2270

9

A Discovered Attack

“Welcome home, Enterprise. Stand by for final approach vector.”

Admiral Spock watched the superstructure of the San Francisco Orbital Yards loom large ahead of his ship on the main viewer. A spacedock control officer relayed flight-path corrections to Enterprise’s senior helm officer, Lieutenant DePaul. Seated beside the young helmsman, navigator Kevin Riley divided his attention between preparing the ship to make port and gazing wistfully at the blue orb of Earth growing larger on-screen.

After more than twenty-five years of active service, Enterprise was putting into spacedock for a bow-to-stern refit. Apparently unwilling to entrust the ship’s future to its current chief engineer, Commander Scott had coordinated the planning of most of the ship’s upgrades—especially those to its impulse engines and warp drive—in addition to carrying out his duties as the ship’s executive officer. Scott had spent the past few weeks roaming the ship’s halls in a maudlin fashion. More than once Spock had overheard his first officer lamenting “the end of an era.”

On an intellectual level, Spock understood that humans sometimes formed emotional attachments to inanimate objects, and that ships held a special place in their imaginations. That knowledge, however, made Mister Scott’s behavior seem no less peculiar to Spock.

He also did not share his human crewmates’ nostalgic feelings about their return to Earth. Despite being half human, Spock felt no great sense of attachment to his mother’s homeworld. From the earliest days of his memory, he had always identified with the people and culture of Vulcan, even though his peers often had rejected him in the harshest possible ways. Out of consideration for Marlena, however, he had offered to accompany her if she wished to visit her father in France. To his mild surprise, she had demurred. “There’s no reason to go there,” she had said. “Once the ship’s in spacedock, we should proceed to Vulcan.”

In accordance with her wishes, he had arranged passage aboard the I.S.S. Merrimac, which was waiting in Earth orbit for them. As soon as he and Marlena were aboard, it would depart for Vulcan.

A male voice over the comm declared, “Enterprise, this is spacedock requesting transfer of helm control for your final approach.”

Spock nodded to Scott, who said to DePaul, “Transfer authorized, Lieutenant. Proceed when ready.”

“Aye, sir,” DePaul said. He keyed the commands into the helm, then opened his comm circuit. “Spacedock, this is Enterprise. Releasing helm control on my mark. Three … two … one … mark.”

There was a faint shudder in the deck. Then DePaul swiveled his seat and looked back at Spock and Scott. “Helm control transferred, sirs.”

“Well done, lad,” Scott said.

On the viewscreen, the gridlike enclosure of space-dock seemed to swallow Enterprise. Automated tenders began extending mooring lines and supply umbilicals toward the starship.

Lieutenant Elizabeth Palmer turned from the communications station and said, “Admiral, we’re being hailed by Grand Admiral Decker. He wishes to speak with you.”

Spock glanced at the blonde and said, “Put him on-screen, Lieutenant.”

Palmer routed the message to the bridge’s main view-screen, which switched to an image of the square-jawed flag officer who had succeeded Garth as the commander-in-chief of Starfleet. “Admiral Spock,” he said. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, sir,” Spock said, choosing not to debate a superior officer in regard to what world he considered home.

Decker looked at Enterprise’s XO. “Commander Scott, I want to thank you for your exemplary work preparing the designs for Enterprise’s refit. Many of your suggestions will be incorporated into other Constitution-class refits.”

“I’m pleased to hear it, Admiral. I’m looking forward to supervising the job and seeing it all finally come together.”

The grand admiral’s expression slackened. “Ah, yes. I’m sorry, Commander. I guess you haven’t heard yet. My son, Commander Will Decker, will be supervising Enterprise’s refit—as its new commanding officer.”

Scott’s smile faded, but he masked his disappointment with a neutral expression. “Aye, sir. I’m sure he’ll do a fine job of it.”

“As am I, but I know he’d appreciate your help, Mister Scott.”

Decker’s statement had been phrased as an idle observation, but Spock was certain Scott understood it actually had been an order.

“Aye, sir,” Scott said. “It’d be my honor.”

“Excellent. Commander Decker and I will beam aboard at fourteen hundred hours. Admiral Spock, I trust my son will be greeted with all proper honors?”

“Naturally,” Spock said. “Command will be transferred by the book.”

“Very good. Carry on, gentlemen. Decker out.”

The screen blinked back to the image of spacedock’s metal frame embracing Enterprise on all sides.

Scott turned toward Spock. “Can you believe that? Decker just sends his son to take over my refit!” His face twisted into a desperate expression. “Can’t you do something, Admiral?”

Rising from his chair, Spock replied, “No, Mister Scott, I cannot. I lack the authority to countermand an order from the grand admiral.” Walking to the turbolift, he added, “Please arrange for an honor guard to meet Commander Decker in the main hangar bay at fourteen hundred, and make all necessary preparations for a formal transfer of command at that time.”

“Aye, sir,” Scott replied as Spock entered the lift.

“Until then, Mister Scott, you have the conn.” The doors shut. Spock grasped the control lever and said to the computer, “Deck Three.”

The decks hummed past as the lift descended.

Though his demeanor was stoic, Spock’s thoughts were troubled.

Because the grand admiral had assigned his son to supervise the refit, Spock thought it likely Matt Decker meant to reward his scion with permanent command of the Enterprise when the refit was complete in a year’s time. Either way, once Willard Decker took command of the ship, he would have the run of it; nothing and no one would be able to move on or off the vessel without his knowledge and consent.

If the Tantalus field device is still aboard once Decker has command, Spock realized, it will be impossible to keep it hidden from him.

The turbolift stopped, the doors opened, and Spock stepped out. Walking down the corridor to his quarters, he noted the time on a bulkhead chrono. Decker was scheduled to arrive in approximately one hour and eleven minutes.

Spock had that long to smuggle the Tantalus field device off the Enterprise.

10

An Iron Fist in a Velvet Glove

Marlena stepped briskly across Enterprise’s auxiliary shuttlebay. She used her right hand to guide a torpedo-like shipping pod mounted on an antigrav pallet.

The pod was loaded with her and Spock’s personal effects from their quarters, as well as one vital piece of precious cargo: the Tantalus field device.

Though the bay was normally abuzz with busy personnel, today it was mostly deserted. Most of Enterprise’s crew had been mustered in dress uniforms to the main hangar deck to greet Grand Admiral Decker and his son, and to witness the formal transfer-of-command ceremony. Marlena’s absence from the event was very likely to be noticed, but that could not be helped; there was no one else she and Spock could trust to see their mysterious weapon safely off the ship.

As she neared the waiting shuttlecraft, Clausewitz, a shuttle control officer stepped into her path and held up his hand. “Halt, ma’am.”

“Get out of my way, Gibbs,” Marlena said without breaking her stride. She beckoned a nearby cargo chief. “You: come help me load this pod.”

Gibbs backpedaled a few steps before he planted his hands on the shipping pod and forced Marlena to stop. “You can’t load this pod until it’s been inspected.”

“In case you’re unaware, Lieutenant, I outrank you. And I’m ordering you to remove your hands from Admiral Spock’s property and let me pass.”

“I can’t do that, ma’am. I’m under orders to make visual inspections of all incoming and outgoing cargo.”

Edging closer to the man, Marlena asked, “Whose orders?”

“Commander Decker’s,” said Gibbs.

“Well, my orders come from Admiral Spock,” Marlena retorted. “And he was very clear: his container is not to be opened or tampered with.”

She tried to step forward, but Gibbs pushed back, halting her progress. “That may well be, ma’am, but Commander Decker is now in command of this ship.”

“Is that a fact?” As she inched closer to the young officer, Marlena slowly pulled her communicator from her belt. She flipped open its grille and set it for the intraship frequency, which was carrying the transfer-of-command ceremony for the benefit of personnel who could not leave their duty stations.

Over the comm, Spock’s voice intoned in a stately manner, “—mand of a starship is an honor and a privilege accorded to very few, even in a fleet of this size. To be worthy of it, an individual must possess a rare combination of learned skills and inborn attributes …”

Marlena turned down the volume of her communicator and smirked at the lieutenant obstructing her departure. “Sounds to me like Admiral Spock is still making his opening remarks—which means the ceremony has not yet happened.” She tucked her communicator back onto her belt. “Spock is still in command, therefore his orders stand, and Commander Decker’s orders are not yet valid.”

Gibbs seemed to be thinking that over as the cargo chief stepped up behind him and waited to see how the situation would play out. Then Gibbs’s jaw stiffened with resolve. “That may be, ma’am, but I—”

He froze as Marlena poked the tip of her dagger into the soft spot under his chin. “Choose your next words carefully, Mister Gibbs,” she said. “Because if you try to open this pod, you’ll end up inside it.” With her blade, she traced a line down the front of the man’s yellow tunic, past his belt to his groin, and flashed a malevolent smile. “Or should I say … part of you will.”

Gibbs swallowed hard, then turned his head to speak over his shoulder. “Chief Maas, put Admiral Spock’s shipping container on the shuttle. Now.”

“Aye, sir,” said the cargo chief, who relieved Marlena of her burden and hurried it to the waiting shuttlecraft.

Marlena backed away from the lieutenant. “Wise choice,” she said. When she was several meters away from him, she turned and quickened her pace to the shuttle. At its hatch she paused to make certain the shipping pod was loaded safely into the cargo compartment on the shuttlecraft’s underbelly. Then she stepped inside and closed the hatch behind her.

“Lift off immediately,” she said to the pilot.

He looked back in surprise. “Shouldn’t we wait for Admiral Spock?”

“No,” Marlena said. “He’ll beam over to Merrimac once the transfer of command is done.” She settled into the mission commander’s seat next to the pilot. “We’re on a tight schedule, mister. Let’s go.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the pilot said. He signaled the launch control officer for clearance as he primed the shuttlecraft’s controls. Less than a minute later, they were in flight, exiting Enterprise and cruising above the broad blue curve of Earth on a direct course to the I.S.S. Merrimac.

Let’s hope that was the hard part, Marlena told herself as she struggled to keep her breathing slow and steady. She didn’t expect much trouble on the Merrimac. At worst, they might subject her and Spock’s shipping pod to a routine cargo scan, but the container’s shielding would disguise its contents.

Though she respected Spock’s desire for circumspection and caution, she couldn’t help but resent it as she contemplated the possibilities offered by the Tantalus field device. She longed for the day when she and Spock could stop hiding their power from the galaxy at large—and start wielding it instead.

11

The Shape of the Future

Sarek and Amanda’s home in ShiKahr was packed with dignitaries from the upper strata of Vulcan society, and Spock had begun to weary of the routine of introductions by the time his father led him to the room’s most distinguished guest. “Governor Tomok,” Sarek said, “allow me to present my son, Admiral Spock.”

The governor of Vulcan lifted his hand, his fingers spread in the traditional V-shaped salutation. “Greetings, Admiral.”

Spock returned the gesture. “It is an honor, Governor.” Nodding at Marlena, he added, “This is Marlena Moreau of Earth—she who is my wife.”

Tomok bowed his head a few degrees in Marlena’s direction, but said nothing. Marlena emulated the governor’s silent courtesy.

From Sarek’s side, Amanda subtly nodded in approval at Marlena.

“I have heard much of your exploits in Starfleet,” Tomok said to Spock. “I should hope to hear more of them directly from you, if your schedule permits. How long will you and your wife be on Vulcan?”

“Indefinitely,” Spock said. “The Enterprise has begun a year-long refit.”

The governor asked, “Has Starfleet no other billet for you?”

“I do not desire one other than command of the Enterprise,” Spock said.

“A curious preference,” Tomok said. “One might expect an admiral to aspire to greater responsibilities—at Starfleet Command, perhaps.”

Spock did not let his face betray his irritation at the governor’s insinuation of sloth. “In my experience, billets within Starfleet Command tend to be more political than purposeful. As I do not wish to engage in politics, I find my skills better suited to the command of a battle group.”

The governor raised his eyebrows, as if to convey his sudden comprehension of Spock’s position. “I see,” he said. “So you will have more than one ship under your command when you return to service.”

“That is the current plan,” Spock said.

Narrowing his eyes, Tomok said, “What of the news that Grand Admiral Decker’s son has been tapped to succeed you as captain of the Enterprise?”

Amanda answered quickly, “Such reports are premature. When the Enterprise is ready to return to service, my son will be its commanding officer.”

Tomok dipped his chin at Amanda. “Then it seems I spoke rashly. My apologies.” Noting Amanda’s nodded reply, the governor said to Spock, “If you will excuse me, Admiral, I have matters of state to which I must attend.”

“Of course,” Spock said. “Good night, Governor.”

“Good night.”

Dismissed with proper courtesy, Tomok slipped away into the crowd of VIPs, leaving Spock, Sarek, and their wives by a window that looked out upon Vulcan’s capital city, sparkling like a jewel in the desert night.

Sarek spoke in a confidential tone of voice. “My wife, was it necessary for you to embarrass the governor?”

Uncowed by Sarek’s mild rebuke, Amanda replied, “I won’t have him or anyone else saying my son’s command has been usurped by a whelp like Willard Decker.” With fierce determination, she said to Spock, “I assure you, when Enterprise is ready, she’ll be yours to command.”

“Most kind,” Spock said.

A ringing of chimes turned the guests’ attention to the end of the room farthest from Spock and his family.

Standing on a slightly elevated level of the estate’s great room, Professor Sebok, the head of the Vulcan Science Academy, lifted his glass. “Everyone, please join me in welcoming home one of the favored sons of Vulcan. Twenty-one years ago, he declined an offer of admission to our Academy, electing instead to pursue a career in Starfleet. At the time, he endured great criticism for his choice. But seeing how far he has come, it now seems clear his decision … was quite logical.” Raising his glass higher, he added, “To Spock!”

“To Spock!” repeated the crowd, and everyone sipped their drinks.

Before Sebok could blend back into the throng, Amanda had worked her way across the room to thank him personally. Sarek, who lacked his wife’s skill in navigating through dense crowds, joined her a few moments later.

Marlena leaned close to Spock and said sotto voce, “I know your father’s a famous diplomat … so why does your mother seem like the real power broker?”

“My mother hails from a powerful and wealthy family on Earth,” Spock explained, “one with deep ties to the Sato dynasty. Much of her influence stems from her family’s role in the development of weapons and defense technologies for the Terran Empire.”

Eyeing both of Spock’s parents intently, Marlena asked, “If your mother’s that well connected, why isn’t Sarek governor of Vulcan by now?”

Spock lifted one eyebrow. “My father was a contender for the office,” he said. “However, that was before my rise to the Admiralty. My success has earned me the enmity of the Empress, whose wrath unfortunately has landed primarily upon my father.”

“That’s beyond unfair,” Marlena said. “It’s downright irrational.”

“Such is the nature of human politics.”

Marlena nodded and sipped her drink.

Sarek returned, emerging from the crowd with his empty hands clasped before him. He motioned with a tilt of his head for Spock to step aside with him.

Cloistered in an alcove near the corner, Sarek asked Spock in a hushed voice, “My son, do you have any schedule commitments tomorrow?”

“None that I am aware of.”

“Good. Please make time for a short journey out of the city at dawn.”

“May I ask where we are going, and for what purpose?”

“Mount Seleya,” Sarek said. “There is someone I want you to meet.”

Sarek and Spock arrived on Mount Seleya as it was bathed in the first amber rays of dawn. Climbing the last of the temple’s thousand rough-hewn steps, Spock studied their surroundings. Thick stone walls and high balustrades hinted at the temple’s martial past, as one of the great fortresses of Vulcan antiquity.

A trio of robed figures emerged from the temple and drew back their hoods as they approached Spock and Sarek. The leader looked to be middle-aged, with a long nose and sharply upswept eyebrows. The men behind him were younger; one was gaunt, the other burly.

“Ambassador Sarek,” said the elder at the front of the group. “Thank you for coming. Our thanks also to you, Admiral Spock.” He gestured at the temple. “Please, come in.”

As father and son followed their three escorts inside, Sarek said, “It was no trouble, Tolik. We hope to be of service.”

The Vulcan elder guided Sarek and Spock through the high-walled corridors of the temple. They stopped at a large, secluded circular courtyard paved with concentric rings around a meditation pool filled with dark water. Kneeling beside the pool with her back turned was an adolescent Vulcan girl with long hair.

Tolik whispered something to his two adepts, who stole away into the temple’s shadowy interior. Turning back to Sarek, he said, “I leave you now.” He glanced at the girl. “Her life rests in your hands.” Then he slipped away, following his adepts into the temple’s subterranean passages.

Sarek folded his hands inside the spacious sleeves of his robe and focused his placid gaze upon the girl. He whispered, “She is the one I wish you to meet.”

Spock noted small details about the teen. Her clothes were frayed and her hair was unkempt. She seemed ill at ease and anxious despite her tranquil surroundings. “Her mind is troubled,” Spock said.

“Yes,” Sarek said. “She is a brilliant child, according to all the standard tests and metrics, but she has great difficulty controlling her emotions. In particular, she often succumbs to her feelings of rage. Her lack of discipline tarnishes her record of academic achievement. Unless she learns to master her emotions, she will not be able to function in Vulcan society—and perhaps not anywhere else.”

The litany of the girl’s dysfunctions sounded hauntingly familiar to Spock; it was as if he were being asked to revisit his own troubled childhood via proxy.

A flash of intuition led him to ask, “What is her non-Vulcan heritage?”

Sarek nodded. “Your insight is keen, Spock. She is half Romulan.” Reacting to Spock’s intrigued glance, he continued. “Her father was a Romulan spy who infiltrated our society decades ago. Last month he was exposed and taken into custody.” His voice took on an extra note of gravity as he added, “He died during questioning by a pair of Andorian interrogators. The girl knows her father is dead, but not why he was taken or who he was—or what she is.”

“She will need to be told someday,” Spock said.

“Perhaps. But not today.”

Spock faced his father. “Why do you wish me to meet her?”

“She needs a mentor. Someone who can understand the unique difficulties she faces, and who can nurture her immense potential. Since you and Marlena will be staying on Vulcan for the coming year, I think you are the ideal candidate.” After watching Spock stare at the girl for several seconds, Sarek added, “I cannot and will not compel you to do this, my son. But if you wish to change the shape of the future, you should start by molding those who will live in it.”

Weighing his father’s words, Spock imagined what benefits he himself might have enjoyed if he had been privileged with a mentor like himself at the girl’s age. Despite his reluctance to enmesh one so young in the complicated fabric of his life, Spock walked out of the shadows and crossed the courtyard to stand behind the girl. He waited for her to acknowledge his presence.

Finally, she turned and looked up at him. Her hair was as dark as the ocean at night, and her eyes glistened like the blade of a knife. A fearless gaze and a sullen demeanor gave her a feral beauty.

“I am Spock.”

“I am Saavik. … Are you here to make a slave of me?”

“That would be a waste of your intellect and talent,” Spock said.

Saavik rolled her eyes, apparently mistaking his praise for condescension. “Then what do you want with me?”

“I have been asked to serve as your mentor,” Spock said, electing to pursue a policy of truth with the girl. “I believe I might be able to help you.”

She bristled at his offer. “How?”

“You were born with great potential, Saavik, but unless you develop such a gift, it means nothing. You can choose to lead an extraordinary life and become part of something greater than yourself, or you can choose to live as a failure and an outcast. The difference between these two paths is discipline, and I can help you develop that, if you are willing to make the effort.”

Eyeing him with suspicion, she asked, “Why would a Starfleet admiral spend his time fixing a juvenile delinquent like me?”

“I once was as you are now,” Spock said. “Because of my half-human ancestry, as a boy I found it difficult to control my emotions. My peers treated me as a misfit and an outcast because of my temper. They tormented me because they considered me … less than Vulcan.”

Saavik’s veneer of anger began to fade. Spock sensed he was making a connection with her. She asked, “How did you purge yourself of emotions?”

“I didn’t,” he confessed. “I merely learned to hide them and to use that skill to my advantage, as you will do. Knowledge is power, Saavik—but wisdom lies in knowing how to wield power.”

She held out her hand. Spock clasped it and helped her up.

“I’m willing to learn,” said his protégée. “Please teach me.”

2271

12

Hamartia

Marlena waited in the hatchway of the shuttlecraft Surak while Spock said farewell to Saavik. In the year since he had taken the girl under his wing, she had matured a great deal. The first time Spock had brought the teen to their residence in ShiKahr, Marlena was struck by the wild intensity of Saavik’s stare. Today, as she bid her mentor safe travels and promised to continue her studies under Sarek’s tutelage, her gaze had the same fire—now tempered with a keen focus.

Saavik lifted her hand in the Vulcan salute, and Spock did the same. They exchanged whispered valedictions, and then Saavik turned and walked away to stand with Sarek and Amanda and watch the shuttle’s departure.

Spock joined Marlena inside the shuttle, and they settled into their seats. Shifting uncomfortably and tugging at the fabric of her tunic and slacks, Marlena said, “I hate these new uniforms. They look like dirty gray pajamas, but they’re not as comfortable.” Pulling at the crimson sash tied around her waist, she added, “And this stupid thing gets in the way of my knife and my agonizer.”

“Starfleet’s new uniform code permits a thigh sheath for your knife,” Spock said as he secured his safety harness. “As for access to your agonizer, that will not be an issue once we reach the Enterprise.”

“Why not?”

“Because I intend to ban their use on all vessels under my command.”

That was news to Marlena. “And how do you think Starfleet Command will feel about you countermanding a general order?”

“We will see,” Spock said.

“Can you get us better uniforms while you’re at it?”

“I will convey your request to the Admiralty.”

She let out a derisive huff and rolled her eyes. “In other words, no.”

A tall Vulcan woman wearing a Starfleet uniform stepped inside the shuttle, sealed the hatch, and sat down across the aisle from Spock. Marlena noticed the woman wore the rank insignia of a lieutenant commander. As soon as the Vulcan woman had secured her safety restraints, she leaned forward and said to the pilot, “Lift off when ready, Ensign, and seal the cockpit.”

The pilot acknowledged the woman’s orders and closed the door between the cockpit and the passenger cabin. The shuttle’s thrusters engaged, and within moments the craft was airborne and on its way out of Vulcan’s atmosphere.

Marlena admired the receding view of ShiKahr until she heard the Vulcan woman say, “Good morning, Admiral. I am Lieutenant Commander T’Prynn of Starfleet Intelligence.”

“Good morning, Commander,” Spock replied.

“The reason why the seven stars are no more than seven is a pretty reason,” T’Prynn said.

Spock answered, “I have no words—my voice is in my sword.”

Confused and alarmed, Marlena said, “Did I miss something?”

“Recognition codes,” Spock said. “Prepared between myself and Sarek.”

Marlena looked at T’Prynn, who nodded at her and then said to Spock, “I have served your father for many years, Admiral. He informs me you have temporary need of my talents aboard the Enterprise.”

“I do,” Spock said. “If you succeed, I will have more tasks for you.”

“If I may inquire, sir … why did you ask for me?”

“Because of your personal history, Commander,” Spock said, his voice resonant with implied meaning.

Though his reply was cryptic to Marlena, it provoked a steely glare from T’Prynn, who replied in a tense voice, “I see.”

“Before I share my secrets with you, I must confirm you can be trusted.” Reaching toward T’Prynn’s face, he added, “I must know your mind.”

Marlena snapped, “No!” Her husband looked at her, his face a cipher. Reining in her anxiety, she continued. “The risk is too great. A mind-meld will reveal everything to her. If she’s lying—”

“If she is, then she has deceived my father—no easy task.”

Marlena placed her hand on Spock’s arm. “We’ve only just met her. It’s too soon to show her what we know.”

“If we are to cultivate effective allies,” Spock said, “we need to begin sharing our information and objectives.” He cast a hard look at T’Prynn. “Though it would be prudent to take some precautions.” Holding out his hand, he said to the Vulcan woman, “Give me your phaser, Commander.”

T’Prynn removed her sidearm and handed it across the narrow aisle to Spock, who passed it to Marlena. “Set it for heavy stun,” Spock said. “If my gamble proves to be an error, I trust you will know what to do.” Then he reached out and pressed his fingertips to T’Prynn’s face. At first she flinched from his touch, but he extended his arm fully and made contact. “My mind to your mind,” he intoned, closing his eyes. “Our thoughts are merging.”

The Vulcan woman closed her eyes as she said, “Our memories combine.”

“We are together,” Spock said.

T’Prynn replied, “We are one.”

Anger and jealousy swelled in Marlena’s heart. She hated to see Spock share such intimacy with another woman. She remembered their own mind-meld of a few years earlier. It was an experience more profound than sex, more revealing than confession. Adding to Marlena’s anxiety, T’Prynn was a Vulcan and therefore able to participate in the psychic union with greater ease than Marlena had. She wondered if T’Prynn’s mind aroused Spock, or if the Vulcan woman desired him.

Marlena yearned to press her thumb on the phaser’s trigger. Give me a reason, she thought, her fury simmering as she watched T’Prynn’s face for the slightest hint of pleasure. Swoon or bite your lip like a whore—I dare you.

Instead, both Spock’s and T’Prynn’s expressions remained blank as he removed his fingertips from her face and they opened their eyes.

“I know her mind,” Spock said. “She can be trusted.”

Marlena still aimed the phaser at T’Prynn. “Are you sure?”

Spock took the phaser gently from Marlena’s hand. “I am certain.”

It galled Marlena that Spock had discounted her opinion so easily. In most other matters he had proved willing to heed her counsel, so why had he resisted her advice regarding T’Prynn? She feared he was too quick to trust other Vulcans, and not willing enough to imagine some of them might prove to be his enemies.

If he has a fatal flaw, Marlena decided, this will likely be it.

Spock handed the phaser to T’Prynn, who tucked it back onto her belt under her sash. “What are your orders, Admiral?”

“When we reach the Enterprise, stay close but be discreet.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied. “And if Commander Decker or his operatives attempt to move against you?”

“In that case,” Spock said, “be swift, precise, and merciless.”

With the perfect calm of a trained killer, T’Prynn replied, “Understood.”

13

Homecoming

Spock exited the Surak to find Enterprise’s acting captain, Commander Willard Decker, and its former executive officer, Commander Scott, waiting for him in the fully refitted ship’s cavernous main hangar bay, which coursed with activity.

“Welcome aboard, Admiral,” said Decker.

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock said, addressing Decker by title rather than by rank. “I trust you’ve received your orders from Starfleet Command.”

“I have, sir. As you requested, I’ve forgone the usual trappings of a command-transfer ceremony.” Though the statement was one of simple fact, there was a subtle undercurrent of resentment in Decker’s voice. Considering the circumstances, Spock was not at all surprised.

“Very good,” Spock said. “Proceed.”

Decker handed Spock a data slate. “Admiral Spock, having been duly requested and required by Starfleet Command to relinquish command of I.S.S. Enterprise to your authority, I hereby surrender this vessel’s command codes.”

Spock tucked the data slate under one arm and extended his free hand to Decker. “I relieve you, sir.”

Shaking Spock’s hand, Decker replied, “I stand relieved.”

Stepping away from the shuttle to permit Marlena and T’Prynn to debark, Spock asked Decker, “What is Enterprise’s state of readiness, Commander?”

“Mister Scott and I will finish our final calibrations to the warp drive by thirteen hundred hours, sir.”

“And the crew?”

“All personnel aboard and accounted for.”

“Very good. Please prepare the bridge for my arrival.”

“Aye, sir,” Decker said, bowing his head at the implied dismissal. He departed at a quick step and left the shuttlebay.

Spock turned to see Marlena supervising the unloading of their personal effects from the Surak. T’Prynn was already gone, vanished into the ship.

Commander Scott lingered on Spock’s flank. “It’s good to have you back in command, Admiral,” he said. “I dinnae trust that lad Decker in the big chair.”

“Thank you, Mister Scott. I regret I was not able to reinstate you as first officer, but Grand Admiral Decker insisted his son—”

Scott held up one hand. “No apology needed, sir. I never cared for the job anyway. Engineering’s where I belong.”

“Then I, for one, am pleased to once again have the honor of your services as chief engineer. Take your post and prepare the ship for immediate departure.”

“Aye, sir,” Scott said with a smile that was as unexpected as it was sincere.

Walking back to Marlena’s side, Spock said, “I must report to the bridge.” He rested one hand on the case containing the Tantalus field device and added in a confidential tone, “I trust you will see to the appointment of our quarters.”

Marlena met his steady gaze and said, “Everything will be arranged to your liking by tonight—assuming none of Decker’s people interfere.”

“You will encounter no interference—from anyone,” Spock said with grave assurance. “T’Prynn will see to that.”

14

A Shadow on the Son

“Yeah, they’re settled in,” Will Decker said, hunching over the desk in his quarters with a cold drink in one hand and his head in the other, “but it took his wife less than an hour to find the surveillance unit I hid in his quarters.”

Decker’s father, Matt—better known throughout the Empire as the Grand Admiral of Starfleet—hollered back over the secure subspace comm, “Well, whose damned fault is that, boy?”

“What am I supposed to do, sir?” Will’s father had always insisted he call him “sir,” even in private, ever since Will was a boy. “I can’t just barge into his quarters to plant new taps.”

His father shouted, “Don’t ask me how to fix your mistakes, boy! I need you to keep tabs on that crafty Vulcan, no matter what it takes.”

Sipping from his vodka on the rocks, Decker brooded, You could’ve done it yourself if you’d kept him at Starfleet Command instead of letting his mother give him back the Enterprise. He swallowed his mouthful of vaguely medicinal-tasting booze, and then held back his flood of bile behind a tight-lipped frown.

“I’m doing all I can, sir, I promise you. But it’s not as if Spock doesn’t know who I am—he knows I’m your son. Which is probably why he’s been keeping me at arm’s length ever since he came back aboard.”

“Yes, we expected that,” the grand admiral said. “But that’s no excuse, boy. If Spock’s got a bead on you, don’t come at him straight. Use your head—flank him!” He leaned forward so his stubbled visage filled the screen of Decker’s desktop monitor. “Use cutouts, proxies. Get someone else to do your dirty work.”

“The only people who get near him are the ones he already trusts,” Decker said, uncertain how to translate his father’s advice into action. “Turning one of them won’t be easy.”

“No, no, no,” protested the elder Decker. “You’re not hearing me, boy. I’m saying send a woman.”

Decker shook his head. “I don’t know. He seems pretty devoted to his wife.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” said the grand admiral. “Spock wouldn’t be the first married man to take a mistress. Besides, this is exactly what we need—a wedge to push those two apart. Marlena’s been his staunchest ally ever since he got rid of Kirk. But back when she was Kirk’s woman, she was famous for her jealousy. If you can get some nice piece of tail on that ship to draw Spock’s interest for even a minute, that ought to put Marlena’s temper into play.”

“And if Spock isn’t the cheating type?”

“All men are the cheating type, boy. You just have to find the right woman.”