beneath a cloudless red sky. Walking along the manicured streets, she paused to glance over her shoulder. Was she being followed? Alert to her surroundings, she moved on. Five long years she had lived here as a child, yet in all that time she had never become as acclimated as a native—to Vulcan weather, to Vulcan ways. When, at sixteen, she had finally left for Earth, she had promised herself that she would never again set foot on this parched, restrictive world. Yet here she was. Memories of those troubled childhood years dogged her as she made her way toward the government complex.
A hot breeze fanned the perspiration from her determined face, and her mouth felt dry from the lingering queasiness of early pregnancy. She was glad she had dressed lightly. The outfit she had chosen was classic Sy, loose and airy, with a delicate striping that flowed down to her sandals. But the semi-Vulcanoid features she had inherited from her father made it clear to any bystander that she was no ordinary tourist from Sydok.
The government center came into view. It was a gleaming, artistic arrangement of buildings, created out of stone and the thick, opaque glass Vulcans manufactured from the sand that was so plentiful on their planet. The diplomatic offices made liberal use of this glass, a rich shade of scarlet reminiscent of lava.
Mentally preparing herself, T'Beth entered the lobby and found the offices of Vulcan's senior ambassador to the Federation. At a reception desk she announced herself simply as "T'Beth" and stated her intention to see Sarek.
The Vulcan woman eyed her dispassionately before consulting a data feed.
"You will find no appointment," T'Beth told her in the native language.
One Vulcan eyebrow slid upward. "I see. In that case it is quite impossible for—"
Though it was considered unmannerly, T'Beth interrupted impatiently. "Just inform him that I am here. He will see me."
The receptionist considered a moment, then tapped her delicate fingers over a messaging device. T'Beth sat down in a chair and waited. She did not have to wait long.
A door opened, and Sarek himself appeared. Heart racing, she rose and as she met his deep-set eyes, a fearful thought came to her. What if he knew that I am carrying a child—pregnant from an encounter with the princeling Ap-Pakesh on Sydok? Eventually he would know, eventually everyone would know. But reminding herself of the meeting's purpose, she pushed that worry aside.
"T'Beth," he spoke in the cultured bass voice that was respected throughout all the Federation.
"Grandfather," she said, inclining her head in the customary token of respect.
He ushered her into his office and closed the door. They had grown closer since her entry into the arena of diplomacy, yet now when she looked at him, she felt her anger rising…and a heartfelt sorrow that it had come down to this. Somehow she must hold her emotions in check. If she hoped to win Sarek over, she must speak calmly, reasonably. There was no other way to influence a Vulcan.
Sarek offered her a chair and refreshment from a dispenser slot in the wall near his desk. She accepted some cold water.
"I had heard that you were coming to Vulcan," Sarek said in Standard as he took a seat near hers. "I admit, it surprised me. After so many years…"
"Eleven." T'Beth gripped her glass tightly. She could not help but think of her last days here, of the night she and her youthful companions vandalized the Golheni Temple outside ShiKahr, of her admission of guilt before ShiKahr's Council of Elders. That day Sarek had tried to defend her. Why? Out of some unspoken feelings of tenderness? Had Sarek ever shown even a hint of such tenderness toward his own son? That, more than anything, was what galled her.
She had not spoken a word to Sarek since he declared Spock ktorr skann. Had her grandfather even noticed? Silence. It was the family way. With the passing of time, she had seen her young brothers and sister on Earth become more and more the victims of this family silence, and she no longer wanted to be part of it. Like Jim Kirk, she would speak out—and it would begin right here, in Sarek's office.
Gathering her courage, she faced the ambassador. "Grandfather, you are the reason I came to Vulcan."
Sarek's graying eyebrow lifted. "Indeed."
"You follow the news. You've seen the tide of human opinion turning—against the prison on Luna, against my father's conviction." Sarek's eyes grew hooded, but she plunged on. "You've heard what Captain Kirk is saying…"
Sarek went still as stone. "I am not swayed by human opinion."
"But surely," she forged on, "any new facts that emerge should be taken into consideration…and examined logically."
His dark eyes bored into her. "Do you question my logic?"
T'Beth's heart beat against her chest like a frightened bird. "Where you son is concerned? Yes, Grandfather, I do."
Sarek stood. Tucking his hands into his wide sleeves, he gazed at a panel of hellish red glass. And then he said, "I have no son."
T'Beth came dangerously close to shouting. Setting her water down, she said, "I suppose you have no grandchildren, either. We all sprang miraculously from our mother's wombs. This name we share—S'chn T'gai—is nothing more than a bizarre accident. Spock never happened." There. She had said it. She had spoken the forbidden name.
Lines of pain showed on Sarek's face. "The one of whom you speak is dead to me."
T'Beth rose to her feet. "I don't understand. You mourned when Spock died saving the Enterprise. Yet now that you've killed him in your heart, you seem to glory in it."
He closed his eyes and quietly said, "There is no glory."
"Then what?" she demanded, her temper heating. "You accuse him of murder and deceit—yet you murdered his name and deceive yourself into believing it's logical!"
Sarek's head swung around. Anger flickered in his eyes. "What do you know of logic? Under which masters have you studied?"
"The human masters," came her bold reply, "who teach the way of forgiveness. The Donari masters who teach compassion. The Sy masters who teach the philosophy of the Open Hand." She paused for a ragged breath. Her face felt as if it were on fire. "Grandfather, there's more to the galaxy than Vulcan. You of all people should know that."
Sarek's voice held a sharp edge of warning. "You will not speak to me in this manner!"
"Why? I'm only saying the truth! And Vulcans value truth, don't they?"
He went totally silent. Then without looking at her, he said, "I have no time for your impertinence. You must leave now."
T'Beth knew she was defeated. Tears threatened her composure as she headed for the door, but there she stopped and forced herself to speak one last time. "I want to see Grandmother. Is she home in ShiKahr?"
Sarek's rigid pose faltered, as if she had struck yet another nerve. "No. Perhaps she is at Pashir."
Perhaps? At the height of Pashir's summer? Now there was a mystery…
oooo
A touch on his shoulder roused Spock from a light meditative trance. Flat on his back, he opened his eyes…and found his eldest daughter gazing down at him. T'Beth stood next to the medical machines at his bedside, and contrary to her usual custom, made no effort to embrace him.
"Hello, Father," she said warmly.
"T'Beth," he admonished. "I do not know how you found me, but under the circumstances it would be better if you had stayed away."
Her gaze briefly shifted to the machines and back. "I…I came to see Grandmother. I had no idea you were here—but I wasn't followed. I'm almost sure of it."
"Almost." They could not take the chance. In another hour it would be dark. They would move on T'Naisa tonight. "You must leave at once. Your being here is dangerous, and as a member of Starfleet…"
"Starfleet!" she said in disgust. "Let me tell you something. It was bad enough when they sentenced you to prison, but do you know what happened after Lauren broke you out? A bunch of Security brass came around to remind me of my 'duty'. They actually wanted my help in tracking you down!" Her jaw set. "Well, I assure you, I gave them a piece of my mind!"
Spock kept his expression carefully impassive. "You always were outspoken and impulsive. I am wondering if there has been another, more recent confrontation at ShanaiKahr. Sarek told you where to find your grandmother. Didn't he?"
The flush that tinged his daughter's cheeks was answer enough. T'Beth turned toward the window, where darkness was falling over the desert. Softly she said, "He wouldn't listen."
Spock watched a single tear slide down her youthful face. Such naiveté. Had she actually come expecting Sarek to heed her words? Had she thought a mere granddaughter could have any influence over him?
"T'Beth-kam," he said as gently as he could, "your grandfather is…" He cast about for a way to describe Sarek honestly but kindly. At last he simply said, "Your grandfather is Vulcan."
"He's a cold, aggravating, unreasonable man!" she declared without looking at him.
There was an interval of silence, filled by a faint clicking and humming from the medical equipment.
"Yes," Spock conceded, "Sarek can be cold and aggravating, but he is never unreasonable. Surely you did not accuse him of being less than logical."
T'Beth lowered her head and sighed. "Well…"
Spock carefully disengaged himself from the machines so that this time there were no alarms as he sat up and brought his legs over the side of the bed. T'Beth turned and watched him gingerly flex his legs. The numbness had receded, giving way to spasms of pain. There was no question that his nerves were very much alive.
Looking at his daughter, he reminded her, "Your grandfather has founded his entire life upon the concept of reason. You should know better than to suggest he is being unreasonable."
T'Beth came over and sat beside him on the bed. "Does Sarek really think he can shut you out of his life, then go on with the rest of us as if nothing's happened? I've had enough. As far as I'm concerned, he's the one who doesn't exist anymore."
"T'Beth," Spock chided her.
"No." Her earnest eyes briefly glistened at him, then went to the hands in her lap. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."
Studying her determined profile, he said, "Very well."
Quietly she said, "You know, sometimes I think about those growing up years, and how we seldom seemed to understand one another."
Remembering those turbulent days of her childhood, he said, "Now that is something I would rather not talk about."
A rueful smile touched her lips, only to fade away. "I bet," she said seriously.
Spock watched her hands fidget. "It is good," he said cautiously, "that things have changed for the better between us."
T'Beth nodded and glanced his way. The pained looked in her hazel eyes made him wonder if she was troubled about something other than Sarek.
"Father, there's something…" she began. Then stopped.
Suspecting a personal problem, he waited for her to continue. But rather than speak, she suddenly leaned over and put her arms tightly around him. As a matter of courtesy he kept his mind shielded from the emotions he sensed churning within her. But he was very curious.
oooo
It was time to go. Fighting down a thrill of nervousness, Lauren followed Spock and her step-daughter into the Vulcan night. With the help of fresh neuro-assist bands, Spock's footsteps were reassuringly steady, but even so, she was glad T'Beth would be joining them on the raid of T'Gara's house. Raid. A shocking prospect in this world where strict rules of behavior guaranteed personal privacy. But weren't there other important rules, as well? Ancient rules of justice that had been broken when the prison doors slid shut on an innocent man.
They boarded Amanda's skimmer in silence. T'Beth climbed into the back seat. Lauren sat in front with Spock, who took the controls. A moment later they were streaking through the darkness. Even at top speed, the journey would take the better part of an hour. Located high in the forbidding mountains of Gol, the small settlement of Pa'Gol was one of the most remote on the face of the planet.
Removing her seatbelt, T'Beth leaned forward between the seats. "Historically, Pa'Gol was a notorious Golheni stronghold and it's never died out completely. I'd feel a lot safer if we had a couple of phasers."
"Or perhaps a laser saw…?" Spock suggested in a dry tone.
Lauren sensed T'Beth wilting at the reference to her episode of teen vandalism. It was not like her to be so sensitive.
"You're never going to let me forget that," the girl said to her father, "are you? Okay then. I'll remind you of something—like back at the academy when T'Naisa had a bead on you with that antique pistol, and you were unzipping your—"
"T'Beth, please," Lauren interrupted. She was nervous enough without listening to any bickering. "We'll have the element of surprise going for us. With any luck, we'll be in and out of there before they know what's hit them."
She expected Spock to tease her for mentioning anything as unscientific as luck, but he piloted the skimmer in silence. Lauren turned her attention on the desert. There was still a possibility that T'Beth was under Vulcan surveillance and they were flying straight into a trap.
T'Khut was slow in rising. Under cover of darkness, their skimmer crested a black peak and sailed over a windswept plateau. Lauren's pulse quickened as a sprinkling of lights came into view. They quickly neared the settlement of low stone buildings. Spock slowed the skimmer, and studying the town's layout, brought them in for a discreet landing on the outskirts.
He shut down the engine and pointed at the nearest house. "That should be it."
Lauren swung around in her seat. "Should be?"
"According to Vulcan's GPS."
"All we need," she said, "is to break into the wrong place."
After leaving the skimmer, Spock drew out a medical tricorder he had been tinkering with and used it to scan the building. "T'Naisa's there," he said with certainty. "The only other occupant is a Vulcan woman—in all likelihood her mother, T'Gara."
They made quiet tracks to the home's rear entrance, only to find the door locked.
"Interesting," Spock murmured. He brought out a pocket flashlight and examined the security system.
"Typical for a Golheni," T'Beth whispered with some asperity. "Oh, I smell a guilty conscience, alright."
Lauren sincerely hoped T'Beth was correct—that the three of them weren't the culpable ones, about to break in on an innocent family and carry off a girl guilty of nothing more than jumping parole.
A hot gust of wind swept sand into their faces. Lauren was rubbing her eyes when Spock handed her the flashlight. She shone its beam on the lock as he worked at breaking its code. There was a faint click, then the door swung open.
Lauren switched off the light and her pulse quickened as she followed Spock inside. A pale wash of starlight filtered through the windows, revealing the Vulcan equivalent of a living room. Spock paused amid the shadowy furnishings to consult the tricorder. Then quietly he led them through the room. As they moved away from the windows, it took all of Lauren's concentration to keep from bumping into things.
They entered an area too dark for her human eyesight. A hallway? Reaching out, she found Spock's shoulder and hung on tight. She could hear T'Beth moving behind her.
Suddenly a light streamed from under a door. A woman's voice called in Vulcan, "Kina—qual se tu? Daughter—is that you?
They froze.
Spock signaled to T'Beth, who was still in the rear. His meaning was obvious. Watch your back.
Lauren began to turn toward her, and a hint of motion caught her eye. There was the sound of a blow. T'Beth stumbled into Lauren, then sprang back to meet her attacker. Lauren tried to get out of the way. There was a brief, furious struggle at her feet, and more action down the hall. Then silence.
An overhead light panel came on. Blinking, Lauren surveyed the scene. To her right, a dark-haired Vulcan woman lay crumped in a doorway. On her left, Spock and T'Beth were bending over a young redhead sprawled unconscious on the floor. T'Naisa.
Lauren breathed a sigh of relief. Taking the tricorder from Spock, she gave the two woman quick diagnostic scans. Aside from a few bruises on T'Naisa, they were both suffering from nothing more than a Vulcan nerve pinch. When Lauren attempted to run a check on T'Beth, the girl pushed the instrument aside.
"I'm fine," she said impatiently. "Let's get out of here."
Spock lifted T'Naisa into his arms, and they headed for the skimmer.
oooo
Deep in thought, Spock stood near the bed where T'Naisa lay in her nightclothes, still unconscious. He did not like bringing her here to his parents' home, but Amanda had insisted—and given the circumstances, there had been little choice. Now his mother waited near Lauren and T'Beth, all of them gazing down at the angelic, red-haired halfling.
"Such a lovely girl," Amanda said softly.
Did he detect a note of misgiving in her voice? Or was he only hearing the doubt stirring deep in his own heart—the heart of a kidnapper? T'Naisa was attractive with her flawless features and upswept brows and graceful Vulcanoid ears—extraordinarily so. That outer appearance of beauty would make it difficult for anyone to view her as a criminal. It had been difficult even for Spock to accept the ugliness she exhibited in his office at Starfleet Academy.
"Lovely," Lauren remarked bitingly, "like a snake. When I think of everything that girl's put us through…"
T'Beth said, "Look. She's starting to come out of it."
T'Naisa's head moved on the pillow. A delicate hand went to her face. Her thick lashes fluttered open. Her brown eyes skipped fearfully around the room and came to rest on Spock.
With a gasp, she sat upright.
"Yes," Spock told her, "I am here."
T'Naisa's face hardened with anger. Fully alert, she leaped off the far side of the bed. "Where am I? What have you done with my mother?"
"Your mother is at her home, unharmed," Spock said levelly. "And you, T'Naisa Brandt, are under arrest."
Her eyes took stock of the three women before returning to him. She began to laugh. "On what authority? You're an escaped con. Your wife's on the run, too."
"Not anymore," Spock informed her. "We are about to turn you over and surrender ourselves."
Her smile faded. "Why me? What do you care about me?"
"I believe," Spock said, "that you know the answer to that."
T'Naisa frowned convincingly. "I don't get it. So I ran out on my parole. I wasn't bothering you any."
"Weren't you? Are you sure there is not something more you should tell me…and Starfleet? Something regarding two Enterprise crewmen whose testimony sent me to prison?"
Tears formed in her eyes. She rubbed her head as if it hurt. "I don't know what you're talking about. Take me home. You have no right to keep me here."
Spock studied the former cadet. "It might be that you are correct. If you are willing to prove your innocence to me, I shall let you go free—with apologies."
T'Naisa crossed her arms over the front of her nightgown and glared at him, her chin lifting defiantly. "Prove it? How?"
Spock came around the bed, so there was no longer anything standing between them. He raised his right hand, fingers spread in the meld position.
Her eyes widened. Her arms came down and she backed herself into a wall.
"The choice is yours," he said. "I will not force you."
She cursed him under her breath, using the crudest of Vulcan words. Then her expression grew cunning and her hand went to the fiery hair draped over the shoulder of her gown. "Alright," she said at last, "if that's what it will take. But I don't want them watching."
The request came as no surprise to Spock. She would have her own motive for surrendering her mind to his—one that had nothing to do with innocence. It was as if he saw her plan clearly, along with its ugly, inevitable outcome and all that it would demand of him.
He looked over at his wife. Lauren appeared anxious as she shook her head, clearly meaning, no—don't do it. But here was a woman who had sacrificed everything to break him out of a corrupt prison system. Now, in order to exonerate her, he would make his own kind of sacrifice.
"Leave us," he said.
T'Beth and Amanda took hold of Lauren and walked her from the room. The door closed behind them, and for a moment Spock remained as he was. A distasteful task was never easy to face, and he needed to prepare well for this one.
Turning, he confronted T'Naisa. Dark, scheming eyes locked with his.
Slowing approaching her, he warned, "Do not think that you can overpower me—either physically or mentally."
She made no response and he continued on, stopping mere inches away—so near that he could detect the floral scent left by her fresher; so near that he could sense the force of her energies, the Vulcan and the human, reaching out to those like parts within him.
Her eyebrow arched. "Afraid?" she taunted.
Spock did what he could to focus. As his fingers met the smooth skin of her face, a mental whirlwind began to stir. Wordlessly, he asked her permission to proceed further.
The request brought a smile to her lips. Obviously her study of Vulcan customs had included something of their sexual habits. It began as a fondling on the psi-sensitive areas of his free hand. Then opening her thoughts, she showed him the many enticing ways in which she would like them to join, physically as well as mentally. Then her mouth found its way to his. Her kiss began sweetly and grew into a deep, demanding passion.
Spock felt a part of himself starting to respond. He brought his free hand up. Catching hold of her hair, he forced her face away from his.
T'Naisa cried out in pain and tried to escape. Spock pushed her against the wall and held on, one hand still in her hair, the other at her meld points.
Her mind shrieked in protest. It was as he had thought. Little fool—she never had any intention of being honest with him. She wanted only to seduce him, toy with him, and so create for herself an opportunity to escape.
Spock tightened his grip on her. T'Naisa saw his intent, but her struggles were as weak and ineffectual as those of a child. Baring her teeth, she cursed fluently as he drove deep, searching amid the turmoil. It did not take long. The simple technique she had used on the human crewmembers was of no use against a fully trained Vulcan mind. He found what he was looking for, then released her.
Weeping and raging, she threw herself at him. "Animal! Liar! You said you wouldn't force me!"
Spock caught her flailing fists and was tempted to snap them. "I asked your permission and you freely gave it. You begged me to enter you. Do you deny it?"
"I despise you!" she hissed, straining to free herself.
He held tight to her wrists. "Do you? Is that why you offered yourself to me after your expulsion from the academy? Is that why you came after me and my family when I refused to accommodate you? Is that why you made it appear as if I tried to murder Captain Kirk?"
Flames leapt from her eyes.
"This is what you've always wanted, isn't it?" Spock questioned. "My hands touching you. My undivided attention."
T'Naisa made one last effort to throw him off, then went still. Her head bowed and tears coursed down her stricken face as she admitted, "When we first met…I was in awe of you. Yet…I felt as if I knew you…as if I always had...as if we were destined to be together." Her eyes rose, damp and brown and unfailingly seductive. "We are two of a kind, you and me…"
Disgusted, Spock released her and said, "No, T'Naisa. We are not."
oooo
Day was dawning. The leading edge of Eridani stained the eastern sky crimson as Lauren stood close beside her husband on the terrace. The air was hot, but there was no warming the cold knot of fear inside her. Since the day she stole Spock out from under Admiral Morrow's nose, they had been working toward this moment. After months of fleeing across the galaxy, living as fugitives, they had finally accomplished what they set out to do. Yet more than ever, she was afraid.
She leaned against Spock and his arm went around her. She needed to feel the solidity of his physical presence while she still could. In a matter of minutes Starfleet representatives were arriving to accept their official surrender, and an armed escort would take them into custody, along with T'Naisa Brandt.
Lauren thought of the devious halfling in the house, under T'Beth's guard. She hoped T'Naisa would be locked away for a long time to come. There was no doubt that Spock would be confined pending the review of his conviction and the investigation into the other charges against him. Would they send him straight back to Luna?
Turning suddenly, she looked into his eyes. "Leave, Spock! There's still time. I'll take T'Naisa in. You can give yourself up later, after Starfleet's had time to sort out the truth."
Spock took her hands into his own, and she could feel him working to control his own fears. With finality he said, "We will surrender together."
"But they'll—"
His grip on her hands tightened. "They will study the evidence. Starfleet will see that I was falsely convicted, and the prison investigation will turn up so many abuses that you will surely be pardoned. Soon you will be back with our children. Think of them. They are all that matters."
"You matter, too..." She choked on the words.
There was a sound off in the desert, the humming of an angry insect growing louder, drawing nearer. Her heart aching, she threw her arms around Spock in one last embrace.
The shuttlecraft streaked in and circled low, stirring clouds of reddish dust. Shielding their eyes, Lauren and Spock watched the craft settle on an adjacent spit of land. A squad of Starfleet humans stormed onto the terrace, phasers drawn.
Spock placed his hands on top of his head and Lauren followed his example. She was glad that he had convinced his mother to leave Pashir until this was over. There was no reason for her to see it.
"So you've had enough," declared the young officer in charge.
"We willingly surrender," Spock said, then nodded in the direction of the house. "T'Naisa Brandt is being held inside. I was given to understand that you bear a special order to arrest her on behalf of the Federation."
The officer sent a pair of guards to apprehend her. T'Naisa emerged with hands cuffed, and T'Beth followed her onto the terrace, arms folded tightly.
The officer ordered Lauren and Spock to lie face-down on the flagging, with arms outstretched. Humiliated, Lauren followed Spock's lead yet again.
"There's no need for that!" T'Beth objected.
The arresting officer ignored her as he had them scanned and cuffed. Then tapping his combadge, he informed his superior that the fugitives were now safely in custody.
Lauren rested her cheek on the gritty terrace. The rising sun was hot on her back. How long would the guards leave them on the ground? Would T'Beth be able to control her temper? She heard slow, measured footsteps moving toward them. A pair of soft Vulcan sand boots came into view. She craned her neck for a better look. The Vulcan was male and though showing signs of age, clearly resembled her husband. His dark, hawkish eyes passed over her and settled on Spock with such icy disdain that Lauren shivered. She had met the unpleasant man at a clan function nearly four years ago—Spock's uncle. Had Sarek sent his brother Sparn to observe the proceedings?
"Go ahead!" T'Beth burst out. "Stare, you arrogant, sadistic son-of-a-bitch!"
Sparn turned his scornful gaze on her. "Ah. The young diplomat. Just as insolent as that day I took a sturpa to you."
T'Beth's fists clenched as if she would like very much to pay him back. Instead, she whirled and went into the house.
Guards pulled Lauren and Spock to their feet. Sparn turned from his disgraced nephew and headed for the shuttle. Everyone began to file off the terrace. A guard tugged at Lauren's arm and she fell into line, leaving Amanda's property, walking over the sand-blown countryside. Ahead of her, Spock entered the shuttle without a backward glance, but she paused on the gangplank. It might be the last time either of them stepped foot on this world—Spock's world—and she would commit every detail to memory.
"Move," the guard ordered.
Steeling herself, Lauren turned and followed the others inside.
oooOOooo
