Part 3: Yesterday's Legacy Chapter 3
Thanks to a generous dedication of resources by Xertes and Callinda, including a complete set of falsified credentials for each of them, the group was able to charter a piloted transport to Starbase Dawkins. Factoring in an uneventful two days' journey, Therov calculated that they would arrive well before the end of the Terraforming Conference. Even on Amphitrite, when their prospects of actually attending seemed slim to nonexistent, he had talked of almost nothing else. Now that they were on their way, he could hardly contain his excitement.
"I still don't see why we couldn't simply register for the conference like any other special-interest group," Jarrod said. "Xertes, Callinda and I all have parents with diplomatic standing. Surely they could have arranged for us to address the assembly with our concerns."
Therov sat beside him, casually twisting his plush seat back and forth while he sipped the Daruvian wine he'd coaxed from the onboard replicator.
"I already explained that it would be hypocritical of us to employ a Federation-sponsored transport when our intent is to criticize their proceedings in the strongest possible terms. I am surprised your infamously clever mind cannot grasp that."
"My point is simply that an anonymous presentation could be far less effective than a concerted effort to argue our case systematically. Some of the Federation's finest scientific minds will be present at the conference. Surely if our - or your - ideas are sound, we will find at least a small audience."
Abruptly, Therov stopped spinning in his chair. His narrowed eyes flashed with anger as he planted both feet on the deck and leaned forward, clutching his wine goblet in both hands. "And do you honestly think we would be given a fair hearing? Terraforming, and preparing new territories for Starfleet to annex, is a highly profitable venture for the Federation. The only way we can ensure that we won't be laughed off the floor is to force people to listen. And the only way to do that is to take action they'll remember."
"Yes, yes, I'm not disagreeing with you there. It's simply our methodology I'm questioning. Wouldn't it be better - "
"You are beginning to sound like your father," Therov snapped. Suddenly, Xertes and Callinda left the viewscreen they'd been standing beside and moved to flank Therov's chair. "I feel compelled to advise you that it is rapidly becoming tedious."
Callinda's hard gaze never left Jarrod's as her hand strayed toward Therov's shoulder. She stopped just short of touching his shirt.
Jarrod hesitated, then retreated to one of the other seats. "Sorry," he muttered.
"No harm done." The Andorian's easy smile returned. "All I meant was that you're always so serious. You ought to make more time to enjoy life. In the grand scheme of the universe, it is really so short."
"Maybe you're right." Huddled in his chair, Jarrod raked a hand through his hair and watched a star shoot past the viewscreen.
Therov gestured expansively with his glass. "Of course I am. Callinda, get him one of these. We have another fifteen hours to travel, and I don't want him brooding the whole time."
"I'd be delighted." Callinda walked away and returned with the drink. Its taste did not please him, but when he noticed the others watching him intently, he forced down a few quick swallows. Thankfully, the wine made him feel tired and ready to sleep.
"Did you know Jarrod was born on a shuttlecraft?" Therov was speaking in a loud, indignant voice that kept him from drifting off peacefully. "He might have died there, too, for all the Federation cared. They were willing to sacrifice him, his mother, and even one of their own starship captains, simply to retain their Danaan territory."
"Appalling," Xertes agreed. "Yet entirely predictable, given all you have told us."
"You're wrong," Jarrod thought testily. He might even have said it aloud; thanks to the effects of the wine, he couldn't really be sure. "Nothing in this galaxy is ever entirely predictable."
--
After nearly forty-five hours in the controlled climate of the shuttle, it felt strange to emerge into the intense heat outside Starbase Dawkins' thermo-regulated dome. It felt even stranger to wear the uniform of a Starfleet cadet again.
"I can't believe you kept them," Jarrod said, tugging out a few wrinkles. "Security made sure I turned all mine in the morning we left the Academy."
Therov laughed. "You need to learn to think ahead, friend. I knew I wasn't going to last at the Academy; I also knew that a few of these uniforms would come in handy. I made sure that I packed some away before anyone came looking for them. And you see I was right."
"I don't see why we had to be put down here," Xertes complained, squinting through the heavy reddish haze. A magnificent array of buildings and skywalks shimmered in the distance. "How are we going to get inside the base?"
"Not to worry. I tucked away a few more items as well." Opening a flap on the biological sample case he carried, Therov pulled out an Academy-issued communicator and toyed with the buttons. "Before we left, I downloaded a complete set of transporter coordinates for every Federation colony and Starbase in this sector, as well as the protocols for remote transport. I can simulate an authorized transport from one area of the base to another, all the while blocking our original coordinates and the particle trail from the shuttlecraft. You see, Jarrod? I was paying attention in class, even when no one else realized it."
"Apparently so." Uncomfortably, Jarrod wondered how much more stolen hardware was tucked into Therov's bag. Still, eager to be out of the deadly heat, he said nothing while the Andorian keyed in the transport sequence. The four of them quickly dissolved, then reappeared in the shadow of the enormous biolab that served as the centerpiece of Starbase Dawkins' state-of-the-art research facilities. The grounds were lively with hundreds of conference attendees,
"Come on," Therov said, tucking his sample case under his arm. "Let's go right in. No sense in lingering long enough to attract attention."
The security officers posted at the front entrance barely glanced up as the squadron of four neatly attired cadets walked into the building with a purposeful, disciplined stride. When they reached the long stretch of corridor that led to the biospheric labs, however, they encountered slightly more skeptical guards.
"We are students of Professor Setto from Starfleet Academy," Therov said smoothly, holding up his sample case and pointing to its refrigerated lock. "His lecture on atmospheric particle generation is scheduled for this afternoon, and his samples must be given time to generate before he can display them. Please, don't delay us any further. Dr. Kraeliss is waiting to prepare the entire set, and I'm afraid we're already late. If we wait much longer, the samples will degrade sufficiently to ruin his entire presentation. All four of us will be disciplined, and I'm sure you can see that we'd prefer to avoid that."
The guard looked at each of them in turn, then down at the sealed case. "Very well," he finally said, punching a code into the door panel and waving them through. "Dr. Kraeliss' office is at the far end of the left-hand corridor."
"Many thanks. Your cooperation will not be forgotten, I assure you," Therov said.
Inside the secure lab area, the corridors were oddly deserted and eerily silent except for their own footfalls and the distant buzz of hundreds of generators. Instead of following the guard's directions, Therov led them to the right and down another maze-like set of access tunnels. They gathered at a locked door, which Therov quickly disabled with an electronic passkey he'd kept tucked in his sleeve. The panel slid open to reveal a vast set of glass-walled, room-sized terrariums. Each displayed a rapidly developing model of a Class-M feature: one contained a miniature coral reef, another a desert, a third a swampy concoction that suggested the archetypal primordial soup.
"This is amazing," Jarrod said, looking around. "It's an entire planet, broken down into sections."
"And I needn't remind you of the mercenary purpose behind it all," Therov sneered. Abruptly, he lifted the sample case, pressed a button on the outside lock, and thrust it into Jarrod's arms. "Take this to the center of the catwalk, put it down, and then clear the area. You have exactly four minutes - and counting."
Jarrod stared at him, dumbfounded. "Four minutes until what? You said this was a biological sample that would slowly degrade their specimens from within. It wasn't supposed to be dangerous to us."
Already, Therov and the twins were backing away. "It will destroy their samples, all right, along with a lot of other things. We're trying to make a point here, remember? A few withered plants and leaky aquariums won't be enough. Now go. The chronometer is running."
"I won't do it! Absolutely not!" Jarrod held the case out, but Therov pushed him through the doorway and swiftly reapplied the passkey to the control panel. The door held despite Jarrod's desperate pounding from the other side.
"Swiftly," Therov hissed through the door. Then he, Xertes, and Callinda ran for their lives
Exactly four minutes later, a bone-shattering blast rocked the science building to its gargantuan underpinnings.
--
"Fortunately, the explosive device was placed in a biohazard disposal chute. That helped to contain the damage significantly, and since most of the lab personnel were attending the conference, there were no recorded casualties."
Michaela Taylor would have preferred to face her former Captain and her friend of almost twenty years under more congenial circumstances. However, she was also grateful that Starfleet had agreed to let her bring the news - and continue the official inquiry - on her own, and in person.
"We did lose a few expensive pieces of lab equipment," she continued when it became clear that neither of them could find the words to respond. "That will set the base's Terraforming research back a few months, at least, which was probably Therov's intention. But that's far preferable to any lethal consequences."
"I still want to hear proof that Jarrod was involved," Zarabeth said after another minute or so of uncomfortable silence.
"Well, we do have a description of the four people who entered the building, presenting themselves as Academy cadets. We also heard that they gave Professor Setto's name at the door. Records indicate that he is actually a teacher at the base school here."
"That is correct," Spock confirmed. "He is Lidia's teacher. The man who is preoccupied with Gorns."
"I agree that isn't proof, but it does suggest a connection. And Starfleet has to pursue any lead at this point."
"Understandable, of course."
"If you say you haven't heard from your son, you know I'll believe you. But if you discover any way to let him - or Therov - know that we desperately need to speak to them, I hope you will. I promise that I'll personally look out for Jarrod's best interests if he's willing to turn himself in to me."
Spock nodded. "You may be certain that we would contact you at once."
"The two you have arrested - Xertes and Callinda - what do they have to say about Jarrod's involvement?" Zarabeth asked, flashing her husband a disapproving glance.
"They've admitted nothing except that they decided to attend to conference out of scientific curiosity. Therov has completely disappeared, so we can't ask him anything. Essentially, we have nothing that would hold up in a formal inquiry, and I'm as relieved about that as you are. But I have been charged with locating him - and Therov, if possible - and bringing them in for questioning."
"For trial, you mean."
"It hasn't come to that yet."
"Perhaps I ought to go and look for him," Spock suggested.
"Where would you begin? He and Therov seem to have slipped away from the conference before anyone even thought about detaining them. They apparently had transportation waiting, and after five days, they could be anywhere in the sector. To be honest, you'd probably have a better chance of finding him if you simply remain here. Most of us are of the opinion that they'll most likely return to Amphitrite at some point. We just don't know how extensive their resources might be."
"I'm sorry to say we really don't know, either," Zarabeth said. "He's our own son, but in many ways he's become a total stranger."
"Believe me, I feel the same way. Not only did I deliver him, I mentored him at the Academy. If he'd only come to me and explained what he was going through...well, we might not be here today."
"There is little point in speculating how things might have turned out differently." Spock rose. "Our time would be better spent devising a strategy to bring him back."
Taylor stood, too. "I need to go back to the Embassy and file my report with Starfleet. I'll be there for a few hours, at least. Please contact me right away if anything develops."
"We would expect the same of you," Zarabeth reminded her.
"I know. I promise you I'll do the best I can, but I do have my orders. I hope you're not angry with me."
"No one will blame you for maintaining your integrity as a Starfleet officer," Spock told her. "You must conduct the investigation as you see fit."
"I am sorry this has been such a strained visit. Let's make sure the next one is better." Taylor left the house quickly and with obvious relief. Spock stood by the window and watched her climb into a waiting Embassy ground conveyance.
"It will do our son no good to avoid his responsibility in this matter," he said after a while. "Starfleet has good reason to believe that role this disturbance was significant. Surely he must realize that running away can only increase their suspicions."
Zarabeth looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Well, I still refuse to accept that Jarrod would do such a thing. I'd be sorry to learn that you disagreed, Spock."
"As a general principle, I do not. However, young men - and women - have been known to exceed the boundaries of wise behavior when they believe their actions serve a just cause. The probability of recklessness increases when strong emotions are involved."
"Does that mean you blame me for what's happened, because I allowed him - all of them - to express emotion?"
"It is a fact that our children all display emotional temperaments not unlike your own. I can, and do, accept that. However, the manner in which Jarrod chooses to express that temperament has always been his own choice."
She shook her head, her anger fading into quiet distress. "He's always been more like me than he is like you. I've never really known why."
"It is most likely a quirk of genetics that cannot be fully explained." He crossed behind the sofa she still occupied, then rested his hand on the back so that it lightly touched her hair. "In any case, there is nothing inherently negative in being like you, Zarabeth."
She turned, caught his fingers in hers. "I think sometimes Jarrod doubts that you love him. In that respect, at least, he isn't like me at all." Sighing, she leaned her cheek against his sleeve. "I also know that Jarrod does have a rational side he inherited from you. And sooner or later, it's got to kick in."
"Let us hope you are correct."
"Can this really be happening again? I've already had one family destroyed by politics I didn't even fully understand; and here I am a hundred years later, facing exactly the same prospect."
"No one has been destroyed. Jarrod will return when he is prepared to face the consequences of his actions, or at the very least, those of some ill-chosen associates."
"Do you know that for certain? He could remain in hiding for weeks, months. A year. We might not hear from him at all. I'm certain he feels he can't trust us. And the part that frightens me most is that I'm not even sure he should come back."
"That is not rational."
"No? Would it make more sense for me to wish that he'd be found, and thrown into prison? You'd be disgraced along with him."
"That is the very reason he should return, either to clear himself or to take responsibility for his mistakes."
"I still think Therov is more to blame than any of the others. And to be perfectly honest, I'm less convinced of Adonia's innocence than I am of Jarrod's. It won't do any good to question her again - she's already decided to tell us nothing. We'll have to watch her carefully. Sooner or later, she'll reveal what she knows."
"Why are you so convinced she would protect him?"
"Because, as we've already established, she's a little too much like me. And if you were the one Michaela Taylor was under orders to arrest, I know how far I would go to keep you hidden and safe." In spite of her own worry, she had to smile at his perplexed expression. "They really aren't children any more, Spock. Even Lidia will be thinking very differently in a few short years."
He considered her words gravely. "In that case, I shall go and speak to Professor Setto myself," he finally decided. "We may just have time to put a stop to her interest in Gorns."
---
Tenting the covers over her head, Adonia turned over her pillow and pulled out the stolen communicator she'd stashed deep inside it.
"Therov, where are you?" she whispered, keying it on. "Can you hear me?"
His cheerful tone soothed her jangled nerves. "Don't worry," he whispered back. "I'm right here. In fact, I can see the light from your bedroom."
"I'm glad...though I don't like you hiding so close. If my parents catch you, they'll turn you over to Captain Taylor in a nanosecond. She's been here, you know - several times over the last few days. And my mother keeps asking me about you. She suspects that I know where you are."
"Don't worry about them. They're not quick enough to catch me. If you remember to keep your voice down, we should be fine."
"I'm so worried about you, Therov. I'm afraid you'll be caught and thrown in prison, and I'll never see you again."
He laughed softly. "You'll see me again, my love. Tonight, if you want. Wait until your parents fall asleep and then meet me at the old boathouse. And bring me something to eat, if you can. I've been out here for a few hours now."
"All right. I'll get something from the replicator as soon as I can and sneak outside with it. I can't do it now, though. I think my father is still downstairs, writing dispatches. He thinks he can find Jarrod that way. And you."
"Adonia, to whom are you speaking?"
Her bedroom door slid open to reveal her father. She let the communicator drop back into the pillow and hugged it against herself as if she'd been trying to fall asleep.
"I wasn't speaking to anyone," she said haughtily. "I was declining Vulcan verbs, the way you told me to. We have a test this week in school, and I know you expect me to do well."
"Under ordinary circumstances, that would be true. However, considering all that has happened this week, I would not fault you if your score did not meet your usual standards."
"You mean because Jarrod and Therov are still missing?"
"Precisely. Do you believe they are hiding together, then?"
"How should I know? Are you trying to trick me? Don't waste your time, Father, because I know nothing."
He scrutinized her so intently that Adonia shivered. It was as if he could tell just by looking at her that she was lying. Of course, she knew that was impossible.
"May I stay for a moment?" he asked.
Adonia shrugged. "Please yourself. It's your house, as you never tire of informing us."
"Technically, you are incorrect. This house is Embassy property, and our residence here depends on my continued diplomatic affiliation. In any case, that is not the subject I wished to address. Adonia, you may believe that I am unacquainted with the effects of strong emotion, especially on the adolescent psyche. However, you would be incorrect."
"I don't believe any such thing. In the first place, I'm sure you've researched it thoroughly - along with every other topic under every Federation-charted sun. In the second, I know you love Mother - or at least I assume so. She seems to believe it, though I suppose she might be deluding herself."
"Your mother is not prone to delusions. In fact, she is unusually perceptive for an emotional being. Therefore I must take her seriously when she suggests that you may know more of Therov's and Jarrod's whereabouts than you will presently acknowledge."
"Mother isn't perceptive, she's paranoid. Besides, why would either of you want them to be caught? Do you really hope they'll go to prison? Although I suppose that would be one way you could control my brother, which has always been your primary goal."
"There is no reason to believe that Jarrod is guilty of anything that would warrant imprisonment. As for Therov - Captain Taylor is inclined to believe that his actions warrant further official scrutiny. If she is wrong, and he truly has nothing to hide, he should come forward and answer Starfleet's questions willingly. The same is true for Jarrod, of course. If you did have the ability to convey this information to either or both of them, I trust that you would do so."
"You're just trying to manipulate me. Nothing would give you and Mother greater pleasure than to see Therov arrested, even if it's for something Jarrod did. That way Jarrod wouldn't be held responsible, as usual, and Therov would be taken away from me. That's your real goal, and you might as well admit it."
"Jumping to conclusions, Adonia, is not the mark of a rational mind. I cannot order you to reveal anything, either to me or to your mother, but I do request that you carefully consider all that I have said to you tonight. It is quite possible that your brother's safety, as well as his freedom, is at stake. As for Therov, clearly you are in a better position to know his mind than I am."
He turned to go, while Adonia hugged her pillow and pretended to ignore him.
"Incidentally, your conjecture concerning my regard for your mother is correct. And I trust that you are no more given to delusional states than she is."
She finally turned to him, her face burning. "I'm sorry if I behaved disrespectfully, Father. But I do love Therov, even if no one else in this house is willing to believe or understand that. I had hoped that you and Mother might at least try."
"Our reluctance to approve of your relationship is not necessarily the result of an inability to understand."
"Well, you're wrong about him, then," she said quietly.
"Perhaps so. Sleep well."
Adonia's sleek brows glided up her forehead. "It's usually Mother's job to bid me goodnight."
"This time, I am taking her place."
He left his daughter frowning after him and returned to his own room down the hall.
"How did it go?" Zarabeth asked him as he turned back the covers.
"As you predicted, she was willing to talk about everything except the matter at hand. She did pause to inform me that I am a wholly inadequate parent and a disingenuous husband."
She stretched out with her head in his lap and her right hand caressing his face.
"If it's any consolation, I get that from her at least once a week - the parenting part, at least. As for the kind of husband you are, let's just say that after almost eighteen years, at least I know what to expect."
"Perhaps her argument does have some merit. I had not envisioned both Jarrod and Adonia becoming so...rebellious."
"At least we'll never have to worry about Lidia. She's the most like you of any of them."
"Your assumption that I possessed excellent judgment in my youth is somewhat mistaken."
"I know I didn't always make the best decisions at Jarrod's age, not that it mattered too much in the end." Her mood darkened, as it always did at the mention of that other time, those other lives so cruelly lost and ruined. "Well, whatever he's done, and whatever happens to him, we've both survived worse situations. Luckily, my love for you has always been stronger than any grief, any hopelessness I've ever felt. Perhaps that isn't rational, or even particularly wise, but it still gives me comfort."
"Your effect on me has always been similarly inexplicable. Yet I find sustenance in it as well."
"You know...before, when I was alone, I relied on memories to get me through some of those terrible black nights. Right now, I just want to forget everything - especially the chance that we may never see our son again."
"Zarabeth, I give you my word that I will not disappear like Jarrod, or the others."
"I think I could learn to accept almost anything, as long as I had you."
He bowed his head to accept her kiss. Grief and anguish gradually melted into a desperate passion they hadn't known since the day Jarrod was conceived, deep in a world of endless winter.
--
Adonia had never felt anyone hold her so close, or clutch at her heart the way Therov did as they kissed each other, hungrily, in the darkened boathouse. Idly she wondered if her parents had ever known such a flood of all-consuming, mind-bending desire. Somehow, she doubted it. Her father's Vulcan blood could never burn the way Therov's did, and her mother was too headstrong even to dream of surrendering to a man as completely as Adonia longed to surrender to Therov. Emotion - the very thing her father constantly warned her about - consumed her utterly. She was only mildly surprised to discover how gratifying it could be.
"I didn't mind hiding here alone until now," he whispered, breaking their kiss with obvious reluctance. "All night, I'll be dreaming about what could have been if you'd stayed."
"I can't. My parents seem to know everything I do these days. They watch and question me constantly now that Jarrod's run away."
"How distressing." Therov trailed a long, blue-skinned finger down her cheek. "Adonia...why don't you run away, too? With me."
"What?"
"You heard me. We'll leave here at once, together. Then we can be free of your parents, and Captain Taylor, and all this nonsense about your brother."
She looked at him for a long time, watching the shadows move across his lips, his eyes. Something in his gaze troubled her, though she couldn't exactly say why. She swallowed before asking him the inevitable question, the one she'd avoided until now.
"Therov...do you know where my brother is? I know you told everyone else that you didn't, but this time I'm the one who's asking. And you know you can trust me."
"Yes...yes...I do believe I can." Therov sighed wistfully, cupped her face in his hands, and rubbed his chin against her forehead. "You know, you and Jarrod bear a superficial resemblance to one another, it's true, but in the ways that matter most, you are nothing alike. You have the fire, the courage, he only dreamed of."
Adonia pulled back from his embrace. "Why do you speak of my brother in the past tense?" When Therov paused and glanced away, she pushed him away in horror. "Therov! Is Jarrod dead?"
Therov shook his head. "I cannot answer that, my dear, because truthfully, I am not sure. What I do know is that he pledged to help me, pretended to believe in my cause, but when the time came to act on our convictions, rather than simply talk about them, he did not have the stomach to follow through. He was always more comfortable dealing in abstracts - impossible, useless ideals - than in bringing about actual change. Rather like your father, in fact. I suppose that's not too surprising."
"But what happened to him, Therov? You'd better tell me everything." "All I can accurately report is that I trusted him with something very important at the Terraforming lab and he failed me, miserably. He made not the slightest effort to follow my simple instructions."
"You sent him in with the explosives Captain Taylor found? Did he know he would be carrying them?"
"Let's just say he didn't ask as many questions as he might have." Clutching at her hands, Therov drew her close to him again. Adonia felt a chill race through her, but she forced herself not to shudder. "I know things would be different with you, Adonia. You shared my ideology from the beginning. I have always felt that I could tell you things openly. We are like two halves of a whole. Why do you think your parents are so eager to keep us apart? It's because they sense the strength of our connection, too, and they resent it. They want to control you. Let me offer you an escape. Say you'll come away with me, first thing tomorrow. We'll stow away on one of the freighters scheduled to leave the city in the morning. No one will be able to trace us."
Caught in his arms, her mind spinning, she stared at him wide-eyed and bewildered.
"Yes..." she finally murmured. "Yes, Therov, we must be together. I'll need to go back to the house and get a few things. I can steal some money from my father's desk, too. We'll need it for our travel expenses, now that Xertes and Callinda can't provide any more funds."
"Yes, I had meant to suggest that. But do you think they won't notice?"
"Tomorrow, maybe, if Lidia asks them to buy her something. But we'll be gone by then."
He paced the boathouse, nodding, murmuring happily to himself.
"Yes, yes...this is good. This is right. You will bring the money here, and we will slip away just before dawn. Understood?"
"I understand. I should get back now, before someone notices I've left the house. Lidia often gets up and prowls around for no reason."
"All right, go." Turning back to her, he grasped her wrist and dug his mouth against hers hungrily. This time, his lips felt clammy and damp. Adonia fought back her revulsion. "Be sure no one sees you take the money. I will wait for you - impatiently."
"It will be a few hours at least. Meanwhile, stay here, quietly, so no one will see you. You can sit and eat the food I brought you."
Nodding, Therov withdrew into the shadows. Adonia could see only the white of his eyes, glowing, as she backed out of the boathouse and ran into the darkness.
--
Just before dawn, with several hours of sleepless torment behind her, Adonia stood in the doorway of her parents' room, holding the communicator out toward them.
"Therov stole this, and a few others, from the Academy. He gave it to me so we could talk to each other at night. We have been doing so for the past three nights."
Spock took it from her and examined it. "We may be able to use this to locate him."
"There's no need for that, Father. Therov is hiding in the boathouse."
"The boathouse!"
"Yes. When Jarrod used to play there, he moved one of the walls to form a hiding space. Therov has been in there for nearly two days while I brought him food and drink. He thinks I'm going to meet him there later. I'm sorry, Mother. I know what I did was wrong."
"At least you did the right thing by telling us. And now you must tell us something else. Do you also know where Jarrod is?"
"Yes...and no." Adonia began to cry. "Therov admitted that he sent Jarrod into the lab with the explosives. He thinks it's possible that he was killed."
"What?" Zarabeth was incredulous. "Spock...."
"Possible, but unlikely. Numerous scans have failed to detect any fatalities. It is far more probable that Jarrod wished Therov to interpret his disappearance as a death."
"That would mean they were no longer working together at the time of the explosion," Zarabeth said. "Maybe he won't be facing prison after all."
"Tat may be the case. However, let us deal with the more urgent matter first." Moving to the wall, he engaged the security panel. "Security, we have an armed intruder at the boathouse. Beam someone over directly. I will meet you there in a few minutes."
"Wait here," he said as he tied the front of his dressing gown and took a phaser from a locked compartment on his desk.
Neither of them did any such thing. After checking on Lidia, who got up and came with them, they followed him to the front door.
"Please don't go out there, Spock. If something should happen...."
"A security contingent has gone ahead of me. I shall be well protected."
Before he had time to leave the house, a group of gold-shirted officers came up the lawn toward him.
"All clear, sir. There were signs someone had been there recently - food, some broken dishes - but he's gone now." The security officer looked pointedly at Adonia, who ignored him. "And we found this." He held out a second communicator, identical to the one Adonia had already turned over.
"Very well. Continue to monitor the grounds and set up checkpoints in the immediate vicinity."
"Yes, Ambassador."
"He planned to stow away on a cargo ship," Adonia said tearfully. "Perhaps you can still catch him there."
"Doubtful. Having told you his intentions, he will have no course now but to alter them."
"He knew I was going to betray him." Adonia stared at the communicator. "I thought I had him fooled...but he saw right through me. Now I have lost him, and Jarrod, and gained nothing in return."
"That's not true," Zarabeth consoled her daughter. "You've gained something you probably don't recognize yet. But you will, I promise."
--
Over the next several weeks, neither Starfleet's exhaustive physical searches nor Spock's inquiries through diplomatic channels managed to uncover any trace of Jarrod or Therov. Somewhat more encouraging were Taylor's series of follow-up scans on the destroyed lab, all of which failed to identify humanoid remains or any evidence of lethal injury.
Life on Amphitrite continued, though the house seemed quieter than it had in a long time. Lidia ceased to play loud music after dinner, and before long her interest in Gorns had waned, too. Adonia's behavior became equally subdued, as she began to spend hours on end in her room, studying and practicing conversational Vulcan with her computer.
One evening, she informed her parents that she wished to speak to them. Expressionless, her voice as cool and steady as the distant stars, she stood in front of them as if she were making a formal presentation in front of her class.
"Father, Mother, I have come to a decision," she announced. "It is my intention to enter Starfleet myself when I complete my studies on Amphitrite next year. I believe I am better suited to it than Jarrod was, and I expect to succeed where he did not."
"This is rather sudden, isn't it?"
"It may appear that way, Mother, but in fact I have put considerable thought into it. My goal is to become the first Vulcan woman to command a starship. It will take many years of difficult study, I realize, but I believe that I am equal to the task. I have also taken the liberty of contacting Captain Taylor for advice. She believes I have an excellent chance of being accepted in spite of my brother's...choices, and she is willing to mentor me as she once did him."
"Adonia, you are only one quarter Vulcan," Spock reminded her.
"Indeed, Father. But in my opinion, that should be enough."
The communication from Jarrod came six months later, forwarded via another planet's diplomatic pouch in order to conceal its origins. The letter was brief, expressing regret and shame for his actions both at the Academy and at the Terraforming conference, and hoping that he would one day be able to return and earn their forgiveness. In the meantime, he hoped that they would imagine him happy and take some comfort in the fact that his own exile, unlike that of his namesake, was voluntary.
Since they had no way to respond to his missive, they were unable to tell him of Adonia's acceptance to the Academy, or of the other fortunate result of their shared ordeal: the night their suffering had driven them together, Spock and Zarabeth had conceived a second son.
Sometimes, when the familiar grief came over her, she would take out the letter again and read the last few lines, hearing his voice in every word.
"It may take years until I can redeem myself," he wrote, "but I exhort each of you to remember me in your own way, and wish me peace, as I do you. And I promise that I will see all of you again."
"We will hold you to that promise," she would say when she finished. Sometimes she would look up at the night sky while she said it. "And we trust you enough to know that you will return."
Thanks to a generous dedication of resources by Xertes and Callinda, including a complete set of falsified credentials for each of them, the group was able to charter a piloted transport to Starbase Dawkins. Factoring in an uneventful two days' journey, Therov calculated that they would arrive well before the end of the Terraforming Conference. Even on Amphitrite, when their prospects of actually attending seemed slim to nonexistent, he had talked of almost nothing else. Now that they were on their way, he could hardly contain his excitement.
"I still don't see why we couldn't simply register for the conference like any other special-interest group," Jarrod said. "Xertes, Callinda and I all have parents with diplomatic standing. Surely they could have arranged for us to address the assembly with our concerns."
Therov sat beside him, casually twisting his plush seat back and forth while he sipped the Daruvian wine he'd coaxed from the onboard replicator.
"I already explained that it would be hypocritical of us to employ a Federation-sponsored transport when our intent is to criticize their proceedings in the strongest possible terms. I am surprised your infamously clever mind cannot grasp that."
"My point is simply that an anonymous presentation could be far less effective than a concerted effort to argue our case systematically. Some of the Federation's finest scientific minds will be present at the conference. Surely if our - or your - ideas are sound, we will find at least a small audience."
Abruptly, Therov stopped spinning in his chair. His narrowed eyes flashed with anger as he planted both feet on the deck and leaned forward, clutching his wine goblet in both hands. "And do you honestly think we would be given a fair hearing? Terraforming, and preparing new territories for Starfleet to annex, is a highly profitable venture for the Federation. The only way we can ensure that we won't be laughed off the floor is to force people to listen. And the only way to do that is to take action they'll remember."
"Yes, yes, I'm not disagreeing with you there. It's simply our methodology I'm questioning. Wouldn't it be better - "
"You are beginning to sound like your father," Therov snapped. Suddenly, Xertes and Callinda left the viewscreen they'd been standing beside and moved to flank Therov's chair. "I feel compelled to advise you that it is rapidly becoming tedious."
Callinda's hard gaze never left Jarrod's as her hand strayed toward Therov's shoulder. She stopped just short of touching his shirt.
Jarrod hesitated, then retreated to one of the other seats. "Sorry," he muttered.
"No harm done." The Andorian's easy smile returned. "All I meant was that you're always so serious. You ought to make more time to enjoy life. In the grand scheme of the universe, it is really so short."
"Maybe you're right." Huddled in his chair, Jarrod raked a hand through his hair and watched a star shoot past the viewscreen.
Therov gestured expansively with his glass. "Of course I am. Callinda, get him one of these. We have another fifteen hours to travel, and I don't want him brooding the whole time."
"I'd be delighted." Callinda walked away and returned with the drink. Its taste did not please him, but when he noticed the others watching him intently, he forced down a few quick swallows. Thankfully, the wine made him feel tired and ready to sleep.
"Did you know Jarrod was born on a shuttlecraft?" Therov was speaking in a loud, indignant voice that kept him from drifting off peacefully. "He might have died there, too, for all the Federation cared. They were willing to sacrifice him, his mother, and even one of their own starship captains, simply to retain their Danaan territory."
"Appalling," Xertes agreed. "Yet entirely predictable, given all you have told us."
"You're wrong," Jarrod thought testily. He might even have said it aloud; thanks to the effects of the wine, he couldn't really be sure. "Nothing in this galaxy is ever entirely predictable."
--
After nearly forty-five hours in the controlled climate of the shuttle, it felt strange to emerge into the intense heat outside Starbase Dawkins' thermo-regulated dome. It felt even stranger to wear the uniform of a Starfleet cadet again.
"I can't believe you kept them," Jarrod said, tugging out a few wrinkles. "Security made sure I turned all mine in the morning we left the Academy."
Therov laughed. "You need to learn to think ahead, friend. I knew I wasn't going to last at the Academy; I also knew that a few of these uniforms would come in handy. I made sure that I packed some away before anyone came looking for them. And you see I was right."
"I don't see why we had to be put down here," Xertes complained, squinting through the heavy reddish haze. A magnificent array of buildings and skywalks shimmered in the distance. "How are we going to get inside the base?"
"Not to worry. I tucked away a few more items as well." Opening a flap on the biological sample case he carried, Therov pulled out an Academy-issued communicator and toyed with the buttons. "Before we left, I downloaded a complete set of transporter coordinates for every Federation colony and Starbase in this sector, as well as the protocols for remote transport. I can simulate an authorized transport from one area of the base to another, all the while blocking our original coordinates and the particle trail from the shuttlecraft. You see, Jarrod? I was paying attention in class, even when no one else realized it."
"Apparently so." Uncomfortably, Jarrod wondered how much more stolen hardware was tucked into Therov's bag. Still, eager to be out of the deadly heat, he said nothing while the Andorian keyed in the transport sequence. The four of them quickly dissolved, then reappeared in the shadow of the enormous biolab that served as the centerpiece of Starbase Dawkins' state-of-the-art research facilities. The grounds were lively with hundreds of conference attendees,
"Come on," Therov said, tucking his sample case under his arm. "Let's go right in. No sense in lingering long enough to attract attention."
The security officers posted at the front entrance barely glanced up as the squadron of four neatly attired cadets walked into the building with a purposeful, disciplined stride. When they reached the long stretch of corridor that led to the biospheric labs, however, they encountered slightly more skeptical guards.
"We are students of Professor Setto from Starfleet Academy," Therov said smoothly, holding up his sample case and pointing to its refrigerated lock. "His lecture on atmospheric particle generation is scheduled for this afternoon, and his samples must be given time to generate before he can display them. Please, don't delay us any further. Dr. Kraeliss is waiting to prepare the entire set, and I'm afraid we're already late. If we wait much longer, the samples will degrade sufficiently to ruin his entire presentation. All four of us will be disciplined, and I'm sure you can see that we'd prefer to avoid that."
The guard looked at each of them in turn, then down at the sealed case. "Very well," he finally said, punching a code into the door panel and waving them through. "Dr. Kraeliss' office is at the far end of the left-hand corridor."
"Many thanks. Your cooperation will not be forgotten, I assure you," Therov said.
Inside the secure lab area, the corridors were oddly deserted and eerily silent except for their own footfalls and the distant buzz of hundreds of generators. Instead of following the guard's directions, Therov led them to the right and down another maze-like set of access tunnels. They gathered at a locked door, which Therov quickly disabled with an electronic passkey he'd kept tucked in his sleeve. The panel slid open to reveal a vast set of glass-walled, room-sized terrariums. Each displayed a rapidly developing model of a Class-M feature: one contained a miniature coral reef, another a desert, a third a swampy concoction that suggested the archetypal primordial soup.
"This is amazing," Jarrod said, looking around. "It's an entire planet, broken down into sections."
"And I needn't remind you of the mercenary purpose behind it all," Therov sneered. Abruptly, he lifted the sample case, pressed a button on the outside lock, and thrust it into Jarrod's arms. "Take this to the center of the catwalk, put it down, and then clear the area. You have exactly four minutes - and counting."
Jarrod stared at him, dumbfounded. "Four minutes until what? You said this was a biological sample that would slowly degrade their specimens from within. It wasn't supposed to be dangerous to us."
Already, Therov and the twins were backing away. "It will destroy their samples, all right, along with a lot of other things. We're trying to make a point here, remember? A few withered plants and leaky aquariums won't be enough. Now go. The chronometer is running."
"I won't do it! Absolutely not!" Jarrod held the case out, but Therov pushed him through the doorway and swiftly reapplied the passkey to the control panel. The door held despite Jarrod's desperate pounding from the other side.
"Swiftly," Therov hissed through the door. Then he, Xertes, and Callinda ran for their lives
Exactly four minutes later, a bone-shattering blast rocked the science building to its gargantuan underpinnings.
--
"Fortunately, the explosive device was placed in a biohazard disposal chute. That helped to contain the damage significantly, and since most of the lab personnel were attending the conference, there were no recorded casualties."
Michaela Taylor would have preferred to face her former Captain and her friend of almost twenty years under more congenial circumstances. However, she was also grateful that Starfleet had agreed to let her bring the news - and continue the official inquiry - on her own, and in person.
"We did lose a few expensive pieces of lab equipment," she continued when it became clear that neither of them could find the words to respond. "That will set the base's Terraforming research back a few months, at least, which was probably Therov's intention. But that's far preferable to any lethal consequences."
"I still want to hear proof that Jarrod was involved," Zarabeth said after another minute or so of uncomfortable silence.
"Well, we do have a description of the four people who entered the building, presenting themselves as Academy cadets. We also heard that they gave Professor Setto's name at the door. Records indicate that he is actually a teacher at the base school here."
"That is correct," Spock confirmed. "He is Lidia's teacher. The man who is preoccupied with Gorns."
"I agree that isn't proof, but it does suggest a connection. And Starfleet has to pursue any lead at this point."
"Understandable, of course."
"If you say you haven't heard from your son, you know I'll believe you. But if you discover any way to let him - or Therov - know that we desperately need to speak to them, I hope you will. I promise that I'll personally look out for Jarrod's best interests if he's willing to turn himself in to me."
Spock nodded. "You may be certain that we would contact you at once."
"The two you have arrested - Xertes and Callinda - what do they have to say about Jarrod's involvement?" Zarabeth asked, flashing her husband a disapproving glance.
"They've admitted nothing except that they decided to attend to conference out of scientific curiosity. Therov has completely disappeared, so we can't ask him anything. Essentially, we have nothing that would hold up in a formal inquiry, and I'm as relieved about that as you are. But I have been charged with locating him - and Therov, if possible - and bringing them in for questioning."
"For trial, you mean."
"It hasn't come to that yet."
"Perhaps I ought to go and look for him," Spock suggested.
"Where would you begin? He and Therov seem to have slipped away from the conference before anyone even thought about detaining them. They apparently had transportation waiting, and after five days, they could be anywhere in the sector. To be honest, you'd probably have a better chance of finding him if you simply remain here. Most of us are of the opinion that they'll most likely return to Amphitrite at some point. We just don't know how extensive their resources might be."
"I'm sorry to say we really don't know, either," Zarabeth said. "He's our own son, but in many ways he's become a total stranger."
"Believe me, I feel the same way. Not only did I deliver him, I mentored him at the Academy. If he'd only come to me and explained what he was going through...well, we might not be here today."
"There is little point in speculating how things might have turned out differently." Spock rose. "Our time would be better spent devising a strategy to bring him back."
Taylor stood, too. "I need to go back to the Embassy and file my report with Starfleet. I'll be there for a few hours, at least. Please contact me right away if anything develops."
"We would expect the same of you," Zarabeth reminded her.
"I know. I promise you I'll do the best I can, but I do have my orders. I hope you're not angry with me."
"No one will blame you for maintaining your integrity as a Starfleet officer," Spock told her. "You must conduct the investigation as you see fit."
"I am sorry this has been such a strained visit. Let's make sure the next one is better." Taylor left the house quickly and with obvious relief. Spock stood by the window and watched her climb into a waiting Embassy ground conveyance.
"It will do our son no good to avoid his responsibility in this matter," he said after a while. "Starfleet has good reason to believe that role this disturbance was significant. Surely he must realize that running away can only increase their suspicions."
Zarabeth looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Well, I still refuse to accept that Jarrod would do such a thing. I'd be sorry to learn that you disagreed, Spock."
"As a general principle, I do not. However, young men - and women - have been known to exceed the boundaries of wise behavior when they believe their actions serve a just cause. The probability of recklessness increases when strong emotions are involved."
"Does that mean you blame me for what's happened, because I allowed him - all of them - to express emotion?"
"It is a fact that our children all display emotional temperaments not unlike your own. I can, and do, accept that. However, the manner in which Jarrod chooses to express that temperament has always been his own choice."
She shook her head, her anger fading into quiet distress. "He's always been more like me than he is like you. I've never really known why."
"It is most likely a quirk of genetics that cannot be fully explained." He crossed behind the sofa she still occupied, then rested his hand on the back so that it lightly touched her hair. "In any case, there is nothing inherently negative in being like you, Zarabeth."
She turned, caught his fingers in hers. "I think sometimes Jarrod doubts that you love him. In that respect, at least, he isn't like me at all." Sighing, she leaned her cheek against his sleeve. "I also know that Jarrod does have a rational side he inherited from you. And sooner or later, it's got to kick in."
"Let us hope you are correct."
"Can this really be happening again? I've already had one family destroyed by politics I didn't even fully understand; and here I am a hundred years later, facing exactly the same prospect."
"No one has been destroyed. Jarrod will return when he is prepared to face the consequences of his actions, or at the very least, those of some ill-chosen associates."
"Do you know that for certain? He could remain in hiding for weeks, months. A year. We might not hear from him at all. I'm certain he feels he can't trust us. And the part that frightens me most is that I'm not even sure he should come back."
"That is not rational."
"No? Would it make more sense for me to wish that he'd be found, and thrown into prison? You'd be disgraced along with him."
"That is the very reason he should return, either to clear himself or to take responsibility for his mistakes."
"I still think Therov is more to blame than any of the others. And to be perfectly honest, I'm less convinced of Adonia's innocence than I am of Jarrod's. It won't do any good to question her again - she's already decided to tell us nothing. We'll have to watch her carefully. Sooner or later, she'll reveal what she knows."
"Why are you so convinced she would protect him?"
"Because, as we've already established, she's a little too much like me. And if you were the one Michaela Taylor was under orders to arrest, I know how far I would go to keep you hidden and safe." In spite of her own worry, she had to smile at his perplexed expression. "They really aren't children any more, Spock. Even Lidia will be thinking very differently in a few short years."
He considered her words gravely. "In that case, I shall go and speak to Professor Setto myself," he finally decided. "We may just have time to put a stop to her interest in Gorns."
---
Tenting the covers over her head, Adonia turned over her pillow and pulled out the stolen communicator she'd stashed deep inside it.
"Therov, where are you?" she whispered, keying it on. "Can you hear me?"
His cheerful tone soothed her jangled nerves. "Don't worry," he whispered back. "I'm right here. In fact, I can see the light from your bedroom."
"I'm glad...though I don't like you hiding so close. If my parents catch you, they'll turn you over to Captain Taylor in a nanosecond. She's been here, you know - several times over the last few days. And my mother keeps asking me about you. She suspects that I know where you are."
"Don't worry about them. They're not quick enough to catch me. If you remember to keep your voice down, we should be fine."
"I'm so worried about you, Therov. I'm afraid you'll be caught and thrown in prison, and I'll never see you again."
He laughed softly. "You'll see me again, my love. Tonight, if you want. Wait until your parents fall asleep and then meet me at the old boathouse. And bring me something to eat, if you can. I've been out here for a few hours now."
"All right. I'll get something from the replicator as soon as I can and sneak outside with it. I can't do it now, though. I think my father is still downstairs, writing dispatches. He thinks he can find Jarrod that way. And you."
"Adonia, to whom are you speaking?"
Her bedroom door slid open to reveal her father. She let the communicator drop back into the pillow and hugged it against herself as if she'd been trying to fall asleep.
"I wasn't speaking to anyone," she said haughtily. "I was declining Vulcan verbs, the way you told me to. We have a test this week in school, and I know you expect me to do well."
"Under ordinary circumstances, that would be true. However, considering all that has happened this week, I would not fault you if your score did not meet your usual standards."
"You mean because Jarrod and Therov are still missing?"
"Precisely. Do you believe they are hiding together, then?"
"How should I know? Are you trying to trick me? Don't waste your time, Father, because I know nothing."
He scrutinized her so intently that Adonia shivered. It was as if he could tell just by looking at her that she was lying. Of course, she knew that was impossible.
"May I stay for a moment?" he asked.
Adonia shrugged. "Please yourself. It's your house, as you never tire of informing us."
"Technically, you are incorrect. This house is Embassy property, and our residence here depends on my continued diplomatic affiliation. In any case, that is not the subject I wished to address. Adonia, you may believe that I am unacquainted with the effects of strong emotion, especially on the adolescent psyche. However, you would be incorrect."
"I don't believe any such thing. In the first place, I'm sure you've researched it thoroughly - along with every other topic under every Federation-charted sun. In the second, I know you love Mother - or at least I assume so. She seems to believe it, though I suppose she might be deluding herself."
"Your mother is not prone to delusions. In fact, she is unusually perceptive for an emotional being. Therefore I must take her seriously when she suggests that you may know more of Therov's and Jarrod's whereabouts than you will presently acknowledge."
"Mother isn't perceptive, she's paranoid. Besides, why would either of you want them to be caught? Do you really hope they'll go to prison? Although I suppose that would be one way you could control my brother, which has always been your primary goal."
"There is no reason to believe that Jarrod is guilty of anything that would warrant imprisonment. As for Therov - Captain Taylor is inclined to believe that his actions warrant further official scrutiny. If she is wrong, and he truly has nothing to hide, he should come forward and answer Starfleet's questions willingly. The same is true for Jarrod, of course. If you did have the ability to convey this information to either or both of them, I trust that you would do so."
"You're just trying to manipulate me. Nothing would give you and Mother greater pleasure than to see Therov arrested, even if it's for something Jarrod did. That way Jarrod wouldn't be held responsible, as usual, and Therov would be taken away from me. That's your real goal, and you might as well admit it."
"Jumping to conclusions, Adonia, is not the mark of a rational mind. I cannot order you to reveal anything, either to me or to your mother, but I do request that you carefully consider all that I have said to you tonight. It is quite possible that your brother's safety, as well as his freedom, is at stake. As for Therov, clearly you are in a better position to know his mind than I am."
He turned to go, while Adonia hugged her pillow and pretended to ignore him.
"Incidentally, your conjecture concerning my regard for your mother is correct. And I trust that you are no more given to delusional states than she is."
She finally turned to him, her face burning. "I'm sorry if I behaved disrespectfully, Father. But I do love Therov, even if no one else in this house is willing to believe or understand that. I had hoped that you and Mother might at least try."
"Our reluctance to approve of your relationship is not necessarily the result of an inability to understand."
"Well, you're wrong about him, then," she said quietly.
"Perhaps so. Sleep well."
Adonia's sleek brows glided up her forehead. "It's usually Mother's job to bid me goodnight."
"This time, I am taking her place."
He left his daughter frowning after him and returned to his own room down the hall.
"How did it go?" Zarabeth asked him as he turned back the covers.
"As you predicted, she was willing to talk about everything except the matter at hand. She did pause to inform me that I am a wholly inadequate parent and a disingenuous husband."
She stretched out with her head in his lap and her right hand caressing his face.
"If it's any consolation, I get that from her at least once a week - the parenting part, at least. As for the kind of husband you are, let's just say that after almost eighteen years, at least I know what to expect."
"Perhaps her argument does have some merit. I had not envisioned both Jarrod and Adonia becoming so...rebellious."
"At least we'll never have to worry about Lidia. She's the most like you of any of them."
"Your assumption that I possessed excellent judgment in my youth is somewhat mistaken."
"I know I didn't always make the best decisions at Jarrod's age, not that it mattered too much in the end." Her mood darkened, as it always did at the mention of that other time, those other lives so cruelly lost and ruined. "Well, whatever he's done, and whatever happens to him, we've both survived worse situations. Luckily, my love for you has always been stronger than any grief, any hopelessness I've ever felt. Perhaps that isn't rational, or even particularly wise, but it still gives me comfort."
"Your effect on me has always been similarly inexplicable. Yet I find sustenance in it as well."
"You know...before, when I was alone, I relied on memories to get me through some of those terrible black nights. Right now, I just want to forget everything - especially the chance that we may never see our son again."
"Zarabeth, I give you my word that I will not disappear like Jarrod, or the others."
"I think I could learn to accept almost anything, as long as I had you."
He bowed his head to accept her kiss. Grief and anguish gradually melted into a desperate passion they hadn't known since the day Jarrod was conceived, deep in a world of endless winter.
--
Adonia had never felt anyone hold her so close, or clutch at her heart the way Therov did as they kissed each other, hungrily, in the darkened boathouse. Idly she wondered if her parents had ever known such a flood of all-consuming, mind-bending desire. Somehow, she doubted it. Her father's Vulcan blood could never burn the way Therov's did, and her mother was too headstrong even to dream of surrendering to a man as completely as Adonia longed to surrender to Therov. Emotion - the very thing her father constantly warned her about - consumed her utterly. She was only mildly surprised to discover how gratifying it could be.
"I didn't mind hiding here alone until now," he whispered, breaking their kiss with obvious reluctance. "All night, I'll be dreaming about what could have been if you'd stayed."
"I can't. My parents seem to know everything I do these days. They watch and question me constantly now that Jarrod's run away."
"How distressing." Therov trailed a long, blue-skinned finger down her cheek. "Adonia...why don't you run away, too? With me."
"What?"
"You heard me. We'll leave here at once, together. Then we can be free of your parents, and Captain Taylor, and all this nonsense about your brother."
She looked at him for a long time, watching the shadows move across his lips, his eyes. Something in his gaze troubled her, though she couldn't exactly say why. She swallowed before asking him the inevitable question, the one she'd avoided until now.
"Therov...do you know where my brother is? I know you told everyone else that you didn't, but this time I'm the one who's asking. And you know you can trust me."
"Yes...yes...I do believe I can." Therov sighed wistfully, cupped her face in his hands, and rubbed his chin against her forehead. "You know, you and Jarrod bear a superficial resemblance to one another, it's true, but in the ways that matter most, you are nothing alike. You have the fire, the courage, he only dreamed of."
Adonia pulled back from his embrace. "Why do you speak of my brother in the past tense?" When Therov paused and glanced away, she pushed him away in horror. "Therov! Is Jarrod dead?"
Therov shook his head. "I cannot answer that, my dear, because truthfully, I am not sure. What I do know is that he pledged to help me, pretended to believe in my cause, but when the time came to act on our convictions, rather than simply talk about them, he did not have the stomach to follow through. He was always more comfortable dealing in abstracts - impossible, useless ideals - than in bringing about actual change. Rather like your father, in fact. I suppose that's not too surprising."
"But what happened to him, Therov? You'd better tell me everything." "All I can accurately report is that I trusted him with something very important at the Terraforming lab and he failed me, miserably. He made not the slightest effort to follow my simple instructions."
"You sent him in with the explosives Captain Taylor found? Did he know he would be carrying them?"
"Let's just say he didn't ask as many questions as he might have." Clutching at her hands, Therov drew her close to him again. Adonia felt a chill race through her, but she forced herself not to shudder. "I know things would be different with you, Adonia. You shared my ideology from the beginning. I have always felt that I could tell you things openly. We are like two halves of a whole. Why do you think your parents are so eager to keep us apart? It's because they sense the strength of our connection, too, and they resent it. They want to control you. Let me offer you an escape. Say you'll come away with me, first thing tomorrow. We'll stow away on one of the freighters scheduled to leave the city in the morning. No one will be able to trace us."
Caught in his arms, her mind spinning, she stared at him wide-eyed and bewildered.
"Yes..." she finally murmured. "Yes, Therov, we must be together. I'll need to go back to the house and get a few things. I can steal some money from my father's desk, too. We'll need it for our travel expenses, now that Xertes and Callinda can't provide any more funds."
"Yes, I had meant to suggest that. But do you think they won't notice?"
"Tomorrow, maybe, if Lidia asks them to buy her something. But we'll be gone by then."
He paced the boathouse, nodding, murmuring happily to himself.
"Yes, yes...this is good. This is right. You will bring the money here, and we will slip away just before dawn. Understood?"
"I understand. I should get back now, before someone notices I've left the house. Lidia often gets up and prowls around for no reason."
"All right, go." Turning back to her, he grasped her wrist and dug his mouth against hers hungrily. This time, his lips felt clammy and damp. Adonia fought back her revulsion. "Be sure no one sees you take the money. I will wait for you - impatiently."
"It will be a few hours at least. Meanwhile, stay here, quietly, so no one will see you. You can sit and eat the food I brought you."
Nodding, Therov withdrew into the shadows. Adonia could see only the white of his eyes, glowing, as she backed out of the boathouse and ran into the darkness.
--
Just before dawn, with several hours of sleepless torment behind her, Adonia stood in the doorway of her parents' room, holding the communicator out toward them.
"Therov stole this, and a few others, from the Academy. He gave it to me so we could talk to each other at night. We have been doing so for the past three nights."
Spock took it from her and examined it. "We may be able to use this to locate him."
"There's no need for that, Father. Therov is hiding in the boathouse."
"The boathouse!"
"Yes. When Jarrod used to play there, he moved one of the walls to form a hiding space. Therov has been in there for nearly two days while I brought him food and drink. He thinks I'm going to meet him there later. I'm sorry, Mother. I know what I did was wrong."
"At least you did the right thing by telling us. And now you must tell us something else. Do you also know where Jarrod is?"
"Yes...and no." Adonia began to cry. "Therov admitted that he sent Jarrod into the lab with the explosives. He thinks it's possible that he was killed."
"What?" Zarabeth was incredulous. "Spock...."
"Possible, but unlikely. Numerous scans have failed to detect any fatalities. It is far more probable that Jarrod wished Therov to interpret his disappearance as a death."
"That would mean they were no longer working together at the time of the explosion," Zarabeth said. "Maybe he won't be facing prison after all."
"Tat may be the case. However, let us deal with the more urgent matter first." Moving to the wall, he engaged the security panel. "Security, we have an armed intruder at the boathouse. Beam someone over directly. I will meet you there in a few minutes."
"Wait here," he said as he tied the front of his dressing gown and took a phaser from a locked compartment on his desk.
Neither of them did any such thing. After checking on Lidia, who got up and came with them, they followed him to the front door.
"Please don't go out there, Spock. If something should happen...."
"A security contingent has gone ahead of me. I shall be well protected."
Before he had time to leave the house, a group of gold-shirted officers came up the lawn toward him.
"All clear, sir. There were signs someone had been there recently - food, some broken dishes - but he's gone now." The security officer looked pointedly at Adonia, who ignored him. "And we found this." He held out a second communicator, identical to the one Adonia had already turned over.
"Very well. Continue to monitor the grounds and set up checkpoints in the immediate vicinity."
"Yes, Ambassador."
"He planned to stow away on a cargo ship," Adonia said tearfully. "Perhaps you can still catch him there."
"Doubtful. Having told you his intentions, he will have no course now but to alter them."
"He knew I was going to betray him." Adonia stared at the communicator. "I thought I had him fooled...but he saw right through me. Now I have lost him, and Jarrod, and gained nothing in return."
"That's not true," Zarabeth consoled her daughter. "You've gained something you probably don't recognize yet. But you will, I promise."
--
Over the next several weeks, neither Starfleet's exhaustive physical searches nor Spock's inquiries through diplomatic channels managed to uncover any trace of Jarrod or Therov. Somewhat more encouraging were Taylor's series of follow-up scans on the destroyed lab, all of which failed to identify humanoid remains or any evidence of lethal injury.
Life on Amphitrite continued, though the house seemed quieter than it had in a long time. Lidia ceased to play loud music after dinner, and before long her interest in Gorns had waned, too. Adonia's behavior became equally subdued, as she began to spend hours on end in her room, studying and practicing conversational Vulcan with her computer.
One evening, she informed her parents that she wished to speak to them. Expressionless, her voice as cool and steady as the distant stars, she stood in front of them as if she were making a formal presentation in front of her class.
"Father, Mother, I have come to a decision," she announced. "It is my intention to enter Starfleet myself when I complete my studies on Amphitrite next year. I believe I am better suited to it than Jarrod was, and I expect to succeed where he did not."
"This is rather sudden, isn't it?"
"It may appear that way, Mother, but in fact I have put considerable thought into it. My goal is to become the first Vulcan woman to command a starship. It will take many years of difficult study, I realize, but I believe that I am equal to the task. I have also taken the liberty of contacting Captain Taylor for advice. She believes I have an excellent chance of being accepted in spite of my brother's...choices, and she is willing to mentor me as she once did him."
"Adonia, you are only one quarter Vulcan," Spock reminded her.
"Indeed, Father. But in my opinion, that should be enough."
The communication from Jarrod came six months later, forwarded via another planet's diplomatic pouch in order to conceal its origins. The letter was brief, expressing regret and shame for his actions both at the Academy and at the Terraforming conference, and hoping that he would one day be able to return and earn their forgiveness. In the meantime, he hoped that they would imagine him happy and take some comfort in the fact that his own exile, unlike that of his namesake, was voluntary.
Since they had no way to respond to his missive, they were unable to tell him of Adonia's acceptance to the Academy, or of the other fortunate result of their shared ordeal: the night their suffering had driven them together, Spock and Zarabeth had conceived a second son.
Sometimes, when the familiar grief came over her, she would take out the letter again and read the last few lines, hearing his voice in every word.
"It may take years until I can redeem myself," he wrote, "but I exhort each of you to remember me in your own way, and wish me peace, as I do you. And I promise that I will see all of you again."
"We will hold you to that promise," she would say when she finished. Sometimes she would look up at the night sky while she said it. "And we trust you enough to know that you will return."