By the time that Spock returned to Earth, he had already been in communication with Headquarters. They'd downloaded the readings he'd saved and begun the process of trying to find the ship that had taken Saavik. So far, the results weren't encouraging.

"We were able to pick up the vessel on Federation defense sensors," an Admiral briefed Spock upon his arrival at Starfleet HQ. "Based on their heading and location at the time, they were on their way into the Neutral Zone."

That was what Spock had least wanted to hear. The fact that her kidnapper had known a Romulan nickname for Saavik had not boded well for her future. "Where is the ship now?"

"It should have crossed into the Zone eight hours ago; sensors lost track of it due to ion storms in the area. Communications have been sent to Romulus."

Spock wasn't surprised. "And?" he prompted.

The Admiral sighed. "We're still waiting." That wasn't shocking, either. "Do you have any idea, Commander, why anyone would want to snatch a Vulcan cadet off to Romulan space?"

He considered for a moment how much information was necessary. Everything listed in Saavik's Academy file would merely attest to her upbringing on Vulcan; due to privacy regulations, only information from her secondary schooling years was truly required. Her medical records were more interesting, but it seemed that the Admiral had not thought of looking there for answers – or had chosen to respect boundaries.

"You are incorrect, Admiral," Spock quietly informed him. "They have not taken a Vulcan cadet. They have taken a half-Vulcan cadet." Confusion was plain on the older man's face, but Spock knew the instant that he realized what the other half was.

"Oh…I see."


Spock had given the Admiral an abridged version of Saavik's childhood, unsure how relevant the finer details would be. It seemed likely that either her Romulan parent or someone else associated with her birth world had discovered that she remained alive when no other Vulcan (or half-Vulcan) from that planet did. It was also likely that this oversight would soon be rectified if Spock didn't find her quickly.

"So we'll go find her," Kirk told him as they sat together in a hallway, waiting for word. Spock had been surprised – and grateful – to find out that his friend had cut his vacation short in order to join him in San Francisco.

Spock raised an eyebrow. "The odds that anyone will allow you to take the Enterprise through the Neutral Zone are – "

"Not worth calculating," Jim cut him off, his eyes defiant. "Forget the odds and forget the brass. You think she's still alive right now, don't you?" Spock nodded. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he was certain that Saavik still lived. He would have felt it otherwise. "Well, then. A chance of success is all I need. We'll figure out a way to get her back."

Spock shook his head. "I will not allow you to do this. I will acquire a small transport vessel and make the journey myself."

"Are you kidding me?" Kirk shot back. "Gallivanting around in 'a small transport vessel' is how you got into this mess in the first place! If you run into trouble, you won't stand a chance!"

"If that scenario does come to pass, then it will only be her and my lives that are forfeited," Spock replied. "It is too great of a risk to involve anyone else."

"Spock…"

"I promised her, Jim…I still do not know everything she went through as a child – her mind does not want to remember it – but it was very bad. On the day that she first shared what she recalled with me, I promised her that she would never have to return there again. I should not have done it; it was illogical to speak in absolutes that I had no way of guaranteeing, but I cannot take it back. My word has been broken, but I still have the opportunity to find her."

Kirk slowly nodded. "All right. Just…be careful, would you? I want to see both of you back in one piece."


Saavik had been left alone in her tiny prison for more than a day, by her count. Of course, with no windows or chronometer, she had no way to be certain. But it felt like it had been that long; her arms and legs ached from being trapped in such a small box for so much time. She hadn't slept nor eaten, although she knew from experience that she could go far longer than a day without either. But she remembered now, being in this room as a little girl. Spending endless days locked away without the basic necessities of life. At least she'd had contact with other living beings then, even if they were incommunicative little animal-children that only ever looked out for their own selves. The adults had been kept elsewhere, and had limited contact with their offspring. Leaving the children uneducated and barely cared for had been deemed the best way to 'get under the skin' of the Vulcan prisoners.

The door suddenly swung open and Saavik's stiff muscles protested as she pulled herself into a sitting position. To her surprise, the Centurion brandished a key and unlocked her cell.

"Come, little bird," he told her. She just stared at him without responding. "Don't you want to see what I have for you?" Still nothing. With a false smile, he reached into the cage, roughly grabbed her by the arm, and hauled her out as if she weighed nothing. Saavik did her best not to limp as she was led out of the room.

He took her down an empty, deteriorating hallway to a small, brightly lit room. A table was off to one side, elegantly set with plates of food. It seemed oddly out of place surrounded by a dilapidated desk and chair and other old furnishings.

"Have a seat," the Centurion told her, and it was more of an order than a request. Deciding to pick her battles, Saavik obeyed. However, her hands remained folded in her lap; she didn't touch the unidentifiable meat or starch that were on her plate. "You're not hungry?"

"No, I am not," she evenly replied.

He smiled, cutting a piece of his own food and chewing it thoughtfully. "Do you not eat meat anymore, little bird? Did they get you all dressed up pretty and acting like a Vulcan?"

Saavik raised an eyebrow. "I am not a vegetarian," she informed him, although she wasn't sure why she bothered to do so, "But I do not require food at this time." Especially not anything from you.

The Centurion sat back in his chair, his smile becoming somewhat predatory. "This was merely an effort to be hospitable; we can move on to other ways of passing time."

"Hospitable?" she repeated. "After I was left locked away for…" she did a quick mental tally, "Twenty-seven hours?"

"Twenty-nine," he glibly corrected her. "You were unconscious for the first part. I had business to attend to, but now you will receive my undivided attention. Undress."

Saavik glared. "No."

"You know that it is futile to resist me," he snapped. "I always get what I want in the end."

She got up from the table. "Kill me now," she told him, "For I will not do what you ask."

The Centurion stood, drawing from his belt the knife that all Romulan soldiers carried. Saavik found its name, Honor Blade, to be ironic; there was nothing honorable about his intentions for that weapon. He backed her against the wall, the gleaming blade pressed against her throat. His eyes bored into hers, dark and hard. Saavik waited for the sharp, stinging pain as the knife pierced her skin, for the feel of her life flooding away with her blood, for the welcoming dark oblivion that she would claim her. However, none of it came.

The Centurion's smile returned and he stepped back slightly. "So defiant," he said, approvingly. "Just like I remember." And while her mind tried to process what had just happened – had she really just given him exactly what he wanted? – he took advantage of the fact that her guard was down. The knife's blade sang as it cut open her shirt from the collar to the bottom in one swift move. Saavik tried to raise her arms to cover herself, but he easily pinned them out of the way with one hand.

"Try to fly away, little bird," he whispered in her ear as he used his other hand to open his pants. "I dare you."


Spock knew that there was no way Starfleet would sanction a little jaunt across the Neutral Zone, even if he was the only one going on the mission. Therefore, he left Earth for the Vulcan Colony under the guise that he wanted to assist their efforts (which were assumed to be of a diplomatic nature) to have Saavik found and returned. Since he didn't confirm anyone's assumptions, it wasn't ENTIRELY a lie.

By the time Spock's transport arrived in the capital city, Sarek had used a few old contacts and favors in order to acquire a somewhat formidable vessel for his son to use. The ship was small but had phasers, two torpedoes, and decent shielding. As Spock walked the length of the vessel while it sat in the shipyard, carefully making sure that everything was in order, he was relatively certain it had once belonged to smugglers. He wondered who exactly his father had needed to contact in order to get possession of the ship, but decided it was probably better not to ask.

"You are certain about this?" Sarek asked as he trailed behind his son.

"I am," he quickly replied. "Do you have the information that I requested?"

Sarek handed him a PADD. "I am uncertain how useful this will be."

Spock quickly scrolled through the file; it contained an archive of sensor readings from the Vulcan vessel that had found Saavik fourteen years earlier, including the course that the ship that carried her had been drifting along.

"I can use this to extrapolate that Romulan shuttle's point of origin," Spock explained to his father as he tucked the PADD into his small bag that was waiting by the hatch.

"It will only be an approximation," Sarek pointed out.

Spock nodded. "But it is far better than having no leads at all."

"How do you know that she was taken back to the world she came from?"

"I do not," he admitted. "Nevertheless, I will start there and travel anywhere that I must in order to locate her."

Sarek finally nodded; he wasn't going to change his son's mind. Spock finished his inspection and placed his bag inside the ship, along with some medical supplies and hand-held weapons. He then turned to say goodbye to his father.

Sarek raised his hand, fingers splayed. "Live long and prosper, my son." His words meant so much more than they normally did.

"Thank you, Father," Spock replied as he returned the gesture. He started to climb through the hatch into the ship, but Sarek stopped him.

"Spock…Bring her home." His voice was gravely; they could not lose anyone else from their already-broken little family.

He slowly nodded. "I will."


TBC...