The red marble monolith felt cool against Arik's forehead, so it soothed despite its hardness. Above him, powered candles flickered in their unique, dark metal fixtures that formed a latticework ceiling against the natural one of Vulcan's red sky. The architects designed them so one candle flame, real or mirrored on the stone walls, burned for each Vulcan lost on Hellguard.

All those ghostly flickering candles... so many lives. If he opened his eyes, he'd be staring into the face of one such Vulcan.

He didn't open them. Until he heard Spock.

"Arik?"

The young Vulcan/Romulan jumped and started mumbling an apology. Something in the quiet way Spock watched him made the "I'm sorry" fade away unspoken.

Behind Spock, that one human -- Kirk -- took in the aisle of red marble walls stretched ahead of them, forming a corridor that laid open at either end. Three other aisles with flickering candles stood on the other side of this one, one aisle for each lost ship: the Criterion, the Perceptor, the Constant, and this one for the Diversity.

They let an outsider see this? Arik couldn't stop that thought. He didn't want a human to see this memorial, he didn't want anyone who wasn't part of the pain to be here gaping at their open wounds. It was private, it was personal, and no one should be allowed to gawk at their heartache like it was a tourist attraction.

He opened his mouth to tell Kirk to go away. "One of these people is my parent."

He blinked. Had he really said that?

Kirk's head jerked in his direction, and Arik said more without thinking. "I'm not old enough to be from one of the other ships. My mother served on the Diversity. Or my father did. I don't know which one was Vulcan."

He flung out an arm and his fingers splayed to point out as many etched faces in the marble as he could. "But either way, it's one of them!"

The face of every crewmember from the Diversity gazed out from where they were carved, the candle flame marking an eerie life on the engraved expressions, warming the cold stone. Reports forged in the marble, as well as actual embedded computer screens, showed the Vulcan crew alive and presenting their findings and logs. The sound from the screens was silenced and the reports subtitled, with touch pads for those who were blind. The quiet remained unbroken.

All the crew had accomplished was here: new planets and new lifeforms discovered, scientific experiments, simple day to day space exploration. Everything of a lost people: names, faces, and achievements stretching up the pathway in a memorial of red stone and light.

Arik's eyes no longer met those etched faces or the ones on the screens. What if he looked into one of them and saw his own?

He heard the slight sound of footsteps and Kirk's boots came into view of his lowered eyes. "I'm sorry," the human said. "I'll wait at the entrance."

Such kindness. Sickened, Arik listened to the understanding in those words, hearing what was left unsaid: No, I don't know what this is like for you.

It was more respect than he had given Kirk.

He felt worse when the human talked to Spock about meeting at the memorial's main entrance. Arik waited for a reprimand, and when it didn't come, told himself to stop being such a coward and at least face the other male.

He didn't get his eyes completely up. More like glanced from the top of them.

Coward.

But Spock stood as quietly as before, just... waiting. As if Arik had called him here to listen to whatever words spewed out. Even the ones that insulted his friend.

Arik turned away and put his hand next to a name. "Sir," he asked Spock, "could you read this for me?"

Spock's eyebrow shot up, but he said nothing and walked the couple steps to the wall. Arik stared hard as the Vulcan interpreted the writing, like he hoped Spock's words would magically put the language into his head.

"He is St'anasah, a navigator."

Is, Arik repeated glumly to himself. Spock had said 'is', not 'was'. That respect for a life and how it carried on after death, even if only through a memorial.

"His report concerns a course he and helmsman Sloteff devised to the Belisian system. The course is still used today."

"I, I don't look like him, do I?"

Spock gave it serious thought. "No, I do not see a resemblance."

"Neither do I. That's good." Arik suddenly slammed a fist on the wall, then just as quickly, made a cry and laid his hand flat on the same spot. As if he had hurt St'anasah and wanted to soothe it. "Why didn't I learn the language when everyone offered? Then I could read this! It's wrong that I can't read their names!"

"I am certain you had a good reason."

No, I didn't. It seemed like nothing when he made the decision years ago, when they asked him if he wanted to be Vulcan or know anything of his parent's homeworld. "Do you want to know what my 'good' reason was?"

Spock said nothing because Arik didn't give him the chance. "I was afraid! Not of you. All of you on the Symmetry were so nice. You did things like talking quietly so you wouldn't scare us. You gave us food and clothes and a place to sleep. A place that was safe. Even that doctor -- Salok, right? -- when he touched us to heal something, it never hurt. Never. And none of you ever laughed at me or threatened me. Never. But you were big! I mean, powerful ...everyone was so strong. Like the Romulans were strong."

"No, wait! I didn't mean that. I didn't mean you were like the Romulans. I meant you were -- you had -- courage. You had... strength, guts. That sounds stupid, but -- Micar's like you, Saavik's like all of you. Strong. Not me. I couldn't be like any of you. I don't have it in me. All of you Vulcans told me I did, that I could do whatever I wanted, but I knew better. I'm a coward. I can't -- I can't be calm when things are tough. I can't look someone else in the eye."

"So I ran, just like I did from Komal and the others. And the Romulans. Not just because they were bad -- because you're not, I know that. But they got more guts than me. That's why I'm standing here and I can't even give these people the respect of reading their names. Because I was afraid, and I thought if I learned anything about here, like the language, it'd just remind me I didn't have the guts to learn it all."

Spock said after a pause, "I do not believe, Arik, that I am the person to convince you otherwise. You would think I am merely noting characteristics that are not there. So I suggest you speak with the others. You will discover your fears and trials are not unique."

Arik stayed stubbornly silent, and Spock gave something like a sigh. "Speak with Saavik regarding her experience in learning the Vulcan language."

"I can imagine."

"No, you cannot." Arik perked up, but Spock raised an eyebrow. "I cannot tell you. She would not appreciate my doing so, and that statement undermines the force of her reaction."

"I was changing my mind about going to Saavik -- you know, I told you I really wanted to see her? After Phase II."

Spock eyed him strangely, but Arik didn't know why. "But maybe I'll try to find her and then I can ask her about that question."

The Vulcan nodded slowly, and then suggested: "Perhaps a change of subject?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

"Are you alone here? The hospital reported giving the directions to Jdehn."

"She's here. She's in another aisle. So's Mekhai because they're older. They guessed their parents were on the Constant, but they might have been born on the Perceptor and not put into --- um, well Phase II until long after they got captured."

Spock nodded again, but Arik wondered if hearing that really didn't bother him. He guessed it did or Vulcan wouldn't have built this memorial.

"You have established a relationship with Mekhai then, Arik?"

"No, he invited himself when he found out where we were going. But he is all of a sudden... polite... since Phase II, so he's not the hassle I thought he'd be. So far."

He still kept a distance from the other half-Romulan male.

Coward.

"I wished to speak with you regarding questions we have on your arrival."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. I'm supposed to meet up with them about now anyway."

"Only if you wish to leave. I did not come to intrude."

Arik took a few more steps and stopped suddenly at an embedded screen. Somehow, he knew this woman. On Hellguard. Smaller than him, maybe smaller than Jdehn... he couldn't tell because she sat behind a desk. Her dark hair and brown eyes didn't help him.

"Sir, what's her name? I think I remember her."

When he had compared her with Jdehn, it had sparked something. But he didn't remember her ever being with Jdehn. Hellguard Vulcans had taken time with the hybrids, sometimes disastrously. Other times ended with the hybrid staying alive when they would have died, like their helping Micar when his severed finger bled out and stayed attached to his hand only through a last bit of skin.

"She is T'Pren."

That was it. T'Pren. Her name was spoken a lot when she had escaped.

Spock said, "She is the woman who escaped the Romulans to warn Vulcan of the colony. And to tell us of all of you."

Of course! How had he forgotten her? He owed her his life.

He remembered her being close to Saavik. How he had heard whispers the day T'Pren disappeared, how Saavik had supposedly attacked Romulan centurions and been captured. How everyone figured both T'Pren and Saavik were now dead. How nobody could believe it when Saavik showed up alive... and with a knife.

Maybe coming here wasn't such a good idea. When they found out about the memorial, he and Jdehn thought they'd -- well, pay their respects. But actually being here and remembering all this...

Silence hung like a thick layer of fog, a tangible atmosphere that the small pockets of visitors moved through. He felt like he breathed it in and it seeped into his bones.

He ran a hand down his light gray tunic, wiping off the sweat he imagined was there. He wore the shirt over yet another pair of muddy brown pants. Jdehn had went on for some time about his lousy clothes, asking him who had ever taught him to pick them out. His mom -- by adoption -- often scolded him for the same thing, but his dad once pulled him aside and said he didn't have to worry about making himself invisible anymore. Arik guessed his father was right. He was still trying to disappear into the background, like he had on Hellguard.

His clothes certainly didn't blend into this background. He stood out amongst the Vulcans. He didn't have their bearing or serenity, not even their hushed reverence or their clothing. But he remembered again, that this was what he wanted when they offered him the chance to study anything about Vulcan.

The soft, trolling sound of a small gong sounded, drifting down the aisle between the marble slabs. As if a breeze caught them, the candles flickered, casting hints of shadow and warm fire on the name and face next to his hand. He wanted to press his forehead against T'Pren's face, let the tears flow so the building pressure in his chest might ease. But for some reason that he didn't understand, he couldn't.

"I'm really glad you came," he told Spock.

"I was not certain you would be. The hospital told me you turned down the offer of a guide."

"Can you blame us? I mean, you're different, but somebody else--"

The Vulcans walked by in the direction of the gong, and they must have guessed who he was. He saw his own haunted reflection next to T'Pren's engraved face and turned away.

"No, I do not blame you," Spock was saying. "I understand your point. However, Salok, the healer on the Symmetry, was one of the guides they offered. I mention it only so you know for the future. You may also contact me at any time, Arik, regarding anything you wish to see or discuss."

"Thanks. Really. I'll remember. Salok'd be good too. I guess I wasn't paying attention at the hospital. Sir--"

"Spock."

"Right, Spock -- where are they going?" he asked, indicating the Vulcans and with them, the gong that had sounded a moment ago.

"A ceremony is about to take place." With a gesture, Spock asked if Arik wanted to see it.

He bet he was going to regret this.

He followed the others past all the faces and accomplishments that made the Diversity crew who they were. At the end of all four memorial pathways, he found a replica of the Hall of Ancient Thought, where supposedly Vulcan spirits lived another life after death. Spock whispered that if they walked all four paths, it would take them a thousand footsteps, the same number as the actual steps up Mt. Seleya to the real Hall. This one was much smaller, its doors in the front and back opened, with duplicates of the ships' dedication plates fastened there. The air pulled through the opened doorways, whistling in the echoed emptiness. No katras from the captured four crews were recovered, except T'Pren's by Spock. The vacant duplicate of the ancient Hall made that loss clear.

A rack of small bells and the small gong that had rung stood in the ground next to the doors. Grains of sand blew against them, making tiny strikes of sound. Jdehn came out from the Constant's pathway, her eyes slightly emerald as if she fought tears too. Mekhai looked ill.

Both of the other half-Romulans got wide eyed at Spock's presence, and since they were here instead of a neutral place like the hospital, they also got more than a little tongue tied.

Most of the Vulcans that had walked with Arik through the Diversity path moved closer to the empty hall. He wondered if he was supposed to follow them, but waited for Jdehn to get closer.

"What's going on?" she whispered, not to Spock whom she still couldn't face, but Arik. He could only shrug. "Should we ask?"

No amount of willpower could make him ask anybody here a question, not even Spock. Not when he was the result of them losing their families.

But Spock must have overheard them. "Today marks an anniversary of the Diversity's capture. The eldest and youngest of the families will gather here during the day to observe the mourning rite."

Arik felt the blood drain from his face. Spock stepped closer.

"Do you need to return to the hospital?" He signaled to another Vulcan male, not much older than them and in brown healer's robes.

Mumbling he was fine and thanking the Vulcan for his help, Arik found himself turning around and putting Spock between them and the healer. The Vulcan merely nodded and moved towards the others closer to the memorial hall.

"Guess we standin' out," Mekhai mumbled, Hellguard still sounding thickly in his words.

Jdehn jumped on him with a sharp hiss. "Don't use that damned accent here! What the hell is wrong with you!"

Even Arik shivered and kept his eyes plastered to the ground so he couldn't see the memorial with Hellguard's thick, common accent in his ears. He at last stared back down that row of faces in the marble, one of them his parent, saw all they had achieved, and how it had ended with him. Jdehn started crying softly, and brushed the tears away with a hard fist.

People turned to stare. Recognition and stillness showed in the Vulcans' expressions, then, in the few non-Vulcans, wariness -- even fear. He heard conversations end abruptly when they saw him. No one came here without having a tie to the lost crews; no tourist could stumble upon it. So they knew who he was, and he knew exactly what was behind the humans' shock. And fear or rage. He saw it repeatedly over his years in the Federation. It was why he never went to Earth.

Then a few Vulcans, still staring, bowed their heads as they would to any of their kind.

Jdehn whispered. "Damn, that was nice of them, wasn't it?"

A few of these same Vulcans broke away and walked towards them. They displayed nothing but the usual stoicism, so Arik didn't understand why Jdehn suddenly said, "Oh no--"

He took her hand. The contact tingled and teased their touch telepath senses. If they hadn't just been lovers, he never would have dared it. He looked around trying to find the problem. She bit her bottom lip, even chewed on it. "That second one on the right. Do I... look like him?"

Arik stared at the Vulcan she meant. He couldn't tell if she looked like him or not, but he felt his heart pound in his throat, choked on it, and then the Vulcan stopped in his tracks. Jdehn held up a hesitant hand, not a wave or any other gesture Arik recognized, but the Vulcans stopped too.

"Let's get out of here!" she whispered. She tried to bob her head to the Vulcans, but the uncomfortable jerking movement only stressed Arik's self-conscious feeling.

The ill look came down again on Mekhai. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. C'mon, let's go."

Arik hastily told Spock, without really explaining. The older male looked from Jdehn to the Vulcans now at a stand still. When he looked back, he appeared at a loss.

It never occurred to Arik before that Spock might not know how to talk to them.

As quietly and unobtrusively as possible, they slunk away, keeping their eyes to the ground, away from the faces and the marble monoliths. The only thing that made them Vulcan was the biology of one parent, and with that parent dead because of his birth, Arik felt he had no right here.

They said not one word between them until they reached Jdehn's ship.