DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Cheree Cargill and is copyright (c) 2003 by Cheree Cargill. This story is Rated NC-17 for sexual situations.

THE CASTAWAYS

by Cheree Cargill

PART ELEVEN

"RESURRECTION"

Lifting his face from his hands, Spock surveyed the devastation of his homesite with a bleakness and sense of defeat that he rarely felt. The hurricane had destroyed their log cabin, ruined most of their belongings and food supplies, ravaged the surrounding area, and befouled the spring that supplied their drinking water. While the children were all right, Christine had suffered a broken leg and now lay in pain and need of medical attention.

Their animals were nowhere to be seen. Scruffy, the hunting cat who shared their lives, had scrambled up and out of the debris of the cabin at first light and there was no telling where she was now. Nor was there any indication of the whereabouts of Mezzie, their mesohippus mare, and her newborn foal. Spock hoped that they had escaped during the storm and were now free once again.

But his immediate attention lay with his family. Pulling himself together both mentally and physically, the Vulcan took a deep breath and forcefully shoved his shock and grief away. All five of them were alive and that was the most important thing. They could begin again from nothing. They'd done it often enough.

But first things first...

Spock stood up abruptly and took command, as his training and experience came to the forefront, his logical mental processes sorting out the situation and priorities.

"Sapel, gather firewood and kindling and get a fire going," he directed. "We will all feel better with a bit of warmth." The boy jumped up at his father's abrupt order and hurried to comply. "Christine, are you more comfortable lying down or sitting?"

"I'm okay lying here for the moment," his wife answered, although pain was obvious in her voice.

Spock nodded. "I will attempt to make you more comfortable shortly. T'Jenn, I want you to take charge of T'Kai and both of you stay close to Mama until Sapel and I return."

Jenny, her blue eyes big with tears, nodded and hugged her baby sister closer.

"Where are you going?" Christine asked, puzzled.

"Back into the cabin. We need blankets, medicines, food, anything else I can salvage," her husband responded. "Once Sapel returns and has the fire going, send him to help me."

She nodded and watched as Spock dropped back into the opening in the jumble of logs that had once been their home. It didn't take Sapel long to come back with his arms laden with brush and small branches. A seasoned woodsman at eleven, he had the fire laid and blazing quickly. It hadn't been easy finding dry tinder in the rain-soaked forest, but he knew where to look. Pine cones and knots provided the fuel to get the fire going, their resin-heavy bark proving an excellent accelerant. Then he went to help his father.

Spock had already tossed a pile of supplies up out of the opening. There were sleeping furs, utensils and food that weren't too badly damaged by the rain, plus some clothing, a water bag and a quiver of arrows. Sapel took the furs back and laid them out over bushes around the fire to dry them, then returned to take a cooking pot and some spoons from his father. Then Spock crawled out of the opening and paused for a moment to catch his breath.

"That's all I can reach easily," he said. "There's more but I'll need more time to get to it." He went back to where Christine and the girls were waiting and checked on how they were doing. "Good," he said. "I think the next order of business is food and water. Sapel, we need to go down to the hot spring and see if there is clear water there. And we will look for any small game that may not have survived the storm. We need fresh meat." Spock knelt down by his wife. "Will you be all right while we're gone?"

"I have my knife," Christine answered with some of the old determination glinting in her eyes, her spirits rising as they began to pull themselves back together. "Go get the water. We'll be fine."

The hot spring and pool that lay about a quarter of a mile away had both sustained damage, but the spring bubbled up unperturbed. It still ran into the little basin, cooled and then spilled over the edge to run off down toward the sea. Spock filled the water bag as Sapel scouted the area. A shout of triumph sounded and then his son reappeared holding two tree-hoppers by their long bushy tails. Their tree home had crashed down in the storm, killing the little squirrel-like animals, and they would prove a tasty addition to the meager stew that would soon be brewing.

By the time afternoon came around, the sun was shining in a crystal-blue sky, all the lingering clouds of the storm blown away. Sapel had gathered more firewood and pine knots and stacked them nearby, and Spock had skinned and cut up the squirrels, getting them cooking in a soup of salvaged spices and tubers. Christine's leg had been redressed and she was sipping a tea of medicinal herbs to ease the pain. About midday, Scruffy had reappeared, a bit bedraggled, but mewing contentedly, and had gratefully taken the bits of offal Spock tossed to her as he cleaned the squirrels. Now the cat was keeping the young girls occupied as Spock sat with his wife and son, thinking and sorting out what they needed to do next.

"I believe it will be possible to clear out the site and rebuild the cabin," Spock said, stirring the soup. "The logs and beams don't seem damaged, just knocked apart."

"Spock, do you realize what time of year it is?" Christine pointed out patiently.

"Yes. It is approximately the first of March."

"Precisely. It will be spring very soon and then early summer. You know what happens when it starts warming up here."

"Bugs!" Sapel interjected, his brows lowering in a dire frown. "Mosquitos. Gnats."

"Yes, Sapel, thank you," Spock broke in with just a hint of irritation. "But what else would you suggest, Christine? You cannot travel with a broken leg and we must have shelter. Logic dictates that I begin rebuilding the cabin immediately."

"Alone?" his wife shot back. "Last time it took both of us, working as hard as we could, weeks to get this cabin built. You can't possibly do it without me."

"Sapel will help," the Vulcan pointed out patiently.

"Sapel is just a little boy!"

"I'm nearly grown, Ma!" protested Sapel, offended. "I'm strong. I can help Papa do whatever he needs! Can't I, Pa?"

"We will all do what needs doing," his father agreed. "On Earth or Vulcan, he would be nearly fourteen and in some cultures would already be earning a living. He is grown enough to help me with the cabin."

"And meantime who's going to hunt for food?" Christine's eyes softened a little and she apologized. "I'm sorry, Spock. I know I'm playing Devil's Advocate here, but we have to ask all the questions and get answers to them."

"I understand, t'hy'la. I do not fault you. But do not be a doomsayer, either. We will do what must be done! We must." Spock sighed and shook his head. "We cannot depend on any unexpected help arriving as it did when T'Kai was born. You know they are no longer in the area."

"I know..." Christine's blue eyes turned introspective at the memory. "I don't think they'd be much help building a cabin anyway." She sighed as well and looked back up at her husband. "I guess we can forget about the cavalry coming over the hill, can't we?"

"That is unfortunately true. We are once again faced with surviving completely on our own. We can expect help from no quarter." A mantle of calm acceptance seemed to settle on Spock's shoulders and he once more stirred the simmering stew. "I believe this is ready. Sapel, would you retrieve your sisters? I believe they are playing in that direction."

"I don't want them wandering too far anyway," Christine added. "I want them back in my sight."

"Sure, Mama, I'll get them. They're just playing with Scruffy. I can hear them." The boy rose smoothly to his feet and started in the direction his younger siblings had gone.

"Now that he's gone," Christine said, "how bad it is ... really?"

"We have been in worse circumstances," Spock admitted, "but it is bad enough. You raise very valid questions and I can only respond that we will handle them as they arise. What else can we do?"

"I don't know. Nothing, I suppose." She shifted and grimaced.

"Are you in pain?"

"Yes, but I can stand it. You did a good job setting the bone. And the tea is helping."

"Good. I will make more later when--"

Spock's statement was cut off abruptly as there came almost simultaneously, from up the hill, a startled cry from Sapel and then T'Jenn's high-pitched, terrified scream. The Vulcan leaped up and ran, remembering another time when his daughter had screamed like that...

* * *

Spock frantically searched his mind for something to stop the blood seeping from his wife's body as she lay with her tiny newborn clutched to her chest. Christine's teeth were chattering with shock and the baby wasn't crying, a bad sign. Behind him, T'Jenn was wailing in distress but he had no time for her. Where was Sapel? he wondered. He'd sent the boy for water and firewood, something that shouldn't be taking this long.

As if summoned by his father's thought, there was a crunch of leaves and Sapel's voice said, "Papa! Papa, look who I found!"

Even as he was turning to see, T'Jenn let out a piercing scream of fright and Spock whipped all the way around, reaching for his knife as he did. What he saw stopped him cold.

Sapel was coming from between a stand a trees and behind him, emerging from the forest like gray shadows, were a half dozen upright beings, non-human, fur-covered and heavily armed with spears and bows. He recognized them immediately and his knees nearly buckled in surprise before he recovered himself. The Lemurian leading the group was Picku, the female who had found and saved them three years before when he'd been dying from gangrene following a goring by a plains beast.

But this was a different Picku from the one he remembered. The Picku he'd last seen had been a child, a playmate of Sapel's age, mischievous and bright. This was a battle-scarred adult, her expressive eyes grim and hard. The Lemurians behind her were unknown to him and were of a stockier build than she, all of them taller and broader of shoulder. Their fur was a slightly different color, too, more dusky gray than her buff cream.

Nevertheless, the Teela'u female stepped up to him and lifted her hand, the long fingers with their black skin spreading in greeting. Spock touched his fingers to hers and immediately felt the connection grow between them.

//My greetings, P'ck,// she sent to him. //I feel pleasure to see you once again.//

//My greetings to you as well, Picku-daughter-of-Char'eek,// the Vulcan returned. //Once more you find us when we have need of help.//

//I see this.// The little female turned her large dark eyes toward Christine. //C'tine-mate suffers. The new one suffers. We will do what we can do.//

She turned and chattered in her own language to her companions and the group moved forward to assess the situation. For a few moments, they all crowded around the nearly-unconscious woman and ran their hands over her and the baby. Then Picku grasped Spock's wrist and her eyes captured and held him.

//We must move her to our camp. Bring your drag-poles. It is not far.//

//What about the baby?// Spock asked, glancing at the still form of the infant.

//Baby is cold. I will keep it warm. First, chew off cord. No need it more.//

//I'll tie the cord and cut it. Give me a moment.//

Spock took his steel hunting knife and cut a thin length of leather from his tunic, then quickly knotted it onto the baby's umbilical cord and neatly cut the link to the placenta. "I should bury this," he said.

Picku touched his arm again. //No time. Leave it. Blood in the air now. Eaters will come.// Quickly, she chattered to the others and they hoisted Christine onto the travois, still on the elk-hide ground sheet, and wrapped it around her securely for warmth. It was soaked with blood and birth fluids, but there was no time here to clean her.

Picku was cuddling the infant against her warm creamy fur and it made a mewling sound, responding to her body heat. Then, to Spock's surprise and shock, the Lemurian opened her body pouch and tucked the baby inside.

"No! She'll suffocate!" he burst out, taking a step forward.

Picku looked up at him, uncomprehending, then said, //She breathe fine. My baby breathe fine.// She pulled the pouch open again and held the flap out for Spock to see. The baby girl was snuggled in fetal position there ... next to a six-inch long baby Teela'u, its mouth attached to a teat and sucking contentedly.

Gulping, Spock stepped back and nodded, speechless. Picku closed the pouch again and now appeared heavily pregnant from the unexpected load she carried. But it didn't seem to phase her. She directed Spock to take the head of the travois once again and four of the burly Lemurs, two on each side, picked up the trailing ends of the poles, lifting them just clear of the ground. The travois became a stretcher, easier on Christine as they bore her away into the forest, Picku in the lead, Sapel carrying T'Jenn and the other big male following behind, keeping watch.

* * *

They had to stop twice to allow the Lemurians to rest and so that Spock could check on Christine's condition. Under no circumstances did he want her slipping into unconsciousness. She was so close to shock that he feared she might not wake up again.

Fortunately, the constant bumping and movement kept her shaken into wakefulness, the pain of birth jolting her whenever she began drifting off. Several times she cried out or called for her baby, but all they could do was try to keep the stretcher as level as possible and move at a steady pace through the forest. Within the hour, though, they had reached the Teela'u camp and twenty to thirty Lemurians of all ages came running to meet them, their rapid-fire language coming from all sides.

Picku, clearly in charge, directed them to take the stretcher-borne woman to a low hut thatched with leaves like those of a gigantic fern. Inside, it was dark and cool, but the Teela'u female swiftly ordered both a fire kindled and an opening made in the roof material, both letting in light and allowing smoke to escape. As this was being carried out, Christine was gently lowered to the ground and Picku turned her attention here. She snapped a command and before long others returned with bowls of fragrant, steaming water, softly tanned skins and woven cloths.

Spock was kneeling beside his wife, anxiously stroking her pale face, when Picku touched his arm. //Take the young ones and go with Al'qk. He is my mate. He knows of you.//

Spock looked up to find the big, burly male who had trailed them now standing in the doorway. The Vulcan exchanged nods with him, then asked mentally of Picku, //What about Christine and the baby?//

//I am healer here now. Do not worry.//

She shooed them from the hut and then, assisted by two more females, turned her attention to the woman and child.

* * *

When Spock was next summoned to Picku's hut, he found his wife magically transformed. Though still weak, she was awake and alert, lying in a dry bed of furs, the new baby contentedly nursing at her breast. Looking up, Christine let a radiant smile spread over her face and held out her free hand to him. He took it then settled cross-legged beside her, leaning to give her a light, but heart-felt kiss.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

"Like I just had a baby," she grinned back. "Other than that, not too bad." She looked down at the tiny dark head. "Isn't she gorgeous?"

"Indeed." Spock was silent for several minutes as the two of them let their gazes rest on the newest member of their family. Tiny but perfect, the infant was the picture of her father's people, porcelain skin tinted a faint green, elfin-featured and capped with midnight hair. "I have seldom seen a more beautiful child."

Christine's eyes crinkled with amusement. "And how many newborns have you actually seen?"

Spock allowed his brows to lift marginally. "She makes four, actually."

Christine had been thinking "three" and the death of one of her children leaped back to twist her heart. "She looks like T'Larin, doesn't she?" It was a whisper, veiled in sudden tears.

"T'Larin had blue eyes," Spock reminded her, although his throat too was unusually tight. "I believe this child will possess my eye color. Or perhaps even a darker shade. Some members of my family have eyes that are almost black." He lightly stroked the baby's silky cheek. It caused the child to pause for a second in her suckling, then renew her nursing at her mother's nipple.

The little family fell into silence again, the parents unable to tear their gazes from the diminutive infant. At long last, her nursing slowed and her face eased into sleep, her mouth working now and then reflexively. Christine disengaged the baby from her nipple and closed her tunic, settling into a more comfortable position.

"Are you still agreeable to the name we discussed?" Spock asked softly, his index finger grasped firmly by the baby's small fist.

"Yes. Name thy child, husband," Christine answered quietly, knowing the ritual.

Spock nodded and moved his finger up to touch the baby's temple, carefully allowing the tendrils of his psyche to touch the as-yet unformed mind.

"Child, know that thee has a name and a belonging. Thou art T'Kai Christiana, daughter of Spock cha'Sarek, daughter of Christine t'cha David, of the Combined Houses of Ni'ikhirch and Chapel, direct heir to the line of Surak. Be welcome into the folds of thy Clan."

The baby gave a little cry, then settled down again, blinking once sleepily and yawning as Spock withdrew the rudimentary meld. Christine smiled. "I don't think she's impressed, O Great Son of Surak."

"Perhaps not now," he answered, the corners of his mouth turning up despite his efforts to remain serious. "But she is our daughter from this moment on."

"And whose was she before?" Christine demanded in mock outrage. "I suppose she would've just stayed in Picku's pouch and been raised by the Teela'u if you hadn't named her!"

He silenced her the best way he could think of -- by bending down to cover her lips with his. The kiss lasted a very long time and, when he finally lifted his head, she had tears in her blue eyes. "I love you, Spock," she whispered.

"You are my beloved wife," he answered and kissed her again. "Thank you for the children you have borne me. I would be an empty shell without you and them to enrich my life." He kissed her one more time, then said, "Sleep now, t'hy'la. Rest and regain your strength. When I come back, I'll bring Sapel and T'Jenn to meet their sister and to see that you are going to be all right. I'm afraid Jenny is extremely worried about her Mama."

Christine couldn't repress a warm smile. "Wait until the sibling rivalry sets in! She's not the baby of the family anymore! She'll have a time adjusting!"

"Rest," he told her firmly, then gracefully rose to his feet and left the hut, glancing back for one more look at his wife and child.

* * *

Leaving the fern-leaf hut, Spock made his way to where his other children and several Lemurians were gathered around a campfire. Jenny was playing rough and tumble with the younger Teela'u, laughing in a high, delighted childish voice, all of them rolling and wrestling in the grass. Sapel, however, was sitting next to Picku and they were obviously conversing, for she had her long-fingered hand solidly on his arm, enhancing the telepathic link between them. Sapel looked faintly distressed, Spock noted, although he couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

Settling gracefully into lotus position next to Picku, Spock waited until she turned to him and fixed him with her huge golden eyes. //Eat now?// she asked him.

"Yes, thank you." He reached for a large red fruit, one of many different kinds laid out on a mat before them and bit into it. It was both sweet and tart and was quite delicious. He switched his conversation to mental. //Christine and the baby are settled now and asleep. My gratitude to you is endless, Picku'acka'neech. I have no way of repaying your kindness.//

//It is MY repayment to you, S'pck. You set us free from the Teeli.//

Spock gave a small nod and asked, //Your father? And the others? I see none of them here.//

Picku's eyes seemed to turn a darker shade of gold. //They are dead,// she finally answered with little emotion. //I am the only one of my clan left.//

The Vulcan's shock transmitted clearly through the link. // !! // Then he recovered himself. //The village mothers? The children? All of them?//

//All. After the night of release in the Teeli city, when all the slaves were freed and there was chaos, everyone ran as far as possible,// Picku began, her eyes hooded, her gaze far away. In Spock's mind, images of the events came as if he were watching it on a vidscreen. They were memories from the Lemurian's own experiences. //We went to the northeast and then began to turn back toward our village in the baobabs. My father was weak and could not travel as fast as the rest of us, but we would not leave him. It took us four days before we were able to make it back to the village trees.// She paused and Spock was flooded with the pain of her memory. //The Teeli had come there already. There was no one left alive, not even babies in pouch. They even killed the babies.//

Reflexively, Picku's hand went to the slight bulge in her own belly pouch, where her own tiny infant nestled safely. It was a long moment before she could go on. //The shock was too much for my father. He died that evening of grief. The rest of us gathered what supplies we could salvage and headed northeast. We were not fast enough, though. The Teeli were still tracking us and they caught us as we reached the hill country. We were few and they were many...// Again her mental voice failed as the trauma of the remembrance overtook her.

Spock did not speak, too gripped by her narrative and by his own horror. Finally she continued. //Al'qk found me,// she said, indicating the burly grey Lemur sitting across the fire from her, his dark topaz eyes holding her firmly in his gaze. //I was nearly dead. All the others were. He brought me back here and they nursed me back to health. I carry his son in my pouch now. We are mates.//

Spock found his voice. //He ... his people ... they are not Teela'u?// It was part question, part statement. //There are differences.//

//He ... they are Teel'qk. We had known of their clan but had not met them. They are of these forests and hills.// She let her own gaze move up to meet Al'qk's. //I am Teel'qk now.//

Spock sighed heavily. //I grieve for thee, Picku. For the loss of your people and especially for your father. I will never forget him.//

//They are all gone back to the Pouch of the World now,// she answered resolutely. //It is the way of things.//

//Kaiidth,// he thought in Vulcan. He didn't need to translate for the intent and meaning of the word transmitted through the mindlink. //As it is.//

They were interrupted as T'Jenn, now weary and sleepy from her energetic play with the Lemurian children, came and climbed into her father's lap, snuggling against his warmth. Spock pulled her against him, thanking his ancestors that his own children were safe. The little girl was soon asleep, her tousled head resting against his chest. Spock did not disturb her, but held her through the night as the Teel'qk came and went, sometimes gathering around the fire and eating, talking among themselves, and finally moving away to their sleeping places. It was after midnight before Spock finally rose with Jenny in his arms, and he and Sapel retired to the hut they had been given as their own.

* * *

"Kah!" Sapel threw down his bow in disgust. It had been a ridiculously easy shot and he had missed. Now the fat bird had flown, nowhere to be seen.

Spock laid a calming hand on his son's shoulder, feeling the boy's agitation. "Stop and focus, Sapel," he told him. "Say the Kahl'noh and bring your emotions back into check."

"I don't remember it!"

"Yes, you do," his father insisted softly. "D'nel'vahr ni tu'ki--"

"D'nel'vahr ni tu'ki pari'kahl." Sapel picked up the chant and repeated it with Spock, the man helping him when he stumbled. By the time they had said the meditation verse through twice, Sapel was beginning to bring himself under control. The bouts of anger and frustration had become more frequent of late and Spock had been watching him closely.

"Now," Spock said at last. "Let us discuss what is troubling you."

"Nothin'," the boy hedged, dropping his gaze.

"Indeed? As your mother would say, 'you could have fooled me!'"

The boy retrieved his bow and wiped dust from the curved wood. "Well, nothin' much," he muttered.

Spock only regarded him silently, waiting.

Sapel picked up a twig and threw it forcefully into the water of the little creek that gurgled beside them, then plunked down cross-legged on the bank. Quietly, Spock seated himself likewise, still not speaking.

Sapel was hushed for a long time, his gaze lost in the creek's burble and tumble over its course. Finally, the boy ventured, "I just been thinking about things, that's all. Pa, you remember when we talked a while back about who my mate would be?"

"Yes."

"Well... I was thinking about how there wasn't anybody for me, 'cept Jenn, and you said she was absolutely off-limits 'cause she's my sister."

"That is correct. And now T'Kai as well," Spock confirmed, having some idea where this was heading.

Sapel picked up a stick and doodled a bit in the dirt. "Well ... the only other person I could think of was ... Picku ... only I didn't know how to find her." He poked at the dirt harder. "Then we came here and..." The stick broke.

"And she already had a mate and a child," Spock finished for him.

Sapel nodded, methodically breaking the stick into smaller pieces. "I thought maybe she might feel the same way I do..."

Spock sighed and let his gaze roam over the trees overhanging the creek. Their leaves were a deep yellow and beginning to fall, drifting away on the eddies and flow of the stream. It reminded him of the time of year it was. They'd been here a month already as Christine recovered from childbirth and the tiny baby gained strength. Christine was up and around again, but the premature infant was slow to develop, only her innate Vulcan stamina seeing her through. Nevertheless, the child had not shown the vigor of her older brother and sister and Spock worried about her health. Irregardless, winter would be coming on soon and they must be at Sea Home before it hit. They would have to leave in the next few days.

But the problem of the moment was Sapel and Spock turned his attention back to his son. "Sapel, I do not know if a match between you and Picku ever would have worked," he began. "It is not just that you and she are different species from different worlds. In my travels, I have seen dozens of interspecies couples and, in fact, my own parents are the products of two very different planets and cultures. As Surak said, 'May we together be more than the sum of our parts.' But it was exceedingly difficult for them to overcome those differences and learn to live together. And when it came to having a child, it took an extraordinary amount of sophisticated science and medical knowledge to allow a mating between them. No other Vulcan and Human couple had ever been successful in producing a hybrid child. I was the first and, for a very, very long time, the only. My genetic structure had to be manipulated extensively simply to allow me to live. It is the only reason, even now, that your mother and I are able to have children."

"Well, I wouldn't care if Picku and I couldn't have any kids," Sapel shrugged.

"But Picku might. There is an instinctive drive to reproduce in the females of most species. That is a universal constant in order to keep the line going." The boy dropped his gave once more. His father went on gently, "It would not have worked, Sapel."

"It might've--"

"No. The rate of maturity is wrong, for one thing. Picku is a full adult now. You are still a boy, yet to reach your Awakening."

Sapel bent his head and buried his hands in his long black hair, holding his throbbing skull. His despair was palpable. "Then we're right back where we started!" he cried. "I don't have anyone! I'll never have anyone!"

"Sapel, 'never' is a very arbitrary word," Spock retorted sternly. "You do not know what the future will bring. We may yet be found someday--"

"And we might not!"

"Our friends -- your mother's and mine -- could still be searching for us."

"And they might not!"

"Sapel, that's enough!" Spock's patience had run thin. "This wailing and lamenting will not change the facts at all."

"If I could just get Picku to realize--"

"Kroykah!" Shocked, the boy shut up and stared at his father. Spock drew a deep breath and continued, "A friend of mine, the captain of my ship, once told a young man who was in much your same situation, 'There are a million things in the universe you can have and a million things you can't.' It is time you recognized that and learned to accept it."

Sapel seemed on the verge of sobbing, but only sighed shakily and didn't answer for a while. Finally, he asked faintly, "What happens when ... when the Waking starts?"

"Awakening," Spock corrected him, again in a soft tone, and was tempted to draw his son close to him, but it was not something a Vulcan father did. Not with a son who was half-grown, anyway. "I will help you to endure it and show you a way to relieve the pain and the pressure. If we were on Vulcan, I would send you to the reldai on Mt. Seleya, as my own father did me."

"Who're they?"

"Priestesses of the temple there, guardians and keepers of the ancient thought and traditions. One of their functions is to guide young men through their first sexual experiences and teach them techniques to control the urges of their minds and bodies."

"So..." Sapel hesitated. "So ... they taught you ... how to have sex ... when you were my age?"

"I was older than you," Spock answered. "I was seventeen and betrothed to a girl who was intended to become my lifemate."

"Then you had a mate to go to! Did you and she--"

"No! The Awakening is not the Time of Mating. My marriage to T'Pring was never consummated. In fact, we divorced long ago without ever coming together," Spock told him.

"How come?"

"For ... for personal reasons," the man answered, uncomfortable with the change of topic. The last thing he wanted to discuss was the disastrous koon-ut-kali-fee and all that it had entailed. He brought the subject back to Sapel. "I will teach you, when the time comes, the ways to control yourself, as the reldai taught me. We will journey through this together, Sapel. And, as for a mate for you ... we will 'cross that bridge when we come to it.'"

Spock rose to his feet and brushed leaf litter from his leggings and loincloth. "Come now, cha'i. It's getting late. We will try a hunt again tomorrow."

"Okay." Sapel got up and adjusted his clothing. "But it really gripes me that I missed that partridge."

"Kaiidth, my son. Kaiidth."

* * *

Christine was just laying five-week-old T'Kai into her basket cradle as Spock wedged the barrier of giant fern leaves into place in the doorway. The wind had picked up and turned out of the north, chill and with the promise of full winter not far behind it. It found its way through the thatch walls of the little shelter and drew the smoke from the small hearth up through the opening in the roof, causing the embers to glow and rise after it.

Christine glanced at this and then said, "Put the fire out, will you, Spock? I don't trust this place not to go up in a flash if one of those sparks lands just right ... or wrong, as the case may be."

"These shelters were never intended to have a hearth in them," he reminded her, as he obligingly poured water from their drinking bag over the flames until the fire was completely dead.

"Well, if we had built in fur coats like the lemurs, we wouldn't need it either," she replied.

Spock came and sank down next to her, peering at the fairy face of his tiny, sleeping daughter. "Is she better?"

"I think so. She doesn't seem to have a fever and she nursed well tonight. And I think she's gained a pound or so," Christine answered. "The other kids bedded down?"

"Yes. Both of them 'snug as a bug' in the creche ... although I'm not precisely sure why a bug would be snug."

Christine chuckled. "It's 'snug as a bug in a rug'. It's just a play on words, Spock. Homonyms. So, chicks all asleep and a blustery night out and here we are all alone. What shall we do with our evening?"

He glanced at her, one eyebrow lifting at her playful tone. It was then that he noticed she had not closed her tunic after nursing T'Kai. Her large breasts were still bared, her nipples fully extended and begging to be nuzzled.

She smiled, eyes hooded, and lay back on the bed furs. "Brrrr ... I'm cold!"

"Perhaps I should get you another blanket," he suggested.

"No, that wouldn't be enough." She grinned. "I think I need a hot Vulcan to snuggle up to."

"Indeed? Do you know any?"

She grabbed his hand and pulled him down beside her. "I guess I'll just have to make do with you!" Her arms went around his neck and she drew him unresisting into a long, hungry kiss.

When they came up for air, Spock asked her seriously, "Are you recovered enough? I do not wish to harm you in any way."

"I'm fine," she answered. "I'm fully healed and feeling great. My tits are a little sore but that's all. As long as you don't suck them too hard..."

"Then I shall be gentle," he answered softly and brought a hand up to cup and lightly fondle one of her swollen breasts. Pulling back a little, he moved his gaze down to take in the action of his hand as it caressed and moved over her body, teasing the turgid nipple and raised areola. "Your breasts are so beautiful when you are nursing," he whispered and bent to drop a kiss on the inflamed area.

She arched her back, eyes closed. "You're just like every other man I've ever known," she sighed. "The bigger the boobs, the better you like them."

"I see," he murmured, moving his lips over and around the smooth globe. "How many other men have you allowed this pleasure?"

"Oh, hundreds," she replied. "I used to be a pleasure girl on Risa. Didn't you know that?"

"That's where I'd seen you before! The Captain told me about this tall, blonde--"

"Spock?"

"Hmm?"

"Shut up!"

He did, concentrating on the business at hand. By the time he had covered every inch of silken breasts, stomach and thighs, they were both naked and she had done her part in reciprocating his exploration of her flesh. He was now on his back and she was methodically working her way down the line of dark hair that extended from his navel south. Deftly, she kissed around the root of the thick, straining rod that rose from the dense thatch of fur at the base of his quivering abdomen, teasing him unmercifully, for it was the area he most wanted touched and it was the one thing she had left alone in her ministrations. Shifting beneath her lips, he moaned and then gulped.

Christine raised her head to look at him, pleased at the expression of utter need covering his face. His eyes were closed and he was breathing open-mouthed, almost panting. Then, deliberately, she ran her tongue full up the entire underside of his erection. Spock's hips jerked up off the bedding and he caught his breath with a soft cry, gripping the furs frantically with both hands. Continuing, she swirled her tongue over the distended head, delving into the weeping eye, and finally drawing him fully into her mouth, taking as much as she could.

"Ai, Heya! S'ran'th!" he groaned in anguish.

Christine released him and laughed throatily. "I'm killing you, hmm? It's just been so long since you had any that you just think you're dying."

"Does it not feel that way to you, my wife?" he retorted through gritted teeth.

"Oh, yes," she whispered, her gaze intent on his beloved face. "Yes, it does."

"Then it is time to live once more," he growled and seized her upper arms, pulling him full atop him. She didn't resist him, for the full force of his passion flowed through her like fire and her mouth found his in a ravenous kiss, their tongues dueling frantically against one another. Her thighs slid apart as she straddled his hips and at once he was probing upward in search of her entryway. For a moment, he could not find what he sought, then she shifted her position a bit and reached between them to grasp and guide him in. With a groan, he locked into place and his hips slammed up to drive him home.

Christine gasped against his mouth as both pain and pleasure lanced through her. It was the first time in several months he had been within her and her body had forgotten how sweet and aching it could be. He felt it through their bond and paused in his thrusting.

"T'hy'la? Am I hurting you?"

"No. No, just for a second. Don't stop, Spock! Oh, gods, don't stop!"

Reassured, he resumed the pumping of his hips. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed herself upright, the action changing the angle of their bodies so that his erection pounded deeper within her. Moaning in response, she began moving her hips in cadence with his, meeting him thrust for thrust, the building waves of passion growing with each lunge and answer. He reached up to engulf her dancing breasts with his large hands, rolling and pulling the nipples between thumb and forefinger until he again felt her stab of pain in his mind. At once he released her, forgetting for a moment that she was tender there, and instead moved his hands down to clasp her hips and hold her firmly against him.

There was no need. She was grinding into his pelvis with a single-minded purpose, her body building to a shattering orgasm that was only seconds away. Indeed, even as he realized how close she was to climaxing, Christine threw back her head and dug her nails into his shoulders and something like a nova blasted through their bondlink into his mind. The star within him went off as well and he arched up beneath her, the plasma of his eruption exploding to fill her every inch.

For an eternity they hung between existence and eternity, then slowly the ecstasy faded and they returned to the trembling bodies they inhabited. Suddenly weak, Christine collapsed atop him, sweat dripping onto his hot skin and chilling them both. Spock reached for their furs and covered them both, Christine still astride him and he still lodged within her, though fading.

He made to move her off him, but she clung to him. "No, I just want to stay this way for a minute more," she murmured against his neck.

"As you wish, my beloved," he murmured back. "However you find the most comfort."

"It's just been so long. I don't want it to end so soon."

He stroked her hair, long and braided in a single plait down her back. "We have all night, my wife. I shall be here if you desire to Join in intercourse again."

"If?"

"When." There was amusement in his deep voice.

"Well, at least until Kai-Kai wakes up hungry or wet in the middle of the night."

That brought a low chuckle that rumbled through the torso pressed into hers. "Then perhaps you should get some sleep, t'hy'la! Perhaps we both should."

"Not yet," she answered and pressed her lips against his throat, letting the tip of her tongue tickle against his skin. "You've got me thoroughly horny now and we've got several months to catch up on!" She latched onto his skin and sucked hard, his pulse throbbing beneath her mouth.

Spock felt himself growing hard once more and closed his eyes in surrender. "Are all the pleasure girls on Risa this voracious?" he asked as she moved up to run her tongue over his ear.

* * *

There was an unusual bustle in camp the next morning and Spock emerged from the fern leaf hut to find that the entire village seemed to be preparing to leave. The wind still blew briskly out of the north and he shivered slightly, the transition from his warm bed with Christine all the more drastic because of the lowered temperatures. As he stood, attempting to discern the reason for all the activity, Picku appeared out of the crowd, distinguishable by her creamy fur against the Teel'qk's gray.

She laid a hand on Spock arm and stretched up to her full height so that she could fix her huge golden eyes on his. Still he towered more than a foot taller than she, her head not even reaching his shoulders.

//I come to you,// she said to him telepathically. //It is time for the winter move. We leave here.//

//Yes, I understand this,// he thought back. //It is time for our winter move as well. I was going to speak with you this morning about this.//

//You will go to your den by the sea?//

//Yes. You will go back to the baobabs?// He projected the image of the huge, hollow trees to the west, where they had first met Picku and her family.

Pain shimmered back to him. //It is no more for us,// she replied. //Teeli have it now. We go to sun birthing, to deep forest. Tall trees there and shelter from wind.//

//East.// He nodded.

She hesitated then looked up at him again. //You say leaving to S'pl? He not accept things yet. He is not long out of pouch.//

Spock nodded. //I will. I have spoken with him already about what is and what is not. Do you wish to say leaving to Christine? She nurses our baby now.//

Picku seemed to consider it and then answered, //Too much pain in parting. Say leave for me.// Behind her, Al'qk, her stocky mate, appeared and stood waiting expectantly. Picku looked back up at the tall Vulcan. //I part from you, Sp'qk. Maybe we meet again.//

//I part from you, Picku'acka'neech. I wish you safety. And, thank you, Picku. For my wife and child. They would have died if you hadn't found us. I owe you gratitude forever.//

The Lemurian seemed uncomfortable and squirmed a bit at his speech. //Good journey,// she said abruptly and whirled to join her mate, then they were lost in the crowd.

"What's going on?" Christine's voice asked behind him. She had just finished changing and nursing T'Kai and had grown curious at Spock's absence.

"They're leaving," he responded. "We must, too. It's still 100 miles to Sea Home and witner won't wait for us."

"I know. It's feels like December already." She hugged herself for warmth and drew a deep breath of the chill, fresh air, scented with pine and the odors of the camp. "Well, you go and find the kids from wherever they are -- I suspect they're underfoot in any case -- and I'll start getting our stuff together."

When he didn't move immediately, Christine looked up and found his dark eyes searching over her face, filled with affection. "What?" she asked.

"I was thinking how fortunate I am," he answered softly. "Some women would lament and bemoan the hardships of life here, or become hardened and bitter. But you never seem to allow our circumstances to phase you."

"And what good would bitching and moaning do? I'd still have to do what I have to do, no matter how much I complained. It's illogical to waste time like that. And you're wasting time, too, my sweet and thoughtful hubby. The lemurs are going to leave us in their dust and I'd still like to be able to say goodbye to the friends I've made here. So, let's get this show rolling and then you can tell me how wonderful I am after we get underway."

She gave him an encouraging little shove and ducked back into the hut where the baby had begun to fret once again.

* * *

The first fat snowflakes were swirling down from a low leaden sky as Spock topped the rise and looked down through the trees at the roughly built cabin below. "Oh, what a lovely sight!" Christine commented as she came to stand beside him. They had been traveling for nine days and the weather had grown steadily colder and damper as they neared the sea. "Looks like we didn't get here a minute too soon."

The children had joined them. "Whassat?" asked T'Jenn, holding her brother's hand.

"It's home, silly," he answered.

"Home?"

"You were born there, sweetie," Christine supplied and, for a few seconds, her memories went back to the hard labor and birth of her elder daughter. As if hearing her thoughts, T'Kai, snug in her carry cloth, squirmed and whimpered against her mother's warmth.

"I suggest we get to shelter and talk later," Spock said, glancing at the thickening snowfall. So saying, he leaned into the travois harness and started down the hillside, his family in tow.

* * *

The cabin had stayed remarkably well-sealed since their last visit, Christine thought. That was... Good lord! T'Jenn had been born that winter and she was nearly four! In between time, they had gone through the horrible events in Lemuria, then fled north to find Eden Valley. The volcano had erupted the next winter and they'd gone back to Home Valley and built their sodhouse addition. They'd wintered over there and would have done so again if the summer and fall hadn't been so dry and all the game moved south. Christine shook her head. Where had the years gone? She turned her attention back to the log cabin.

Dust lay thickly over everything and cobwebs festooned the ceiling beams. Mice and tree hoppers had taken up residence and gnawed on the sparse furniture, which Spock had spent so much time and labor building. That could be repaired, however, in the long winter months to come. The cabin had a sad air of abandonment about it, but at least they hadn't had to evict a beardog or hill lion from the premises. The small critters she could deal with ... or Scruffy would. The hunting cat was a superb mouser! A good cleaning and airing out would work wonders, something Christine planned to start early the next morning, if the weather permitted.

Again she shook her head. It was unusual to see snow this far south and it worried her. Up north, they had experienced some real "blue northers" and blizzards, but usually the warm current off the Southern Sea kept winter pretty much at bay. They might be in for a hell of a winter this time. But there was nothing they could do in any case but batten down and weather. In the meantime, all she wanted was a fire in the fireplace, some hot food, and a good night's sleep. The journey had been longer than she cared to admit and she was experiencing that exhaustion that all mothers of tiny babies was go through, aggravated by their circumstances and by T'Kai's continued sickliness.

That worried her more than she wanted to admit, too. As a nurse, she'd done her rounds in pediatrics and NICU during her training and she could never forget the tiny preemies who had captured her heart there. Not all of them had gone home in their mother's arms, despite 23rd century medicine. Her throat constricted as she looked down at her own little daughter and she sent up a prayer before turning back to the needs at hand.

There was firewood left from their last winter here, stacked outside the cabin. It was dry and thickly crusted with lichen, well-seasoned and easily sparked into flame. It didn't take Spock long to have the hearth blazing. While the cabin warmed up, Christine found a broom she had left and swept the area in front of the fireplace clean. Then she got out the leftover travel food and had it heating while they laid down their bedding furs and settled onto them. Soon they were enjoying their first meal indoors in a very long time. Outside, the snow continued to fall silently as day faded into a dull twilight.

There was a small sound at the door, at first almost hidden by the homey noises and popping of the fire, but then it came again, louder. Sapel jumped to his feet and rushed to unbolt the door, opening it a crack.

Scruffy slipped in and shook herself vigorously, ridding her spotted golden coat of accumulated snow. Then she peered up at the boy and gave a scratchy meow as if to say, "What took you so long? It's cold out there!" With that, she strolled regally to the fireside and sat down to groom herself.

The hunting cat had been absent during their stay with the Teel'qk. She and her nearly grown kittens had disappeared into the woods when the lemuroids had come on the scene and the family had not seen them during that entire time. Once on the trail again, Scruffy alone had turned up to journey with them, but there had been no further sign of the kittens. Were they dead or off on their own? No one could say and they were never seen again.

Scruffy herself did not seem perturbed so Spock concluded that, whatever had occurred during those five or six weeks, it was as nature intended and there was nothing they could do. It was the way of things. Kaiidth. It was a hard lesson but a fact of life in this wilderness. They had continued south and looked to their own survival.

Now, as night fell and the snow blanketed all around in silence, he was thankful to be snug in their home with his family safe around him. Scruffy abruptly leaped into the darkness at the far side of the cabin in pursuit of a mouse and Sapel and T'Jenn scrambled up to follow her, their weariness temporarily abated by food and the knowledge that they were home now. Their youthful exuberance was soothing and contentment seemed to spread with the firelight flickering on the beams.

Spock poked up the fire and added another log as Christine opened her tunic and offered a breast to her baby. T'Kai fussed and refused it at first, but the woman teased the baby's mouth with the turgid nipple and was rewarded when the child turned her face to her mother's breast and began to suckle. With a sigh, Christine cradled the infant and caressed the small dark head.

"I think her fever is back," she said quietly. "I know that cold wind wasn't good for her."

"It is her Vulcan physiology," Spock replied, lounging back and stroking a light finger over his daughter's silky black hair. "She would thrive better in a climate more like my home."

"No chance of that at the moment," his wife answered. "We'll just have to keep her as warm as possible. Maybe she'll get better now that we're here."

"I too hope that is the case." Spock continued to thoughtfully run his finger over the baby's head. "But I believe she will come through all right. I was premature and my Vulcan genes aided in my growth."

"Yes, but your parents had all the benefits of a top notch medical center at their disposal and, anyway, you were only considered premature because Vulcan gestation is ten months instead of nine," Christine pointed out. "If your mother could have carried you another month, you would never have seen the inside of an incubator!"

He shrugged, conceding her point, still stroking the infant's head. "Nevertheless, I can feel the strength in T'Kai. I feel the spirits of my Ancestors ... her Ancestors ... working to bring her through this. This baby is the great-great-granddaughter of T'Pau and I feel that same determination in our child. She will be a formidable woman when she is grown."

Christine felt a chill go over her that had nothing to do with the cold. Despite her husband's logical, scientific upbringing, there was a mystical side to him that came through now and again. She had always thought of Vulcan ancestor reverence as a primitive religion, but it was very real to him. He actually seemed to commune with his long-dead forebearers at times when he meditated. It frightened her because she expected ghostly apparitions to appear from time to time. Of course, it was all in his mind ... literally. Those Ancestors were part of his katra and it was ... you should pardon the expression ... logical, she supposed, that her Vulcan daughter would have inherited that as well.

Still, she didn't want to think about it tonight. "Why don't you get those two ready for bed?" she asked, nodding to her other children. They had come back to the fire and were gazing sleepily into the flames. "I think they're fading fast." She disengaged T'Kai from her nipple and put the child up to her shoulder, gently patting her back.

"I think we shall all turn in early tonight," Spock agreed.

The baby burped softly and Christine said, "Good girl! Let's have dessert now." She put the child to her other breast to nurse. "Do we have water, Spock?"

"Enough for tonight. I will fetch more in the morning." He got to his feet to put his elder two children to bed.

Christine cast an eye ceilingward where the wind was soughing over the timbers. "If you can get to the creek in the morning," she opined and shivered slightly once more.

* * *

Snow fell throughout the night and all the next day, but by nightfall it had begun to taper off. By the time the children were ready for bed, the clouds had blown away and the last of them scudded across the faces of the three rising moons. Christine had kept her family busy that day. The cabin had been cleaned as thoroughly as they could manage and put back in order. Bowls of snow were melted and heated, then used to scrub the stone-flagged floor and hearth, the crude table and chairs, and the stone sleeping area at the back of the cabin. After she was satisfied there, she sent Spock and Sapel out to bring in more firewood while she did a comprehensive inventory of the storage bins. Not surprisingly, nothing had survived the four-year absence. Either it had rotted away or been eaten by mice and other small creatures. The only food they had was what they'd brought with them and that would only last about a week if they were careful.

By nightfall, Christine ached all over and was sweaty and smudged from the house cleaning. The children were given baths with more heated snowmelt but Christine didn't have the energy to bathe herself, even though she knew she needed it. Spock took in her fatigue and told his son, "Sapel, your mother and I are going down to the hot spring. Jenn and the baby are asleep and you go to bed yourself. If you need us, shout. I will hear you. Otherwise, we will return before very long."

"Sure, Pa. We'll be okay." The boy yawned and got into his sleeping furs, closing his eyes. He appeared to fall asleep himself almost immediately.

Spock led his wife out into the moonlit snow and made sure the cabin door was secure. Christine was standing behind him, clutching her furs about her and looking puzzled. "Spock, why are we going way down there at this time of night?"

"Because you need a long soak in a hot bath," he answered and ushered her into the trees. The hot spring that trickled out of the rocks and into a small pool was less than a quarter mile from their cabin, an easy walk even through several inches of virgin snow. They felt the ambient warmth of the surrounding air even before they reached the clearing and the clouds of steam rising from its surface. Christine had to admit that her tired body already felt renewed before she and Spock had stripped off and waded into the almost too-hot water.

They moved to the lower end of the pool where the water was cooler and where it splashed over a small cataract before running away down the hillside toward the sea. The rock basin that held the pond was little larger than a swimming pool, about five feet at its deepest and floored with clean, soft sand. The two settled into an area about two feet deep and for a while used the sand to scrub themselves and each other clean of the day's grime. As they did, Christine related what she had found regarding their supplies.

"Sapel and I will go hunting tomorrow," Spock said, rubbing sand over one of her shoulders and down her arm.

She reciprocated the action on his body. "Your first target can be those damned tree hoppers up in the rafters. "If you can clear them out, we'll have squirrel stew."

"Yes. We must eradicate them in any case," Spock agreed. "But there aren't more than two meals there. We should be able to find game in the woods. Also, we will attempt to snare geese on the marsh. There should be large flocks wintering over."

"Mmmm... Wash my back, will you?" She presented her bare back to Spock and he obligingly scrubbed down her spine. "Oh, that is wonderful! Mmmm... We need to look for fruits and vegetables, too. I should be able to dig up cattail roots around the marsh. They should still be good. Ohh... And after the snow clears, we can look for nuts and ... pine cones..." She groaned and leaned back against him. "That feels so good."

He slipped his arms around her and cupped her breasts, bending to nuzzle her neck. She reached one arm back until she could stroke the back of his head, then turned her upper body and lifted her face to his. As their lips met and the tips of their tongues danced, Spock massaged the full globes in his hands and was rewarded as she moaned into his mouth.

He shifted their positions until Christine lay cradled in the crook of his left arm, her hips across his lap, then he let his right hand slide down her belly to the thick patch of hair at the juncture of her thighs. Obligingly, she spread her legs apart for him, giving a little gasp as the hot water invaded her most sensitive parts. Then his fingers were there as well, stroking and gently probing, massaging and teasing. Christine closed her eyes and threw her head back, sinking completely into the blissful, rapturous sensations. She slid her hand up over his chest and found the hard little nipple amidst the wiry hair, its rigid nature echoing the larger erection she was feeling against her buttocks, and with delight she began to tweak and roll the nub beneath her fingertips.

He bent to kiss her again, his tongue pushing full into her mouth, and his own fingers slipped lower, finding her opening and plunging inside, moving rapidly in and out. Christine bucked and pinched his nipple harder, mimicking his actions, her tongue dueling with his as their open mouths crushed against one another, sweet and bruising. Finally they both backed off, breathing hard, and returned to gentler caresses.

Beneath her thigh, she could feel the hard shaft of his penis pressing into her, pulsing in its eagerness, and she moved out of his embrace, turning her back to him. Her legs splayed on either side of his lap, spreading her wide, and immediately she felt his hungry rod leap into place, the tip unerringly finding her vagina. For a second, Spock was caught unprepared for this unorthodox maneuver of hers, then he grasped her waist and pulled her down upon him in one hard move. Both of them gasped at the sudden and wondrous impalement, then she braced her hands on his knees and began to ride him, her hips moving back and forth in an ever-increasing rhythm.

He slipped his hands up her torso to find her heavy breasts once again, kneading and compressing as she rocked against him. Milk squeezed from the distended nipples and dripped into the water, but neither noticed, lost in the building ecstasy of imminent orgasm. He was thrusting up into her now, the water around them roiling in a steaming storm, and with one last surge upward, he came, filling her with a blast at least as hot as the fluid in which they sat.

After a long, wonderful moment, he leaned back, taking her with him, clutched against his body, her legs still spread wide across his lap and his still-firm erection buried deep within her. They rested in this position for a long time, then he let himself slip out of her and the two of them lolled in the blissful heat, immersed up to their necks as they lay back against the bank.

"Ohh, I could go to sleep right here," Christine sighed, entwining her fingers with his beneath the water.

"It is very pleasant," he agreed, his eyes closed as the heated water lapped about his chin.

"You knew I needed this, didn't you?" she smiled. "All of it." She squeezed his hand meaningfully.

"I needed it as well," he murmured. They were silent for a long time and Christine found herself dozing. Glancing at her husband, she found that Spock's face had relaxed into peaceful lines, his lips slightly parted as he breathed easily through his mouth. She jiggled his hand to wake him up.

"Hey, don't you go to sleep," she chuckled. "I don't want to wake up in the morning to the headlines 'Vulcan drowns in bathtub! Wife distraught!'"

He didn't open his eyes. "That is quite illogical, Christine. There are no newsvids here, thus there would be no headlines. In any case, I am not asleep and I will not drown, so you have no cause for distress."

"Maybe you need really need waking up," she threatened direly and shifted onto her side, her hand going down to grasp the now flaccid organ that hovered just below the surface.

He leaped in shock, then turned to peer at her, his brows going up. "Perhaps the headlines should read 'Vulcan dies of heart attack at hands of insatiable wife'," he said.

"'Vulcan fucked to death by insatiable wife,'" she grinned back, beginning to pump his rapidly hardening shaft. She could feel it pulsing as blood pumped into it and the organ lengthened and swelled against her palm.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her long and thoroughly, her stroking bringing him completely and fully erect. "'Insatiable wife arouses Vulcan beyond any control'," he growled against her lips. "Put your arms around my neck."

She did so immediately and he lifted her from the water, moving her up onto the bank before laying her down and sinking between her legs. At once, he found what he sought and buried his throbbing erection hilt-deep into the hot, tight sheath of her body. He was nearly beyond control and pounded into her with a force that jarred her with each impact. She clung to him, wrapping her legs around his hips, and crying out in ecstasy. Through their bond, she could feel the fire within him, the flame of a fully aroused Vulcan male claiming his mate, and it set her ablaze as well.

At last the furor of his thrusts slowed, although their intensity increased, and she could hear his breath coming with a grunt of effort next to her ear. Her nails dug into his rigid back, feeling every vein and ridge of his rock-hard penis as he slammed into her -- three, four, five times more. Then he gave a guttural cry and froze, and she felt her depths flooded with the pulsing force of his eruption. It sent her spiraling over the edge as well and for an endless time she was lying not at the brim of a snow-bound pond, but nestled in a bed of red Vulcan sands, burning and silken against her skin, baking her to the core with their heat and caress.

Then Spock gave a great sigh and collapsed against her, spent. They lay in each others arms until both began to shiver, coming back to reality. "We must get back to the cabin," he said in a hoarse whisper. "We will catch pneumonia if we stay here in the cold."

She nodded and released him. He rose and retrieved their clothing and furs, rubbing them both hurriedly dry before they redressed. As they made their way quickly back up the snow trail toward their cabin, Christine smiled up at him, her breath coming in a plume, and said, "Funny, I'm not tired at all anymore. I feel like I could go ten rounds with you tonight!"

Spock shook his head and urged her on toward the cabin. "Insatiable!" he commented, almost to himself.

* * *

Christine straightened and pushed her hands into the small of her back, popping out the kinks in her backbone. "What is going on out there?" she asked, almost rhetorically.

Spock turned to see what she meant. Christine was looking out to sea where a great flock of seabirds were diving repeatedly into a small area not far offshore. The birds seemed almost frenzied in their actions.

"Are they attacking something?" she asked.

The family was gathered on the beach, searching for clams and crabs caught in tidal pools. Jenny was spending her time collecting seashells and the baby was strapped to Christine's back underneath her fur parka. The early snow had long since melted away, but the wind off the ocean was chill and left no doubt that winter still held the land in its grips.

Sapel came up to join his parents, also puzzled by the strange behavior of the seabirds. "I think they're fishing," he said. "I think there's a shoal of fish out there."

"You could be right," Spock agreed.

As they watched dolphins began leaping out of the water and thrashing the waves into a foam. There was something sparkling like effervescent bubbles, too, all about the spot. The Vulcan shaded his eyes with his hand and strained to see. "There are fish there!" he stated. "Lots of them! They're jumping out of the water to get away from the dolphins."

"That's not doing them any good," Christine answered. "They're caught between the dolphins and the birds. Oh, my God, look at that!!"

Something else had come shooting up out of the water -- a long thin neck with a serpent head attached. It snapped with blinding speed at the flashing little fish, then dived down below the waves again.

"It's a sea monster!" Christine exclaimed. "We haven't seen any of those things since Sapel was little!" She shuddered, remembering how close they had come to losing their son to one of the vicious ocean-going reptiles.

"Obviously they are back in these waters," Spock replied. "We shall have to be more cautious when we come down to the beach now. I do not think they will bother us since the only time we saw them come ashore was when the seals were here, but nevertheless..."

Sapel was watching with wide eyes. He had vivid memories of the time one of the plesiosaurs had nearly caught him on the beach and he had the scars on his right foot to prove it. Surreptitiously, he edged farther away from the waterline.

But Christine still had her gaze locked on the plethora of fish and the carnage going on a quarter mile off shore. They had been only marginally successful in their search for food, scouring the countryside for anything edible. Spock and Sapel had brought home meat regularly, but there was still an edge of hunger that never went away. All of them had grown steadily thinner as the winter progressed and their hunt for food had brought them to the seashore, where they harvested anything edible they could find -- clams, crabs, seaweed, rock-clingers, and little lobster-like crustaceans. Now Christine was looking at a bounty of food, all of it just out of their reach.

"Spock..." she mused speculatively. "Can you make a boat?"

* * *

"Christine, I said no and that is the end of this discussion!"

Spock's gaze was level and deadly. She had seen the same expression of finality boring through miscreant junior officers who dared to presume upon the First Officer's authority. Or maybe it was a Vulcan husband's authority she was facing. Either way, all of his granite-hard stubbornness had kicked into high gear and she knew she could not win this one.

"Okay, okay. Don't get your shorts in a twist," she sighed and turned away.

There was a few seconds of silence then, "My shorts? Christine, I am not wearing shorts."

It was the note that broke the tension. She burst out laughing. "Never mind," she answered when she could talk again. "Lord!" She turned back to him, grinning.

Spock had that perpetually befuddled look on his face again and that sent her back into gales of laughter. This response only caused an eyebrow to soar higher and she had to lean against a tree for support. Crossing his arms, this time his brows lowered over deep brown eyes growing annoyed.

"I'm sorry," Christine finally gasped and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry. You're right. As always. I don't suppose the boat idea was a very good one."

"It is merely a highly impractical one," her husband replied, arms still crossed. He continued to peer at her as if expecting a total collapse from mirth. "As I told you, the only two sort of watercraft I might be able to construct are a dugout canoe or a raft. Neither would be seaworthy and, in any case, I do not possess the skills to build such a craft. Even if I did, I would not trust either one on the open water with the plesiosaurs and who knows what other beasts out there."

"Well, it was just an idea," Christine said, moving her gaze out to the water where there was still evidence of a huge shoal of fish. "All I was thinking about was how we could tap into that food source just out of our reach."

"I will give it further thought," Spock promised.

And indeed he did. For much of the day, he sat on a rock on the upper reaches of the sand and stared out to sea. It was a reasonably warm day for winter and Christine brought the children down to the waterline to hunt for crabs and other crustaceans in the tide pools while Spock kept a watch. It had become a valuable source of protein for them, along with the occasional small fish or turtle-like creatures stranded there. Other things they had learned to leave alone. Christine had developed a litmus test using Scruffy. If the hunting cat wouldn't touch it, neither would they!

Today, Christine had set her collecting basket right at the water's edge as she waded into the water and bent to pluck molluscs from their hiding places in the sand, tossing them into the basket as she unearthed them. A larger than normal wave surged up the sand and retreated, floating the basket up and taking it back out with it.

"Whoa! No, you don't!" Christine exclaimed and splashed after the floating reed basket, which had flopped over onto its side. She grabbed it and dragged it back to her, filling the container with water. As she lifted it to pour the water out, she laughed suddenly and reached into it, pulling out a nice-sized silversides! The fish wriggled to get free, but the woman stated, "No way, my lovely! You're going to be dinner tonight!"

She plopped the fish back into the basket and waded back to shore, triumphant in her unexpected treasure. And up on his rock seat, Spock straightened and both brows went up in sudden revelation.

* * *

Thigh-deep in the chilly water, Spock paid out the rope line until he had several loops in his left hand, then hefted the oblong basket in his right. It had taken a month of work and experimentation, but finally he had perfected his idea. Christine had woven a funnel-shaped basket out of reeds, loose enough to allow water to flow through easily, but sturdy enough to hold their catch. Around the rim, he had interlaced one end of a long rope he had made out of water-resistant plant fibers. He'd originally used the braided leather of the travois harness, but the leather stretched and tore when sodden. To give the fishing basket weight and keep it from merely floating on the surface, Spock had attached several apple-sized stones from the beach.

Now, he was ready to put his plan into full operation. On shore, Christine had built a bonfire to ward off the chill, and she and the children stood watching the tall Vulcan as he waded out into the gentle surf as far as he felt comfortable.

Spock began to swing the weighted basket over his head until he had built up sufficient momentum, then let it fly, allowing the rope loops to pay out. The basket soared a good distance, then plopped into the sea and gently sank below the surface. Spock began to pull it back toward him, careful not to put too much tension on the rope line. When it came within range, he seized it and lifted out of the water, the water pouring through its woven sides.

There were six medium-sized fish flopping around inside it, not a spectacular catch, but a good start. He waded back to shore and was met by Christine, who peered eagerly inside the basket.

She gave a happy little squeal. "It worked!"

"I had little doubt that it would," Spock answered nonchalantly. "It was simply a matter of perfecting the system."

She slapped him on the shoulder. "Smart ass! Here, dump those in this basket and see if you can catch some more."

He smiled and did as told, moving back into the water. By midday, they had three dozen fish of varying sizes and species, and Spock was frozen to the bone. He came back to the fire and stripped off his water-logged breeches and moccasins, changing into the dry clothing ready for him. Christine handed him a mug of steaming tea and put a fur blanket around his shoulders, urging him near the fire. Sapel and Jenny were warming themselves near the blaze, but Christine had the baby underneath her parka, as usual. She still was taking no chances that little T'Kai become chilled.

"We'll cook a few of these right now and the rest we'll hang to dry," the woman said, beginning to sort through the catch. Scruffy was nosing around the catch and Christine watched the cat. Twice the animal wrinkled her nose in disgust and Christine promptly threw those two fish back into the water. As a reward, she let Scruffy have two or three of the smallest fish and the hunting cat happily carried them a little ways down the beach before settling down and beginning to delicately tear off the flesh with her front teeth, holding the fish between her paws.

Spock cradled the mug between both hands and sipped at the nearly scalding liquid, feeling its warmth slide down his insides and fill him with heat. "I am pleased we were successful," he said, watching his wife and son beginning to gut and clean their catch. "This should significantly ease the problem of finding food."

"Yes," Christine replied, laying out a few cleaned fish onto heated stones by the fire to cook. "We still can't reach the shoals that are offshore, but this is enough."

"I do not believe that the big shoals are there any longer," Spock observed. T'Jenn came up and climbed into his lap, snuggling under the furs and reaching for the tea. "It is very hot, Jenny. Sip it very, very carefully." He held the mug as his little daughter took a taste.

"Yi!! Too hot, Papa!" she exclaimed.

"I just warned you of that," he replied. "Allow it cool and then you may have some more." He turned his attention back to Christine. "I have not observed the level of activity that was evident a month ago. I believe that was merely a migration."

"Hmm, you could be right," she answered, flipping the cooking fish over. "But there's lot of food out there anyway. I just hope the sea monsters have moved on, too."

"I have not seen any for about ten days. I think they were following the migration." Spock gave his daughter another little sip of tea. "It must be late winter by now," he mused, thinking out loud. "In about a month or so, the sea birds will begin to arrive for nesting. We will be able to have fresh eggs once more. We will need to begin planning the trip back north about then."

Christine nodded. "I think we can stay as late as the beginning of April. I don't like to start north too early. I don't want to risk a late spring snow." She tested the fish and turned them once more. "And I want to make sure Kai-Kai is strong enough for the journey." Lovingly, she patted the warm little bundle nestled against her breasts.

"Of course," Spock answered. "We will wait as long as we can. I only wish that we were able to stay in one place and not be subjected to this nomadic life." He sighed and looked out to sea. "We do not seem to be able to find a happy medium." His gaze became introspective. "At times, I wish I had not destroyed the crashed Romulan ship we found. It was by far the most comfortable place we had on this planet."

Christine turned her eyes on her husband and for a long moment and was struck by how much he had aged since they were stranded here twelve years before. The lines on his angular features had deepened and there were strands of silver in the long, jet black hair blowing about his face. She felt her heart go out to him, remembering the truly inhuman effort he had put into keeping them alive.

"Spock-love, we weren't meant to be comfortable here, remember," she said softly. "We were left here to die. It's only been through sheer determination and refusal to comply that any of us are still alive and kicking." He met her gaze and his dark eyes filled with his love for her. For a very long moment, they were silent, communing without speaking. Then she broke the connection and looked down. "Well, these fish are ready. Who's hungry?"

"Me!" piped up Sapel at once, followed closely by T'Jenn from Spock's arms.

As the family tucked in to the fresh, hot meal, the sea wind picked up a little bit, making the waves choppier and tipped with foam. Far off-shore, sea birds dived and surfaced with silver fish in their beaks, and a mottled hump appeared then sank with a splash before the long head and neck it belonged to appeared and gulped down its own catch of fish.

* * *

The day had been quiet, the evening quieter. Spock had spent it twisting and rolling rope from the mounds of reed fiber he had been preparing for weeks now. He hoped to try weaving it into fishnet and lengths of line for the fishing baskets they'd been using. In another month, they would begin the move north and their lifestyle would change yet again, back to following the herds on the plains as the animals migrated with the spring weather until they reached their summer grazing grounds near Valley Home. The reed ropes would change purpose as well, as travois harness and to truss kills for transport.

Sapel and T'Jenn had been with Christine most of the day in their constant and never-ending search for food. They had come back with only a few shriveled fruits left over from the previous year and a basket full of tree cones, about enough to yield one day's food. The dried fish they'd been eating was all that was saving them from starvation, and if any of them were sick to death of it, none dared complain. It was very nearly all they had. Hunting brought in small game and birds, but by this time of year, the local hunting was poor. Spock had begun to contemplate taking Sapel on a hunt for forest deer, although they were sure to be in the deepest thickets and densest brush, waiting out the last of winter.

Still, he was not discouraged. The sea birds would begin nesting within the next month and that would mean fresh eggs and tender chicks for the stewpot. Meanwhile, they had enough to see them through.

His back and shoulders aching from the hours of braiding rope, Spock gave it up for the day. It was bedtime and the two older children had already retired to the rock overhang at the rear of the cabin where their bed furs were spread. Christine was breastfeeding the fast-fading baby, finally detaching the little mouth from her nipple and placing T'Kai into the low crib near the warmth of the hearth.

Her last child asleep, Christine sighed and covered her breast with her tunic. "I don't know about you, but I'm ready to hit the hay myself!"

"I have never understood that idiom," Spock relied, putting away the rope making materials. "Why would anyone desire to strike harvested grass?"

"Oh, shut up," his wife retorted. "You know perfectly well what it means." Then she saw the twinkle of mischief in the dark Vulcan eyes and her lips quirked into a grin. "I think we should both ... um ... strike the grass."

"Indeed."

Spock banked the fire and blew out the twisted grass wicks on the several small oil lamps on their low table, then undressed and slipped between the furs. Christine yawned and turned on her side with her back to him and Spock nestled against her, slipping his arm over her waist.

"That feels good," she murmured. "How about some wild and crazy sex?" He only made a sound deep in his throat, already sinking into sleep. After a few seconds, she said muzzily, "Ahh... Was it good for you? It was good for me."

"Christine, sometimes I seriously worry about you," he mumbled without opening his eyes. She chuckled softly then silence settled over the cabin, save for the quiet breathing of its occupants and the occasional snap of the embers in the hearth.

His internal clock told him that it was well after midnight when Spock came suddenly awake. Without moving, he listened intently for what had brought him up out of sleep, then it came again ... a muted moan from the rear of the cabin. Then he heard Sapel get up and make his way toward the door.

"Sapel? What is wrong?" Spock asked quietly so as not to waken Christine.

"It's okay, Papa," the boy's voice answered from the darkness. "I just gotta go to the latrine."

"Are you ill?"

"No, I'm okay. I just gotta go."

"Do you have your knife?"

"Yes, Papa. I'm fine."

The door opened and closed and Spock settled back down, half awake and listening for his son's return. When fifteen minutes had passed, the Vulcan opened his eyes and lifted his head, but the night was silent. Concerned, he moved carefully away from his sleeping wife and got up, pulled on his clothes and shoes, and went out to check on Sapel, catching up his hunting spear which was leaning against the wall beside the door.

Outside, the night was frosty and still, the woods around the cabin lit by the three small moons in the last quarter of their cycle. Patchy clouds skimmed across their faces, pushed by high altitude winds out of the north. The moons had faint rings around them, signs of ice crystals aloft. There was a winter storm on its way.

His breath fogging in front of his lips, Spock listened for a moment, then started down the path to the latrine, which lay about two hundred yards downhill and to the side of the cabin. Then he spotted an object on the ground and quickened his pace.

It was Sapel, lying in a fetal position, his loin cloth and pants around his thighs and both hands clutching his groin. The boy looked up with anguished features as his father dropped to one knee beside him. "It won't stop, Papa!" he exclaimed. "It won't stop!"

"When did this begin?" Spock asked anxiously, recognizing immediately his son's condition. The boy was clutching his penis, which was swollen into a tight erection. Even as he spoke, Sapel groaned and his abdomen spasmed, forcing a thick gout of clear liquid from the organ.

"I started hurting about an hour ago," Sapel answered, breathing heavily. "I thought I just had to go real bad. Then I got down here and it got so hard I couldn't stand it! It started squirting and I can't get it to stop!" There was panic in the boy's voice.

"Remain calm," Spock told him gently. "There is nothing to be frightened about. You are undergoing the plak-yuk-tor'a. The Awakening of the Blood. Humans call it puberty. In Vulcans, the onset is sudden and can be painful for a short time. Take a deep breath and try to relax."

Sapel shut his eyes and pulled in several deep breaths. After a few moments, he seemed less tense.

"Good," Spock said. "Now, I am going to help you adjust your blood pressure and cause the erection to go away." He set his fingers onto his son's face and closed his eyes, seeking the boy's psi pathways. For several minutes, the two were motionless as Spock's psyche slipped into Sapel's and gently adjusted fluid levels and mental reactions.

When Spock broke the mind meld, Sapel lay limply on the ground, no longer in distress. "Stand up now." He helped Sapel get to his feet and readjust his clothing. "Tomorrow I will begin to teach you the techniques for control, but now it is time to return to bed. You will not be troubled any farther tonight."

Spock laid a steadying hand on Sapel's shoulder and guided him back to the cabin. Sapel was stumbling with sleep by the time they arrived and Spock helped him to undress and slip back between his sleeping furs. Sapel was asleep instantly and his father sighed with weariness and returned to his own bed.

Christine was waiting for him, no longer asleep. "What's the matter?" she asked as her husband settled himself next to her. "What's wrong with Sapel? Is he sick?"

"Our son has taken the next step into manhood," Spock answered tiredly. "He has Awakened."

"Well, I know he was awake, but what happened?"

"No, he is undergoing sexual Awakening. Puberty. In Vulcans it can happen suddenly and result in uncontrollable ejaculations. If he were Bonded to a mate, she would also undergo a like reaction."

"Did that happen to you?" Christine asked softly, concern in her voice.

"Yes. I was seventeen. I had an uncontrollable urge to go to T'Pring and she had the same need of me. Very seldom, however, is consummation allowed to occur, because this is not pon farr. My father did as was customary and sent me to the reldai on Mt. Seleya for training in the techniques of sexual control. If we were at home ... back in Federation space, I mean ... I would do the same for Sapel."

Christine lifted herself up on one elbow and peered down at him in the darkness. "You mean your father sent you to sex school?!"

"It is hardly that, Christine," he responded, looking faintly scandalized. "It is a seldom discussed but integral part of Vulcan society. We must learn all aspects of control, both emotional and physical, in order function in a disciplined civilization. Humans often view Vulcans as prudish and asexual beings, but this is not accurate. We simply learn at an early age to control our sexual aspects until such time as it is proper to join with our bondmates."

"Well, we're not on Vulcan and Sapel doesn't have a bondmate," she pointed out. "How are we going to handle this without him turning into a raving sex maniac?"

"I have spent a considerable time considering this," Spock answered thoughtfully. "I shall take him away from here to a private place and teach him what I was taught. It will not be perfect but, under the circumstances, it is the best we can do. Go back to sleep now. There is nothing more we can do until morning."

She sighed and settled down into his embrace, slipping her arm across his chest and nestling against his shoulder. "How can he be grown up already?" she whispered. "It was only yesterday that he was a baby."

"He is a long way from being grown up," Spock answered in the same slightly wistful tone. "But, yes, time does seem to have a way to passing much, much too quickly."

* * *

It had been eight days since Spock and Sapel had left on their journey into the wilderness with the dual purpose of slaying both a forest deer and Sapel's personal demons. The day after their departure, a late winter storm had blown into the area, howling winds and snow flurries confining the women of the family to the snug cabin for a few days, then relenting as the winds turned back to the south and spring once again held sway.

Today was warm in the sunshine and out of the wind, enough so that Christine was taking advantage of the nice weather on this late afternoon. Soon she'd have to give it up and go in, for the temperature dropped once the sun had set, but right now it was too nice outside to pass up this chance for some fresh air. She had set up her tanning frame outside, working on the preserved hides of the small animals they'd killed over the winter, particularly on a pair of matching rabbit skins that would make good shoes for T'Jenn. T'Kai, wrapped snugly in rabbit furs, was in her basket at her mother's side. About seven months old now, she was beginning to put on weight and was pushing herself up on her forearms, looking with interest at the new world around her, her elfin face alight with wonder.

Jenny was nearby, contentedly playing "mother" by practicing punching holes in a scrap piece of leather with a blunted antler awl, then threading rawhide lacing through the holes. She had her own baby beside her, a doll made of a whittled wooden knob and draped in an old fur "dress". Whenever Christine would check on T'Kai, Jenny would imitate her movements by cuddling the crude doll.

Christine paused to smile fondly at her little daughter. Jenny reminded her of a long ago time when Christine had been a little girl in Ohio, playing on the living room rug at her grandparents' home, mothering a rag doll that had been Nanny's. The memory tightened the woman's heart, for she wondered if she'd ever see her home again, her sisters or her friends back on Earth. Did they all think her dead? She didn't see how they could still believe she was alive, after all this time.

The soft sound of crunching dry leaves brought her attention abruptly back to her surroundings and Christine looked up to see her husband and son emerging from the woods, a long pole slung between them, the carcass of a deer swinging below it.

Jenny jumped to her feet and raced toward them. "Papa! Papa!" She hurled herself against Spock's thigh and clung with all her might, forcing him to stop where he was.

Looking tired but happy, Spock reached down to ruffle his daughter's tangled brown hair. "Hello, t'cha'i. Have you been helping Mama while we were gone?"

"Yeah! You know what?! We saw birds over on the cliff! They was building nests!!"

"Indeed! That is good news," Spock replied, glancing up to see Christine approaching. "You must tell me about it tonight." He greeted his wife with a light kiss, then hefted the carry pole. "Please allow us to get rid of this load, if you don't mind, t'hy'la. It is quite heavy and Sapel is on his last legs."

"I can see," Christine answered and moved toward her son. "You want me to carry it, baby?"

The boy straightened and strength seemed to flow back into his slim body. "No, Mama. I can do it." There was a new maturity in his young face, a gravity that made him look more like his father than ever before.

Christine backed off. Something had definitely occurred during their sojourn, because Sapel was not the same as the person who had left eight days before. He was a man now; she could see it in his dark brown eyes.

She allowed the two hunters to proceed and they carried their prize down slope a ways until they reached the area that generally served for butchering. There, they set it down, removed the carry pole, and rearranged the tie-ropes so that the back legs were secured. Then Spock threw the rope over the high limb of a tree and hoisted the buck up so that no prowling predator could reach it. They'd butcher it tomorrow. Then he and Sapel returned, their weariness showing.

Christine hugged and thoroughly kissed both of them, then shooed them down the path toward the hot spring with instructions to wash and get ready for supper. She had cut off a chunk of shoulder meat before Spock raised up the deer carcass and she set this to roasting over the hearth. As Christine settled T'Kai onto her rug near the warmth of the fire, Jenny was jumping up and down.

"Wanna go with Papa and Pel!"

"No, honey, you stay with me. Papa and Sapel are really tired. You help me with supper, okay? They'll be back in a little bit."

"No! Wanna see Pel!"

"T'Jenn, don't make me have to put you in the calm down corner," her mother warned and the threat of time-out made the four-year-old settle down a bit. Her lower lip stuck out in protest, but the little girl behaved. "That's better. Now, can you wash those roots for me? Get them good and clean now."

Grudgingly T'Jenn took a bowl of water and began to scrub half-heartedly at the long red tubers that would be roasted in the embers until they split open and their orange pulp softened. By the time Christine was ready to bury the tubers in the fire, Jenny had gotten bored with food preparation and had moved back to her sleeping area where she sat playing with her doll and sulking.

Christine let her be and finished up the meal.

* * *

Spock stretched out on the soft bed of furs and sighed tiredly, closing his eyes. The kids were asleep and he wanted nothing more than sleep himself. It had been a very long week with Sapel, harder than he'd anticipated and he'd had to use some decidedly non-Vulcan techniques, but he was satisfied with the outcome. Sapel would be all right now.

Christine slipped into the furs beside him and snuggled into the hollow of his arm, sliding her arm across his bare chest. "Want to talk about it?" she asked quietly. In truth, she was burning with curiosity about what had gone on between father and son.

"Not at the moment," Spock answered in a hushed voice. "I would simply like to sleep."

"Are you really that tired?" she murmured and let her fingers trail across his ribs.

He felt a tingle inside, but responded, "Yes. I am quite fatigued."

"I'll bet you're more than fatigued," she teased. "I'll bet you're all tensed up, too. You need to relax so you can sleep better." Her hand moved back up his stomach and grazed lightly across one of the flat nipples buried in his dark, wiry chest hair.

He flinched involuntarily and felt his body begin to respond to his wife's touch. "I am not tense," he objected, his eyes still closed, but aware that there was indeed a sublime tension beginning to assert itself.

"Suit yourself," she answered and made herself more comfortable against his side.

For a while, both lay in the darkness, silent and seemingly asleep. But Spock knew that it was a sham. He was wide awake now, that incipient little tingle refusing to go away. And the more he tried to ignore it, the more prominent it became, both literally and figuratively. Christine's warmth against his side was fueling the growing flame and he could tell by the contact with her skin that she was not truly asleep either, but feeling her own awareness of his response to her presence.

At last he could no longer pretend that he was not growing aroused and he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. By the red firelight, she was still stunningly beautiful after all these years. Although her face showed the struggle of surviving here, of bearing and losing children, of enduring the elements from scorching heat to blowing snow, if anything it had made her lovelier than he could imagine. She had earned every line on her patrician features and the silver hairs that were becoming noticeable among her long sable locks. They spoke of strength and resilience, of her determination and loyalty. His love for her surged, knowing that he could not have survived without her by his side.

Aware that he was watching her, Christine opened half-lidded eyes to look back up at him and smile. There was no need to speak aloud, for his longing and need came clearly through their bond. Melting against him, she lifted her mouth to meet his. The kiss was warm and deep, and he shifted more onto his side to take her in his arms. For a long time, they exchanged slow, sensual kisses, tongues meeting and dancing, teasing and sucking gently. She slid her leg up and hooked it over his thigh, drawing her pelvis closer to his and to the hardness that was beginning to press against her abdomen.

In response, Spock reached down to gently grasp her leg, keeping her in place, and in the process, his hand moved up to her smooth buttocks underneath her short sleeping gown. He quickly discovered that she had on nothing beneath it and that sent a surge of arousal through him. Splaying his large hand over the soft globe of her buttock, he massaged and moved her rhythmically against the leather of his loin cloth, now tented up over his growing erection.

"I thought you were too tired," Christine murmured against his mouth.

"I find that you were right," he replied as he nibbled her lower lip and teased it with his tongue. "I am quite ... tense."

She wriggled against him. "So I see. We'll have to do something to relax you."

"Indeed," he whispered and took her lips again, this time with more ardor, his tongue delving deep into her mouth and communicating his hunger for her. The hand squeezing her hip moved to find the cleft of her cheeks and slipped down between them, brushing across her anus. She jumped a little, but the searching fingers moved on until they were suddenly sinking into her hot well, releasing the silky fluid of her sex.

Sighing deeply, she threw her head back, exposing her throat, and his lips and tongue took immediate advantage. As he sucked and kissed the vulnerable area of her throbbing pulse, his fingers continued to fondle the entry of her womanhood, probing lightly inside. Unable to reach her completely that way, he withdrew his hand from behind and pushed her over onto her back, following so that he was lying over her, his mouth still ravaging her throat.

Pulling her gown up to her waist, he slipped his hand once more between her legs, this time from the front. Eagerly she opened herself to his caress and this time he found what he sought. His fingers dipped into the slick juices flowing from her vagina and spread the gossamer oil in a long, sensuous sweep up between her puffy lips and over the turgid nub of her clitoris.

Christine bucked and gasped as he began to massage the center of her femininity, rubbing, rolling it, occasionally going back to dip his fingers in her lubricating flow and return to the delicious torture. It was torture for him, too, both from the pressure of his fully engorged organ pressing against the leather loincloth, and by receiving the echo of his wife's rapturous emotions surging through their mental bond. And yet he did not want it to end. Watching her writhe beneath his manipulations was electrifying, knowing that it was his touch that sent her spiraling into repeated orgasm.

"Do you know that I find it extremely exciting that you come to bed clothed, yet naked and ready for me underneath?" he whispered against her ear, his voice a low, hoarse baritone filled with fire. He licked her ear then gently pulled the lobe between his teeth, his fingers never stilling between her thighs. "That all I need to do is reach for you, whenever I want you ... whenever I grow hard and impatient for you. That all I need to do is roll over and mount you, that there is nothing barring my way inside you."

Christine was shuddering with ecstasy, her eyes closed as she savored the erotic whispers of his dark gravelly voice and the soft, exquisite fondling of her most sensitive parts. She had reached down to lay her hand atop his and now moved it slightly. "There's something barring the way right now," she murmured and brushed the back of her hand against the leather clout. Beneath it, she could feel the pulsing of his manhood, so eager to be released, so hungry and hot.

Without speaking, he took his hand away from its rapturous work and quickly untied the strap securing his only clothing. It only took a minute and he had discarded the loincloth, pulling it from between his legs and tossing it away. As he did so, his erection sprang free and slapped against her thigh, the head already wet with anticipatory lubrication.

"Now there is nothing," he growled and in one swift move was atop her, settling between her luscious thighs, probing for her entryway. He found it unerringly and, hefting himself on stiffened forearms, thrust himself forward, sinking into her hot, welcoming portal. One more strong, sure stab and he was buried fully within her.

Gasping, she wrapped her legs around his plunging hips and drew him down into her arms, clutching him in euphoria as he pounded deeper and deeper into her very core. He took his time, deliberately varying the speed and extent of his lunges, subtly changing position to reach more sensitive spots within her, sometimes moving with gentle strokes, then slamming almost brutally into her. She came again and again, but he held himself back, pleasuring her until he could no longer bear the raging firestorm building within him.

With a heavy groan, he plunged into her one more time, the deepest burial yet, jammed against the barrier of her cervix, and froze as his tight, quivering muscles spasmed in release. For a long moment, the two of them were locked in rigid tableau as his essence pumped again and again into her greedy depths, neither of them wanting it to end, neither sure their hearts would survive if it did.

But finally the fiery flow abated and died, and Spock sank down against his wife and sighed as he kissed her gently. "A week spent teaching Sapel to control his sexual urges ... and I am undone by your very touch."

Christine smiled and tenderly smoothed back the sweat-drenched hair from his face. "It is I who am undone, husband," she whispered. She drew him down into another light kiss, then said, "Now ... now you're relaxed. Go to sleep, my love."

He was too exhausted to argue and rolled off her, onto his back beside her, his eyes already closed and sleep already coming. Every muscle in his body felt like jelly. There was not an ounce of strength left in him, but he no longer cared. He was home, and he was asleep before he could form a coherent reply to her gentle order.

* * *

It was while Spock and Sapel were bringing in firewood the next day that Christine noticed the partially healed scar on Sapel's left forearm. The processing of the deer carcass had begun, cut into strips and hung on a rack to be smoked and dried into jerky. Lots of wood was needed to keep the long, slow fire burning and the two men of the family had been busy all morning, cutting, chopping and hauling wood back to the homesite.

By early afternoon, the sun had climbed and the temperature warmed to the point that Sapel had worked up a good sweat and had shed his shirt. Spock wasn't that warm, although he took no notice of his son's half-stripped condition.

As they dumped another load of wood on the pile, Christine grabbed Sapel's arm and pulled him toward her. "What happened here?" she asked, both mother and nurse coming to the forefront. "Did you cut yourself?"

Sapel jerked his arm free. "It's nothing, Ma. Don't worry about it."

She caught it again quickly. "Let me look at that."

"Ma--"

"Hush." Christine examined the wound with a critical eye. Diagonally across the back of Sapel's forearm, just above the wrist, was a neat cut, about four inches long. It looked as if it had been made with a knife and that it had been done deliberately. Furthermore, black ash had been rubbed into the cut so that it became a tattoo, now scabbed over and well on its way to healing.

"What is this?" Christine demanded. "Did you do this?!"

"I did it," Spock's quiet voice interrupted. "I will explain to your mother, Sapel. Go back to your work."

The boy again pulled away and hurried off. After watching him go, Christine glared up at her husband. "You cut him? What's wrong with you, Spock?!"

"Do not upset yourself," he answered, his voice still quiet and low. "I did it as a focusing tool for Sapel. He was having trouble learning to control his blood flow and turn his mind away from his sexual urges. I remembered an ancient technique in such training."

"But to cut him--"

Spock sighed and wiped the sweat from his face with the back of his leather-gloved hand. "Christine, it didn't hurt him. A small cut on his arm gave him a point on which to focus and concentrate on stopping the bleeding. Once he learned to do that, to stop the blood flow to the wound, he could do the same thing to his genitals, to control an erection."

"Why did you rub ashes in the wound though?" she asked, plainly puzzled.

"As a sign of his passage through his Awakening," her husband replied. "It will be the badge that he is now a man, both for him and all others to see."

"Like scarification or circumcision at puberty in some tribes," she guessed.

"Yes. I do not normally, as a Vulcan, hold with the mutilation of the body, but this was a special case. I felt that Sapel needed something tangible to use as a control device. You have also probably noticed the small leather pouch he is now wearing around his neck?"

She had indeed, but hadn't paid any attention to it. "Now that you mention it. Spock ... is it a ... medicine bag?"

"Yes. An idea borrowed from the First Nations peoples of your planet. I remembered that Lt. Yellow Elk of engineering wore one at all times. It was his right as a symbol of his religious beliefs. I simply adapted its use for Sapel. It contains a small flake of obsidian that was used to make the cut on his arm, plus a small patch of leather that was soaked in his blood. What he adds to the pouch, or even if he does, is now his private business."

Christine could not hold back a wry, admiring smile. "I'm impressed! I think you may have just started a tradition or something here."

"I am uncertain about that," the Vulcan responded, although he looked pleased with his wife's approval. "I merely improvised."

"So, tell me. What all did you tell him? What did you talk about while you were away?"

Spock held up one hand to interrupt her. "No. That is private between Sapel and myself. What we discussed is confidential."

"But I'm his mother!" Christine protested.

"Yes. But sometimes the things a son discusses with his father are meant to go no further." He gave her a meaningful look then said, "And now I must get back to wood cutting." And with that, he turned to follow Sapel, leaving his wife a bit frustrated and rife with curiosity.

* * *

The warm spring breeze ruffled Spock's long black hair as he stood on the promontory looking out to sea. Overhead and across the water, flocks of sea birds, white with ebony-tipped wings, whirled in seeming madness, crying raucously, diving, courting, and beginning their soaring spirals again. The promontory dropped about fifty feet to the crashing waves below. Here, there was no beach to speak of, a fact favored by the sea birds because it limited predators from reaching their nests. And now, as spring took full hold, the nesting season had begun and soon the cliff niches would be filled with chicks.

The new season was beginning again for his own family, Spock reflected. It was early March and the warm weather would be progressing steadily north. It was almost time for their own journey back to Valley Home. They had learned the hard way that it was impossible to spend the summer months by the sea. Once spring took firm hold, the marshes to their east and west loosed vast clouds of mosquito-like insects, all ravenous and in search of anything with blood that could be sucked into their tiny bodies. Fish, fowl, reptile or mammal, all were attacked indiscriminately. Of course, the birds and fish and even other insects fought back by congregating in profusion along the shore area and there they all feasted on the feasters. This in turn brought animals higher up the food chain to feast in turn until the predator chain finally culminated with the most fearsome of all, the ocean-going plesiosaurs which preyed on the big fish, dolphins and seals. Only the leviathans were larger but they, like the baleen whales of Earth, seemed to feed on plankton and shrimp and thus were harmless.

Of the marine mammals, the seals would be coming soon, too, crowding the beaches and giving birth to this year's pups, and that would add an army of biting black flies to the mix. They too found humans and Vulcans as tasty as did the mosquitos, but the flies also fed on seal offal and birth debris, and thus were carriers of untold types of germs.

Spock shuddered at the very thought. No, he thought, it was vastly better to make the journey north, leading his family out of the potentially deadly swarms long before spring here erupted in all its complex fury. There were insects enough to battle on the northern plains, but none of them were as bad as the plagues unleashed by the marshes every year.

"Credit for your thoughts," a voice interrupted him and Spock turned to see Christine join him, baby T'Kai perched on her hip and T'Jenn picking wild flowers nearby.

"I was just pondering the trip north," he answered and reached out to take his younger daughter from his wife.

Christine gave the baby over to him gladly and pressed her palms into the small of her back, popping out the kinks. "Thanks. She's getting heavy."

Spock cradled the infant against his shoulder and savored her sweet baby smell. "She is growing well now," he replied and paused for a few seconds to lay his fingers against the fine black silk of T'Kai's hair. A curious intellect, just forming, tickled at his delicate probe and the child made a gurgling sound in recognition. She would have high psi abilities, he thought. He'd have to plan the training of those abilities when she was a bit older. Sapel had a fairly high telepathic sense, too, but T'Jenn had proved to be mind-blind. She was the most purely human of the three children as well as the most impulsive and independent.

"So…" Christine prodded him. "When do you want to leave?"

"In approximately two weeks, I believe. We should begin getting our supplies together and preparing to close the cabin. If the weather holds, that will give us sufficient time."

T'Jenn ran up with a handful of white and yellow flowers. "Look!" she exclaimed. "Pretty!"

Christine knelt down and made a show of delight at the flowers. "Mmmm -- they smell good, too! See if you can find some more."

"Okay!" The little girl laughed happily and ran to look for other early-blooming plants.

"Stay away from the edge!" her mother commanded. Christine kept a wary eye on her daughter then turned back to Spock. "How is Sapel doing? If I ask him, he just says 'fine' and clams up."

Spock glanced at her and lifted a wry eyebrow. "He is 'fine'."

Christine slapped his arm. "Don't you start! I'm serious."

"He is progressing quite well with his meditation and control exercises," Spock answered. "I know it is hard for a boy to learn to take command of his body when sexual urges overtake him, but he is strong."

Christine was silent for a moment and gazed out to sea. "I saw him masturbating the other day," she said quietly.

"Yes," her husband answered in an equally quiet voice. "I told him that, if all his exercises failed and he could find relief no other way, it was acceptable to self-stimulate in private."

"There are cultures where that is considered a perversion, you know," Christine pointed out. "I know some worlds where they cut your hand off if you get caught touching yourself."

"I am aware of that," he responded. "On the other hand -- no pun intended -- there are worlds, such as Delta, where open sexual expression is completely accepted and expected."

"And what about on Vulcan?" she asked rather pointedly.

Spock paused and shifted the baby to his other shoulder. "We are essentially a very private people, as you know," he finally replied. "Our sexual lives are kept strictly behind closed doors. Self-stimulation is frowned upon, but it is impossible to say how much of it actually occurs. I am sure much goes on in private that would be totally denied in public."

Christine made a small sound of assent. "I agree. It's that way on Earth, too. I told you once that my mother was very religious. She thought masturbation would send you straight to hell. She called it the sin of Onan."

"Onan?" Spock repeated. "I do not understand the reference."

"Oh, there's a verse somewhere in the Old Testament. A man named Onan, instead of having good old normal sex, jacked himself off and 'spilled his seed upon the ground.' He was condemned for it."

"Highly illogical," Spock observed.

"Yeah, but there are a lot of things in the Bible that we think are highly illogical, but others take as the literal command of God." Christine switched her attention abruptly. "Jenny! Move away from the edge! NOW!"

"Birdies!" the child protested, pointing to the swooping gulls.

"Right now, missy!"

Grumbling, the child went back to her flower picking.

Christine sighed and resumed her conversation with her husband. "There's another problem I don't know how to deal with," she said hesitantly. "What happens when Sapel goes into pon farr? There is no one here for him except the girls."

"I know," Spock replied, his expression settling into one of dark reflection. "I have discussed that with him. We talked of it during our week away."

Christine's ears pricked. This was the first time Spock had let slip any of his conversations with their son. "And?" she prompted.

"I have told him that T'Jenn and T'Kai are strictly off limits to him," Spock went on. "However, logically, I admit I can see little alternative. A human might be able to practice strict celibacy, as some of your religious renunciates do. However, the mating drive in a Vulcan is organic. Once pon farr begins, a Vulcan must mate or die. There is no way around it."

"I know," she answered. "And what about the girls? When they grow up, they'll have that same hormonal imperative." She sighed unhappily. "Spock, I just don't see any way to avoid it. We may be dead and it's just Sapel and the girls left. We can forbid them as long as we're able, but I think it's going to happen eventually."

Spock hung his head, his features grim. "I fear you are correct. But we must do our best to prevent it until there is absolutely no way to avoid the facts of nature."

That seemed to end their discussion and the two stood silently, watching the sea birds. Some of the gulls swung low over their position, crying shrilly.

T'Jenn laughed and leaped to touch them. "Birdies!" she squealed.

"Jenny -- I said don't get too close--"

The child made a convulsive jump to grab at a particularly low flying gull and landed on the very edge of the rocky cliff.

"Jenn!" screamed Christine and launched herself to seize her daughter's arm.

But the edge gave way at the same instant and Jenny disappeared with a terrified shriek.

"Here!" Spock shoved T'Kai back into Christine's arms and flung himself down onto his stomach, peering anxiously over the edge. "Jenny!"

"Do you see her?! Jenny!"

"Jenny!" Spock called again, ignoring his wife and the frantic swirl of gulls swooping around them.

Spock was silent for a moment then said, "I see her. She's on a little ledge about halfway down."

"Is she all right?" Christine asked in a quavering voice.

"I can't tell. She appears to be unconscious."

Pounding footsteps announced the arrival of Sapel, spear in hand, alerted by the screams and ready to do battle. "What happened?" he demanded.

"Jenny, oh, Jenny!" was all his mother could get out, tears starting down her face as she stood clutching her baby close to her. A bit too close, perhaps, for T'Kai began to whimper in protest.

Christine didn't need to elaborate. Sapel instantly figured out what had happened and edged closer to his father, who was still peering over the precipice.

"Is she dead?" Sapel asked quietly so that Christine wouldn't hear.

"I don't believe so," Spock answered, equally quiet. "No. I just saw her move." He lay for a few minutes longer then directed his son, "Sapel, go back to the cabin and fetch that big coil of rope I've been working on. I believe it is long enough that we can reach her."

"Right. Anything else?"

"Better get your mother's medical kit, too. I cannot tell how badly T'Jenn may be injured."

The boy took off running and Christine crowded as close as she dared. "Spock?"

"She's alive," he assured her. "Jenny! Lie still, t'chai. Don't move!"

"We're coming to get you, baby!" Christine echoed. "Oh, God ... Oh, God..."

Spock did not chide her for invoking her deity. He was beseeching his Ancestors for strength and fortune as well.

It seemed forever before Sapel returned, laden not only with rope and medical bag, but T'Kai's sleeping basket. "Here, Ma," he said, kindly but quickly. "You can put her in here. She'll be okay."

Christine smiled gratefully at her son. She'd almost forgotten she was gripping her youngest in a death-defying hold. Sapel began uncoiling the rope and paying it out. Spock sat up and reached for it, but Sapel jerked it away. "I'll get her, Papa."

"No, I'll--"

"I'm a better climber than you are, Pa," the boy insisted stubbornly. "I'm lighter, too. Besides, somebody's got to anchor this and pull us both up."

Seconds ticked by as father and son locked gazes, identical deep brown eyes intent on each other. Then Spock nodded and reached again for the rope, this time securing it around Sapel's chest and knotting it fast.

"Carry her if you can," the Vulcan instructed. "If not, tie the rope around her and I'll pull her up, then send it down again for you."

Sapel nodded and readied himself. Spock sat back and braced his bent legs, heels digging in to entrench himself, then he took a firm grip on the rope. Sapel backed carefully to the edge, set himself, and lowered himself out of sight, Spock carefully paying out the line.

Christine had placed T'Kai in her basket a safe distance behind them and came to look for the first time down the dizzying height to the crashing sea far below. "Slowly, slowly," she directed her husband. "A little more..."

She could hear Jenny now, crying pitiably far below, in pain and frightened. Please, God, she prayed. Let him get her. Let the rope hold. Oh, God, let him save her!

* * *

For Sapel, the descent down the rock face seemed interminable. The twisted reed rope creaked ominously, competing with the shrieks of the disturbed gulls. The birds were doing more than flying around him now. They were attacking him, thinking him a predator after their nests. He could do nothing but endure their pecks and dives, keeping focused on his little sister perched on the tiny ledge below.

The cliff was not completely sheer, a fact that had saved her from plunging straight down to the water. Instead, she had slipped, bumped and slid down the layered limestone until finally coming to rest about thirty feet above the tiny, boulder-shrewn beach. But from here, there was no place to go but up or down. The ledge was going to be a tight squeeze.

He was just above her now and she was looking up at him with huge, tear-filled eyes. "Scoot over just a little bit, Jenny," he instructed and, when she complied, he lightly touched down on the ledge. "Okay! Stop!" he yelled up at his mother's anxious face peering over the edge and she relayed the message to Spock. The slack in the line went taut.

"Jenny, how bad are you hurt?" Sapel demanded, gingerly feeling over his sister's bruised, dirty form.

"My arm hurts," she said and he gently felt of that until she screamed in pain. Broken, he decided. She wouldn't be able to hang onto him.

Dismissing that possibility, Sapel quickly began untying the knot, fending off a diving gull as he did so. "I'm gonna tie this around her and Papa will pull you up," he said as he began fixing the rope around her chest, under her arms.

"No! Don't want to!" the little girl protested vehemently.

"It's the only way to get you up," he answered, tying the knot securely.

"No!!" she screamed.

Sapel ignored her and looked up at his mother, giving her a thumbs-up gesture. Christine said something to Spock and the rope began to move.

Jenny panicked, kicking and shrieking with all her might. Making a grab for her, Sapel's foot slipped off the edge and he frantically seized at the lifeline before he went over.

"Stop! Stop!" he heard Christine exclaim.

For a breathless moment, the children hung there, then Sapel regained his footing and caught his breath. This wasn't going to work, he thought frantically, his heart still pounding. But there wasn't any other way he could see.

And then he remembered something he'd glimpsed in his father's mind during one of the melds they'd experienced recently. It was an ancient Vulcan technique for incapacitating an enemy. He'd never done it himself, but the knowledge was as clear as if he'd practiced it many times.

Straightening, Sapel faced his terrified sister and said in a soothing voice, "This won't hurt, Jenny. You'll be okay in a minute."

Then he reached out and squeezed the nerves at the base of her neck. T'Jenn jerked and went rigid for about two seconds, then collapsed, unconscious.

"Pull her up!" Sapel shouted and the child was quickly hauled up the cliff face.

Watching her disappear over the cliff edge into the safety of his mother's arms, Sapel huddled close to the rock, acutely aware of how little room there was on the tiny ledge. Around him, sea birds swooped and the wind moaned, both threatening to loosen his tenuous hold before the rope was dropped back down to him.

Without warning, immediately below him, came a sound that raised the hair on the back of his neck. It was a scrambling, a click of snapping teeth, and the angry shrill of a beast right out of nightmare.

Falling back hard against the rock face, Sapel stared down in horror at the slender head that was straining toward him, perched on a sinuous, fifteen-foot neck. Far below, the bulbous ten-foot-long body was already out of the water, trying to get on top of the tumbled rocks to give it extra height, its four paddle-like limbs slipping as it fought for purchase. Just off-shore, two smaller plesiosaurs lurked, waiting for the big one to bring down the prey they had spotted. Its black, beady eyes intent on its victim, the huge sea beast lunged again and this time its needle-like teeth took a chunk out of the bottom of the ledge before it fell back.

"Ma!!" Sapel howled and drew his flint-bladed knife, ready to do battle.

* * *

Christine was just pulling the unconscious T'Jenn up into her arms when she heard Sapel's cry from below, underscored by a roar that was as primeval as anything she'd ever known. Quickly laying Jenny down flat on her back, Christine hurriedly peered over the edge of the cliff and screamed, "Oh, my God!"

The plesiosaur had made another attempt at seizing the boy and fallen back with an angry snarl. Sapel slashed at it, but didn't dare lean too far away from the rock face. Around them, the gulls were going berserk, diving and pecking at both of them, frantically trying to defend their nests.

Spock had already deduced his son's danger and was fumbling at the knot tied in the rope around Jenny's waist. Sapel had tied it too tight -- or Spock's hands were shaking uncontrolllably -- or both. He couldn't get it loose and there was no time to pick at it until it did untie.

Spock yanked his knife from its scabbard and sawed the rope through, just above the knot. Then, without pausing, he yanked it free and threw himself onto his stomach, quickly feeding the rope down the cliff to where his son perched on the ledge, his eyes solely on the creature below him.

Furious now, the huge sea reptile scrambled as far up the rocks as it could and leaped toward Sapel, its long neck stretched to its limit. It was hungry and filled with blood lust, and the meal it had spotted was not to be given up without a fight.

Sapel slashed again with his flint knife and this time he cut a chunk from the snout just as the needle teeth snapped shut an inch from him. The plesiosaur screeched in maddened pain as it fell back, shaking its head, slinging blood from its wound. A gull dived at the serpent-like head and was snatched out of mid-air. Bones crunched but the reptile was not interested in so small a meal. It dropped the dead sea bird to the waves below, where it was instantly pounced upon by the two smaller plesiosaurs lurking in the surf.

On the little ledge, Sapel watched breathless as the big reptile gathered itself for another leap, its beady eyes hard as obsidian and locked on its target. Sapel got ready. Something told him it would be his last chance.

At that moment, a long snake plopped into his shoulder from above and the startled boy nearly lost his footing as he jumped in reaction. Then he saw that it was the rope and he looked up to see his parents peering anxiously over the cliff edge at him, the rope firmly in his father's strong hands.

What happened next seemed to take place in a blinding instant, so quickly that it was not easily sorted out. Just as Sapel grasped the rope with his left hand and was preparing to slip his knife back into its scabbard with his right, the plesiosaur launched itself upward with a supreme effort, mouth gaping, blood and spittal flying as it reached for its prey. Sapel jabbed reflexively and the flint blade buried itself in the roof of the reptile's mouth and was yanked from his hand as the creature tumbled back with a hideous shriek.

The huge head slammed into the little ledge as it did so and Sapel's only support collapsed beneath him. With a terrified yell, Sapel seized the rope with a compulsive grab, hearing it creak and feeling it shudder as his full weight was suddenly full upon it.

The rope slipped and Sapel cried out in terror, echoed by his mother's scream above. But a second later, the rope was secure and began to move upward. The boy looked up again and focused on his father's face, grim and set, flushed green with effort as he slowly hauled the young man to safety.

It seemed to take forever now, the rescue as slow as the attack was blurringly fast. But at last he was there and hauled up into Christine's arms. She pulled him into a breathless embrace and refused to let him go, her face buried in his hair, sobbing hysterically. A moment later, he felt Spock's arms go around both of them, crushing them both and for a while time stood still as the family held one another.

Then a groan from Jenny's location pulled Christine away, wiping her wet face before she turned to treat her little daughter, who was just returning to consciousness. Behind them all, T'Kai watched from her basket and the raw emotions surrounding her sent her whimpering and finally into a full-throated wail.

Spock felt weak as he got to his feet and helped his son up. "Are you hurt?" he finally asked.

"No, just bruised, I think, Papa," Sapel answered, and then the whole shock of what he'd just undergone surged through him. His knees buckled and he sat down abruptly, beginning to shake.

Spock knelt and took Sapel's face between both hands, looking into the boy's unfocusing eyes. "You are safe now," Spock told him, reinforcing the statement telepathically. "You saved your sister's life. We are all safe now."

Sapel blinked, swallowed, and nodded shakily. He would be all right once the after effects of the rescue wore off.

"Spock, I need you," Christine said from where she was bending over T'Jenn.

As the Vulcan got up to help his wife, Sapel said, "I'm okay, Papa. I'll take care of Kai-Kai. You help Mama."

Spock ran a hand affectionately over his son's hair, his heart swelling with pride and love for the boy. Then he went to assist Christine in tending to T'Jenn's fractured arm.

* * *

It took two weeks for T'Jenn to recover enough to be able to travel and that time was used productively to prepare for the trip. All the food that would pack and carry well was readied, a sturdy travois was constructed, camping materials, clothing, tools and weapons were stowed and stacked, and the cabin was put into shape to be closed until the next winter.

Spock spent considerable time with his little daughter, mind-melded with her and laying to rest her terrors and nightmares of the accident. He did not erase the memory, for he felt that to do so would violate the ethics of allowing a person's experiences to remain their own, but he did mute them and so soothe the child, enabling her to better handle the experience without the trauma involved.

Sapel chose to spend his evenings in meditation, putting his own demons to rest. Of this, Spock approved heartily, for it was another step in his son's path to manhood. Nearly every evening, Sapel would disappear after supper, then return in an hour or so, visibly relaxed and seeming rather detached, the aftermath of his meditation.

On the evening before their intended departure, it rained heavily, keeping them all indoors, and Sapel retired to the rock overhang at the rear of the cabin, where he sat cross-legged and silent in the dark.

From their bedding, Christine nestled back against Spock and cast a glance at her son. "He's so different," she whispered. "He's so grown up now."

"At home, he would be nearly 15," Spock murmured back. "It was at that time of my life when I was deciding to join Starfleet. I left home at age 17."

"I didn't know what I wanted to do yet. I was still too wrapped up in that week's boyfriend," she replied.

"What led you into medicine?"

"It was in college. I don't know really. I just loved my biology and chemistry classes. I loved methodically tracking down and identifying a virus or bacterium. I felt I was doing some good."

He made a small noise in his throat. "I regret that Sapel will never have that opportunity. Not on this world anyway."

"That's what I regret most, I think," Christine answered softly. "For all our kids. For them, life is starting over in the stone age. There'll be no formal education, no travel to other worlds, no knowing what lies beyond their own little lives."

"I cannot be helped," he sighed. "We can only do what we can to teach them. But I too fear that anything beyond the practicalities of survival will not matter to them." He patted her waist and said, "Sleep now. The task at hand is travel and we may have a long day tomorrow."

* * *

Sapel was aware of his parents whispering, barely audible against the backdrop of rain, but it was inconsequential and soon they had fallen asleep. Scruffy came and curled up next to him, purring softly, and the resulting quiet warmth lulled him into a deep meditative state bordering on slumber. In this mental void, he traveled as he often did to places he did not recognize and saw things he did not comprehend. Often there were people, too, and he puzzled over these as well.

The sound of rain became rhythmic and he knew it to be the surge and ebb of the ocean. But this was not his ocean, not the Southern Sea. The beach here was broad and yellow, overhung by slender, tilted trees, topped with a crown of wide fronds and clusters of large fruit. The sea stretched blue-green to the horizon, punctuated by white-topped waves that rushed onto the golden sand and then withdrew again. The air was hot and humid, pleasant against his bare skin.

Sapel looked down at himself and understood that, although this was his body, it was not the one he knew. This was a man's body, brown and muscled and strong as he was not strong now. He stood naked except for a necklace of flowers draped across his chest, a garland of blooms he could not identify.

Abruptly, there was a high, sweet laugh and a slim, dark-skinned girl went rushing past him, shedding a brightly-patterned hip wrap as she did, then she was naked too, save for her waist-length black hair and a lei that matched his.

"Come on!" she urged and leaped into the water.

For a stunned second, Sapel hesitated then pelted in after her. At first, he thought the girl was T'Kai, grown up as he was, then he saw that she was a stranger -- human with almond-shaped green eyes and full, berry-stained lips. As the surf billowed around them, the two young people played, splashing with abandon, swimming, dunking one another until their flower adornments came apart and floated around them in the sea.

Then, breathless, they hurried out onto the warm sand and flung themselves down, rolling together, their dripping bodies seeking the heat of the other's flesh. Sapel pulled her close and felt his loins respond to the eager invitation of the girl beneath him. As he moved into position above her and settled between her slender thighs, he brought his lips down to capture her own.

"Maia," he whispered against her mouth as he pushed fully within her hungry body. "Adun'i, Maia."

* * *

The dream -- vision -- whatever it was -- would not leave him alone. For days, as they had trudged northward, Sapel found himself reliving it. And he could not decide what disturbed him about it the most -- the haunting image of the green-eyed girl or the fact that he'd had sex with her.

To begin with, where had he conjured her from? In his entire life, he had seen only four others of his own kind -- his parents and his sisters. No, that wasn't true. There had been the men at the ship when he was undergoing his kahs-wan. The ones that had killed Mooch. But there had been no woman with them. He tried to think if there had been any pictures in the downed Romulan ship, but could not recall a single one.

Perhaps she was someone his father had known and whose image Sapel had picked up during one of their mind-melds, as he had done with the nerve pinch. That must be it, the boy decided. Spock had lived on other planets than this one and had encountered countless people in his travels. So had Christine, for that matter, but Sapel had never melded with her. No, the girl must be someone his father had known.

But what about the sex part? Sapel had never had sex with anyone or imagined someone like this girl. When he touched himself to make his penis hard and, since his Awakening, to make the fluid come out, it was his parents that he thought about to get aroused. He'd seen and heard them couple lots of times. He'd watched animals mate, too, and had even thought about mating with Picku for a while. But this dark-haired girl? She was something new.

Then an alarming thought intruded abruptly into Sapel's reverie. Was the girl someone his father had had sex with? Was he inadvertently viewing a memory from Spock's past? Sapel turned his gaze toward the man trudging ahead of him, lugging the travois, T'Jenn asleep among the supplies. Christine walked beside the tall Vulcan, little T'Kai asleep in her papoose board on the woman's back.

Sapel gulped in embarrassment and felt his face flame. If Spock had been intimate with other women, had Christine also been with other men? She'd had an active life herself and there might have been many others. The realization hit Sapel like a body blow and his pace faltered as a blast of shock and insecurity swept over him. He began to tremble and his eyes to burn with unexpected tears.

As he lagged behind, Christine glanced around at him and said, "Don't get lost, honey," then turned back to smile adoringly up at her husband. Spock glanced down and smiled at her in return, his features softening with undisguised affection.

Sapel clamped his teeth firmly together and kept walking, his stomach feeling as if it had suddenly tied itself into a knot.

* * *

After nearly a month of steady travel, hampered only by swollen streams and swampy stretches, the family at long last looked down on their home valley, the waterfall at the end plunging into its receiving pond, the creek flowing away down toward the river, and the trees and grass brilliant with the bright green of new growth. To one side, they could see their homestead cave and the sodhouse addition beside it, now itself crowned with emerald grass.

"My, it's good to be home," Christine sighed happily and they started down the slope, slipping a bit on the muddy trail. The cave, as usual, had to be cleared of the various creatures that had taken up residence in their absence, this time including a bad tempered badger-like animal that Spock killed with a thrust of his spear. They set the carcass aside for later processing. The meat wouldn't be edible, but the thick, soft pelt would make a valuable addition to their meager clothing stock.

Inside the sod hogan, the wet, earthy smell was strong but alive with the fresh scent of life. They opened the doorway to air it out, as they were doing with the cave itself, which was redolent of animal aroma, and Christine bustled around laying salvaged firewood on the hearth outside the cave doorway and getting a cooking fire going. They would sleep under the stars tonight while their home aired, then move in tomorrow and make it livable again.

All of them were exhausted and went to sleep early, but sometime around midnight, Christine awoke to movement nearby and was reaching for her knife instantly. It proved only to be Sapel, who was making his way quietly down toward the pond. Spock awoke, too, at his wife's sudden alertness and whispered, "What?"

She was already relaxing. "Nothing. Just Sapel. Probably needs to pee or something." She settled back down and was back to sleep almost instantly. Spock, however, raised himself on his elbow and peered into the moonlit darkness, following his son's dark shape. He could feel that the boy was troubled by something, but that had been normal for quite some time. The young teenager was still struggling with his puberty and, now that they were home again, perhaps Spock would be able to pick up their training sessions once again.

Still, something prompted Spock to rise silently and follow the trail that led down to the water's edge. He found Sapel standing on the shoreline, gazing out over the dark water, its tranquil surface reflecting the starlight.

"You cannot sleep," Spock commented softly, making it a statement rather than a question.

"I can't sleep," Sapel agreed without looking at his father.

"What troubles you?"

"I'm not sure it's something I can ask you," the boy answered after a moment.

"You may ask anything of me," Spock responded, a faint note of curiosity in his voice.

"Then it might not be something you want to answer."

Spock sighed heavily. "Sapel, it is very late and I am very tired. I have no desire to play guessing games with you. Ask your question."

"Okay." The boy stood silent for a moment longer than asked, "Who's Maia?"

Now it was Spock's turn to stand mute. At length, he responded, "Maia?"

"Yeah. Who's Maia?"

"I have no idea of whom you are speaking, Sapel. I know of no one named Maia."

"Are you sure?" Sapel demanded, swinging around to face his father. "A girl? With long black hair and green eyes?"

"No." Spock shook his head. "Although undoubtedly there have been females I have known who might fit that description, none of them, at least to my knowledge, were named Maia."

A note of desperation entered Sapel's voice. "Papa, are you absolutely certain? Isn't she someone that you had ... had ... sex with?!"

Spock's mouth very nearly dropped open in surprise, then he caught himself. "Sapel, I do not know where you ever formed such an idea, but I can assure you with absolute certainty that, had I ever engaged in sexual relations with such a woman, I would both know her name and remember her! Where did you get this notion?"

Hanging his head, Sapel answered faintly, "I dreamed it. At least I think it was a dream. I was meditating ... and I suddenly was all grown up and on a beach with this girl and we went swimming and then ... we had sex." He gulped. "I thought maybe she was someone you knew and I'd picked up a memory of yours."

The Vulcan stood silent for a moment, then lowered himself to the ground, indicating that Sapel should sit beside him. When the boy had settled, Spock told him, "Our mind melds do not happen that way, Sapel. You would not have been able to acquire any of my memories unless I wished it. My mental barriers are much too well-formed to allow any stray memories to seep into another's mind. I wish to touch your thoughts, however, and see this person who has troubled you so much."

Sapel nodded and turned his face toward his father. Lightly, Spock rested his fingertips against the psi points and easily slipped into his son's neural pathways. All was quiet for a moment as the meld deepened, then Spock withdrew and broke the link. "I do not know this woman," he stated definitively. "There is nothing familiar about her. You say you envisioned her as you meditated? Hmm... Perhaps 'vision' is an appropriate word, although I cannot say if this was a vision of the past or the future."

"The past?"

"Yes. It could be a trace memory from one of the Ancestors. Vulcans have been in contact with Humans for over two hundred years. Perhaps an Ancestor had a relationship with this woman and you are picking that up from your katra. I cannot say." Again Spock shook his head. "Less likely, but still possible ... there has always been a degree of precognition inherent in our family line. It is not logical and I do not give it much credit, but I cannot deny that the ability to See has occasionally appeared. Your grandfather Sarek's maternal aunt, T'Plynn, was unusually psychic and made a number of accurate predictions of the future."

The boy grunted and looked thoughtful. "Weird. So you don't think it's anything to be worried about?"

"No. And now I am going back to bed. I advise you to do the same."

Spock started to get up but was halted when Sapel blurted out, "Papa? Can I ask you one more thing?"

"Yes," the man sighed and settled back down.

"Okay, so this Maia person isn't anyone you know... But, Papa?" Sapel hesitated then rushed ahead. "Is there anyone besides Mama that you did have sex with?"

He should have seen that one coming, Spock thought ruefully. Well, he hadn't really needed to get any sleep tonight, after all. Taking a deep breath, he began, "Yes, Sapel. The first time I ever had intercourse, I was seventeen and my Awakening had just occurred..."

The eastern horizon was turning a faint blushing peach by the time father and son had finished their talk by the side of the pond, and Christine was awake and had breakfast cooking before the two of them made their way back to the homesite, exhausted but oddly content.

* * *

Clouds were scudding over the faces of the three little moons as Christine joined Spock by the banks of the creek where it gurgled past their homesite and away toward the river. He was staring up at the night sky where the incoming front was fast covering the stars.

"You're up late," she said softly, sliding her arm inside his and leaning close.

"I heard a noise down here and feared that gnawer might still be after the salt cache."

"Was it?"

"Yes, but Scruffy took care of the problem." Spock continued to gaze skyward.

"What's so interesting?" Christine asked, searching the heavens.

"I was just studying the weather," he replied distractedly. "I believe we are in for a rainy spell."

"You're not looking at the clouds," she pointed out.

"No..." His attention was fixed elsewhere. "That red star... The more I look at it, the more convinced I am that that is Aldebaran."

"You've been saying that for years."

"I know. I have no way to prove it. It is just ... a hunch." Spock sounded almost embarrassed.

"Well, far be it from me to contradict Vulcan hunches," Christine smiled, watching his face for his reaction.

Spock did not disappoint her. Even in the waning moonlight, she could see the upslanted eyebrows rise in mock indignation. "Now you are teasing me," he accused her.

"Sure I am," she grinned. "You're my favorite target."

"In that case, I shall refrain in the future from sharing my observations and thoughts with you," he pronounced.

"No, you won't. I'm the only adult you have to talk to!" she laughed softly, then the loneliness of that statement occurred to her and she looked up at the blazing point of light, marking its familiarity just before the leading cloud edge covered it. Home, it said to her. Even though she'd never been to Aldebaran and its harsh planets held only rudimentary colonies, it was still within Federation space. Home.

Spock noted her melancholy mood. "Let's take a walk," he suggested, "before the rain begins and we are forced inside."

She nodded and they strolled down the creek, crossed the stepping stones and went up the other side to the level of the plains. The old brushpile was still there, but it was totally overgrown now with flowering berry vines. The scent of the blossoms was heavy on the night air and a rustle and soft buzz alerted them to the presence of honey sippers, tiny flying animals that were somewhere between a hummingbird and a bat. They fed on the night-blooming flowers in the region during the spring and apparently migrated north and south to find the best food sources.

"Do you realize that it's been almost exactly eleven years since we were marooned here?" Christine asked as they walked. "It was springtime when we first found this valley."

"Yes," Spock replied softly. "That seems a lifetime ago."

"I would never have believed that we'd still be here or that we could have survived all we've been through."

He made a deep noise of agreement in his throat but didn't answer. She laughed. "Do you remember how we spent that first night up a tree?"

"Indeed." He glanced at her and a mischievous tone entered his voice. "I got a good look up your skirt as I boosted you up that tree."

She slapped his arm. "You lecher! I would never have believed that sedate, unemotional Mr. Spock was such a dirty old man!"

"I am not old," he protested.

"No, by Vulcan standards, you're barely grown. What are you now, Spock? Forty-five?"

He thought for a moment, mentally calculating stardates. "Forty-four by Earth count. Almost 45, however."

"See? Just a kid."

He looked down and smiled at her. "You keep me young," he said.

She laughed again. "Too bad I'm getting so old. I'm a year younger than you. I'm 43 now, I guess. Almost 44."

"Still young," he insisted.

She slapped his arm again, but he could tell she was pleased. "We'd better turn back," she said. "Don't want to get too far from home."

"I agree." They did an about face and started back towards the creek valley. Overhead, the clouds had completely covered the sky and it had become very dark. A cool breeze was blowing out of the north, bringing with it the scent of rain.

"What did you and Sapel talk about that night? When you stayed up until dawn?" Christine asked after a while.

"He was disturbed by a dream he'd had," Spock answered. "He dreamed of a strange woman with whom he had sex."

"He's just a little boy!" Christine protested.

"He is an adolescent. In any case, he was grown in his dream."

"Why was he so disturbed? Was it a wet dream?"

"No, I do not believe he ejaculated in his sleep. He was upset because he thought he might have picked up a memory from me," Spock replied.

Christine glanced sharply at him. "And had he?"

Spock met her gaze and held it for a moment, coming to a halt. "No," he said finally. "She was no one I know."

"Good."

Spock cocked his head and demanded quizzically, "Are you jealous, wife?"

"No ... I mean ... well, yes!" she admitted, fidgeting a bit nervously. "You're mine! I won't share you with another woman -- even one from the past!"

He was silent then queried softly, "And do I share you with other men, my wife?"

"No, of course not!"

"Not even Roger?"

The question stopped her cold. "What is this -- confession time? Okay. Yes, Roger and I had a great sex life. I loved him. But Roger is dead. Had been dead a long time before Exo III." Her blue eyes were shining faintly with a sheen of tears. "What about you then? What about that botanist ... uh ... Lula?"

"Leila."

"Whatever."

Spock shook his head. "No. Not even on Omicron Ceti III. We loved but didn't make love. It would have broken the spores."

"How many others then?"

He hung his head, the wind blowing his dark hair about his face. "There were several at the Academy. I was very young and had discovered that human females were quite attracted to me. I'm afraid I took advantage of the situation. Until I had to hurt one of them quite badly emotionally, that is. She wanted to marry me and I had to tell her that I already had a bond-wife waiting for me on Vulcan." He sighed. "I learned quite a painful lesson about human feelings. I never did it again."

"Oh, Spock, I'm sorry," Christine exclaimed. "I didn't mean to open old wounds. Let's drop this subject. It doesn't matter anyway."

She sank against him and rested her head against his chest, sighing as his strong arms came up to embrace her. "I want only you, t'hy'la," he murmured in a husky whisper, nuzzling into her hair. "You are my heart and always will be."

Gathering her to him, he tilted her face up to his and captured her lips in a long, warm kiss. It went on for a very long time and she finally had to draw away in order to breathe, but almost immediately pulled him back to continue. The tip of her tongue brushed against his mouth and he instantly opened his lips to allow her entry, his own tongue pushing and dancing around hers. Mouths opened wider and lips sealed harder together as the kiss deepened, sending waves of heat throughout the two pressing bodies. Neither of them noticed the first patter of raindrops falling around them.

Then suddenly it was as if the sky had opened and curtains of rain enveloped them. Christine jerked away from Spock and squealed, throwing her arms up in a futile gesture of protection. He seized her arm and turned her toward the cave, shouting, "Come on!"

They ran, slipping down the slope to the creek, dashing across the stepping stones and then stumbling up to the cave entrance, both of them drenched, Christine laughing out loud as they ducked inside. Scruffy sped in hot on their heels, the half-eaten gnawer carcass in her jaws. She paused, shook vigorously, then disappeared into the back recesses of the cave.

The two soaked people ignored the hunting cat, intent on their own condition. Christine took a quick peek to make sure they hadn't awakened the children, asleep in the sodhouse addition, then she moved back to the sleeping area as Spock wedged the door guard in place, shutting out the storm.

The embers of the hearth fire were still glowing strongly and he laid another couple of logs on the fire, then turned toward the rear of the cave -- and stopped in his tracks.

Christine was standing with her back to him, her wet clothing already discarded in a pile on the floor. She had unbraided her long hair and had thrown her head back, shaking the wet, dark blonde tresses down her back in a thick curtain that reached almost to her full, sensuous buttocks. The golden light from the new-built fire limned her body in gilt, tracing her long clean limbs and trim waist. As she lifted her hands to fluff out her hair, the heavy globe of one breast came into view, its dark rosy nipple standing out tautly.

Spock felt a surge of deja vu overwhelm him and it seemed that time had rolled back eleven years, to another rain storm and another night, when he had seen her fully nude for the first time and had given in to the fire that roared through his veins. The incipient arousal he had experienced during their recent kiss now exploded within him like an inferno as he also remembered the incredible sensations of their first time together, of claiming her as his mate and having her meet him fully in every move and emotion.

Hurriedly, he stripped off his own wet clothing until he, too, stood naked in the firelight, his skin flushed and steaming slightly as the blaze heated and dried him, feeling his blood pound eagerly into hungry organ at his groin, filling it with flame. Then he moved without hesitation to the woman before him.

She gasped as his arms went around her and pulled her hard against him, turning her as he did so, his mouth claiming hers before she had fully faced him. Voracious, he devoured her, groping with one large hand to engulf her abundant breast, his rapidly hardening manhood probing into her hip.

"Do you remember?" he whispered against her lips as he broke the kiss for an instant. "The first time?"

And then she understood his urgency, for the incredible need of that time ignited a wildfire within her as well. She twisted to face him and her arms went around his neck, their searching mouths roaming over lips and throats, licking and nipping and laving the bites with hot saliva. His kneading of her breast squeezed milk over his fingers, and he pushed her away a little so that he could bend to seize the nipple fully within his mouth, sucking hard until the creamy liquid squirted across his tongue, then switched to do the same to the other one.

Christine groaned and arched back, supported by his arms around her, nearly swooning as her nerve endings erupted in rapturous sensation. Leaning back as she was, her legs spread apart around his hips and, lifting his head from her seeping breasts, he dipped and pushed his throbbing erection between her thighs, rubbing against her swelling womanhood and coating himself with her slick honey.

"Oh, God..." she moaned and grasped his shoulders to keep herself from falling, her head going full back as she opened herself more, her body almost begging for entry of the probing, pulsing shaft. But he held her securely, even as he felt her knees begin to buckle.

"Down," he gasped and together they collapsed onto the bedding, still locked together, barely avoiding an awkward fall. But neither cared. As soon as he had her on her back, Spock shifted and drove his hips forward and was immediately embedded within her. He shifted again to seat himself more securely in her depths, then he was thrusting, strong and sure and with bruising intensity. She braced her feet and lifted up beneath him, taking him as deeply as she could, spread wide, her hands clamped over his driving buttocks, nails digging into the flesh.

The almost animal nature of the act fed the expanding exhilaration that sang back and forth between them, their bondlink crackling with delirium. She was the first to explode in orgasm but the backwash of her rapture crashed into him an instant later. With a growl he could not suppress, he jammed himself against her as hard as he could, burying himself against her womb, and felt his entire being disintegrate in the unimaginable ecstacy of release.

For an interminable time, they hung there as his soul pumped its hot essence into hers, shuddering, unable to breathe, bodies rigid and unresponsive to anything but the finality of their mating.

Then it was over and they sank weakly onto the bedding, still welded together, still joined as one, but as feeble as if they were new-formed creatures taking their first breaths of life. For a long time, they simply lay there, faces together, eyes closed, allowing their lungs to draw air normally and their hearts to beat less wildly.

At last, Spock raised his hips a little and pulled himself from her limp body, moving off her but settling close, skin to skin all along their lengths.

"Wow," Christine murmured without opening her eyes. "I don't know what it is about rainstorms that lights your fuse, but I like it!"

"What 'lights my fuse', as you say, is you," he murmured back, sighing deeply. "Being naked and wet doesn't hurt anything, either."

She chuckled. "Ah, so that's the secret! I'll remember that."

"Mmmm..." he answered sleepily. "It sounds as if it's going to rain for quite some time. I might have to get you wet again before the night is out."

"Oooo...I like the sound of that!" She wriggled encouragingly against him.

"Let me rest first, though," he answered, snuggling against her warm body. "I'm not as young as I used to be."

She started to retort, but he was already asleep, nuzzled into her shoulder, and she pulled the furs up over them both, settling in and listening to the rain falling steadily outside their door.

* * *

The rain was still falling as Christine slowly came awake to a delicious sensation between her legs. The fire had burned back to embers, but there was enough light for her to see that Spock was lying on his side facing her, his dark, fathomless eyes peering at her and a little hint of a smile on his lips.

The delightful tickling came from the fact that he was softly stroking one finger between the folds of her vulva, lightly teasing her sensitive clitoris and the puffy flesh surrounding it. As she shivered and stretched, he whispered huskily, "You are naked and wet again."

That sent a surge of arousal through her sleepy body and caused a gush of lubrication from her vagina. He dipped into it and spread it along the cleft of her sex. "Very wet, in fact," he murmured.

"Is it lighting your fuse?" she murmured back.

In answer, he moved his pelvis against her thigh and she could feel the strong column of heat press into her hip. "That is a distinct possibility," he answered.

"Don't you think we should do something about it?" she asked.

"Not just yet," he replied. "There is no hurry."

"Mmmm..." She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the wonderful half-dream she was enjoying. In a few seconds, she felt Spock's nose nuzzle against her jawline as his lips dropped light kisses along her neck and his fingers continued their magic below.

Almost involuntarily, her hands moved up to cover her breasts and caress the full globes, swollen as they were with her morning milk. Her nipples were tightly erect, standing like bullets, begging to be nursed. He moved his kisses down her collarbone and onto the cleavage of her bosom. Nudging her hand away from one breast, he nibbled his way around the areola and then teased the nipple with the tip of his tongue, flicking it lightly before planting a firm kiss there.

"Ohhh... Suck my tits," she begged, arching slightly beneath him.

He did, ever so gently, just a token pressure that left her unsatisfied. She frowned and was about to slip her hand through his hair to hold him there when he moved away from her breasts, his kisses traveling down the soft plane of her stomach. Drawing in a sharp breath, Christine understood what he intended and willingly opened her legs as he repositioned himself at her portal.

Spock bent to her with a will, replacing his fingers with his mouth. She was sweet and drenched with her honeyed oil, the result of his continued fondling, and he turned his tongue to the delightful torture of licking her feminine valley clean. After the prolonged caresses, it was more than she could take and, as he sucked her clit into his mouth and gently raked it with his teeth, she leaped reflexively against him and exploded in her first orgasm.

He sucked her hard as she shuddered beneath him, then eased off as he felt the sensuous reaction decreasing somewhat. For a long moment, he let her recover, her breath coming back somewhat to normal and her heartbeat slowing, then he dived back to his work. This time his tongue found her well and eagerly lapped the juices flowing from it, delving farther and farther into its depths until he was wriggling its tip around her vaginal wall, tickling the spots that such an organ seldom touched.

She had drawn in her breath again and was tightening around him, her hips lifting to meet him, and he slid a finger back onto her swollen clitoris, rubbing and massaging determinedly. Christine cried out and orgasmed yet again, her fingers gripping his dark hair to hold him exactly where he was.

It hurt, but he didn't protest until she began to relax again, then he lifted his face from her and ordered, "Turn over now."

Her eyes fever bright, she stared back at him for a second, then turned onto her stomach. Quickly, he lifted her hips until she was on her knees, her buttocks presented to him. Spreading her legs wider apart until her pussy was clearly displayed, he positioned himself behind her, his rampant erection standing out rock solid before him.

But he did not mount her immediately. Instead, he ran his fingers down between her folds, spreading them wide, then pressed forward and slid the head of his rigid manhood up and down against her, smearing it with her oil. Rubbing against her turgid nub, he rumbled in a deep, dark purr, "Are you wet enough now, my wife?"

"God, Spock, if you don't get in me right now, I'm going to scream my bloody guts out!!" she moaned, very near her breaking point.

In answer, he gripped her hips to hold her steady and plunged his hard, distended shaft to the hilt within her. The thrust knocked her knees off the ground with its force, but it was only the beginning. Holding her tight, he pounded into her with an intensity that bordered on the madness of pon farr.

And her heart seized in sudden fear. It wasn't time for that! Not for another three years or more! Then her heart skipped another frantic beat. It hadn't been time that first time either, their first intercourse together. But he'd gone into pon farr anyway and she'd found herself pregnant with Sapel.

His thrusts stopped abruptly as he felt her terror through their bondlink. "Christine," his rough voice said softly above her. "T'hy'la, please. I am not in the blood fever. It is not what you are thinking."

Her heart still pounding with adrenalin, she gasped, "Then ... what?"

Spock bent over her, still embedded within her, and reached to stroke her sweaty hair. "Beloved, I am just incredibly aroused by your beauty and sexuality. I did not mean to frighten you, only arouse you as well. Here... I will be more restrained..."

He withdrew from her and repositioned her on her back, then gently settled himself between her thighs and entered her again, his well-lubricated penis sliding easily into her depths. After ascertaining that it did not hurt her, he began to slowly move within her, a massage rather than a invasion. Gradually she relaxed into the rhythm and brought her hands up to grip his back, sighing deeply as the voluptuous feeling in her body returned. He picked up speed, but still kept a careful appraisal of her feelings.

When she was fully involved once again and had given herself completely back into his keeping, he hitched himself a little closer and began thrusting harder and deeper, letting his own release begin to build. By the time she was arched up beneath him, her nails digging into the flesh of his back, he was on the edge of explosion as well, his breath accompanied by a low-pitched groan with each exhalation. As hard as granite, swollen to the bursting point, his erection suddenly filled with fire that wrenched from his gut and he bucked to the limit within her, his face contorting almost in pain.

With a moan of utter relief, he shuddered hard above her, the ecstasy of surrender enveloping them both in its web, pulling them together into one being, one soul, fully experiencing the torrent of heat that pulsed again and again within them both.

When at long last it abated, Christine opened her eyes to peer up into Spock's, so close above hers, so soft and filled with emotion that at one time she would not have believed him capable of such feeling. His breath still coming strong, he gulped to wet his dry throat, then bent down and kissed her with all the intensity in his heart.

When at last he lifted his lips from hers, he whispered hoarsely, "I love you, Christine. I do not say it enough, but I do love you."

Tears filled her eyes as she slipped her arms around his neck. "I love you, too, Spock. I always have and I always will." She pulled him back into a fervent, willing kiss.

Abruptly the moment was shattered as a piercing scream came from behind the leather curtain that led to the sodhouse addition -- T'Jenn.

Spock was on his feet in a second, in one motion snatching up the hunting knife that lay close at hand and leaping toward the door, heedless of his nudity. Christine was right behind him, wrapping a fur blanket around her as she did so.

Slapping aside the curtain, Spock paused for a second to try and sort out the commotion in the dark room. It was very confusing and he couldn't find the source of the danger until Christine had the presence of mind to thrust a dry branch into the hearth embers and light a torch.

T'Jenn was sitting on her bedding, her screams now dissolved into hysterical crying. Sapel had collapsed back onto his own bed and was now laughing so hard that he was on the verge of an asthma attack. Little T'Kai, jolted out of a sound sleep, was standing in her crib bed and wailing at the top of her lungs, scared out of her wits.

The cause of it all sat bewildered in the middle of the room, her big green eyes dilated and filled with surprise, twisting her head this way and that, her black-tufted ears swivelling in every direction, fur fluffed in terror -- Scruffy the hunting cat. Beside T'Jenn's bedding lay the bloody, half-eaten corpse of the rodent the cat had caught earlier that evening. Apparently she had decided to share it with her mistress and had dropped the offering right on the little girl's face as the child snored peacefully, lost in dreamland.

Spock and Christine exchanged wry looks and Spock pulled the leather curtain around his hips to cover his nakedness. As he did so, his wife began to chuckle and then to laugh out loud, leaning for support against his muscular arm, both of them a little bit weak with relief.

At last, Christine wiped her eyes and looked up at him, sighing, her blue eyes sparkling in the light of the torch she held in her other hand. "You know?" she said with a grin. "Every now and then I get to having so much fun, I almost hope we're never rescued!"

* * *

PRESENT DAY

T'Jenn's scream and Sapel's startled cry jerked Spock back to the present as nothing else could have. Even as Christine was trying to rise, forgetting for a second that she could not with a badly broken leg, he was leaping away up the hill, knife in hand, to where his children were in danger. It could be anything -- there were predators in these woods that were always hungry for succulent young flesh -- and the memory of a werewolf with a baby's tiny newborn body dangling from its jaws spurred Spock to greater speed.

The blown down trees and tangled debris from the storm hampered him and he fought frantically to find a way through it all. Up ahead of him, the girls were crying in fear and Sapel was yelling, "Papa!! Papa!!"

With a final lunge through the brush, Spock burst into a clearing near the crest of the hill, shoved the three youngsters behind him, and prepared to do battle with whatever was attacking them--

--and nearly fell to the ground as his knees suddenly threatened to give way beneath him.

Standing on the crest of the hill was a man. A human man.

And he was wearing a Starfleet uniform.

Hours seemed to tick by as the two men stared at one another, both of them struck dumb in amazement. The three children crowded around Spock's legs, also staring at this apparition, unsure what they should do, trying to get some clue from their father.

Finally it was the human who moved first. Tentatively, he held his hands up, palms outward to show that he wasn't bearing a weapon, and said in a slightly quavering voice, "Uh ... jolan tru. Um ... uh ... daeien." He gestured to himself. "Friend ... daeien."

Spock suddenly understood how he must appear to the eyes of this stranger -- dirty, bearded face with slanted eyebrows and pointed ears showing prominently through waist-length, disheveled black hair, a tall, angular body clothed in crudely sewn buckskins that were smeared with grime and blood, brandishing a wicked looking alien-made knife while three bedraggled, ragamuffin children huddled behind him. He must look like a wildman indeed!

The red-shirted human was watching him expectantly, obviously wondering if he should reach for the phaser stuck to his belt, but timorously tried one more time. "Rihannsu daeien?"

Spock lowered the knife and straightened to his full height with as much dignity as he could muster. "I am not Romulan," he said in cultured, perfectly enunciated Standard. "And I believe the word for which you are searching is daehlen. You have just referred to yourself as a radio frequency."

The Starfleet officer nearly fainted on the spot. "My God! You speak English! Who are you?! What are you doing on Avalon?!" He started down the hill toward the Vulcan.

"Avalon?"

"This planet! That's what it's called!"

"Ah..." So, it had a name after all, other than the one he and Christine had given it -- Terra Two. Spock lifted an eyebrow as he pondered that for a second, then he addressed the man again, "What I am doing here is a very long story. Who am I is easier to tell. I am Commander Spock of the U.S.S. Enterprise. I have been marooned here for twelve years."

The man's jaw, which seemed to be on a loose hinge, fell open again and he uttered in absolute awe, "Hail Mary, Mother of Angels!" and crossed himself. "You were declared missing and presumed dead over five years ago!"

"So I had assumed," Spock answered, ignoring the human religious reference.

The man glanced down at Sapel and the girls. "And these kiddos? Where'd they come from? Are there others here?"

"They are my children," Spock replied quietly. "The only other person here is my wife, Dr. Christine Chapel, also of the Enterprise." And then it was Spock's turn to ask questions. "And who are you? What is your ship? What are you doing here in Romulan space?" Then he hesitated, "This is Romulan space, is it not?"

"Was. Not anymore. Sorry -- my name's Mallory. Reuben Mallory. My ship's the Columbia. We're a Federation survey vessel."

Spock nodded then pressed on to more urgent needs. "Do you have a surgeon on board? A sickbay that can handle medical emergencies?"

"Yeah, sure," Mallory replied. "You hurt?"

"My wife. She was badly injured in the storm," Spock told him. "She is just down the hill there."

"Let's go then!" the Starfleet officer responded. "We'll get a med team down here on the double!"

* * *

When Christine saw Spock walk back into the clearing, carrying T'Kai and accompanied by the Starfleet clad stranger, the other two children tagging along behind, for a second she thought she had fallen asleep and was dreaming. Then the reality of the situation hit her with the same amount of force as when the cabin had collapsed on her.

All the blood drained from her face and she began to gulp frantically for air, unable to speak. Tears of utter shock filling her eyes, she began to sob in deep, harsh gasps that rapidly escalated. Finally, covering her face with both hands, she sank into unbridled hysteria.

Alarmed, Spock shoved T'Kai into Sapel's arms and hurried to his wife's side, kneeling down and seizing her shoulders. "Christine! It is all right! Christine!"

He got no answer. She was beyond coherent thought. All the pain and stress and struggle of the last twelve years had broken free and was screaming out of her soul. Her mind refused to grasp the fact that they had been found, that their rescuers had appeared when all hope had long been lost.

Mallory stood by in obvious distress at the woman's reaction, not knowing what to do. Behind him, the kids stared wide-eyed and frightened as their mother convulsed. Spock, desperate to end the delirium, finally gripped the juncture at the base of Christine's neck and knocked her out with a nerve pinch. She jerked, then went limp, unconscious.

"I'm sorry," Mallory said faintly. "I didn't mean to scare her."

Wearily the Vulcan rose to his feet. "No, it is my fault for not preparing her. The shock was too much for her. She has been through a great deal, especially in the past few hours."

"Well, let me call the ship," the man replied. "I'll get a med team here pronto."

As Mallory took out a communicator - Spock had nearly forgotten that such devices existed - and flipped it open, Spock moved to his children and lifted T'Jenn into his arms, where the tearful little girl clung to his neck and trembled.

"It's all right," Spock said softly and comfortingly to the three youngsters. "This man is from my people. He is here to help us. Soon more people will be coming to help Mama. Do not be afraid of them." He paused. "They may do some very strange things that you have not seen before. You may see them appear out of thin air."

"What?" demanded Sapel. "Are they ... are they spirits?"

"No, not at all," his father replied. "It is just a way to travel where Mama and I come from. Watch now."

Within five minutes, the air in the clearing began to shimmer and then to sparkle like sunlight on water, then the forms of four people began to take shape. Sapel stared open-mouthed at the sight, but T'Jenn hid her face against her father's neck, terrified. In her brother's arms, little T'Kai reached out to the pretty lights.

The transport completed, the glittering blobs resolved themselves into a burley, broad-shouldered woman and two young men, all in medical blue, and a tall, heavy-set bearded man in command gold. The med team immediately went to Christine and knelt around her.

The big man, after a quick glance around, stalked toward Spock and stuck out his hand. "I'm Frank Hendrikson, commanding the U.S.S. Columbia. Pardon an obvious question here but - what in the bloody hell are you all doing on this planet?!" There was both amazement and delight in the deep voice.

Spock grasped the proffered hand. "I am Spock. My last assignment was the U.S.S. Enterprise."

"Good God, man!" Hendrikson boomed. "I'd be an addle-pated idiot if I didn't know who you are, Commander! You and Lt. Chapel were headline news for months when you disappeared! You two were the objects of the largest manhunt in the last 100 years! Why, your esteemed father nearly talked Vulcan into declaring war on Romulus unless they confessed to your abductions and turned you over to him." He shook his head. "If he could've gotten a majority vote in the Federation Council, there would have been a Federation invasion fleet turning the Romulan Empire upside down looking for you!!"

Hendrikson laughed loudly at the Vulcan's stunned expression. Before anything else could be said, the blue-clad woman appeared behind him. She had a broad, homely face of indeterminate age, pierced by bright blue eyes that were both sharp and compassionate, her steel-grey hair pulled back into a tight knot at the back of her head. The captain turned. "Yes, Doctor?"

"She'll be okay once we get her to the ship. I suggest we beam up right away so I can get on with my job."

"Of course, of course." Hendrikson looked back at Spock and jerked his head toward the physician. "Our ship's surgeon, Dr. Olga Karotkin. Doc, meet the long-lost Commander Spock!"

"Commander," the doctor nodded. "You splint her leg?"

"Yes," Spock acknowledged, a faint hint of uncertainty in his voice. Surely this formidable looking woman wasn't about to chastize him for his first aid on Christine's broken leg.

But Karotkin just answered shortly. "Good job. Any of the rest of you need medical care?"

"No. At least not at the moment," Spock replied. A sudden thought struck him. "Doctor, we have been marooned here for twelve years and have each contracted native diseases at one time or another. The children were all born on this planet and have had no immunizations. You should quarantine Dr. Chapel for the safety of your crew until it is determined that she carries no communicable diseases that are indigenous to this world. I will stay here on the planet with the children until your medical staff can certify all of us 'clean' and the children are immunized against anything they might encounter on your ship."

For a second, Karotkin's china blue eyes hardened at Spock's clear usurpation of her medical authority, but then they softened again and she nodded. "I completely agree, Commander. A wise precaution." She turned to her two assistants and snapped, "Well? Get that stretcher set up and let's get this woman to the ship! Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?"

Hendrikson had been watching the exchange and now laughed out loud again. Clearly, a jolly nature was part of his personality. "You're a braver man than I am, Commander! Nobody I know has ever told the Czarina how to run her sickbay! Now, tell me what I can have beamed down that will help you out here. How about something to eat? And a jug of coffee for us and one of cocoa for the kids? We have got a LOT to talk about!"

* * *

The low, steady hum of ship's engines and quiet chirp of instruments gradually woke Christine from a heavy, restful sleep. She'd been having the strangest dream, one so vivid in her mind that it was utterly real. She could remember every detail of it, every smell, every sound, as if she'd actually been there. She had been on a primitive planet with Spock and they had children and lived in a cave, and then there were all these Starfleet people running around.

And then she did remember it all! Her eyes snapped open, panic-stricken, and flashed over her strange surroundings, unable to place where she was.

A large, warm hand settled over hers and squeezed gently. "It is all right, Christine," said a deep, familiar voice and she looked over to find Spock sitting beside her, his calm, depthless eyes steady on hers. He was bathed and clean-shaven, dressed in a blue utility coverall, and his long, raven hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck, falling in a jet cascade down his back.

"Where...?" she managed and then her throat seized up with dryness.

Spock handed her a cup with a straw and let her sip water. "We are on board the U.S.S. Columbia, in orbit around Terra Two ... or Avalon, to give it its proper name."

"The kids?"

"They are here as well," he assured her. "The girls are in our cabin, being looked after by a member of the medical staff. Sapel has discovered the ship's tape library and cannot be pried away from the computer screen."

"How long have I been here?"

"Two days," Spock answered. "Dr. Karotkin has kept you sedated until she could finish the bone grafting procedure on your leg and heal a number of other conditions."

"Do I hear my name being taken in vain?" demanded a low female voice and the woman in question appeared on the other side of Christine's bed. She was wearing a voluminous lab coat and this made her look even larger. "Good to see you awake at last," she said, a trace of her native Russian in her voice. Her accent did not begin to compare with Chekov's, but then again Christine always felt he enhanced his a bit out of cultural pride. But there was pride in this woman's face, too, a plain, peasant pride that traced its ancestry back a thousand years. And although her broad face seemed severe, there was friendliness in her voice and eyes. "I am Dr. Karotkin, your physician. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Christine answered and then realized that she did feel fine. "Actually, I haven't felt this good in years!"

"I don't doubt it," the surgeon replied gruffly. "In addition to fixing your leg, I repaired a badly healed fracture in your left foot, realigned a disc in your spine, and removed the beginnings of a tumor in your uterus. Your last baby, you had trouble with her? With the pregnancy?"

"I did," Christine answered, amazed. "I was sick the entire time and she was born early. We both nearly died."

Karotkin nodded. "Premature detachment of the placenta. This is what my scan shows. You are medical? When you are better, I will show you all my findings. I do not know if this tumor was already present but it is gone now. I kept you knocked out while the chemo did its work on your system. You would've vomited too much otherwise. Very nasty stuff. It will kill any cancer that I know, but the killing is very nasty. Very nasty."

Christine had paled a little at the announcement of her brush with cancer, still a formidable disease here in the late 23rd century. Medical science had eradicated most of its forms, but it kept mutating, adapting and always managed to find a way around every cure that was found. It chilled her to think that, if they hadn't been found, she would have faced a painful death from uterine cancer. "Thanks," she said weakly.

"You also had a real menagerie riding you, inside and out," the doctor continued relentlessly. "But you'll be happy to know they're all gone now, too. We saved them all for research and cataloging. All of them are new to science. I think maybe a lot of them will end up classified as New-buggus chapelensis." Her china blue eyes were definitely laughing now as she watched Christine's reaction.

"Uh, thanks again ... I guess."

The big woman glanced up at Spock and her eyes crinkled more. "A few will be vulcanensis, too. All of you carried a lot of local fauna. Those clothes you had on -- we're still trying to get them fumigated and out of quarantine!"

Distinctly uncomfortable, Spock shifted in his chair and had a hard time maintaining his Vulcan stoicism.

"And I thought we were all pretty clean," Christine answered glumly. "I really did my best to keep us washed."

"You did a miracle," Karotkin assured her, patting her hand. "I forbid you to worry. You are to rest and get well. How would some food be?"

Christine's eyes lit up as she suddenly realized how long it had been since she'd eaten. "It would be fabulous! I'm starved!"

"You are starved," the doctor responded. "No meat on your bones. Any of you. But we'll feed you good. What would you like?"

Chapel's imagination went into overdrive as visions of favorite foods swam before her. "A cheeseburger with grilled onions! Medium rare! And fried potatoes! And, for dessert -- chocolate cake! No -- chocolate ice cream -- no, chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream! And a big thick vanilla milkshake -- and--"

"Hold it, hold it!" Dr. Karotkin threw up her hands to quell the flow. "You'd be sick all over the room for sure on that lot! Let's start with some chicken broth and toast."

"Cheese toast," Christine pleaded.

"All right, cheese toast," Karotkin chuckled. "Then we'll see how you're doing." She walked back toward her office to punch in the food order.

* * *

On the day they had been found and after Christine had been beamed up with the med team, the first thing Spock had asked Captain Hendrikson was: "The Enterprise... Do you know -- is James Kirk still--"

"Commanding? You bet he is. And it's Commodore Kirk now. He could be a fleet commander now if he wanted to be, but he will not, under any circumstances, take a desk job," Hendrikson grinned. "He loves being in space more than any man I've ever known. After Sekanus--"

"Sekanus? What is that?" Spock broke in.

"Oh, just a little skirmish with the Romulans," the other man answered dismissively. "Anyway, they tried to make him an admiral after that but he wouldn't have it. He demanded -- and got -- patrol of this sector. I think he's been looking for you all this time."

"Where are we anyway?" the Vulcan asked. "We were told little by our Romulan abductors except that this planet was so far away from anything that we would never be located. I surmised that this was Romulan space, which accounted for our not being found by any Federation vessels, but your presence now..."

Hendrikson laughed again. "We annexed this area after Sekanus. That's a very long story and can wait until we have you all looked after. Ah, here's that food and coffee I called for. Where would you like the ensign to set up?"

After the two older children were settled and eating, Spock nestled T'Kai into his lap and helped her sip warm milk from a cup that she held between her small hands. Now a year old, she was eating solid foods but was still nursing occasionally, although Christine had begun to wean her. The family all sat comfortably on the ground, cross-legged, though Captain Hendrikson hunkered down on the makeshift seat of one of the big logs. The rest of the search team, Mallory included, hovered nearby, all parties exchanging curious stares and looking one another over.

Hendrikson leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, lacing his fingers together. "Med should be back down shortly to get you all immunized and then we'll beam you up to quarantined quarters for a while. Meantime, what can I do to help you, Commander? Who can I contact?"

Spock was silent for a minute, deep in thought as he helped T'Kai with her cup, then answered, "If you don't mind, Captain, I would like to keep the news of our rescue quiet until our families have been notified. If you could send a coded message to the Enterprise, I would like to speak with Commodore Kirk and have him contact my parents and my wife's sisters on Earth. It will lessen the shock somewhat, I believe."

Hendrikson grinned and shook his head. "Man, is this going to blow the news grids into the next quadrant! I hope you have a deep dark hole that you all can dive into, because you're gonna wish you'd never been found once the media hounds get hold of this story!

* * *

That had been three days ago and now Spock, Christine (fresh out of sick bay), and the children were gathered around a table in the officer's mess, attempting to enjoy a quiet meal. Attempting, because T'Jenn was refusing to eat the strange food and was in a very cranky mood.

"I don't like it, Mama!" she whined. "Want some of your food!"

"Jenny, I have told you that we don't have any of our usual food," her mother replied, a frown line taking up permanent residence between her eyebrows. "There is nothing wrong with your chicken strips."

"It tastes funny," the child stated. "Don't want it!"

Spock had run out of patience, too. "Then you may sit there without eating and without this endless complaining. But there will be no other food later. Eat or go hungry."

T'Jenn's lower lip crept out and her eyes teared up, but she crossed her arms obstinately and sat back in her chair.

"Very well, have it your way," Spock commented and returned to his salad. Since coming on board ship, where a full menu was available from the food slots, he had returned to a fully vegetarian diet. There was no longer a logical reason to eat meat and he had ceased to do so immediately.

"It's good, Jenn," Sapel put in, holding up a crispy chicken strip. "It takes just like tree hopper!" He demonstrated with a large bite.

Jenny wasn't swayed. "Don't like it!" she stated with finality.

T'Kai, perched on Christine's lap, echoed, "No like!" She had begun talking over the winter, baby gibberish beginning to include intelligible words and she tended to parrot her siblings.

"Oh, you're not even eating that," her mother chided her gently. "Have some more mashed potatoes." She spooned a bit into the baby's mouth and T'Kai promptly stuck a finger in to suck on with the potatoes.

Captain Hendrikson sauntered up and asked, "May I join you?"

"Please." Spock indicated a vacant chair.

The big man slid into the chair and set a huge coffee mug in front of him. It had a beach scene painted on it and the words "Risa -- Pleasure Port of the Galaxy!" It seemed to be permanently affixed to the captain's hand because he carried it nearly everywhere onboard and constantly sipped coffee or some other beverage from it.

"We just got word back through communications," he said smiling. "The Enterprise is on her way. They had been back at Utopia Planitia around Mars for a refit and it took 42 hours for our message to relay through subspace and get the answer back. They left as soon as they could get free and will be here in two more days. It'll take 'em that long to make it out this far, even with the new warp drive, but Commodore Kirk will be opening a live comm with you at 2100 this evening. They'll be in range of the Subspace Relay Array at Ursa Majoris Alpha by then."

"I appreciate your help, Captain," Spock answered.

"Anything I can do for you is entirely my pleasure, Commander!" Hendrikson replied. He looked over at Christine. "And how are you feeling, Doctor?"

"Still a little tired, but that is very minor stuff!" the woman answered, feeding the baby another bite of potatoes.

"You've got three grand kids there," Hendrikson commented. "Considering your circumstances, I am absolutely amazed at how healthy and happy they are."

Christine stole a glance at the pouting T'Jenn and replied wistfully, "I'm pretty amazed, too."

"We did everything that was possible for our survival," Spock pointed out.

"Of course you did." Hendrikson paused and took a gulp from his coffee cup. "I haven't even attempted a debriefing of you all because I figure you'll be put through the wringer soon enough once you get back to civilization and the brass get their hands on you. But, if you're up to talking about it, I'd really like to know how all this happened."

Spock sighed and pushed the remains of his salad away, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. "It was a matter of revenge on the part of a Romulan starship commander. I am not at liberty to reveal the details behind it all, as I do not know if that is still classified information or what the state of relations between the Federation and the Romulan Empire is at the moment."

"Well, I can tell you part of that, anyway," the captain answered. "It's why we're out here. Five years ago, there was a dispute over a planet called Sekanus 5. The Romulans claimed it as theirs, but since it was in the Neutral Zone, the Federation didn't want them that close to our space. The Romulans attempted to set up a base there anyhow, and Starfleet went in to stop them. They called in more ships and so did we. Finally there was a major battle there with Kirk and the Enterprise right in the thick of it. They beat the Romulan fleet and they retreated back into their space, but it was a near thing. It could have gone either way and the Romulans were sitting back there, ready to move in again as soon as Starfleet left." Hendrikson took another sip of coffee. "Then the diplomats moved in and over the next three years hammered out a compromise. The Romulans ceded this section of their space to the Federation in exchange for allowing them to annex Sekanus. We're right out on the frontier here, way outside trade lanes or settled space. That's why the Columbia is here now. We're on a survey mission to catalog Class M planets for colonization."

"But how did you happen to find us?" Christine questioned. "That's a pretty big planet down there."

"Well, we picked up a Romulan distress signal on our way to this sector," Hendrikson replied. "It was an old style, real-space beacon and we followed it back to Avalon. Since the Romulans had listed this planet as uninhabited, we wondered who was sending a distress call. We couldn't find the source once we got into orbit, so we scanned for sentient life. There was a helluva storm covering the coastal area -- a real bad mother of a hurricane -- and we had to wait for it to clear before we could get readings. Then we sent down search and rescue parties and, well--" He spread his hands in conclusion.

Spock and Christine had turned to stare at each other in sudden revelation.

"The Romulan ship!" Spock declared.

"That signal that Sapel accidentally turned on when he was a baby!" Christine confirmed.

* * *

At 2100 that evening, Spock and Christine were waiting in Captain Hendrikson's cabin when the Columbia's communications officer beeped in. "Captain, I have your transmission connection completed."

"Put it through," Hendrikson directed.

The computer screen on his desk showed static for a couple of seconds then abruptly filled with the image of a man's head and shoulders, his face strained and anxious and flooded with myriad emotions. "Captain Hendrikson?" he asked.

"Commodore Kirk," the commander of the Columbia acknowledged. "I have someone here who would like to speak with you."

Without further ado, Hendrikson slid out of his chair and motioned for Spock to take his seat. With a bit of apprehension, the Vulcan did so, facing the man he had not seen in over a decade.

For a long, emotion-charged moment, the two simply stared at one another, throats too tight to speak. Kirk hadn't changed a lot. He was a little heavier and grayer, his ever-youthful face now sporting the lines of late middle-age and command. But the bright hazel eyes were still vibrant and sharp.

Before Spock could say anything, Kirk's brows lowered into a frown and he demanded, "Mr. Spock! Do you have any idea how long you've been absent without leave?!"

Spock's own eyebrows shot up in surprise and his brain did an automatic lightning calculation. "Fifteen years, two months--"

His instant answer was interrupted by Kirk's joyous guffaw. "Spock! Spock! I was kidding!" Kirk wiped a hand over his eyes, which were suddenly brimming with tears. "My God! I thought I'd never see you again!"

"Nor I, you, Captain," the Vulcan answered with a smile.

"And Christine- Is she--"

"Right here, Captain," Chapel spoke up, leaning down beside her husband so that the screen camera would pick her up, too.

From behind Kirk came a noise and a gruff voice, "Quit hogging things, Jim!"

On the screen, the commodore was shoved aside and an older man entered the picture. "Chris! God, girl - are you all right? Lord, it's good to see you!"

Christine was laughing and crying at the same time. "Leonard! How are you?"

"How am I?! How would I be? And Spock - criminentlies! You look like a Fiji wildman!"

"As would you, Doctor, had you been through what we have these past few years," Spock replied smoothly, delighted beyond all expectations to be trading barbs with McCoy again.

Kirk pushed his way back into the center screen. "There are some other people here who want to say hello," he said.

That triggered a crush of faces and voices and laughs and sobs as a number of men and women jostled into the camera's view. Prominent among these were Uhura and Scotty, but also a few others who had served closely with the long-missing pair. Finally Kirk shooed them all away and said, "Come on, let the ladies in here! They've got more right than any of us."

He motioned off-screen and two tall, slim women moved to center stage. Both were identical in face and both bore a striking resemblance to Christine. As she saw them, Chapel gave a cry of mixed gladness and anguish as she reached out to lay her hands on the computer screen. "Maddy!" she sobbed unabashedly. "Jessy!"

"Chrissy! Oh, Chrissy!!" The other two women, Christine's younger twin sisters, Madelyn and Jessalyn, were weeping just as hysterically at the sight of their older sibling, miraculously back from the dead.

Finally, Uhura and one of the nurses pulled them back and took the young women in their arms, patting backs and offering them support. On their end of the reunion, Spock did the same thing with his wife, wondering for a fleeting second if the application of a nerve pinch was going to once more be necessary.

But all settled down after a few moments and Kirk took center screen again, grinning widely. "Your parents are on their way from Vulcan, Spock. The Council has put their fastest ship at their disposal. They should only be a day or two behind us. The Enterprise is 31 hours away now and Scotty assures me that he'd get out and push if it would make her go any faster."

"Aye!" Scotty put in enthusiastically. "That I would!"

"We also have a Federation debriefing team on board," Kirk continued, a little more seriously. "Get rested up, because both of you will be doing a lot of talking in the next few days."

"Yes, I suspected as much," Spock answered wryly. "We have a very great deal of ... catching up to do."

"On both sides!" Kirk agreed. The picture on the screen flickered. "We're moving out of range of the Big Bear Relay," he said. "We'll sign off now, but we'll all see you in just a few more hours! My God! I still can't believe this!"

"Until then, my friends," Spock answered quietly and Christine wiped her face and smiled, too choked to speak.

The screen went dark.

Hendrikson had stood out of the way and let the reunion flow happily along its own route. Now he stepped forward and spoke up in a kindly voice. "If I might be so bold as to make a suggestion... You two look absolutely exhausted. Why not call it a night and get to bed? All the chicks are abed and tomorrow is going to be pretty hectic."

"I find that a superlative suggestion, Captain," Spock replied and rose, pulling Christine to her feet as well. "Again, your hospitality is most appreciated."

"Not at all, not at all." Hendrikson shooed them out of his cabin with a chuckle, filled his massive coffee cup once again from the food slot next to his desk, and sat down to update his daily log. He wanted to be completely caught up before all hell broke loose tomorrow.

* * *

Christine tossed and turned on the bunk, but couldn't find a comfortable position. The family had been assigned a cramped quad cabin with two bunk beds across a narrow aisle from each other and a pair of desks and chairs that took up much of the rest of the room. Columbia was not a large ship, carrying a crew of 32 officers and technicians. All but the five officers were housed in these small cabins, each with his or her own rack, but alternating watches so they didn't fall over one another. The cabin had never meant to sleep two adults and five children at the same time. The four crewmen who normally lived here had graciously given up their quarters to accommodate their guests and had squeezed in wherever they could elsewhere on the ship.

Christine was on the bottom bunk with Spock occupying the bed above her. Across the aisle, the little girls had the lower and Sapel the upper. Around them in the darkness of the cramped cabin, the ship's background noise hummed, the thrum of the engines vibrating up through the deckplates, more felt than heard. Used to the silence and night sounds of the planet below, the woman found she couldn't sleep. The recycled air smelled stale and the feel of the mattress was not the firm surface she was accustomed to.

Apparently she was not the only one awake. A little figure started her by climbing into bed with her.

"What's the matter, honey?" Christine whispered.

"Gotta tee-tee," said T'Jenn. "Need to go outside."

"We don't go outside here, baby," her mother answered. "We go to the bathroom." She pushed back the covers. "Come on. I'll take you."

On the way to the head, Christine stumbled over an obstacle that shouldn't have been where it was. "Oof! What the--"

"It is only I," answered a deep, quiet voice from the vicinity of the floor and a hand reached to grasp her groping fingers.

"Spock! What are you doing down there?"

"Attempting to meditate ... without much success," the Vulcan replied and rose gracefully out of lotus seat, his form now discernable in the dim safety lights.

"Couldn't you sleep either?" Christine inquired.

"Mama!" insisted T'Jenn, her hands pressed against her groin.

"Duty calls. Back in a minute." Quickly she shepherded her little daughter into the tiny 'fresher and closed the door.

"Wha's going on?" came Sapel's sleepy voice from his bunk.

"Nothing. Go back to sleep, son," Spock directed him and went to make sure he was tucked in. The boy lay back down and seemed to settle into sleep once more.

The bathroom door slid open to the accompanying sound of flushing, then the light went out and large and small figures made their way back to bed.

"Wanna sleep with you," Jenny announced.

"Shhhh, you'll wake Kai-Kai," Christine hissed softly.

"I don't like it here, Mama," the child whined sleepily. "I wanna go home! Wanna see Scruffy!"

There was a thin wail from the lower bunk that rose in volume as T'Kai roused from all the commotion. Spock and Christine exchanged tired glances and sighed.

"I was hoping she'd sleep through the night for once," Christine commented.

"Apparently not," Spock responded. He bent and picked up the crying toddler but Christine held out her arms to take her.

"Let me have Kai and I'll feed her. See if you can get Jenn settled."

The woman stretched out on her bunk and bared a breast, snuggling T'Kai against her. The baby nuzzled into the proffered nipple and began nursing contentedly.

"Back to bed, t'cha'i," Spock said, but T'Jenn still fussed.

"Wanna sleep with Mama," she insisted.

"Come and sleep with Papa instead," Spock suggested and scooted back onto the other bunk. That was acceptable with Jenn and soon she was asleep, burrowed into her father's side.

All was quiet for a few minutes then Sapel's voice came softly from the bed over Spock's head. "Papa?"

"Yes."

There was a second of hesitation then the boy said in a melancholy tone, "I don't like it here either. I wanna go home, too."

* * *

Christine reached out and slipped her hand into Spock's, where it was immediately evident that she was trembling. He looked down at her, puzzled. "What is wrong?" he asked.

Embarrassed, she pulled her hand free and wiped her sweaty palm against her ants leg, smiling sheepishly. "Im scared," she admitted. "Isn't that the silliest thing you've ever heard? I've faced wild animals, blizzards, prairie fires, floods, medical emergencies, childbirth, and who knows what else ... and I'm nervous as hell at the prospect of seeing our families and friends!"

"It is only natural to feel apprehensive," he responded with maddening calmness. "After all, you do not know how you or they will react."

"Well, I'll just be glad when this is over!"

It had been an hour since the two of them had stood on the small bridge of the survey ship and watched the oh-so-familiar shape of the Enterprise slide into orbit about the blue-green expanse of Terra Two. The ship was subtly different, though. The warp nacelles were of a new design, sleeker, faster looking, and there were other small adaptions that testified to the passage of time and technology. Still, there was no doubt that the starship was the beloved vessel they had both called home for so long.

A greater surprise was the tiny (by comparison) polished craft that slipped into orbit in the heavy cruiser's wake. Its lines were sleek and cat-like, as fleet as a cheetah and as powerful as a charging lion. And yet those beasts had nothing to do with the overall impression the little ship exuded. This ship had never seen the sun of Earth glint from its brilliant surface or felt the soft breath of Terra glide past its hull. This ship was Vulcan in every line and nuance, and the fact that it was here attested to the leashed demons that powered its stardrive. It must have managed Warp 12 to arrive at the same time as the big Starfleet ship that cruised ahead of it.

Spock had recognized the emblem blazoned on its surface, had he any doubt whatsoever as to the identities of its passengers. The mark was his House sigil, the ambassador's ship, and he knew that his parents had come at top speed from Vulcan for an eager reunion with their long-lost son.

Now Spock and Christine waited alone in the Columbia's briefing room, which had been turned over to them for the meeting. The children were waiting in their quarters. The adults had decided that it would be easier on all concerned not to have them present at first. And it would be the "icing on the cake," as Christine had put it, to present the kids as the culmination to the festivities.

But the waiting was terrible as their families and friends beamed over from their respective ships and were escorted to the reunion. Christine paced and wrung her hands in agitation, shaking all over. Spock, his imperturbable Vulcan persona firmly in place, stood like an oak, hands clasped behind his back, and simply endured.

Then the door snicked open with a whoosh and the moment they'd been awaiting had arrived.

The first person through the briefing room door was Amanda Grayson, followed closely by Sarek, apparently given deference by the others because of their age and status. In normal circumstances, Amanda would have been behind the ambassador as a proper Vulcan wife should be, but these weren't normal circumstances. Spock felt his breath leave him at the sight of his aged mother, her white hair covered by an elegant headdress, but her blue eyes bright and sharp as they locked immediately onto her tall son.

Tears blurred the alert eyes and then she flung all protocol to the wind and rushed to embrace her boy. For a split second, Spock froze in instinctive reaction, keenly aware of his father striding toward him, in complete control of his emotions, then Spock too gave into the inevitability of the moment and gathered his sobbing mother in his arms, nearly overcome despite himself.

Christine scarcely noticed the reunion of the Vulcan family because she had been enveloped by her two younger sisters, who had fallen upon her with a wail of mixed grief and gladness. All three women were clinging to one another and crying frantically, all three attempting to talk at the same time and none accomplishing anything coherent nor indeed listening to what the others were saying.

Out of the corner of her eye, her vision obscured by her tears, Christine saw Sarek lift his hand, palm outward, and Spock press his own palm against it, his other arm still around Amanda, who hadn't yet released her son. The two Vulcan men stood in dignified silence, gazes locked, palms together. Christine could only imagine what was passing between them.

And then she became aware of the other people who had entered the room and were standing together, waiting for the family reunions to be over. Christine wiped her face and pulled away from Madelyn and Jessalyn Chapel's embrace, then was immediately in the welcoming arms of a stately, strikingly beautiful Bantu woman, her hair now dusted with silver, but her face as youthful as ever. It was a repeat performance of weeping, talking and rocking in one another's arms, then a gruff voice broke in, throat choked with emotion, and demanded his turn.

Another minute and Christine was in the bear hug of her old boss. "Len!" she managed, holding him as tightly as he was her. Then he drew away in embarrassment and surreptitiously ran a hand over his face, leaving it wet.

Christine grinned at him and tried to get her voice to work. "Damn, Len! You got old! What have you been up to?"

"Doing all your work for you, missy," he shot back with a delighted grin of his own. "I need you to get your fanny back to sickbay and clean up that mess you left!"

All present in their little group laughed and began hugging and talking again, then they became aware that one more reunion was going on.

The one person who had stood back, feasting on the sight of a friend long thought dead, had now moved forward and held out his hand to Spock. Without hesitation, the Vulcan grasped Kirk's outstretched hand in a firm clasp and stepped toward his former commanding officer, his face suffused with a warm and affectionate expression, dark eyes crinkled in fulfillment and lips just on the verge of a full, genuine smile.

"Jim," he said simply.

Kirk gave up and yanked Spock into a hard embrace, pounding his friend on the back in undisguised emotion before pulling back, gripping Spock by the shoulders and holding him at arm's length, grinning from ear to ear. He tried to speak, but his voice failed him and he finally resorted to another quick, hard, back-thumping embrace.

When he was finally released, Spock raised a brow and declared in a somewhat ironic voice, "It is good to see you as well, Captain."

That broke Kirk's helpless silence with a deep, appreciative laugh, and he had to wipe his streaming eyes with the heel of one hand, before turning to greet Christine and giving McCoy and Uhura their chance at welcoming Spock home.

For the next hour, the gathering mingled and talked in joyous chaos, punctuated by many hugs and bits of news. Amanda was seated early on at the briefing table, unable to stand for longer than a short while. She was quite elderly now, the past fifteen years having taken their toll upon her, but she positively sparkled now as she visually followed Spock around the room, unable to take her eyes off him. After a while, he came and sat in the chair next to her, where she gripped his arm with surprising strength and continued to devour every nuance of his features.

"Has it been hard?" she asked finally, noting the scars he bore and the weathered texture of his face.

He gazed at her for a moment, solemn, despite the half-smile on his lips, and finally nodded. "The hardest thing I have ever endured," he answered softly. "If it weren't for Christine, I would not have survived ... either emotionally or physically. She has become the strength and flame of my heart."

Amanda smiled and nodded. "I can tell. When you two look at each other, there is absolute adoration in your eyes. Now you know what your father and I have felt for each other all these years."

"Yes," Spock responded in a barely audible voice. "Now I understand." He looked up and caught Christine's gaze, and something very meaningful passed between them. She smiled warmly and gave a little nod of agreement. Spock turned to Amanda and said, "I need to retrieve something from our quarters. I will only be gone for a few moments."

Then he rose and swiftly left the room.

* * *

True to his word, Spock was back within about ten minutes. As he stepped through the briefing room door, he glanced at Christine and she rose and went to join him. Lifting his hand and signaling for silence, he took a few seconds to look at each of the others in turn, making sure that he had their attention.

"Family members and friends," he said quietly. "Early into our exile on Avalon, which we called Terra Two, Christine and I pledged our bond to one another. Not only was it the logical thing to do, but we found that our relationship had become a close friendship and that friendship had turned into a deeper and more permanent attachment."

"He means we fell in love," Christine supplied, smiling up at her husband, her blue eyes twinkling.

McCoy let out a triumphant whoop but was silenced by a meaningful glance from Spock, who was obviously not finished with his speech. "We have been together now for twelve Avalon years ... nearly fifteen Federation Standard ... and we have helped each other through many hardships and trials. But not all was a struggle for survival. There have been incredibly happy occurrences as well." He paused for a second then announced, "My family and friends ... may I introduce you to our children."

With that, he activated the door sensor and the panel slid back with a whoosh.

There was dead quiet as, with trepidation, Sapel walked in carrying T'Kai, T'Jenn hanging onto his shirt tail with her thumb firmly planted in her mouth. The older two children looked decidedly scared, not knowing what to expect at meeting this group of strangers, their gazes darting uncertainly from person to person. The baby merely stared in open curiosity, although she was well aware of the tension and excitement permeating the room.

Amanda's hands had flown to her face and she had gone white as her hair, her eyes brimming with sudden tears. Alarmed at the surge of emotion he was feeling through their mindbond, Sarek laid a hand on her shoulder but was himself rendered speechless at this sudden disclosure by Spock. No one else in the room seemed to be breathing at all, though their mouths were hanging open in shock.

Then McCoy broke the silence with his usual aplomb. "Spock, you filthy dog! I didn't think you had it in you!"

The Vulcan's brows shot skyward as he returned an affronted gaze at his old comrade. "Really, Doctor!"

That broke everyone up and the breathing and laughter and the noise of congratulations filled the briefing room all over again. Christine took T'Kai from Sapel while Spock slipped T'Jenn's small hand into his. When things had quieted a bit once more, Spock continued the introductions. "This is Sapel. He was born during our first winter here. He is eleven by Avalon reckoning, nearly 14 by Standard. This is T'Jenn. She was born five years ago at our coastal cabin during the spring. And the youngest is T'Kai, who was born in the autumn, 17 Avalonian months ago."

"Oh, they are so beautiful!" Amanda exclaimed, tears streaming down her face. "I never expected this, Spock! Christine, they are gorgeous!"

"Thank you," the other women smiled with genuine pleasure, then a hint of sadness touched her eyes. "There were two others, but they died at birth. I wish we could have brought all of them home to you."

"Oh," was all that Amanda could manage, still overwhelmed by it all and now with the added sorrow that she'd lost two grandchildren without ever knowing them.

"Children, these are my parents ... your grandparents," Spock stated. "This is lo'uk-ma-sehk Sarek and lo'uk-ko-sehk Amanda."

"I greet you, my son's son and daughters," Sarek answered formally, but Amanda rose to her feet and pulled Sapel and T'Jenn into her arms, hugging them fiercely.

"Oh, stop being so Vulcan, Sarek," she admonished her dignified husband. "These are our grandbabies!"

"Mother, please," Spock chided gently, slightly embarrassed by Amanda's ebullient display.

"Spock - shut up!" his mother responded. "Christine, give me that precious baby!"

Laughing, Christine handed T'Kai over to her mother-in-law's welcoming arms, then everyone was crowding around, being introduced and the happy chaos was in full swing once again. Soon the baby was being passed around between the women, Madelyn was down on her knees with T'Jenn, listening to her adventures with Scruffy, Sapel was getting to know his grandmother, and Kirk and McCoy were both slapping Spock heartily on the back and declaring that they'd have to throw a party to wet all these kids' heads.

"Wet their heads?" Sarek repeated in puzzlement to Christine's other sister.

"It means to celebrate and welcome the child into the family, Mr. Ambassador," Jessalyn Chapel answered, now holding baby T'Kai.

"Ah...."

"It means to get drunk!" Uhura corrected her. "Jess, my turn! Hand her over!"

T'Kai, however, had been subjected to much more stimulation than she was used to and, as Uhura took her, the toddler screwed her face up and began to cry.

"Oh, dear! What did I do?" Uhura asked helplessly, looking around at Christine. "Is she wet? Hungry? Tired?"

"All of the above, I suspect," Christine answered and gathered her baby back to herself, where the child quieted a little, but continued to whimper. "And I think probably all of them could use a rest. Spock, I'm going to take the kids back to our cabin, feed them, and put them down for a nap."

"I don't need a nap, Mama," Sapel protested. "I'm too big for that."

"No, but you need some lunch and a little break," his mother answered. "This has been a lot of stress on all of you. Come along. Folks - we will pick this up a little later!" With that, she shooed her children out the door to the farewells of all there.

"And you, my wife, also need a recess," Sarek told Amanda, who was again sitting, still looking pale. "You have not been well and it is time for your medication and afternoon rest period."

"He hovers over me like an old hen," Amanda confided in Uhura. "You'd think I was a complete invalid."

Uhura chuckled, but Amanda obediently rose to her feet and came to grasp her son's hands. "We will expect all of you for dinner on the Kahs-khiori," she told him. "I've got a lot of catching up to do with those babies!"

"We shall be there promptly," Spock assured her, then watched as Sarek ushered his frail wife out the door.

"We'll be going back to the Enterprise, too," Madelyn said. "Spock, we're so glad to have you and the kids as a part of the Chapel family now. We'll have to do a dinner date with you all, too."

Her twin, Jessalyn, nodded in agreement and put in, "Never thought we'd have a Vulcan for a brother-in-law, but it's going to be kind of nice. I'll look forward to getting to know you."

"Thank you," Spock answered solemnly then turned to Kirk, McCoy and Uhura as the women departed.

Alone at last, the four shipmates simply stared at one another for a moment, then Kirk smiled and said, "I don't know about you all, but I could use some coffee. How about you?"

"I'd like a good old fashioned bourbon, myself," McCoy replied, "but I suppose it's a little early for that."

"I'd better be getting back to the ship," Uhura commented. "Scotty will be wanting to get back to the engine room. He hates to be left in command so long."

"Agreed," Kirk answered. "Maintain standard orbit, Commander, and make sure Ferguson has the away teams for the survey parties ready to go by 1500. I'll get your report once I come back aboard."

"Aye, sir. Spock, we are so glad to have you back with us!" With a dazzling smile, Uhura left.

The Vulcan let one eyebrow rise gently. "Commander? It is gratifying to hear that Miss Uhura has progressed in rank, although it is logical that she should do so. She has a number of duties, I see."

Kirk paused and a mischievous smile pulled at his lips. "Just the usual stuff ... for a first officer," he answered nonchalantly.

"First officer?!" Spock was caught by surprise and the shocking realization that he himself no longer occupied that position.

"Well, you never came back from that trip over to the space station and I had to have someone backing me up."

"Indeed. But I assumed that Mr. Scott or Mr. Sulu would have that position."

Kirk shook his head. "Scotty was offered the exec position, but couldn't be pulled away from his engines for a command position. Sulu did take the second seat for a couple of years, but he's captain of his own ship now. Nyota got tired of opening frequencies and took line officer training. She's been my second in command for six years now."

"And science officer? Who has that position now? Mr. Chekov?"

"No. Chekov is second officer on the Roarke's Drift, one of the new frigates that's been rolling out of the shipyards during the past couple of years." Kirk looked bemused. "We had an almost complete crew turnover when our latest mission began. Our science officer now is an Andorian named Quevan s'Rek. Starfleet is full of non-Terran races now. You paved the way for a lot of people who wouldn't have made it into the Fleet twenty-five years ago."

"That is pleasing to hear."

Kirk retrieved a cup of coffee from the food slot in the room, then sat at the conference table as McCoy did likewise. Spock simply seated himself across from the Enterprise's captain and folded his hands on the table. As McCoy joined them, he said conversationally, "You know, Jim, I sort of like that ponytail of Spock's. Think I'll grow one, too."

"You tried a beard a few years ago and shaved it off because it itched too much," Kirk pointed out. "What makes you think you'd handle a ponytail any better?" The doctor shrugged and sipped his coffee.

Spock commented, "There are very few barber shops on Avalon, Dr. McCoy. Long hair became the fashion there."

McCoy just grunted in reply.

Kirk turned serious and changed the subject. "Spock, you know we have Federation and Starfleet investigators on board, don't you? They're here to interrogate you and Christine about everything that has happened over the past fifteen years. Not only get your personal story, but how the Romulans were involved in it all. I believe your father is going to come aboard as well as a representative of the Vulcan government to protect your rights since you are a Vulcan citizen. As soon as you and Christine and the kids transfer your things over to the Enterprise, we're to leave orbit and start back to Earth. The interviews will take place while we're en route."

Spock nodded. "Yes, I expected that. However, before we leave orbit, Christine and I would like to beam back down to the planet and retrieve our belongings from our dwelling places."

"Yes. I'd like to see where you lived all this time," Jim responded. "Plus we need to tape the sites for the record. Then the colonization survey teams can move in and do their job."

"There might be a problem with colonizing this planet, Jim," Spock stated.

"Oh, why?" Kirk questioned.

"Because Avalon is already inhabited," the Vulcan stated calmly.

* * *

Spock drew a deep breath of the fresh, pine-scented air and felt that his lungs were clean for the first time in days. It had only been about a week since their rescue, but already he had found himself missing the brisk, bracing air of Terra Two. The stale, recycled atmosphere of the various ships all held a faint redolence of chemicals, too many people, and the lack of life. The air was dead and parched. All five of them had found themselves with dry, irritated nasal linings and cracked lips, even Spock whose desert-bred constitution should have been immune to such things.

But even he now found himself gulping in lung fulls of the fragrant air of their erstwhile home. He noticed Christine and the kids doing the same as they explored the forlorn site of their Sea Home cabin in the company of Commodore Kirk, Sarek, the two Federation investigators, and a half dozen other scientists from both Enterprise and Columbia.

Spock's disclosure that Avalon was already inhabited by a primitive, sentient race had brought the survey teams to a screeching halt. This had put a whole new light on the situation and Avalon had been slapped under a Grade B quarantine until this could be thoroughly investigated and a decision made by the Federation Survey and Colonization Commission. The lemuroids were covered by the Prime Directive regarding contact because they were a non-warp culture, rating barely out of the Stone Age by Earth standards. However, they had already had extensive contact with Spock, Christine and the children, so contamination had already occurred. Spock and Christine, as Starfleet officers, would be required to face a Starfleet inquiry board to explain their violation of General Order No. 1. Kirk protested vehemently via subspace that this was a ridiculous charge, considering the circumstances, and Sarek weighed in with all his considerable influence, but the ruling would not be changed. Spock and Christine would be brought before a hearing tribunal upon their return to Earth.

Meanwhile, still fuming, Commodore Kirk ordered a halt to all planet-side surveys until the Lemurian communities could be pinpointed and identified. Then they would await word on the decision on whether or not Avalon could be explored. Orbital mapping would continue.

It was agreed that a visit would be made by teams from both ships to the various sites where the family had lived to collect their belongings, document the living conditions and surroundings, and make a quick recon. There was also curiosity on the part of many, including Kirk, simply to see the places his friends had occupied during their exile.

They had taken two shuttles down rather than transport, giving Spock and Christine their first aerial view of the planet. Green and gold, its oceans turquoise and dotted with island archipelagos, skies streaked with white clouds, Avalon spread out before them in all its glory. As they approached a large northern continent, features began to become recognizable -- vast yellow prairies, rivers winding down to the sea, mountains rearing to the west, tapering into an uplift of hills, forests stretching south until they gave way to coastal plains, barrier islands, and marshes. To the north, between mountains and plains, a volcano smouldered lazily, its ashy cloud blown eastward on high altitude winds.

As the shuttles coasted in lower, a particular river meandered southeast and cut through low hills until it spilled into the sea. The pilot of their shuttle swung the craft around and brought it finally to a gentle rest in a clearing in tall woods. The second shuttle landed nearby.

As soon as he stepped from the little ship, Spock knew where he was. Sea Home -- or what was left of it. The debris and jumble of logs that were the aftermath of the hurricane was as they'd left it.

Christine and the two older children disembarked next, little T'Kai having been left in the care of her grandmother and two aunts. Kirk stepped out next and paused to gawk.

"Lord!" he exclaimed. "You actually lived here?"

"It was quite a good cabin," Spock answered. "It stood for approximately seven years or more until the storm destroyed it."

"Remarkable," Sarek interjected, joining them from the other shuttle. He had traded his usual robes for a more utilitarian jumpsuit and boots, though it made him no less imposing a figure.

Sapel touched him lightly on the arm, having already learned that it was bad form to lay hands on the venerable Vulcan. "Sa-mehk? Come on and I'll show you around."

"I would enjoy that, lo'uk-cha'i," Sarek replied and allowed the boy to guide him away.

"Wanna go!" T'Jenn declared and hurried after them.

The various members of the landing party dispersed throughout the site, taking holos, picking through the debris, having Spock and Christine point out various things to them and explain how they were done. Most marveled that the two of them could have actually constructed the log cabin, for the logs were unwieldy and heavy. "A simple A-frame and rope will lift quite a lot," Spock commented laconically.

As the morning wore on toward midday, Spock and Christine found themselves wandering down the hillside toward the little hot spring and pool that had been the location of so many scenes of love and relaxation. There was a lot of storm debris littering the area, but the pool itself was clear once more, the running water having swept itself clean after a few days.

Here on its banks, wreathed by its eternal mists, both paused to reflect on its beauty and serenity. Spock's hand slipped into his wife's and they stood silently for a long time, reliving through their bond erotic fantasies played out in the steaming waters, or times when they'd simply lain in the simmering heat and let their tired bodies languish, soothing sore muscles and exhausted minds, or occasions when the warming bath had cleansed them all and washed away the grime of daily living. But mostly it was the time of love that they both remembered so well and Spock turned to meet his t'hy'la's deep blue eyes, adoration in both their gazes speaking more than words could say.

Footsteps coming through the trees behind them caused Spock to abruptly release his hold on Christine's hand and he hurriedly straightened and faced forward. Sapel and T'Jenn ran past them, followed in a moment by Sarek who was not as agile as the children.

When he had reached the pair, the elder Vulcan paused to catch his breath, softly as if ashamed that the hike had winded him, then said conversationally, "The children have shown me the beach and various fauna there. Is it true, Spock, that you ate fish and other animal flesh?" There was a tone of slight horror in Sarek's voice.

Spock turned to face him, eyes cool and steady. "It was logical," he answered with stony inflection. "Survival dictated that all food sources be utilized."

"I see." Sarek was silent once more, reflecting on this. "I trust you meditated on this decision before it was implemented."

Spock's brows lowered fractionally. "Father, I see no need to justify my actions to you. What I have done was necessary and logical. I am at peace with my decision. If you find that you must meditate in order to accept it, then so be it. But what is done, is done. Kaaidth. Kh'askeyralatha c'thia. Logic makes the way of things clear."

Sarek bowed his head in a small nod of acceptance. "Thy logic supercedes mine, my son. I may not condemn your actions when I have not experienced the trials that you have undergone."

Christine had been standing by uncomfortably, an unwilling party to this confrontation between her husband and his father. Now she cleared her throat and said, "I'd better check on the children. Excuse me." She hurried away in the direction the two had gone.

Spock and Sarek watched her go, the tension still evident between them, then Sarek said in a gentler tone, "I believe the logic of your choice of mates is clear as well, my son."

Spock cast a wary glance his way. "The logic of choice is that there was no one else to choose, my father. There was just the two of us here."

"Now you seek rationalization where none is needed, my son." The older Vulcan's eyes were steady but held a hint of amusement. "Did I not tell you once that my marrying your mother was the logical thing to do? What do you suppose I meant by that?"

An eyebrow rose. "That you found her compatible and a fit companion for life."

"And do you believe that our marriage has lasted all these years on simply those grounds?" Sarek could not suppress the tiny smile that pulled at his lips. "Spock, what I believe you feel for Christine is exactly what I have felt for your mother during our marriage. She would say that I love her. Perhaps I do. I cannot tell, since Vulcans are trained to believe that they can experience no such emotion. However, if what I feel for Amanda is love, then, yes, I can say that I do indeed love her. I observed you and Christine as I entered the clearing a few moments ago. I think I can safely say that you love her, as well."

Spock could not speak. This was the most open and extraordinary speech he'd ever heard issue from his father's lips and he did not know how to respond. Instead, he merely nodded in assent.

He was saved from any further need to discuss this uncomfortable subject with Sarek when he observed Christine and the two children coming back towards them. Sapel was holding a large golden object in his arms, which Spock recognized at once.

T'Jenn hurried up to her father, pointed back and exclaimed in delight, "Look who we found, Papa! Scruffy!!"

As soon as Scruffy laid eyes on Sarek, she flattened her ears against her skull and snarled in warning. The Vulcan took the hint and said, "My presence seems to be upsetting to the animal. I will wait near the shuttles." With that, he quietly withdrew, leaving the family alone.

They all knelt around the cat, petting and soothing her until her low growls stopped and changed to purrs, her pupils shrinking from full dilation to slits in her green eyes.

"Why'd she act like that?" Sapel queried, stroking his pet's thick golden fur. "He wasn't gonna hurt her."

"Your grandfather is a stranger to her," Christine answered. "Scruffy's never seen any people besides us. She didn't even like Picku's people, remember?"

"Yeah, I guess so," Sapel admitted. "But she'll get used to people, won't she? I mean, there'll be a lot of people around from now on, right?"

Spock caught his wife's eye and the two exchanged a quick, meaningful glance. Then Spock answered softly, "I do not believe it will be possible for Scruffy to come with us where we are going."

"Huh?!"

"What?!"

Both children reacted with identical shock, then burst out simultaneously: "No! She's gotta come!" "Want Scruffy!"

Their father held up a hand for silence. "Think about how it will be for Scruffy," he said gently. "She is free and wild here, living as she is meant to live. Would you imprison her in a world that she can never adapt to? Force her to live in fear and confusion for the rest of her life? Never seeing another of her own kind, simply so that you can have her as a pet?"

T'Jenn was crying opening and Sapel's eyes were magnified with brimming tears. "But she'd have us," he pleaded. "I'd take care of her!"

Christine had noticed a dappled shape among the shadows down the hill. She nodded in that direction. "Would she have her mate, Sapel? He's waiting for her there. And she's expecting this year's cubs already. I can feel them inside her. Would you take them away from their world, too?"

"But ... but I love Scruffy, Mama!" the boy protested.

"We all love her, baby," his mother answered quietly. "But sometimes love means doing what's best for the one you love ... even if it hurts you."

Jenny crawled into Spock's lap and put her arms around his neck, weeping piteously, too upset to speak. He cradled her close, willing comfort to soothe her agony. Down the hill, the male hunting cat was watching them intently and gave a short growl.

Scruffy responded at once with a rough meow and tried to get free of Sapel's arms. The boy held on tighter.

"Do what you feel is best," Spock murmured to his son, then said nothing more.

For a long minute, they could see the battle going on inside the youth, then Sapel hugged the cat tight, his eyes squeezed shut, tears leaking between his dark lashes. Then he loosened his grip and set the animal free.

"Go on , Scruffy," he said hoarsely. "Get out of here!"

The spotted cat paused to peer at him for a second, giving an inquisitive little mew. Then she turned and sprinted down the hillside toward her mate and the two sleek animals disappeared into the sun-dappled woods, melting away as if they'd never existed.

Spock rose smoothly to his feet, T'Jenn still clinging to his neck, and Christine stood up beside him. Slowly, Sapel got to his feet as well, wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. After a while, the adults turned and left the burbling little pool behind, and with it a part of their lives, forever.

Sapel stayed for a good while longer, his eyes locked on the place where the hunting cats had vanished into the woods. Then finally he whispered to the mists, "Goodbye, Scruffy. Goodbye..." and turned to follow his parents back to the clearing.

* * *

It had been a long day and promised to be another one tomorrow. After concluding their business at Sea Home and collecting the things the family wanted to salvage, the two shuttles had lifted off and skimmed lightly over the green plains toward the low hills on the northwest horizon. Below them, vast herds of grazing animals spooked and scattered briefly at the passage of the strange flying beasts, then settled back to their endless feeding and movement along the numerous game trails cross-crossing the savannah.

Looking down on a herd of primitive horses, Sapel asked his mother, "Do you think Mezzie and the foal made it through the storm, Mama?"

"I don't know, honey," Christine answered honestly. "I don't suppose we'll ever know for sure. But we can hope for the best and wish them well."

Sapel nodded and was silent, watching the land slide past.

It took another two hours before they located the wreckage of the Romulan ship that the family had called home for a while. Spock didn't know the precise location and had never searched for it from the air. The shuttles were forced to fly a grid pattern before finally spotting it amid a thick overgrowth of vegetation and the remains of a rockslide that partially covered it.

By the time the shuttles set down nearby, the sun was lowering in the western sky, almost behind the hills, and the shadows had grown long. In the late afternoon light, the once sleek little ship, now a scorched ruin, looked even more forlorn. Spock had done a thorough job of destroying it when they'd last left here, over five years before.

Kirk paused to let his gaze roam over the hulk, then asked, "Why burn it, though, Spock?"

"Starfleet was not the only ones who picked up our distress signal," the Vulcan answered solemnly. "This area of space is unpatrolled. Pirates operate here and found us. We barely got away with our lives."

Christine cast a glance her husband's way. Spock was not even touching on the whole story. Mad with the fevers of pon farr, Spock had killed two men with his bare hands, his inflamed mind seeing only rival males intent on taking his mate. Sapel, too, had been threatened. Alone on his kahs'wan, he had watched his beloved pet Mooch be vaporized by one of the raiders, but had lured the man to his own death at the teeth and claws of hill lions. The other one had managed to escape. After all was over, the Mating fever burned away and the family reunited, Spock had realized that they were no longer safe at the ship. He had burned it and led his pregnant wife and son south on their way to the sea.

But now Spock said nothing of these events, though he was quiet and introspective, watching the Starfleet investigators bustle around the site.

Sarek had noted his son's mood and asked quietly, "This spot holds troubled memories for you, Spock?"

"Yes ... but good ones, too," the younger Vulcan answered in a like tone. "There is a long story associated with the events that happened here."

"It will be told when you are ready," Sarek answered philosophically.

A far off sound caught Spock's sharp hearing and he noted that the sun had now dropped behind the hills. He turned to Kirk. "Jim, I do not recommend staying here after dark. There are large predators in the area. I would suggest concluding today's activities and returning in the morning."

As if to underscore his warning, there came a muted roar from about a mile away. It was echoed by one much closer.

"I see what you mean," Kirk commented. "All right, people! Wrap it up! We'll resume this tomorrow."

They dropped a locator beacon next to the ship and called it a day. The two shuttlecraft lifted in a cloud of dust and shot off into the sky, bound for their respective ships.

While the family had been gone, their meager belongings had been transferred to larger quarters on the Enterprise. The newly refitted ship now contained two family suites and larger-sized VIP staterooms. One of the ship's duties was to transport dignitaries between outlying Federation worlds and there had never been quite enough room on board for such things.

Spock and Christine were now assigned one of the two-bedroom suites while Sarek and Amanda moved their things from the Vulcan ship over to one of the staterooms. Amanda had decided not to return to Vulcan and be parted from her newly discovered grandchildren, and the Kahs-khiori was dispatched back to its home planet. Elsewhere on board the Enterprise, Christine's two sisters, Madalyn and Jessalyn, were already at home in the stateroom they had occupied on the voyage out.

The U.S.S. Columbia, its survey duties on Avalon stopped abruptly until the Federation brass could rule on the quarantine question, had been ordered to proceed to its next assignment. They would be pulling out within the next eighteen hours. Kirk hosted a quiet dinner that evening with Captain Frank Hendrikson and Dr. Olga Karotkin as his guests, along with the Vulcans and Chapels. There was nothing formal about the dinner and it had the air more of a family meal than an official function.

After the meal was finished, the children began to yawn and the women herded them out for baths and beds. Karotkin retired to one corner with McCoy, deep in medical discussions about her findings on the parasites taken from the exiles. Though Karotkin would keep the samples and add them to Columbia's research logs, she had transferred copies of her notes and sections of the specimens to the Enterprise for McCoy's benefit. He planned to go over his patients with a fine-tooth comb once they were on their way back to Earth. But for now, the two ship's surgeons engaged in shop talk over after-dinner whiskeys.

Relaxing around the cleared dining table, Kirk and Hendrikson opted for brandy, Spock and Sarek preferring a sweet Vulcan dessert wine made from a berry that grew in that planet's arctic region. It had been nearly two decades since Spock had tasted the slightly intoxicating vintage and he sipped it slowly and appreciatively.

"So," said Kirk conversationally to Hendrikson. "Where are you off to?"

"Second star to the right and straight on til morning," the big man grinned. "Actually, it doesn't really have a name yet. Grid 423 mark 8 is what my charts say. We named the last three planets we explored for legendary places - Atlantis, El Dorado, and Avalon. Maybe we'll call the next one Neverland. Who knows?"

"Sounds okay by me," Kirk laughed and took a sip of his drink.

"That seems a highly illogical method for naming planets," Sarek commented drily. "Such fantastical names do not set forth an adequate description of those worlds."

"Well, forgive me, Mr. Ambassador," Hendrikson answered good-naturedly. "We humans are highly illogical, as you well know. In any case, those won't be the names that go down on the books. That's left up to the Federation Mapping and Survey Division. Undoubtedly, it will be something completely dull and completely accurate."

Sarek twitched an eyebrow and conceded the argument. He was in too mellow a mood to dispute it much, in any case. Although not admitting it even to himself, he was highly pleased to have his son back alive and well, not to mention his newly discovered daughter-in-law and grandchildren. He had been more distressed than was seemly when Spock had disappeared and had thrown all his considerable power and influence into the search and rescue effort. When it appeared that the Romulans were involved in a vengeance kidnapping, Sarek's panic and ire had threatened to overwhelm his emotional control and only the countering effects of the Vulcan Council's steel-hard mastery had prevented a diplomatic disaster. Sarek had been shamed by his loss of self-esteem but admitted to the Council that he was not able to think clearly in this situation. They had taken over the investigation and it was a bitter blow to Sarek when, ten years later, Spock had been declared missing in space and presumed dead. He had almost lost Amanda as well, who had grieved nearly to the point of insanity for her lost child, aging years by the time she had finally accepted the loss.

Now Sarek cast an eye toward the tall man sitting next to him, his face sunburnt and marked by the years of hardship, the long black hair threaded through with a dusting of silver at the temples that gave testimony to the fact that Spock had aged as well. Sarek's heart pounded with sudden emotion at the memory of his grief when he had thought Spock gone forever. No matter what their differences, this was still his son and he cherished him above nearly all things.

"And you, Commander Spock?" Hendrikson was saying. "What do you and your family have planned once you get home?"

Spock quirked a brow in a manner similar to his father. "I have not considered our plans beyond the upcoming debriefing and how we will handle the resulting media frenzy that is certain to ensue."

Kirk nodded. "We've kept things quiet until now, but the news will be announced officially as soon as the Starfleet Public Relations Department is notified. I'm surprised word hasn't leaked unofficially by now."

"We've kept as tight a lid on our communications as you have, Jim," Hendrikson answered with a flash in his eye that showed his command ability coming out. "Nothing will leave Columbia until we get the official word that it's okay to do so."

Kirk toasted his fellow captain with a lift of his glass. Then Hendrikson was back to his normal jolly self. "Anyway, Commander, if you find you need a hidey hole for you and your family to escape the press, why not pop over to Risa and we'll put you up there or a while?"

"Risa?"

"That's my home port," Hendrikson answered. "My wife and girls run a beach resort there while I'm in space. Oh, not what you're thinking! Most of Risa isn't the pleasure ports that everyone thinks of. It's really a great place to live. We've got a big house on the coast of Panattoni Island that we open up to guests during the summer season. Here ... I'll show you..."

The Columbia commander dug into his waist pouch and produced a flat holo that he handed over for Spock's viewing. It showed a vast, rustic dwelling amid swaying palms and pristine sands. In front were an older woman and two teenage girls, waving at the camera. Spock's brows shot up at the sight of the younger girl - her long black hair rippling in the sea breeze and her bright green eyes sparkling with merriment. It was the girl in Sapel's dream! The one Spock had seen in his mind when he'd melded with his son in an effort to allay the boy's troubled thoughts!

Hendrikson missed the Vulcan's sudden startlement and reached over to point out the figures in the holo. "That's my wife, Verise, my oldest daughter, Lelani, and my youngest, Maia."

Kirk and Sarek leaned to look. "Handsome family," Jim commented.

"Indeed," Sarek responded.

"Yes," Spock said simply and handed the holo back to Hendrikson, who returned it to his wallet then got to his feet.

"Well, Jim, it's been a grand evening, but we'd better be getting back if we're going to get out of here on schedule. Olga, you done bending the doctor's ear?"

"No, but I suppose it will just have to wait until we can meet again," the big woman answered, also rising. "Leonard, you send me results on those tests, yes?"

"You bet I will. Been a pleasure."

Hendrikson stuck out his hand and engulfed Kirk's in his large paw. "Jim, thanks for a great meal. Good sailing."

"Clear skies, Frank," the younger man replied. "And good sailing to you, too."

* * *

Spock moved as silently as he knew how, undressing in the suite's 'fresher, taking a short but relaxing sonic shower, then stepping out into the dark bedroom and making his way naked to the bureau to retrieve clean undershorts and t-shirt as he made ready for bed. Christine was already asleep, obviously still recovering from her ordeal and exhausted, and he moved about the darkened cabin without benefit of anything but the dimmest of safety lights. With his pupils expanded like a cat's to gather in the maximum amount of illumination, his superior night vision allowed him to maneuver with ease.

They had found their cabin closet and dresser stocked with standard Starfleet clothing and were now both getting used to the feel of cotton and synthetics after so long wearing nothing but leather and furs. Spock found it especially nice to feel soft, pliant material against his skin after the sometimes chafing loincloth.

Taking out a pair of regulation black briefs, he was bending to step into them when Christine's soft voice came from the shadows, "You don't have to wear those to bed, you know."

He straightened, abandoning the act of donning the shorts. "I didn't mean to wake you," he answered in a quiet voice.

"I was just dozing," she replied in a sleepy tone. "Waiting for you to come to bed."

There was a slightly playful quality in her voice that he knew well and he returned the underwear to its drawer, then walked easily into the sleeping chamber. His night vision allowed him to see her gown draped over a chair, thus he was not surprised to find her nude as he slipped beneath the sheets beside her.

"I still like sleeping this way," she commented, answering his unasked question. "Just got too used to it, I suppose."

"I too enjoy the freedom of sleeping unhampered by clothing," he responded, taking her into his arms, relishing the sensation of skin against skin. "It is common in the hotter regions of Vulcan, although the night can become quiet cold in the desert."

"Nice to snuggle up together and share body heat," she smiled and lifted her face to his lips.

For a long time, they exchanged gentle, probing kisses, caressing each other's body as the flames of desire awakened in them both. Feeling the growing hardness against her groin, Christine slid a leg up over his hip and allowed his swollen manhood to slip into the welcoming valley between her thighs. He made no move to enter her, though, simply savoring the intimate closeness this action brought. Just having him there was delicious and she groaned quietly, tilting her head back against the pillow. Spock let his lips trail down her throat to nuzzle her steady, throbbing pulse.

"Oh, it feels so good to be in a real bed with you again," she sighed, stroking his long hair away from her face and using the motion to trail her fingertips down the curve of his ear. He shuddered slightly as a result and moved his mouth up to suck at her earlobe, pulling it gently through his teeth. "Mmmmm," Christine continued. "I thought about our first time on the Romulan ship when we were back there this afternoon."

"Did you?" he murmured. "I did, too." He nibbled along her jawline and down her neck to her collarbone, one large hand engulfing a full breast, kneading it gently, feeling the dampness that had broken out on her skin. The heat of her body increased as he bent to fondle the supple globe, trailing his tongue over the nipple and teasing it to full erection. Then he paused and drew in a deep breath through his nose. "You have a different scent," he commented in a slightly puzzled manner.

Christine's light giggle bubbled up. "You can tell, huh?"

He snuffled her skin again, the action tickling her, so that she instinctively pushed at his shoulder to make him stop as she laughed. "I cannot tell why it has changed. Is it the soap or shampoo you have begun using?"

"Maybe, but I think it's something else," she chuckled.

"What?" The subtle odor of her skin was more like a faint musk, barely detectable except that he knew her scent so intimately. He nuzzled her breast again, trying to identify the change in her.

"Okay, okay!" She couldn't keep it to herself any longer. "I took advantage of our return to the 23rd century," she grinned, her white teeth giving evidence of her delight. "I had Dr. McCoy give me an injection of contraceptive yesterday. No more worries about getting pregnant again, unless we decide we want to! Unless we have it reversed, it will last at least a year!"

Spock had lifted his head to peer at her and now his brows rose in revelation. "Ah! So that's where you were yesterday afternoon."

"I had to wait 24 hours for it to assimilate, but now we're good to go whenever we want!"

"Hence the reason you were lying in wait for me like this," he surmised, squeezing her breast firmly.

"Exactly!" Her throaty voice lowered to a rough, suggestive whisper. "I've got you in a real bed now and don't have to watch what phase the moons are in anymore. I hope you're ready, mister, because from here on in ... it's gonna be pon farr tonight!" And she pulled him into a hot, fervent kiss that left no doubt whatsoever how he would be spending the rest of the evening.

* * *

Spock came slowly awake, the slightly increased light making him think it was dawn and wondering for a second why there were no birds twittering in their usual early morning chorus. Then his mind centered itself and he remembered where he was. The lights in the cabin had begun their subtle, preprogrammed elevation that mimicked the dawn, bringing the human mind, with its genetically set diurnal rhythm, slowly back to consciousness. All over the ship, the corridors and main work areas would be growing brighter by degrees from the low levels that represented night on board. First watch would be waking up as chron alarms signaled 0530. Elsewhere, second watch would be asleep in their darkened cabins, having come off shift at midnight. Third watch would still be on duty, waiting for their reliefs to show up at 0700, thus beginning another "day" in space.

It felt so comfortable to Spock -- three eight-hour shifts, endlessly repeating. He had lived that schedule for his entire adult existence, standing all watches as was his responsibility, sometimes not leaving his post for over 24 hours, if circumstances demanded it. As First Officer, he'd made a point of visiting all departments during all shifts, hitting each one at least once a month. It kept everyone on their toes, not knowing if "the Ghost walks" -- he chuckled silently at the crew's appellation for him -- but also allowing him to get to know everyone on board.

No more, however. He and Christine were no longer part of this ship. They were both "Starfleet/Deceased". Ghosts, indeed. Spock was not looking forward to the years of interplanetary legal wrangling that would begin once they had returned from the dead, as it were. His head spun as he considered all that would need to be done, then resolutely stopped this line of thought. He would simply have to turn it all over to the family attorneys and let them handle it. It was illogical to waste time worrying about it. With Vulcan discipline, he ceased to think about it.

Much more pleasant and of immediate consideration was the sleeping woman snuggled against his warmth. Despite their playful intention to make love far into the evening, after the second session of passionate coupling, both had fallen asleep and dreamed soundly throughout the night.

Spock let his senses wander over his wife's voluptuous body, enjoying her naked skin pressed against his, her soft breath sighing through parted lips, dark lashes resting on rosy cheeks. Her hair, still long and sun-streaked, spread out over her shoulders, framing her aristocratic face. So often he had lain like this, watching the morning light begin to bathe her features in gold, warming her skin into honey. He could scarcely remember a time when he had been without her, when she had not been a part of his life. How alone he had been before ... how foolish to think that he wanted the ascetic life he had chosen for himself. She had brought him fully alive.

Even now, his loins began to stir as his body responded to her nearness. Letting his gaze drift down a little, he could make out her full breasts resting on the arm that lay across her stomach, heavy still though she had weaned T'Kai and no longer produced milk. Her nipples remembered, though, and were turgid and waiting to be nursed.

Almost, he wanted to bend down and pull them into his mouth, suckling her as he'd done last night, licking and teasing until she cried out in ecstasy and climaxed underneath him. But he resisted the urge. He simply wanted to watch her now, though he found her breasts irresistibly arousing, as his growing erection attested. It rose in steady pulses with each heartbeat and prodded against her thigh, demanding attention. The sensation of the smooth, sensitive head rubbing against silken skin fueled the fire growing within him and added to his excitement.

That excitement seeped through their bondlink into her mind and she began to come awake. Lifting her arms over her head, she stretched luxuriously, her breasts rearing clear of the blankets and displaying themselves proudly to her husband's appreciative gaze.

Then she relaxed and turned her head to look at him, smiling drowsily. "Morning," she said.

"Good morning," he returned, one hand folded underneath his pillow, the other drawing a light trail down her bare arm. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmmm..." she murmured. "Better than in a long time. How about you?"

"Very well indeed," he answered. His exploring hand reached the globe of her breast and he casually reached out a finger to roll a taut nipple under his fingertip, eliciting a little shiver from her. "Do you need to attend the children?" meaning specifically the baby.

"Not yet," she replied. "It's still early and they're in good hands. Maddy and Jess have Jenn and the other two are with your folks." She chuckled indulgently. "I think your mother is 'eat up' with Kai-Kai, as my mother would have said, and Sapel has really taken up with his grandfather. Sarek is acting like a kid again himself."

Spock quirked up an eyebrow. "Considering it has been quite some time since my father was a 'kid' and I have never seen him behave as one, that should be interesting. However ... I have absolutely no interest in discussing our families at the moment." To prove his point, he rolled her nipple a little more firmly, then covered it with his palm and began to knead her breast gently.

Christine wriggled in approval, feeling the area between her legs tighten with familiar anticipation. She was still wet and slick from the aftermath of their activities earlier in the evening and could feel the slight stickiness from the semen that had seeped from her vagina. While the memory of his powerful body erupting its essence into her depths made her squirm with incipient exhilaration, she still felt the need to clean herself a bit. And there was something else, a different pressure that needed her attention.

She pushed at his shoulder and said, "Hold that thought for a few minutes, okay? First thing, I've gotta pee."

He gave an exaggerated sigh and rolled onto his back to wait. With a light laugh, Christine got out of bed and hurried into the bathroom, the door sliding closed behind her. Spock lay impatiently, staring at the barely visible ceiling, all too aware of the tented blanket rising prominently above the bed. After a short while, he heard the toilet flush and she came padding back to the alcove, vaulting in beside him and pulling the covers up.

"Now, where were we?" she asked. "Do you need a turn next?"

"I do not need to relieve myself," he answered. "Not that way, in any case."

She laughed again and snuggled into the hollow of his shoulder, encouraging him to pull her into his embrace, then letting her hand roam down his stomach until it encountered the firm column of his erection beneath the blanket. "Hmm, this feels like it needs relieving," she commented.

"Indeed," he answered, then fell silent to savor the feeling of her hand encircling the heated shaft and beginning to stroke.

Christine was enjoying it as well. Spock was nicely endowed as she'd known since the first time she'd been involved in a medical examination when she'd first been assigned to the Enterprise, almost twenty years ago. But that was clinical and she was careful never to "see" him, keeping a professional attitude when it was necessary to glimpse his naked body. And she had never seen him erect until the first time they'd made love in the little cave on Terra Two. She had quickly grown to love his body as well as his spirit. He filled her as no other man had ever done, fitting her perfectly, as if they'd been destined for each other.

Now she gently but firmly pumped his rigid penis, careful not to grip him too roughly or scratch the sensitive glans, fascinated as always at the way the veins and ridges began to swell along the thick shaft. Already he was hard as granite, in full arousal, yet his skin was soft and dry to her touch, save for the moist, flaring head that was leaking its lubricating oil in readiness.

As she stroked him, Spock let his eyes close and his head sink back onto his pillow, lost in the welter of sensations washing over him. Feedback from Christine's mind flooded through the bond link, echoing and redoubling as their mutual arousal flowed back and forth between them.

He began to gasp softly as his body tightened to the point of ultimate explosion, all his muscles stiffening in preparation. Christine had been closely watching his face, the display of emotions flickering across his features, and knew he couldn't hold off much longer. Now she moved abruptly, pushing herself up and swinging one leg over his straining hips, her fist still grasping his throbbing manhood. For a startled second, Spock opened fevered eyes to look at her, then she was settling astride him, holding him firmly in place as she guided him into position.

Both caught their breath as the hot column of flesh sank into her cool enfolding well, sending waves of indescribable pleasure cascading throughout both. Then he locked his gaze onto hers and she found she could not look away, caught by eyes black with desire and open to his soul. Her heart seized within her breast, nearly bringing tears spilling over as he unmasked the devotion and utter trust he had in her, the only person he would allow to see the vulnerability and sensitivity that dwelt within his being. He had looked at her that way once before, she realized, under the worst of circumstances -- on Platonius when they were being forced to perform for their captors. His steady, solemn eyes had held her then, too, and had confided to her things that he would never have spoken aloud.

Spock saw and felt his mate's emotions threatening to overflow, and he gently reached up to touch her cheek, trailing his fingertips across her soft lips. Neither needed to speak, he knew, for their hearts and minds had long ago become one. And that love now manifested itself back into a physical joining that cried out for culmination.

Slowly, Christine began to move her hips forward and back, driving him deeper into her body, then pulling back. As she settled into a sensuous rhythm, once more his head fell back onto his pillow and his eyes fluttered shut, his expression elegant with sublime bliss, hands resting lightly on her thighs. For what seemed like a long time, they stayed in that pattern, she moving in measured cadence astride him, he lying motionless beneath her, lost to the building fires that were kindling inside him.

Sensing the growing conflagration, she picked up her pace and pressure, leaning over him, hands braced on his shoulders, riding him hard. At once his face contorted almost in pain, his teeth closing with a hiss behind parted lips. The surge of his arousal coursed into her heart and set her own blood aflame.

Once more, his eyes flew open but there was nothing gentle in the dark brown depths now. Bucking up strongly beneath her, he took control, holding her hard against him. It wasn't enough. He had to have more. Pulling her down to his chest, he swiftly rolled her underneath him, never breaking their intimate connection, and immediately began to pound into her with all his considerable might. She hung on for dear life, loving it, taking his battering thrusts with joy, knowing that his passion was for her! She was the one who could make him like this!

He buried his face against her neck and gripped her hard, his hips humping into her now with short, intense strokes. He was practically sobbing, he was so close, and she hung on the same knife edge, chanting over and over in her mind, Oh, yeah, baby! Oh, please! Come in me! Come in me!

It was the undoing of his final shred of control. With a ponderous groan, he slammed into her and froze, his whole body shuddering as his orgasm tore loose and shot free. Time seemed to stop as he pumped into her again and again, then gradually the torrent waned and he was being cradled in her arms, gentle hands stroking wet hair away from a face once again guileless and reposed.

"It just gets better and better," she murmured, kissing his forehead. "I could lie here all day like this."

"You may have to do so," he answered breathlessly. "I am uncertain if I can walk!"

Christine threw back her head and laughed merrily. "That's my line! Anyway, I've got to get up soon and take a shower. You, too, sweetie. All that wild sex has worked up a sweat on both of us!"

He sighed against her neck. "You are correct, as usual. I was always taught that Vulcans do not perspire, but you have brought me to that point many times."

"Just as long as you replenish those lost fluids," she pointed out. She lightly shoved against his shoulder. "Move off me now, darling. You're getting heavy."

"My apologies." He lifted himself clear of her, withdrawing from her delicious warmth, and settled back down beside her, arm across her stomach. After kissing her lightly, he turned serious and said, "Christine, there is something I want to tell you." She looked quizzical and waited. He hesitated for a moment, then continued, "Once we return home -- to Earth, I mean -- I want to marry you."

"What?" That one caught her completely off guard. "Spock, dear, we are married."

"I mean really married. Legally married. The contract registered in the Federation Archives and sealed for life."

She didn't know what to say and felt her eyes welling up again. "You don't have to do that, you know. Anywhere in the Federation, our union would be recognized."

"I know," he insisted. "But I want it on the record books. The legal situation will be extremely ugly when we get back, and I want there to be absolutely no doubt that you are my chosen bondmate and that our children are my legal heirs. It's important that it be registered on Vulcan, too. Perhaps even moreso, considering my position in the Lineage and what the children stand to inherit from that. Besides ... I believe I owe you a wedding." He peered at her and smiled, his eyes now their usual warm, burnished mahogany in the soft glow of the room lights.

"Anything I want?" she queried, suddenly considering the possibilities.

"Within reason," he amended. "Any Terran ceremony you wish."

"Japanese, I think," she mused. "I want a gorgeous kimono and a wig with a long, long braid down my back--"

"All right."

"And I want to honeymoon on Risa," she continued. "I want to take Frank up on his offer to us. A cottage on a secluded beach--"

Spock was forced to stop her by planting a solid, no-nonsense kiss squarely on her mouth. It softened and finally broke reluctantly. "We shall have much time to plan. But now, as you say, we both need a shower and must start our day. It is nearly 0700 already. Remember that today will be our last trip down to the surface, to the Valley, then the ship will be leaving for Earth. We have much to do before we break orbit tonight and I am not certain how the children will react once they realize we are leaving for good."

Christine felt her happy mood plummet as the reality of it all came home to her as well. "I'm not sure how I'll react myself," she confessed. "I still can't believe it!" Abruptly she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him back down into a tight embrace. "Oh, Spock, just hold me for a little while longer! Suddenly ... I'm afraid."

* * *

It was the end, Christine realized, as she stood surveying the little valley for the final time. The end of a nightmare, the end of the struggle just to find enough food to eat, the end of constant vigilance for predators that might kill herself and her children, the end of constant worry and trying to outguess the coming season, the end of loneliness and despair and seemingly useless hope.

As she surveyed the tiny valley, memories came back to her of the past twelve years. There on the bluff, where the two shuttlecraft were now parked, she had stood alone one late summer evening, pregnant with her first child, and realized that on this entire world, there was only one other person. She had given in to the tidal wave of panic and dissolved into pure, unreasoning terror, the vast emptiness of the planet overwhelming her. That same evening in that same spot, as Spock had held and comforted her, she had seem the beginnings of a vast prairie fire sweeping toward them, thundering herds of stampeding beasts racing before it. The fire had wiped out nearly all they had gathered and made, forcing them to start over without the luxury of time before autumn and then winter began.

Turning, Christine looked toward the creek, now trickling tranquilly on its way to the river downstream and remembered a time when it was swollen and raging, when Sapel had fallen into it and been swept away. He would have drowned had Spock not dived in and rescued him. That had been the year T'Larin had been born and almost immediately killed by the marauding werewolf, the huge predator that haunted the woods of the north. Spock had killed it, but too late to save their newborn baby. That catastrophe had nearly driven him insane with grief, and he had left her and Sapel to journey toward the mountains in the west in order to pull his shattered psyche back together.

It had been the worst of times for Christine. Still recovering from the horrific loss of her child, she had been forced to fend for herself and Sapel in Spock's absence. She had hated him then, hated him with all her heart and soul and being, blaming him for all the misfortunes that had befallen her since that day on the space station when they had been kidnapped by the Romulans. That had been his fault, too. It dated back to the incident with the female Romulan commander and the stolen cloaking device. All of the ensuing history had stemmed from the revenge sought by the commander's first officer, who had loved her and sworn vendetta on the Vulcan who had caused her ultimate death and dishonor.

And the thought of Spock -- her husband -- making love to that venomous Romulan whore made Christine's blood boil. He knew that Christine was the one who loved him. He knew that he was betraying her as he went to that woman's quarters and seduced her--

Christine shook her head. No, that was absolute nonsense. Spock had been carrying out his duty on that mission. He had been under orders on everything he had done. And, anyway, when all that happened, there was nothing between them. Not really. Yes, he knew how Christine felt about him and had seemed to be on the verge of reciprocating those feelings, but nothing, absolutely nothing, had been expressed toward her that was not completely proper and in keeping with their positions in the hierarchy of the ship. Anything else had been wishful thinking on her part.

Until Platonius. That was the first time he'd ever truly opened himself to her, even for an instant, and let her see how he felt. But it wouldn't have gone any further had the Enterprise not put into Deep Space 4 for resupply several months later. Had she not gone over to do some shopping and had Spock not volunteered to help carry some of her packages back to the ship. It could all have turned out so differently, she mused. If Uhura had been off-duty, she would have gone with Christine and it would have been a routine shore leave. If Spock had not had to beam over to the station to settle a dispute between the ship's quartermaster and a Ferengi merchant, he would not have been there to be kidnapped by the Romulan Tal, who had been hunting for him. If Christine hadn't found that sale at the little Rigellian boutique, she wouldn't have had more than she could carry and would have beamed home alone.

Instead... Instead...

Enough! Christine commanded herself. That was all water under the bridge. It had happened and her life had been completely changed by it. They had been abducted by the Romulans and left to die here on Terra Two ... on Avalon, she amended. She and Spock had discovered how much they truly loved one another and the past twelve years had held an incredible amount of happiness as well as grief.

She looked toward the little waterfall and its catchpond, glimmering in the afternoon light. How often had they swum there beneath the triple moons and made love in those waters? How often had they brought their children there to cool off on hot summer days? How often had they lain on the banks at night and looked up at the stars, wondering where they were and if they would ever be found, pondering whether that star was Aldebaran or that star was Vega?

Christine turned the other way and looked up at the opening of the little cave they had called home and the little sodhouse they'd added beside it. That little cave had sheltered them for many years, keeping them warm and dry in the cold and rainy seasons, cooling them in its shade during the hot months. It was the place where she and Spock had first become husband and wife, where he had undergone that first pon farr with her that had resulted in Sapel's conception. Their son had been born there, as had two other children, both of them lost. The cave had been the place they had always returned to in their wanderings and Christine suddenly realized that she would miss its security and snug embrace.

All their meager belongs had been removed -- the bowls and utensils they had laboriously made, the tanned furs they'd left in storage, the skins that Christine had turned into reading sheets for Sapel, the berry ink now faded into illegibility... Their home had been left much as they'd found it -- a barren hole in the valley wall, ready for its next tenants, whether that might be rodents or foxes or a colony of bats. But it would never be theirs again.

Christine found that tears were trickling down her cheeks and she hastily reached up to wipe them away. She should be happy that they were finally leaving this place for home. Their real home. Earth. Or Vulcan. Or anywhere but here.

She just couldn't get that hollowness out of her chest, however. It was the end of a chapter in her life and she found herself reluctant to let it go. Despite all the hardships they'd suffered here, this place had become a very real home to her, too. Deep down in her heart of hearts, she didn't want to leave it.

As she wiped another tear away, Spock came up softly behind her and saw her distress. "T'hy'la?" he questioned quietly. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, yes," she answered, straightening herself. "I'm just being silly and emotional. Don't worry about me."

"It is almost time to go," he said. "They have the shuttles loaded. Take a last look and see if there is anything you have forgotten."

"No," Christine responded with a sigh. "There's just the last thing to do. Let's get that over with and then I'll be ready."

Spock nodded and the two of them turned and walked together along the creek bank and toward a vast, oak-like tree further down the valley floor.

* * *

The rest of the group was waiting for them, standing at silent, solemn attention, hands clasped before them or behind them or stiff at their sides. Anything to hide the inherent discomfort at such an event. Only Amanda was seated, balancing T'Kai on her lap. The elderly woman was no longer able to stand for long periods of time and employed a hover chair much of the time now.

Christine's eyes darted from face to face as she realized that there were many more people here than had come down on the shuttles. Besides Sarek and Amanda, Sapel, T'Jenn and T'Kai, Commodore Kirk and the three Starfleet scientists and investigators, there were also Commander Uhura, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Scott, all in dress uniforms, her sisters Madalyn and Jessalyn Chapel, a number of people from the Life Sciences departments and medical staff, and finally, surprisingly, the ship's chaplain and counselor, Dr. Salvatore Chavez. He was waiting in full vestments, prayer book in hand, and Christine's eyes suddenly filled and overflowed. She'd met him after they'd been rescued when he'd offered his counseling services, and she remembered now that he'd mentioned being an ordained priest as well as a psychologist.

Seeing her sister's emotional fragility, Madalyn quickly stepped forward and took Christine's hand. "We asked him to come," she said, indicating Jessalyn. "We thought it would help bring you closure."

Christine nodded and smiled shakily, then looked up at Spock, who was standing silently beside her. "It's all right?" she queried. "You don't mind?"

"Whatever will bring you comfort," he assured her gently.

Father Chavez stepped toward her and asked quietly, "What sort of service would you like?"

"Something simple," Christine answered.

"Christian? Jewish? Something else?"

"Christian ... though I'm not really religious. But..." She hesitated. "But ... they were never baptized, you know."

"I understand. I minister to all faiths and needs. I think I have a service you will like." With that, the priest took his place beside the two tiny cairns of stones that rested beneath the spreading tree. "My friends, let us begin," he said in a hushed voice and opened the book.

The others gathered around and stood silently as Chavez read the prayers for the dead. Christine scarcely heard the words, though she was vaguely aware that Spock had taken her hand in his own, radiating comfort to her through their bond. Instead, she was reliving the circumstances of her babies' births and deaths. She had miscarried Soren after being attacked by a plains bison, the incredibly tiny body she delivered scarcely recognizable as a baby. Yet to Christine, he had been her child, as much as if he'd been full term. T'Larin had been full term, a beautiful infant who was horribly killed just moments after her birth.

Squeezing her eyes shut and shuddering, Christine could still hear the screams, smell the rank fur of the wolf and the metallic tang of the blood, could still feel the mind-numbing horror of that terrible day. Tears began to trickle down her face and she brought her free hand up to cover her mouth, fearing a complete loss of control if the sobs clutching at her throat should break free into the anguished wails building inside her.

Madalyn's arm slid around her shoulders in support, but Christine paid little attention, the choking sobs coming harder and faster. Spock was trembling himself, catching the backlash of his wife's agony and working hard to master his own collapsing emotions. T'Larin's death had ripped him apart and now he felt the fabric of his being start to shred. For Christine's sake, he clamped his teeth together and savagely pulled himself back under command.

Father Chavez took note of Christine's crumbling control and brought the service to a quiet end. "Our Blessed Lord," he intoned. "Receive the souls of these little ones into your keeping and bring to Spock and Christine the comfort that only you can impart in these times of sorrow." He made the sign of the cross over the graves. "In nomine Patri et Filii et Spiritu Sancti. Amen."

"Ten-shun!" ordered Uhura crisply and the Starfleet personnel all came to attention as Scotty activated a small device he'd held in his hand. The strains of "Amazing Grace" filled the air, not the strident wail of the pipes, but a softer, more soaring rendition that befitted the service.

It was too much for Christine. The strains of the familiar hymn brought the truth crashing home to her that she was leaving here and her tiny babies were staying behind. The mental spectre of the lonely little graves, abandoned, lying forgotten with no one to watch over them, was more than the grieving mother could endure.

"Oh, my babies!" she cried in utter despair and collapsed on top of the cairns, her sorrow at long last pouring out in a torrent. All the anguish and pain she'd kept penned inside for all the endless years erupted now as if a dam had burst.

She felt Spock kneel on one side of her and Maddy on the other, but she couldn't tear herself away as they attempted to lift her up. She clutched frantically at the grass and stones covering her children's final resting places, willing herself to die here, to sink into the earth that, rationally, she knew had long since claimed the diminutive bodies.

She heard McCoy say something and then felt an icy hiss against her shoulder. Instantly, her mind seemed to fog and all her muscles became sluggish and unresponsive. Blackness flickered at the periphery of her vision and she felt as if the breath had been sucked out of her lungs. She felt as if she were floating weightless in space, her mouth gaping as she fought for air, but there was only vacuum and darkness around her.

And then, unexpectedly, air as sweet and clean as a spring morning flooded into her starving lungs, filling her with the promise of new life and bursting blossoms. Fireflies and stars swirled before her vision and she heard the distant laughter of children, far away, running in fields of dew-kissed clover and nectar-drenched buds.

Peace such as she had never known suffused her very being and she began to chuckle, too, knowing that everything was all right now. At first it seemed as if she were whirling around in delightful madness, surrounded by the childish laughter ... then her senses began to clear somewhat and she found herself cradled in Spock's arms, lying in the fragrant grass beneath the tree, with Kirk and McCoy hunkered down beside her. Vaguely, she was aware that the others had drawn back, giving them room.

"She's coming around now," she heard McCoy's gruff voice say. "Let her come out of slowly."

She blinked and looked at McCoy and Kirk, then let her gaze come to rest on her husband's face. Strangely, he seemed the least concerned of them all, his eyes depthless and dark and a little smile touching his lips.

"You felt it, didn't you?" she whispered to him.

He nodded. "Yes. Everything is all right now. They won't be left behind," he murmured back, his words only for her.

"Christine, how do you feel?" McCoy asked, leaning over his patient. "Dizzy? Can you focus?"

"I'm okay now, Len," she insisted and started to sit up.

"Whoops -- no, you don't, missy! Not with an armful of that stuff in ya. Spock, you carry her and we'll beam her back up. That shuttle ride's too long for her right now." The doctor got to his feet. "Jim, I think there's been enough excitement for one day. For once, I'm advocating taking the transporter rather than a shuttle. Let's get her to sickbay."

"Leonard, I'm all right!" Christine insisted, but Spock slid his arms around her back and underneath her knees and stood effortlessly, as if she weighed nothing.

"This time, I am in agreement with the good doctor," he told her firmly. "Children, Mother ... I believe it is time to leave here."

"Mama be all right?" T'Jenn questioned hesitantly, still frightened by her mother's collapse.

"Mama will be fine," Spock assured her and let his gaze rest on his wife's clear blue eyes. "We'll all be just fine."

The family and those who had beamed down from the ship gathered at the transport point and waited to feel the tingle of the energy beam surround them. Spock and Christine took a final look around at their valley home and then all they saw was the golden shimmer of transport.

* * *

"Time, Mr. Novacek?" Kirk asked casually from the command chair, one leg slung comfortably over the other. He was signing a data pad handed to him by his yeoman.

"Nineteen oh-forty, sir," the navigator answered.

"Ship's status, Miss Uhura?"

"All sections report ready, sir," First Officer Uhura related from her station.

"Very good." Kirk handed the data pad back to the yeoman and turned his eyes onto the main screen. "Prepare to get underway, Mr. Singh."

"Aye, Captain," the helmsman responded. "Awaiting your order, sir."

"Take us out of orbit, Mr. Singh. Heading 3534 mark 12."

"Aye, sir." The helmsman's large brown hands moved assuredly over the console as the navigator beside him adjusted the heading coordinates. The deck beneath them vibrated slightly as the thrusters kicked in, then the impulse engines moved them smoothly out of the planet's gravity field.

Kirk swung his chair slightly to the right and glanced up at the group of people standing beside him. Spock was holding T'Kai while Christine had T'Jenn in her arms. Sapel stood in front of them, his eyes glued on the big screen, watching the image of the blue-green planet pull away. "Take a long last look, folks," the commodore commented softly. "You're out of there at last."

"Mama?" said T'Jenn in a puzzled tone. "I wanna go home."

"We are going home, honey," Christine answered.

"Valley, Mama," the child insisted. "Wanna go to th' Valley. Wanna go home."

Christine managed to keep her chin from quivering. "That's not our home, honeybun." She hugged the child and looked back at the viewscreen.

Their eyes glued to the screen, neither she nor Spock noticed Sapel's fists clench in helpless frustration. His deep brown eyes bright with tears, the teenager whispered almost to himself, "It's mine," and watched Terra Two dwindle and disappear into the background of bright, unblinking stars.

END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN