DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Lois Welling and is copyright (c) 2002 by Lois Welling. This story is Rated R. This is the sequel to "The Displaced" by Lois Welling.

Transition

Lois Welling

Reflections

A death has occurred. A child, once living, lives no more. As Vulcan custom dictates, we prepare for the time of Remembrance. We file into the chapel: Susan and I, four children, Sarek and Amanda. Last come Jim, Dr. McCoy, Uhura, Mr. Scott, Captain Sulu, and several nurses who cared for the child. The chapel was chosen because it is quiet and sedate, conducive to meditation.

It is an odd ceremony in human terms -- really no ceremony at all: no form, no ritual, and very little structure. At a prescribed time and place chosen by the close ones, those who have reason come together.

Each being reflects in his own way, in his own mind. That which was shared is remembered. The grief, not for one's own loss, but for what might have been for the one now gone, is experienced. This is a matter between the individual and his thoughts of the one who has passed beyond this life. One reflects in his or her mind and heart on the relationship that was shared. One works through the grief, then puts it aside forever. This is the Vulcan way of severance.

I must clear my mind of extraneous thoughts. I will think only of the one who is no longer among us. Charles Scott, only four days in this universe, so short a time. But I did know you: I was your father, you my son. I held you, studied you. You were an individual, unique. So different from the others -- Len, Jamie, Amanda. In so many ways…

From the beginning you were different. Your very conception was different. Not required, not programmed by drugs. You were conceived in the free expression of the bonding your mother and I share, a favored way to begin life.

Charles Scott…I did not fail you…you were born in freedom, your short life lived in freedom. You were never a slave. Your body never bore the sign that proclaimed you the property of another. Were you aware?

Your mother sits next to me. She has dealt with her grief in her own way. I accept it, as she does mine. We are so different, yet have managed to create a bond. Desire and commitment are the key words. IDIC does exist; the children next to Susan are the proof. I see in them the best each of us has to offer.

The bond -- so difficult to construct, continual work to maintain. From such a beginning…I digress; I seem incapable of concentration. How long since I last meditated? Too long. But it could not be helped. During the escape I could not be unaware of my surroundings.

How to deal with all of this? How to put it into perspective? I need to reflect, then put it aside, separate from it. I must begin to think of the future, not stay caught in the past, but where to start? With Susan, where else? Those first few weeks together sharing the pon farr and that tiny sleeping compartment. I literally thought I would go mad, from my own form of madness and her constant motion.

I would watch her -- after -- when the need was temporarily satiated. She would lie on her stomach, one arm over her head, the other at her side, rubbing her feet together, rubbing, rubbing, rubbing. Why any skin remained…

Once, when the time came again, I touched her shoulder and she spoke in her sleep.

"Oh, Michael, for the christ's sake!"

Michael? I pull away, even though I realize she is not fully awake, but need drives me.

"Tuesday night -- bowling, beans, and beer! Go away!"

I want to. But control deserts me, need compels.

"Goddammit, Michael, that hurts!"

Then she is awake.

"Sorry," she says. "When I'm overtired…"

That pity in her eyes; how I despise it.

My first remembered sight of Susan is as a blurred form coming at me, radiating anger, hatred. She tries to kill me, but cannot.

Her contempt for my actions, especially against the others. Soy-an, so young. Child molester! Susan's eyes scream. And Thela -- severely injured. Maniac, madman!

Yet what does she know of me, of my race? Nothing. I cannot explain, though I do try. I am different, not human. She scoffs, mocks, condemns.

Humiliation…dishonor…I cannot continue. I retreat.

Babies? Babies! She talks of babies, breeding farms, fertility drugs… It is all too much. I will die! Cease to exist. Be rid of the pain and guilt. She is screaming. "You owe us! You owe us!" I reject this. My mind rejects it. My body rejects it.

Responsibility…duty… Unknowingly she uses the correct words, impossible for a Vulcan to ignore. I pull myself back from the void. I watch her clean up after me, professionally, matter-of-factly. Then she turns to me. "Die, you coward!" she says, her voice cold. "Leave us to face this. We don't need you. We managed before, we'll manage now."

She has strength. I cannot help but notice that. She is a survivor. And she has information: escape -- she knows a way. After what I have done, my own will to survive is low, but if there is a way to escape… If I am to help, I will have to align with her, draw on her strength until I can renew my own. I will have to trust her, depend on her. I cannot do it alone, not yet, but with her help…

Still, the need to understand my own actions consumes me. Why? Why did I behave so?

A drug? She administered a drug, without knowing me? I explain my heritage and she feels guilt. Relief fills me when I realize…not all my fault. Without that drug, my own controls would have been successful…I would not have acted so. Her fault. I should like to shift part of the blame, but the drug is gone from my system, so I control the urge. I keep my voice level and tell her that she did her best. To add to her guilt would change nothing; undo nothing. And a decision has been made, a commitment given.

Dejected, she leaves the room.

I wait.

I try to maintain control. We must talk -- first. There is so much to be said. She returns to study me -- and she knows. I can no longer control. What will she do?

She holds out her hand to me, tells me her name.

The commitment is sealed.

She begins putting away her feelings of hate. "We are all we have here," she says. "Our cell -- never, never call this place anything else -- is our family. We must bend our wills for the good of the group." I see the logic. I will try.

She cuts my hair. Her touch is quick, sure, relaxed. It does not linger, yet I sense no repugnance. We talk -- general, impersonal conversation. Our relationship has changed. I do not know how this has happened, but it has.

I am not a human male. I explain this to Susan, but it is not until the second day that she truly, fully realizes what this means. Her reaction is devastating. Her obscenity cuts so deeply, destroying the building relationship…

Start over. Tension, mistrust, hostility all must be overcome a second time.

We have nothing in common, this female and I, nothing, except a goal. Had we met anywhere else, we would have passed each other by. We both know this. I would have intimidated her. She would have considered me pretentious…I would have assessed her as crass, common. Her language…

But we met on Towan. Circumstances and forced intimacies have reduced the barriers. There is no privacy.

First impressions pass quickly, replaced by a deeper knowing and understanding. I watch, begin gathering information, inside the cell and out. Sue's flippant attitude is not callousness, but a defense, as is her humor.

The others look to her for direction. She is the pivotal person here. I see her practicality, her common sense -- about most things. But, when angry, she has no sense at all. This bears watching; it would present problems.

The relationship between Susan and Thela, an enigma. It fluctuates. Also bears watching.

Both of them protect, shield Soy-an, who has so little to contribute.

The pon farr is finished. The need is gone. Time for a decision. Do I stay in the sleeping compartment with Susan, or move to the vacant one? It has no mattress, no privacy curtain, but they can be acquired. If I move, what will happen to the social order of this group? Thela seems secure knowing that I am with Susan. How will that change? Soy-an accepts the situation. Susan and I are the "elders" of this unit. Will my moving upset that? Soy-an could become a problem; she could try to get…too close. Susan and I have established a comfortable pattern. She does not push or demand; she lets me be. We have gained respect for one another. The very fact that I do not feel compelled to leave this enclosure is a sign of that respect. And our discussions…they have become a habit. Late at night, when the others are asleep, we talk. From Susan I learn what the others are thinking, feeling. This is an important consideration, because if I change sleeping compartments I will have no access to this information.

I shall stay.

We are a group united. Freedom is our purpose. The very air is alive with the excitement. Soon freedom will be ours, or so they all believe. Little do they know. I must topple their dreams; mine have already fallen. I keep this to myself until I have dealt with it. I should have known. I did suspect.

Escape is not that simple. Possible, yes, but far in the future, with careful planning.

Three sets of eyes on me. Disbelief… Disappointment… Despair.

I know these emotions. I have experienced them.

Susan and Thela talk, argue, speculate. Soy-an has little to contribute. I remain aloof, watching…I realize what this news means. What conclusions will they draw?

They understand. Long-term commitment. They agree that it is the only way. Any other course of action means death for us all.

The commitment is refocused.

Everyday routine -- everyday sameness; it builds and reinforces that routine. We settle into a life pattern. Priorities are set: escape, group maintenance, group solidarity, collecting and reporting of information; personal privacy -- least important.

Everyone plays his/her part. I watch Sue and Thela. They do well; can I?

They have learned the best way: consciously sublimate. I know the role…servile. I have played it before, but never for such an extended period.

Disregard heritage… Repress training…

And so the days pass.

Something has changed. Susan is different from this morning. Will she tell me? I wait. She goes outdoors. I follow.

"The doc confirmed it." She sits there in the evening shadows. She repeats the words. They have no substance, no meaning. They are empty. I think about this man -- "the doc", as Susan refers to him. His techniques have made larger scale interspecies breeding possible. He has the credentials, but does not deserve the respect of the title "Doctor". That is reserved for men like Leonard McCoy.

Three women pregnant -- each carried my child. My mind cannot grasp this. I think about it constantly, but it is not real.

I watch. There are subtle changes in each female. I do not imagine it. I should be concerned about them, but I think only of myself. My own lack of emotion is primary.

Then Soy-an is lying there. The blood is real. The anguish I see in her face is real. The fear -- hers, and mine for her -- is real, but…

Susan assumes charge, knowing what must be done. Now I understand why she chose emergency nursing as a career.

The doc arrives -- angry. He takes them away. I want to go -- perhaps then it will be real. The doc will not allow it.

Thela and I are left alone. We wait. We do not talk. Without Susan, things are awkward. Thela and I have never spoken of personal matters, and now is not the time for technical talk. So we wait in silence. I cannot help but wonder what she is thinking about her own condition. I should like to reassure her, to invite conversation, but…

Susan returns with the news. Four babies dead -- perfectly formed, but too small to survive. Why will it not become real? Soy-an, just a child -- nurturing four lives. Could that be possible?

I must be alone with this.

And so I am alone. I indulge in a parent's grief. It is a mockery. I feel no grief. I should…I want to feel…something.

Soy-an returns. She does not mention the babies; neither do we. I sense that they were no more real to her than to me.

The days are busy. The computer is nearly operational and data must be ready. I have completed the program and Kiear is pleased. He recognizes my worth and we work together as equals -- almost. How little he knows.

Susan and Thela continue to change with their advancing pregnancies. Susan has accepted the fact; she makes plans. Her attitude is positive. She has come to terms with this reality and tries to inflict her mood on the rest of us. Thela watches, trying to take her cue from Susan's behavior. They talk at great length. It is becoming real for them. Why not for me?

I lie next to her. There is scarcely enough room now. Neither of us can change position. I watch Susan, particularly the mound that is the growing twins within her. Susan sleeps, but they do not. Their motion is constant. What must it be like to feel the movement of other lives within one's own body?

Susan is in labor and the doc does not come. I hit the call buzzer again and again. Where is he? Then the doc's boy arrives and Susan and I know. I shall have to do this; there is no one else.

We leave the cell and walk slowly to the clinic. Susan seems calm, confident. She instructs me. But she does this every day and has given birth before. I… This is not first aid on some ensign. What if there are complications? Twins, mixed parentage…two lives, and I must guide them into the world. And what kind of world: slavery…and if the escape should fail…death. Put these thoughts aside; concentrate.

After all we have been through, Susan is embarrassed with me. She feels vulnerable on that table, in that position.

The contractions grow stronger, closer. Susan does what is required, the breathing, relaxing between contractions, but it is not enough. I have never considered it: all women -- motherhood/pain. The child struggles, pushing, demanding, needing oxygen. The pelvis -- giving, expanding, but not fast enough -- pain.

Suction, and then the cry -- it means the orifices are free of mucus. Cut the cord -- does that cause pain? A male; he breathes; I have a son. He is whole -- the ears, Vulcan. Why am I surprised? Record the time, control the emotions. Susan, you must repeat this. Can I? Susan cries with another contraction. So soon? Pushing is easier this time; thy brother has prepared the way. At this instant I know the name I will give the firstborn. Another male, whole. His name comes to me also. Was it meant to be? Pride! Do all males experience this? Did Sarek?

The afterbirth demand attention.

It is done. They are safe.

Susan and I talk. I tell her their names. She is pleased. To her it is a sign that I accept these sons. Did she believe I would do otherwise? Still, humans need signs.

I leave Susan and the babies. They sleep, but there will be no sleep for me this night. In our cell, Thela is waiting. I tell her, then go outdoors.

The stars above; somewhere out there is my life. No! My life is here now, until I can change this for all of us. I have given my word. Jim… Where are you? Are you even looking? Cease! Such thinking is counterproductive.

Jamie and Len. Watching, aiding them into life was a profound experience and responsibility. My need brought them life. Now I must protect that life.

My instincts about Susan are proving correct. Later, when we are free, we shall maintain this family unit, she and I. She desires that. Thela will return to her home. About Soy-an I am uncertain. She requires treatment, but will never be normal. Susan and I will stay together. She will live in my world; allow me to raise my sons in the Tradition. I cannot expect more. What is my part? Provide support, allow for her needs with the children and theirs with her. I shall not repeat Sarek's mistakes. It is not the life I had anticipated, but I accept it. We both agree: the children's needs are primary.

Thela in labor -- all day. Susan says all is well; first babies usually take longer. I would be with her, share, if I could. She would not want that.

I have another son. My first reaction…I want to see him. He has a name, Thone. I had no say in this, but I shall make no comment.

Thela feels the need to clutch Thone to her; she cannot trust. When she can do nothing else, she allows me to carry my son. I must accept that someday she will take him home with her.

My third son has joined the twins. I watch them sleep in their baskets. I am their father -- I repeat the words. So much responsibility. I must be worthy. I know them all as individuals: their cries -- so distinctive; expressions -- different; even their very breathing patterns. They grow, change daily. They are real. It is for them I survive. It is for them I bow and scrape. If ever my resolve weakens, I have only to look at their faces. I live to set them free of this place.

Routine changes drastically. Months pass around the constant demands of three small lives. The everyday trials; Susan handles them well. Is it just her experience? Thela panics and it shows. I conceal mine.

Their needs are so great. I never realized. They are into everything, so curious. I was never like that. We do what must be done. They live, grow, thrive.

Will it never end? We had a secure family unit, running smoothly. Then Susan tells me, "The doc started our shots," and the world is in turmoil again. All patterns of behavior will be upset.

How can I deal with this?

Soy-an, so like a child. Our relationship is that of parent and child; how can I…? How can I not? The alternative -- that place -- never! Death? No, this way offers life.

And Thela -- so much resentment. She wants her own mate…

I will do what I must. Lives depend on it. This family unit must survive.

And so I do.

Soy-an, so trusting, so eager to please -- it only increased my guilt and my hatred for our situation.

Thela is repulsed by the very thought of intimacy. We discuss artificial methods. Then we find her, with that guard touching her. I know instantly. I must kill him. I want to. He cannot be allowed to live; too dangerous. How convenient. Someone to vent my frustrations on; such pleasure, slamming him into that wall.

Thela is different; her resentment gone. Why? She responds -- needs, wants to be held, caressed, loved. Her opinion of me has changed. What does she mean, "warrior"? It seems I have met her cultural expectations. So be it.

We talk, share, as we never did before -- or after.

Susan is watching -- listening -- hurting. I sense it. I block it. Something needs to be accomplished. She knows the necessity, understands, but she aches.

Why can I not relax, now that Soy-an's and Thela's pregnancies are a fact and I am again with Susan? No answer. Susan feels betrayed, rejected. I cannot explain; forced pregnancies, a guard dead by my hands. I try, but words will not come, not yet. Some future time, perhaps.

Sustaining routine returns and there are three small boys growing, learning to walk, to talk. Order in our lives; how I welcome it, savor it.

Thela lying there. I rush to help. What are they saying? Not an accident? A purposeful act! Thela is confused, angry, but to kill a child, my child, any child! Rage erupts. She did not have that right… Did she? It is her body, but she jeopardizes us all with her actions.

She requires help. Push aside these emotions; get her to the clinic. We are caught and I am not sorry. My anger has to be focused; meditation will not diffuse it. Not this time. Let them punish me. I welcome it. With each touch of the wheel and the searing of my flesh, some of the anger is also burned away.

Trips with Kiear bring mixed feelings. I do not like being away, but they afford opportunity to observe, collect data, and plan. This is necessary, but what could happen in my absence?

The sphere car -- something is wrong -- we are going to crash…

Pain… Where am I? Arm, shoulder -- cannot move -- pain. Must control, assess damage, repair. Someone -- injection? No!! I shall controooool…

The craving claws at my insides -- my nerve ends -- need -- need. I must have it. I will have it!!!

Cold. Sick. Pain. Hot.. Cramps. If only I could control. Cannot. It controls me; disgusting. Susan? Susan is here. Cool compresses. I feel it. Soothing. Susan is here.

No will of my own, just NEED!

Cannot do it.

No!

Susan again, always at me. Leave me alone, woman!

Talk, talk, talk -- no! NEED!

I did it; fifteen minutes. Small victory. Perhaps there is a chance… But, the craving, the need.

More talk. Susan again -- questions, questions.

I am sitting up; my body is not rejecting the tea -- another victory. Hope. I can -- will -- be free of the craving.

Susan, ask me. Susan? She is falling asleep -- the need. Do something, Susan! Ask me. Susan, how many moons does Vulcan have?

I awaken, but Susan is still asleep. How long did I sleep? Calculate the time. Eight hours. Good. Stand -- slowly -- walk -- more -- back and forth. Do not think -- walk. The worst is behind us. We have done it. I am free of it. Susan will be pleased. I want to wake her, tell her, and see her face. No. Later. She needs her rest.

Susan is depleted, as I have never seen her. I worry. The consequences: our daughter comes early. I deliver another child into this world. It is so different this time, so fast. There is no time to think. Susan cries; fluids are running, and Thela helps her to the floor. I tear the coveralls and I can see the head. It is out and I reach to guide the body. Female -- tiny -- fear grips me. She cries -- relief. The doc arrives, pushes me away, finishes. The cart, and they are gone from me.

Amanda Uhura joins us now that her weight is five pounds. I watch my daughter, I am pleased. Uhura -- freedom; soon, I hope. Amanda -- Mother … Mother, do you think me deadd? Will you ever know, you and my father? Yes! Someday. And you will be pleased. Will he?

Soy-an -- in labor -- in pain. I carry her to the clinic. I sense trouble. All our teaching, preparing -- wasted. Susan and the doc are waiting. I back away as they begin work, but Soy-an calls me. I move back to her and the doc says nothing. I link with her. I join our minds, but there is something else, another consciousness. The child. I sense its needs -- to breathe, to be free of the womb. It is time. Soy-an fights, inhibits the progress. I calm her. She is reassured by my presence, wants it -- needs it. She is afraid. She hears Susan's voice. She trusts us, so we guide, Susan from without, I from within. I encourage Soy-an to breathe deeply, pant, push. Help the child, Soy-an. Help. Susan tells us that she has the child, a female. Soy-an hears and is pleased. We praise her. She is happy.

I can withdraw; break the link. Susan hands me the child and continues with Soy-an. I begin cleaning the child. The doc, still watching… Why? Did he realize what I was doing? Later, without a word, he leaves.

I enter the cell. I am early; no one else is here. I survey my household. I think of it in those terms. Away from here I could provide so much more. Put away such thoughts for now… The time is coming.

There will be time for a lesson before the evening meal.

They are here.

Something is very wrong. Other children have been taken, they have seen -- they know. Emotions threaten to erupt. Control. How to explain? They need comfort, reassurance. I cannot even do that for myself. I talk -- words, empty words. Because of their trust, they believe; they want -- need to believe. Susan is upset, but she conceals for their sake. Thela fears. Thone senses it.

No one has an appetite. We are subdued. No lessons this night. Games and closeness are needed.

The evening drags on.

Finally everyone is asleep. But all are restless. I will stay inside tonight, in case one of them should wake…

My own lack of control is a sign of the stress. How much longer can I maintain? As long as I must.

I teach the concept of IDIC -- they observe their surroundings.

I advocate non-violence -- but they must spend their days in that place with the other children. It is their world and I cannot enter. To survive, they must make a place in it. How to explain? I teach them self-defense, to act as a unit, to protect each other. What else can I do?

The mental attitude -- they are being conditioned, subservient nature encouraged. I must combat this, yet they must learn not to call attention to themselves. Children who cannot be controlled are drugged. So much for their young minds to cope with. Yet I do them an injustice: They do cope.

And what of conditions within our cell? Jamie, Len, and Mandy have two parents. Susan bows to my wishes, for the most part. Our disagreements are few, albeit explosive. She will usually talk matters over with me before acting. For Susan, that is a profound retraining. She realizes the importance.

Thela is overprotective; she will not allow me to be a father to Thone, only a tutor. It is a disruptive force between us.

Soy-an, emotionally disturbed, is as much a child as Thay-an. But she does care for the baby if properly and constantly praised and coached. I use the mind touch to keep her motivated, but after I am gone… Susan and Thela will try, but it is a risk, yet there is no other way.

The middle of the night; doc's boy awakens me. Come quickly, he says -- to the clinic -- Susan -- hysterical?

And she is. I do not believe what I see: Susan attacking a male almost twice her size. Screaming obscenities. The many languages of Towan have increased her vocabulary tenfold.

Bondmate: danger. The thought comes from nowhere -- protect her -- kill him. No! Confusion. Think! How to stop this before he kills her?

Slap her, make it once, not too hard -- apologize for her behavior, subservient again. Swallow the gall. Fraunt is of no importance; Susan is.

Susan needs some time away, alone. Can I give her that?

Convince the doc. Make him see.

It works. I have done it.

Susan will wake soon. I shall enjoy telling her. It is so small a gift. She will make light of it -- or cry. But she will know.

Rub her neck -- that is always where the tension strikes her. She enjoys the touch. Always pleasant, she makes no demands, has no expectations. Just massage away her tiredness; another small thing I can do for her. She gives me so much. So comfortable between us now, no pressure here -- only from the outside -- to escape, unspoken between us, but always there.

We are alone; I have adjusted the door lock. We will not be intruded upon. It occurs to me that I have never been alone with Susan before. Food: a biscuit and tea -- not much, but shared. She flinches: her jaw -- there is pain, where I struck her. Let me examine, not severe. Tension in the shoulder muscles. I will massage, ease it away. She moves closer, touches me. Her touch is familiar, it calls only positive responses. How many times have we been like this? No…something is different. Her touch -- more than pleasant -- intense. The desire -- strong -- as never before. Love. She admits it, finally. Can I do less? It is there, has been for so long. For a time I was unaware; then I kept it from her. Better that way, for everyone, until we are free. But now she knows. She will keep it within her and let it sustain her while we are apart. I shall do the same.

This is the Susan I know. See yourself in my mind. Yes, the image is different from your own perception. You emphasize the superficial; I look beneath. You are strong. See your inner self, Susan!

Let your love flow, as I do. We can admit it, here, now, together. It is love.

She pulls me closer, unafraid of rejection. I enjoy that -- to be wanted, desired. Naked together, how many times? Yet, this is different. There are no untouched or untouchable places between us now -- mind or body. Excitement grows, directs. We abandon thinking; action leads. No words needed now. Spent, we cling to each other.

In a few weeks I shall be gone. After tonight, I shall go with a renewed strength and resolve. I shall come back for all of you. Susan, I vow.

Back in our cell -- routine. Yet the special awareness between us lingers. The others notice. Soy-an grows increasingly demanding, Thela distant. So be it.

I board the sphere car with Kiear and the others, as I have so many times before.

I have said my good-byes. Susan managed well. Last night she told me: she carries another child, our child, created in love. She is pleased, as I am. I leave with these joyful thoughts.

We are over the mountains. It is almost time. I have rehearsed this in my mind so often. But now the time has arrived. They suspect nothing. I have played the subservient role well. The guards are dozing; it is almost too easy. I apply the nerve pinch, then approach the front of the car. How unfortunate that I must eliminate Kiear before the pilot. How I should savor watching his face. Kiear slumps. The pilot turns, questioning; then fear surfaces and he pulls away. Too late. He joins the others. I land the car.

Change sandals -- cut one with a scalpel, then fray the edges. Break the other. Disinfect the scalpel. Change coveralls. Remove the collar -- finally. Such joy to be rid of it. Pllacce all these items in the craft. Cut myself, allow the blood to drip and run onto the coveralls, sandals, seats. Retrieve the parcel. Thirty-eight biscuits -- will that be enough? Could not hide more. Water container, small first aid kit, and a sweater taken from an incoming prisoner. A gift from Susan. A homemade satchel -- a "backpack," Susan called it. I am ready. I repeat the nerve pinch -- four lives extinguished, but to save almost two thousand.

I set controls on automatic, then time delay takeoff. It is simple: up to six hundred meters, then crash. There will be very little left. After all the years of planning -- now -- jump free. Craft moving up as programmed -- do not watch. But I must! To be sure. It hovers -- seems frozen in mid-air. I panic; something is wrong… Then it plunges -- the crash, so loud. Nothing could survive.

I begin walking. I must be far away when they investigate. I have time, but must not waste it. I walk south, toward the port. In six days a ship leaves for the home world. I will be there. There are slaves there wearing the same coveralls. With my hair longer and ears covered, I will not be noticeable. Besides, no one ever looks at the face of a slave.

Frustration -- anger -- guilt -- I must control. The best laid plans of… Attacked by a mountain cat -- my leg ripped open. I keep moving anyway. I must make the port in time. I cannot waste water -- there is none for miles. I clean the wound with a swab from the kit, but it is not good enough, I fear -- no time to self-heal.

Cross the desert -- travel by night. All is well, except the leg. It troubles me and I favor it.

I have made it to the low hills -- five days already. Too much time -- rest intervals are not satisfactory -- sleep fitful -- the leg.

I am above the port -- I watch. Must move closer, but cannot walk about freely now. The leg and torn coveralls have foiled my plans. Must move at night and remain unnoticed.

FAILURE! Frustration overwhelms. They loaded until the last minute -- bright lights. No possibility of getting aboard. Gall chokes me as I watch that ship lift off without me. I am a failure. All my Starfleet training, wasted.

Must not despair. Hide out -- live off scraps and save biscuits -- sleep during the day. Luck! A negligent worker -- new coveralls. Use the old for bandage -- find the cleanest part. Remove old bandage -- the wound -- not good.

I have made it. I am aboard ship, safe, with a crate to hide in -- in the cargo area, where I have some freedom of movement. Collected food and three containers of water, but the leg…

Waiting -- waitingwaitingwaitingwaiting. I am Vulcan. I will control.

Planetfall. I must be patient and not leave the ship too soon.

Land again, and night. Calculations correct. I need darkness. First priority: food. My supply exhausted two days ago.

Towan -- closed world. Must stay hidden. I would be noticed. Lights -- business district -- restaurants -- alleys -- garbage.

The leg -- dragging it now.

Day -- hide -- watch. Plans must be altered. I had intended to steal food for the remainder of the trip, break into a warehouse, get everything in one, two trips -- but the leg.

Restaurants -- factories -- warehouses -- I make the rounds collecting packages of edibles. Times must be prosperous on Towan: they discard much, but unopened, sealed packets are not easy to locate. At this rate I shall not have enough to sustain me.

I must return to the garbage -- worst part. At least I am alone -- no one to share my shame and humiliation.

After two aborted attempts, I am aboard a Vegan merchant ship smuggling Solad.

The last time -- next stop, freedom.

More waiting, waiting, waiting. The leg is bad. I do not look. I do not have to. The nightmares keep coming. I know I call out sometimes -- restful sleep impossible -- infectionn ssystemic now.

Planetfall again -- so close now -- so close. Do not be impatient. Eating the last food -- rationed well. I want to run -- crawl -- delirious -- rambling -- so close. Wherever we are, we must be inside Federation territory. Must get to a starbase -- outpost -- embassy -- anything, local police, if nothing ellsee. Leave the ship -- careful -- cannot be caught -- not now.

Outside -- fresh air -- not re-circulated -- dark, always dark. Will I ever see sunshine again?

Move away from the port -- go toward the lights -- city. Fence -- too high. I cannot climb. Find another way. Workers unloading trucks -- if I could get into an empty one befooree it leaves. Three-meter climb -- might as well be three kilometers. Hang on -- hoist -- pull -- roll -- roll! We are moving through the gate -- noise -- city noise. Get out now.

Falling -- oooooooh -- leg!

Signs -- Federation Standard -- Susan/safe.

Hide till daylight -- get out of gutter -- cannot move -- pain.

Voices over me… "Let him alone, Sam. He's just a drunk."

"No. this guy's hurt. He needs help."

UNIFORM! Is it real?

"Ensign…Ensign, I am Commander S…"

* * *

Spock felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Jamie standing next to him. "Son?"

"Mother sent me to see about you…"

Spock looked around the empty chapel. "How long ago did everyone leave?"

"A very long time. Should I attempt to calculate?"

"Not necessary. I am finished here. I have accomplished my task. Come; let us join the others.

* * *

For the displaced, bittersweet memories

Of home haunt the present and future.

Only a remnant of their number remains…

To survive now that survival is no longer the only goal,

To find a niche in a universe grown alien,

To challenge this season of genesis.

New knowledge instigates change and brings fresh pain,

But resolute acceptance of the expanded world is necessary, vital,

For this is the time of transition.

By Sharon Decker

TRANSITION

Sue settled Thay-an into the double bed instead of putting her on the floor where the other children slept. As she tucked her in, Sue reflected on how Annie favored her dead mother. Oh, Soy-an, she thought wistfully, we'll do well by her, I promise.

She climbed in next to the child, lay back, and stared at the ceiling. Tomorrow morning the Enterprise and one of its shuttles were leaving Towan -- the shuttle taking Jim Kirk, Dr. McCoy, and Mr. Scott to Starfleet Headquarters. Immediately after, the Enterprise would warp out of orbit, headed in the opposite direction for Vulcan. Jim was leaving, and Spock had not yet accepted his offer to be part of the galactic hub probe mission crew.

It had been Sue's plan to have this matter settled before they parted company. But it wasn't settled. Sarek had broached the subject and Sue's hoped for discussion had followed, but not her hoped for results. Showing a rare lack of control, Spock had laid bare his desire to be part of that crew. Then, embarrassed, he had turned on Sue, accusing her of instigating the whole incident. She had tried to salvage her plan, to regenerate the conversation, but Spock had dismissed her like an unruly child. She'd known she had to leave the room before she said something she would be sorry for. Thay-an's timely entrance had offered her the needed excuse.

Now she lay in bed, her plan still incomplete. She had not avoided a scene -- only postponed it. And there was still the matter of telling Spock what else she had done; Amanda had insisted. Depression surrounded her like a dark cloud. He's gonna be pissed, she told herself, and absently began to chew on her thumbnail. He's gonna be real pissed. I promised Amanda I'd tell him what I did -- and when I do… Sue had witnessed Spock's anger three times in the last five years, but only once had she been on the receiving end. She had been too shocked and surprised to respond, but this time she knew it was coming and had time to prepare. That only made things worse.

She set about trying to mentally construct a defense of her actions. Having completely destroyed the thumbnail, she began working on the index finger.

Spock entered the bedroom and Sue stiffened. She lay unmoving while he checked the sleeping children. Knowing that he disapproved of her allowing the children to sleep with her, she remained motionless as he approached the bed. Trying to postpone the inevitable? she asked herself. He lifted Annie and settled her onto the floor pallet. As he slid into bed he said, "I am not fooled, Susan. I know you are awake."

She turned her back on him in a huff. "I am not speaking to you!" She was hoping to remind him of his insult to her earlier that evening and thereby gain some advantage.

"Indeed." His tone held a hint of amusement, and Sue knew why. He often heard more from her when she wasn't speaking to him than when she was. "Am I allowed to know why?"

"You know why!"

The amusement was gone from his voice. "You are correct. My comments in front of the others were unacceptable. You have my apology."

"Accepted." She rolled to face him. "Spock, why don't you give it up? Admit defeat. Call Jim and tell him that you'll take that science position." If only it would be that easy, she sighed.

"Susan, I -- "

"Face it," she interrupted. "This round is mine."

"You want me gone?"

"I won't even dignify that with an answer."

"What, then?"

"We have a good relationship; we know what to expect from each other. But after what we've been through, there are things we both need to work out. What's important here is that I know you need and want to go on that mission."

Ignoring the last part of her remark, he said, "I had planned to be with you and to assist you through your transition."

"I know that, Spock, but you're missing the point. I don't want that help at the price of your freedom. You've given us five years, and now you need to get back to your work."

"Susan, I am not sure I could to be away from you and the children for that long. Think of how much I will miss. They change and grow so quickly at this young age. Will they even know me when I return? I have just spent six months away from them and you all were in my thoughts constantly…"

"Did they forget you, or did they run to you like you had never been gone? Besides, I know how these things go. If they say six months, it'll be a year, maybe more. You'll have us all settled by then. Spock, Starfleet is what you do and you need to get back to doing it."

There was a slight pause. "Susan, you are not being attentive to the facts. If you were, you would know that I cannot consider being away for two years."

Sue pulled the bed covers closer around her and wished she could do the same with the darkness. "No, Spock. There is nothing to keep you from going."

Using his over patient tone, he said, "Susan, in approximately one point five years I shall again be in pon farr."

Knowing the moment was upon her, she gritted her teeth and said, "I've taken care of that."

"Taken care of?" Confused, he asked, "What are you talking about?"

"You know…"

"You are not making sense." His tone grew cautious.

"Look, I've had some sociology. I know that no society with your particular problem could continue without creating some safeguard. What if a bondmate is unavailable to her husband during his time? I mean, what if a wife should get hit by a -- spaceship, or something? A society that evolved around such a given must have established some custom to cover this situation. So…I asked -- your mother."

"You did what?" She felt the bed move as he sat up and knew he was staring in her direction.

She kept her voice low. "I asked your -- "

"Cease! I heard you." She sensed that his control was not strong and knew that with his next question -- and her answer -- that control would be gone.

"As distasteful as I find this, I must ask. What did you do with the information?"

Her answer was a whisper. "I talked…with Uhura."

In an instant Spock was out of bed and in the sitting room. Sue could do nothing but scramble after him. She heard his hand hit the wall twice, and the light came on as the door separating the sitting and bedroom slid closed. He spun around to face her. The fury he was radiating flashed through her. The bonding, intensifier of emotions, so exquisite in lovemaking, was painful in anger.

"You presume too much, woman!" He had never before addressed her in that way, but this reaction was not unexpected.

"So the great logical liberal goes sexist when it suits him!" Her words were flung out as a challenge.

"You had no right!"

"Oh, but I did. Your mother told me my rights. Want me to quote Vulcan custom for you?" Sue hoped her raised voice would convey a sureness she did not feel.

"Vulcan custom!" He spat out the words. "You know nothing of Vulcan custom!"

She stood her ground. "I know that I can make arrangements for you if I am not available…"

"You bastardize Vulcan custom." The words carried a physical force.

Her anger rising, she began to recite. "'If a wife is physically or mentally incapacitated, she or the female head of her family makes--'"

"That does not apply in this situation. You are neither physically nor mentally impaired, although there are times when I am suspect of your mental -- "

Anger notched several degrees higher. "Oh, dirty pool! Diiiiirrrty pooooool!"

"You dare question my behavior -- after what you have done? You have misused Vulcan custom, twisted it for your own purpose."

"Facts are facts. We won't be together then -- "

"We shall be together, because I will be on Vulcan with you, where I belong."

"Well, how noble!" She made a low, sweeping bow in front of him. "Saint Spock the Self-sacrificing. Martyrdom becomes you, but it makes me want to throw up! You want to go. Be man -- Vulcan -- enough to admit it. Admit it!"

"Yes. Yes! I want to go. But unlike you Humans -- "

"Balls!" she screamed.

In the bedroom, Jamie cried out. Both parents waited. The sound was not repeated.

The interruption gave both of them the seconds needed to calm somewhat. Sue's tone was normal when she said, "With all this talk of my needing adjustment time, you can't see that you need it, too."

His voice, though lower, was still agitated. "Even if that were so, I have been denied my privacy. How am I to face Uhura?"

"You've faced her for the past two days and lived through it."

"She has known that long?"

Sue nodded, watching him. The anger was still there; she saw it in his eyes.

"What did you tell her? How did you explain pon farr?"

"Didn't have to. Your mother just asked -- "

"My mother?" Sue watched him cringe and did the same.

"She went with me," she said watching him opened and closed his fists. "Anyway, she didn't have to explain. You didn't really think you could keep something like that a secret, did you? Apparently the whole ship was buzzing for days after that first time."

"You will tell me everything that was said." It was a command.

Sue flopped into a chair. "Amanda told me how these situations are handled by the females. If the woman is physically impaired, she makes arrangements; if she's also mentally incapacitated, the female head of her family does it. She was also very clear about my responsibility. I know that I can never use it against you -- never even bring up the subject."

"And you believe you can deal with that?" he asked incredulously.

"If I could deal with you and Thela in the same room, then I can deal with this."

"We were not bonded then. This time you would sense…"

She came straight up out of her chair. "At least I wouldn't have to listen!" Her voice was a screech.

Jamie cried out again, and Sue knew that she had awakened him. She palmed the doorplate and went to see about the child. As she sat next to him, clamped down on her own emotions and began rubbing his back. When she knew her voice would not fail her, she began talking soothingly. When all was quiet she heard the outer door open and close. Spock had left the room, and she knew where he would go. It was exactly like on Towan. When he needed to think, he went to where he could look at the stars.

* * *

Spock stalked the corridors. That has to be the most presumptuous female ever to draw breath! Finally, on his third try, he was successful in locating an empty observation deck. And if she were not so, we would not be alive today. He began to pace. He would require time to regain control. She understands you too well, Vulcan. You do wish to be part of that mission, the first to go so near the Galactic Hub. What would you do if you stayed on Vulcan? The Academy? No. Someday, perhaps, but not yet. Still, she had no right to speak to Uhura. But that has never stopped her before. Why should you expect it to be so now? After several minutes he sat and focused on the void of space before him.

An unknown time later, he heard a voice. "I would intrude. Spock, do you allow it?"

"Father? Yes. I welcome it."

Spock watched as his father stared. He had noticed it since their reunion, whenever they came to be together after a separation of a whole night or even a few hours. His father's first reaction upon seeing him was to take a complete visual inventory, as if he were reassuring himself that this was indeed his son and that he was alive and well.

Having been caught staring, Sarek looked away. "Your mother and I have been talking," he said, regaining his composure. "She told me what she and Susan have done."

"I do not seem to be able to put this into perspective."

"It is no wonder. These females have overstepped their authority. I believe Susan is more to blame. Your mother is too long away from humans. She allowed herself to be drawn in by Susan's innocent questions, and then felt compelled to accompany her when she visited Uhura. She has slept badly these two nights. She insisted that Susan tell you."

"Susan can be most devious when she has a goal."

"She does have a point, however. Susan is not the only one in need of adjustment time. The universe has seen many changes in the past five years. You will require time to assimilate them. Do you realize that you have made no inquiries about matters on Vulcan?"

Spock was struck by the truth of that statement.

"I realize that you could think of nothing else until your family was safe."

"I have been concerned only with my problems."

"It was not my intention to admonish, Spock. I mention it to point out your mental state. Under the circumstances, it could hardly be otherwise."

"I have given much thought to what you and Mother must have gone through these past years. Did you believe me dead?"

"No. I did not feel a severing. I will admit that as time passed, I began to despair of ever seeing you alive. I spent many hours trying to make contact, to perhaps visualize your surroundings and thereby learn your location -- all to no avail."

"How did Mother fare?"

"She experienced constant vacillation between knowing you were alive and sorrow at your certain death. We turned toward each other in this. It did bring us closer."

"It pleases me to hear that." Since Sarek had mentioned Vulcan, a hundred questions flooded Spock's mind about maters outside his own immediate world. He and Jim had discussed Federation news and Starfleet business, but what of Vulcan? He remembered that his last news of T'Pau was that she had been taken ill. "T'Pau -- she is well?"

"No. She retired shortly after your disappearance. She will not see another turning."

"I have not asked about T'Uriamne. Have matters improved between you and my sister?"

"Spock, your sister is dead. Last year -- a kidney ailment. I was called at the last instant; we were able to talk."

Spock felt despair flood through him. The always hoped for, if illogical, reconciliation and acceptance would never be.

"Let us discuss this mission. You do wish to go; about that, Susan is correct. In her own inept way she has made it possible for you to do so…" Sarek's voice seemed to grow speculative. "If I were to envy the other races, it would be because they are not biologically enslaved, as are we Vulcans…" His tone became more forceful. "I agree with Susan. If you do not go back to Starfleet now, you never will."

"If I should choose to go, that would leave the responsibility of Susan and the children to you and Mother."

"Spock, let us have the truth. I believe you are somewhat anxious about leaving the children in my care. Let me say this: There is no reason for these children to be raised in the same manner as you were."

Spock could only stare as his father continued.

"You were the first Vulcan/human child to survive, and since your mother could not tolerate another such pregnancy, you were, of necessity, raised alone. Shortly after your birth, I learned of my heart defect and lived with the fact that death might claim me at any time. I was strict and demanding with you for those reasons. I felt that I had to give you as much as I could in the shortest possible time. And, Spock, I am not displeased with the results."

On past occasions Spock had put his motives into words and Sarek had listened, but never before had the father given the son reasons for any of his actions. Spock knew the gesture was meant to be the beginning of a new understanding between them. But Spock was head of a family now. Old patterns were gone and new ones had been set. He would not return to being the unquestioningly obedient son who had only once defied his father. "I am grateful of this information, and it does make a difference, but Susan has her needs with the children and they with her. They have a solid relationship, and I plan for it to continue unaltered."

"I accept that. Susan has the kind of strength they will need to overcome the unusual circumstances of their birth. Yours is not a typical Vulcan family, and the children shall no doubt have to resign themselves to questions and even disapproval. I see in Susan the tenacity to keep this from becoming a lifelong handicap."

"There will be other matters outside their personal relationship. Do you not believe that you and Susan will continually be at odds with each other as to what is best for the children?"

"I foresee some problems, but your mother will be an excellent buffer. Susan has stated that she and I will in all likelihood knock heads -- "

"That's 'bump heads,' Father."

"No matter. My main concern for Susan is that she has not accepted her time displacement. She still thinks of Earth as it was in its twentieth century. Her time of transition is yet to come."

"I had hoped to aid Susan through that time. If I am gone, the task will also fall to you and Mother. Have you any suggestions as to how we might ease her way?"

"I have been researching the subject. Unfortunately, little is known about time displacement, but I did locate some data on the Altair Five. In that case, the procedure was to complete an extensive list of familiar reference points and then, using visual aids, show a history of these places from the time of the displaced individual to the present. With this, it is hoped that the individual can follow and accept the continuation of events from the known, through the changes, to the current status. If possible, places with personal experience should be used. But I do not believe it would be beneficial to begin with the time just after Susan left Earth. As you recall, there was much upheaval for a short period beginning in the early 1990s. What are your thoughts on the subject?"

"I agree with you. Susan has questioned me repeatedly about events that occurred just after she left Earth. For the most part I have avoided answering her. I am sure she will find the truth very upsetting. Had that repression of ideas and expression continued, it would have led to another 'Dark Ages' for her country, perhaps for the whole planet. Father, how can I, with a clear conscience, go on this mission with Jim and abandon Susan to this struggle?"

"If you stay because of her, she will know it, and it will add to her guilt. She has mentioned to your mother that she believes that you feel obligated to her because of the children. I believe she will feel more secure in your relationship if you go."

"Perhaps after tomorrow morning she will feel more secure. I have arranged for Captain Sulu to perform a marriage ceremony."

* * *

"Are you still mad?" Sue asked when Spock finally slipped into bed.

"No, I am not angry. I disapprove of your actions; you had no right ... However, it is done. I must accept it. Go to sleep now. You will need to be up early. Captain Sulu will be marrying us at 0700 hours."

Sue rolled over. Once nice thing about Vulcans; they didn't sulk. "Marrying us?" She sat up. "Spock, did you say 'marrying us'?" They had spoken of this on Towan, but Sue had not expected it to be dropped on her like a trip to the dentist.

"Yes," he said in the lazy voice that told Sue he was almost asleep. "Now go to sleep."

She lay back down and, clutching the blankets in both hands, rolled away from him. "I haven't been asked!"

He sat up and jerked the covers, spinning her around and reclaiming his share. "And you will not be."

"Then I won't be there."

"You will be there even if I must employ the tactics used by your caveman ancestors."

At his tone, Sue decided not to push her luck.

* * *

"Susan." She felt Spock's hand on her shoulder. "Wake up. We are to be in the captain's quarters in thirty minutes."

"Why so early?" She moaned and stretched. "Can't we live in sin for a few more minutes?"

"'Live in sin'?"

"Never mind," she said, drifting back to sleep.

"Susan." He shook her again. "I arranged for this time so that Jim and Dr. McCoy can be with us."

"Oh, yeah," she yawned. "I forgot; they're leaving right after breakfast." She struggled out of bed.

Stepping over Jamie and Len's floor pallets, she felt her way to the bathroom. She kept the lights dim as she slipped into the shower. Trying to get into the spirit of the occasion, she began humming "I'm Getting Married in the Morning." She was pleased about this ceremony. Going to Vulcan was scary enough. Being "legal" would make her feel somewhat more secure, and it was important for the children.

She smiled as she remembered the first time she had been a bride. A long time ago -- a lifetime ago. We were so young, just barely 17 and almost 20, so excited, so naïve. Oh, Michael, we didn't do bad, did we? We were building a good life -- we were happy. And now -- I'm eons and worlds away, starting a new life. She reached out to depress the soap dispenser and something gleamed in the soft light. It was the gold band on her third finger, left hand. She had worn it so long that it had become part of her. "Geez," she said out loud. "Have to do something about that. Emily Post would not approve of a bride going to her second wedding still wearing the ring from the first."

Wrapped in a towel, she sidestepped her way through the bedroom to find her clothes. She grabbed the rose-colored floor length gown she had worn to dinner the night before. She had chosen the style to conceal her so recently pregnant middle. Amanda had chosen the color. The only other clothing in her limited wardrobe was a casual pantsuit, two nightgowns, and a robe. After dressing and passing a comb through her hair, she tiptoed into the sitting room. Spock was waiting, dressed in Starfleet uniform.

"You don't like this dress," Sue said in response to his look.

"It will attract attention at this hour of the morning, and I prefer that no notoriety be attached to this ceremony."

Without comment, she turned and went back to the bedroom and changed. "I'm ready," she said when she returned, "but first we have to do something about this ring."

"You have kept it on these past five years; why make a production out of removing it now?"

She stiffened, then stuck out her hand. "Here, smartass. You get it off."

Spock pulled gently at the ring, and then felt the finger. "It will not come off because of the barb under the skin."

Sue jerked her hand away. "That's why the production! It has to be cut off."

"I think not. Dr. McCoy can remove the growth within a few minutes; then the ring will slip off without difficulty. When did this happen?"

"Years ago. I was baiting a fishing hook for Mickey, he got impatient and pulled on the line and the hook went through my finger. When the hook came out, it healed and left that. I think it's a sterile cyst."

"Then you have no objection to removing the ring?"

"Is that what you thought all this time?"

"Yes," he said after a long pause.

"Why didn't you just ask?" she said, exasperated.

"I thought I would not like the answer. It is, after all, the only possession you have from your former life."

* * *

They entered Sickbay, and a nurse directed them to one of the examination rooms, where Jim and the doctor were waiting. They exchanged subdued greeting, then Sue was quiet as the doctor examined her finger and called for a tray of instruments. Spock moved to stand next to Jim.

Sue remained silent as Leonard administered a local anesthetic to her finger. Then, using what he said was a laser scalpel; he cut and cauterized a small slit in her finger. The cyst slid out with the slightest push.

The atmosphere in the room was not what one would expect for a wedding. In fact, it tended toward gloom. "You don't look much like a bride," McCoy said, glancing from Sue to Spock.

"What did you have in mind, Doctor -- a Rigelian Hofic ceremony?"

"Nothing that drastic, just a little show of happiness. I assume that you consider this a happy event?"

"I consider this event a formality. Susan and I have been bonded for some time."

"Bones," Jim cautioned, "not now."

"Well, does this have to be like a wake? Can't he show a little pleasure?"

"I intend to -- to Susan -- in private," was Spock's reply. "I have no wish to call attention to this ceremony."

"Spock, you have been out of touch. You don't even remember what the grapevine is like on a starship."

"It is too late, then? The news is out?" He asked the question as if he already knew the answer.

"Certainly." McCoy reiterated, "Some wedding…the best man and acting father of the bride are going to outshine the nuptial couple."

Sue knew the doctor was referring to her plain pantsuit and the fact that he and Jim were in dress uniform while Spock was not.

"Bones is right," Jim added. "The crew even has a pool going: will the Vulcan kiss the bride or won't he?"

Spock was silent, and Sue's depression deepened. Just when she had thought things could not get worse, they were about to. She was ready to tell Spock to forget the whole thing when he said, "Susan, will you change into your dress?"

Surprised, she nodded.

"Jim?" he continued, sounding resigned to the situation. "About a dress uniform?"

"Come on," he said, smiling broadly. "We'll get one."

"Now this is more like it." McCoy's face erupted into a wide grin. "I'll see about some flowers."

"Yellow roses, Doctor, if possible."

Sue's heart swelled. He remembered! This would be one of those moments that, whenever recalled, would warm her heart for the rest of her life.

Wearing her long dress and holding a bouquet, Sue felt more like a bride.

The ceremony was Federation Standard and took only a few minutes. A statement of intent was read, followed by the standard "Will you" questions and the standard "I will" replies. Before beginning the ceremony, Captain Sulu asked their indulgence, confessing that this would be his first time officiating at a wedding. He was trying to keep his manner solemn, as the occasion demanded, but his face broke into a wide grin when he said, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

Catching her completely unaware, Spock scooped Sue into his arms, bent her backwards, and kissed her long and hard. He stood her back on her feet, then looked the doctor straight in the eye.

"Did I act as anticipated, Leonard?"

"Sure did. I just tripled my money."

In a more festive mood, the group filed out of the cabin to the breakfast, where Sarek, Amanda, the children, and Mr. Scott waited.

Spock offered Sue his arm. "My wife," he said, his voice low. "I have considered you such for a long time."

The farewell breakfast was interspersed with noisy, festive periods and long, awkward silences. Everyone was dreading the good-byes that were to come in a few minutes. The children's presence helped. It gave the adults something on which to focus their attention. When breakfast was finished, the whole group headed for the shuttle bay, since the children were anxious to see this area of the Enterprise.

Spock and Jim were walking together, talking. Sue watched from several paces behind them. When Jim's head came up and he grabbed Spock by the shoulder, she knew. Spock had just accepted the science position. A satisfied feeling of triumph surged through her, quickly followed by an uneasy, scary one: two whole years without him.

Ritual signs of parting were exchanged, then cheeks were kissed, shoulders clasped, and there were a few hurried, awkward embraces. Then the three were in the shuttle and the others were leaving the bay so that depressurization could begin.

Everyone, even the children, was silent as they walked back to their quarters. Within minutes, the children were claimed for their day's studies. Alone, the adults began discussing the routine they would adopt for the four-day trip to Vulcan. The intercom sounded. It was Captain Sulu.

"Mr. Spock, I've just received a call from Federation headquarters on the surface. There seems to be a problem. A woman has barricaded herself and her baby in one of the miner's huts. She's hysterical and is saying that Susan promised to take the child, and that if she won't…well, she's threatening to kill the child."

All eyes turned to Susan, who exclaimed, "Ohmygod! I forgot about her!"

Spock's voice showed the confusion they were all feeling. "Her?"

"Jalona. Spock, you met her -- talked with her. She's Vulcan, remember?"

"Vulcanoid. Yes, I remember; one of three captured from the Salina sector," Spock added, glancing at his father.

"Spock, I gotta get down there and talk to her, fast!"

Spock made arrangements with the captain, and within a few minutes Sue found herself hurrying down the corridor to the transporter room between Spock and Sarek. She was trying to explain.

"She had her baby about six-eight weeks ago; gave me one hell of a time in L&D. Wouldn't cooperate and kept saying she was going to kill the baby. I kept telling her what trouble that would get her." They strode into the transporter room and took their places on the pad. "We were getting nowhere and it was getting dangerous for both her and the child. Finally I t -- " Sue was left in mid-word as Spock gave the order to energize and finished as they materialized on the surface and began walking toward the hut compound. " -- old her we could make a deal. If she would cooperate and take care of the baby now, and if we ever got off Towan and she still felt the same, I would take the baby." Her eyes were defiant as she looked from her husband to her father-in-law. "It's not the first time I've made that offer, you know. Lots of the women here don't want the mixed breeds!"

Both men stopped and stared at her, and Spock's voice held a hint of dismay when he said, "Susan, let us hope that they all do not decide to hold you to your word."

"Oh, they won't. She picked me because of you. She told me she would rather see the kid dead than raised with 'humans'." She turned to Sarek. "She used to watch Spock with the kids in the woods on freeday. That's when she came to me and said she was holding me to my word. I thought she'd change her mind."

"What of the child's father?" Sarek asked as they showed their identification badges and were allowed to pass into the hut area.

"Found him one morning with one of those mine picks buried in his head. All four women in the hut confessed."

"What happened to them?" Spock asked, obviously remembering his own experience with the whirl-wheel.

"Nothing. He was known as an abuser and they decided to make an example of him. Worked, too. We had a big drop in the number of beaten women reporting to the clinic. Time loss due to injury is important, you know."

They saw a hut surrounded by people and knew it had to be their destination. Spock and Sarek approached the man who appeared to be in charge, while Sue hung back. Spock turned to her. "Susan, you must talk to her."

"What do I say? Should I take the baby? That's what she wants. I mean; she expects us to keep it."

"You gave your word."

"Yeah, I did…it means another kid to raise."

"I realize that."

"I feel like I'm inflicting another burden on you."

"Susan, you are talking about a child. It seems that we are the only possibility of a productive, satisfying life this child has." His look did as much as his words to reassure her. She went to the hut and pushed open the door.

"Jalona? Jalona, it's me, Sue."

"Have you come to honor your word?" came the disembodied voice from the dimly lit hut.

"Yes, if that's what you want," Sue called back, her eyes adjusting.

"It is."

"I'm going to come in, with some people."

"Come alone!"

"No. We have things to settle. Others are involved."

"You will not betray me?" Mistrust replaced the defiance in Jalona's voice.

"No. I promise."

"You may bring them in." Jalona was attempting to remain in control of this situation.

Sue nodded to Spock and Sarek. "I want something to make this legal," she said, keeping her voice low.

Sarek conferred with the man in change again as Sue and Spock went through the door. The Vulcanoid was petite for her race and appeared even smaller as she huddled in a corner with a mine hammer clutched in her hand. The baby lay next to her in its basket.

"Jalona, it's all right. You don't have to be afraid. Nothing is going to happen to you." The woman raised the hammer as Sarek and two Federation officials entered.

"Don't be afraid. These men are just here to make the whole thing legal. Jalona, you can't change your mind later. I couldn't live with that. If I take this baby, I'll make him mine. I won't ever give him back."

"I will never want him back." She spat out the words. "I will not take that bastard home with me."

Sue cringed at the word, but did not comment on it. "All right, but I want you to think about a few things first. You've been away for almost three years. Back home, things could have changed; they could be very different from when you left. Your family probably thinks you're dead. Your mate may have found someone else. Your children have grown, and they may have made a new life and not need you anymore. It's a sure bet that you won't find things exactly as you left them. Did you think about that?"

"Yes. I have given many nights to such thoughts. I know I will find many changes when I return home, but that changes nothing concerning this child."

"Okay." Sue turned to Spock. "Make it ironclad and unbreakable."

He nodded and moved closer to the woman crouched in the corner. "Jalona, I want you to dictate in your own words that you relinquish all rights to this child now and forever. This gentlebeing will commit your words to tape; a copy will be made, and you must sign it. Do you understand?"

She nodded and began reciting. "I, Jalona of the clan Lotica, swear by the mother god that bore us all…"

Spock, Sue and Sarek conferred. Sue insisted that one item be included. "I want something in there about telling him the truth when he's older. It's his right." They added that after Jalona begrudgingly agreed.

"Also," Sue said, "I don't want this to get to the reporters." They all agreed with her.

When the paper was ready, the official had Jalona read it aloud, swear to its truth, and sign it. Then Spock and Sue did the same. Last, a witness, one of the Federation men present, signed it. Then Jalona shoved the basket toward Sue and dropped the hammer. Sue picked up the baby and showed him to Spock. "It's a boy -- did I tell you that?" She looked at Jalona. "What's his name?"

"He has none."

"Oh, Jalona! It's not his fault." She was instantly sorry. Sue knew she would have done no better had she been forced to live as Jalona had, and to choose between home and child.

"Nor is it mine. I have allowed him to live; more concessions I will not make."

"It's enough. I know that this child would never be accepted on your world. The Towans have ruined so many lives. Jalona, I wish you the very best when you get home. I really hope you find what you want there." She gave the woman her most reassuring smile; then, child in her arms, she turned and left the hut, followed by Spock and Sarek.

* * *

All the way back to their quarters on the Enterprise, Sue cuddled and cooed over the child in her arms. She held him close, fighting the tears and the urge to crush him to her. "Oh, Baby, it's going to be all right. You'll have a family now. We'll take good care of you. Oh, Chukka, we'll give you so much love; you'll be one of us."

When they were back in their sitting room and Amanda was being introduced to the new family member, Spock called Sickbay and made arrangements for a complete physical for the child.

"Spock, don't be so fussy. He's fine. I know his history."

Spock ignored her suggestion and continued making plans. When he was finished and had joined them, Sue said, "Okay, first things first. This baby boy -- " she snuggled him close to her again, " -- has to have a name. Anybody got any ideas?"

"It will take some thought," Spock said.

Unnoticed by the two younger people, Sarek and Amanda were carrying on a low voiced conversation. They finished what they were discussing, and Sarek turned to Spock and Sue. "If I might make a suggestion, there is a name Amanda and I chose years ago, but were never able to use. If you think you might be interested…"

Upon hearing this, Sue's biggest worry came rambling out of her as she interrupted Sarek. "Do you really mean it? Does this mean you'll accept this baby along with the rest?"

Sarek looked at Spock. "Why is she asking me this questions now?"

From the look on his face it was obvious that Spock could think of no reply. How did one explain Susan? He simply did the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug.

"What's the name?" Sue anxiously asked.

"Saren. It was my grandfather's name."

"Spock?" Sue queried.

"If it pleases you."

"Well, Saren it is." She held the child up to face her. "Saren, how does that grab you?" He didn't seem overly impressed one way or the other; he simply stretched. Sue sat in a lounge chair and laid Saren on her lap and felt the lower half of his clothing. "Just as I suspected. Crisis time; ChukkaChukkaChukka is very wet -- " She stopped and her eyes sought Spock's. "Have I been calling him that?"

"Several times," was the answer.

She hung her head. "Jesus! What a bummer." She picked him up and held him close. "You don't deserve that -- Saren. You need a chance to be yourself." Again her eyes sought Spock's. "What'll I do?"

"Perhaps if my mother were to keep Saren with her for a time?"

She got up and paced, the child held tightly in her arms, a flurry of thoughts whirling through her mind. A mother could hold and cuddle a human child for several years -- almost until adolescence made him too embarrassed for parental displays of affection. But this Vulcanoid child would be hers to hold physically close for only a few short years. Already Jamie and Len were pulling away. Did she want to give up any of that time? And what of Saren? He'd been denied love and affection since birth -- he needed… Sue was amazed at herself. As if Amanda couldn't give Saren affection! She went to Amanda and placed the child in her arms.

"Sue, are you sure you want to do this?" Amanda asked even while accepting the child.

"Yes. I need time to straighten this out in my mind. Besides, you missed seeing the others when they were babies. You deserve this," she smiled at the other woman, "Grandma."

* * *

Sue walked aimlessly down the corridor, occasionally kicking at an imaginary pebble. This four-day trip to Vulcan loomed large in her mind, taking on all sorts of unexpected connotations. Nothing was as she had expected it would be. She had anticipated excitement, but found herself depressed and at a loss for a reason. Having been denied it on Towan, she had planned to spend all available time with the children. Yet she had just deliberately avoided having lunch with them, choosing to eat alone. Their enthusiasm for the homecoming to Vulcan did not suit her mood. And lunch itself was another matter. After five years of biscuits, she had eagerly anticipated "real" food. Now she had little appetite. Losing Chukka, she told herself; that was the reason for her depression. Yet she knew there was more to the emptiness within her. She was free of Towan, married to a man she loved and respected, had her children with her, safely away from Towan. What the hell more do you want, she asked herself, and had no answer.

She watched the uniformed people in the corridors. They moved with a sense of purpose, and she was reminded of herself on Towan -- essential, vital, needed -- and knew that that was what was lacking now. Spock and Sarek were absorbed in several projects, and Amanda joined them when she wasn't caring for Saren. The kids had their lessons; everything was so new and exciting for them. It's only me who has no real purpose.

Oh, poor little Susy.

"Oh, shit!"

She reached the door to the briefing room in which she'd been working. Spock had set her some recent Earth and Federation history lessons. She had never liked history and couldn't relate to any of this. The Andorians joined in Federation in 2169, the Tellarites followed in 2201, then the…

"Who the hell cares?"

The Earth stuff was even worse. Third World War, Eugenics War -- God, wouldn't they ever stop killing? And the pictures…if they were of Earth, you couldn't have proved it by her. With no identifiable landmarks, it wasn't her Earth. For all she could tell, it was just one more alien planet.

She toyed with the stylus. "Whatever happened to the leaky 29¢ ballpoint pen?" she asked the room. Remembering her nursing school days, she thought, No wonder I can't concentrate. There's no music. She addressed the computer.

"WORKING."

"Entertainment Section, Earth Music, 1960-1970s."

After several seconds of silence the computer said, "SELECT FILE, EARTH MUSIC -- EARLY FOLK/ROCK ERA. CONFIRM TO CONTINUE."

"Confirm!" she snapped.

"SPECIFY ARTIST."

"The Grateful Dead -- any song."

Several more seconds of silence.

"NULL SET."

"What?" She tried again. "Chicago."

Same reply.

"Who programmed this thing? I'll bet it's got every Lawrence Welk song ever recorded. How about Simon and Garfunkel?" she asked, deciding to try requesting something different.

"SET PRODUCES ONE ITEM."

"Play that!" she said, angry with herself for being frustrated by a machine.

The air filled with the beginning of what Sue remembered as "Homeward Bound."

Appropriate, she thought. I wish I were homeward bound. But I'm not now and never will be again. I'm on my way to -- Vulcan. She paused as the fact sank in and filled her with dread. Vulcan. Her mind filled with images described by Spock. Vulcan was going to be my home from now on. God, that's scary. I won't fit in, I know I won't, and what about the kids? Will they fit in, be accepted as a family? We're such a mixed bag -- a zoo, really.

Realizing that this kind of thinking was only digging her depression deeper, Sue tried her mother's advice for the "gloomies". Look at the bright side, Sue. There's Spock. That thought made her warm all over. Unconsciously reflecting on the background music, she smiled as she thought, He sure is my bridge over troubled waters. And Amanda, she'll do whatever she can for me. Even Sarek isn't turning out to be the blockhead you originally imagined. You're got a lot going for you, Sue.

But that's all outside me. What about inside me? Since she was alone, she didn't fight it. She let the tears slide down her face. Search for America: what for? It's all gone: my America, family, friends, gone forever. Every face I see reminds me that -- that I can count on one hand the people I can call 'friend'. The tears continued.

There but for the grace of you go I. Spock, I don't want you to go away -- God, I don't, and if I could, I'd beg you to stay -- I surely would. But I wouldn't have to beg, so I won't. Damn it, I won't!

He needs to go; he needs this time, and you are going to see that he gets it. You have your memories, but that's not all that's left. There's a whole lot more to come. So stop feeling sorry for yourself. Think of -- Thela. What kind of homecoming is she experiencing? And how is Thone? And for God's sake, what about all those people on Towan who have no home now?

Sue wiped her eyes and began to read the printout. About that time "Cecilia" began to play, that helped her mood considerably.

* * *

Some time later, Susan looked up as Amanda entered the room. The older woman sat down across from Sue and handed her a glass.

"Juice. Doctor's orders."

"Thanks." Sue took a drink. "Saren napping?"

"Yes. Susan, you've been crying."

"Yeah. Self-pity; been wallowing in it. You ever do that?" she asked, sure the answer would be "no".

"Many times in the past five years."

"Oh, yeah. I guess so; you had reason enough."

"So do you. You've been through quite a lot, especially in the last few days."

"I'm scared, Amanda."

"Of Vulcan?"

"Of everything. Hell, we both know I'm not going to fit in."

Amanda smiled. "Oh, Susan!"

"You felt the same way?"

"Oh, yes. I remember…almost 45 years ago. I was also on a spaceship bound for Vulcan. I was twenty years old, married to a man three times my age, pregnant. One night I sat straight up in bed and started to cry. I cried for hours." Amanda shook her head at the memory. "Poor Sarek. He didn't know what to do with me or for me."

Sue also smiled at that image as Amanda continued trying to reassure her.

"You'll do fine on Vulcan. They…"

Sarek joined them. He, too, noticed Sue's red eyes and nose. "Susan, are you…well?"

"Just a case of self-inflicted weepies. I'm fine now."

"I have been studying the Towan records which Dr. McCoy left me. They are most disturbing."

"Disturbing? How?

"In the past ten years there were 403 time displaced individuals brought to Towan. There are at this time 23 surviving."

"And I never got a chance to really talk to any of them."

"How do you know that?" Amanda asked.

"I had access to the medical records."

"So you did," Sarek stated.

"Last one died about three months ago -- an older woman. She couldn't breed; lasted all that time in the general compound -- must have been some sort of record. Really upset me. If she had lasted a few more months…"

"It is the suicide rate that disturbs me. It is much higher among the time displaced."

"I know. They couldn't adjust, and when they found out they could never go home, well…"

"My question, Susan, is: Why did you not have these problems? Why were you able to adjust?"

Sue was quiet for a while. "I thought a lot about that. I decided it was because for the others it was the first time anything really bad had happened to them. For me, I didn't really care. I had it good in the clinic, so all I worried about was not doing anything that would jeopardize my position until we could escape."

"If you would rather not discus this…" There was understanding in Sarek's voice.

"No, I don't mind. I think there are some things you should know. Did Spock tell you anything about me?"

"Just that you had been married before and had two children, and that they had died before you left Earth."

"A car accident; they were going camping."

"You were not with them, then?"

"No. We had planned to go the week before -- that was my weekend off work. Then Michael had a chance to work for his brother, pick up some extra money. We were saving for a trip to Disneyland. Anyway, Michael left the decision to the kids; they opted for going camping a week later without me. It didn't matter to Michael and me; we went camping a lot. That's what I said that day: 'There'll always be another time', but there wasn't… So you see, after they died, nothing the Towans could do…"

"Susan, there is no need to continue." Amanda put her hand on Sue's shoulder.

"I was trying to explain," Sue continued. "Even though Towan was bad, it didn't get to me because I'd been through all that suicide bit before."

"You tried to commit suicide?" The disbelief was evident in Amanda's voice.

"No. I never actually tried it. I couldn't. I had my reputation to uphold." She grinned feebly.

"Your reputation?"

"Sure. I'm a nurse. I know how to do it. I couldn't be hauled into the emergency room where I worked and let them pump my stomach or sew up my wrists. How could I face that? No, if I ever did it, I would have only one chance and I would have to do it right. So, instead, all I did was talk -- and think -- about it. I did a lot of that. For months, in the middle of the night, I would call my friends, crying that I didn't want to go on living, that I had nothing to live for."

"I take it something happened to change your mind."

"Yeah. I had this friend I used to call. I was there for her during her divorce, so she was doing the same for me. Well, she met this guy and they started living together. Then when I'd call in the middle of the night, sometimes he would answer the phone. He took it pretty well, but after several times I guess he got tired of it. One night when I called, he said he was coming over. Within a few minutes he came striding into and went straight to the pantry for a stack of used newspapers that he put on the kitchen table. Then he got my bed pillow and put it on the papers. Then, he took out a gun and some bullets. He loaded the gun right there in front of me. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. He loaded the gun and then led me to the table and sat me in the chair. He put the gun into my hand.

"'Sue, put your head on the pillow, then put the gun barrel right behind your ear. Go on, Sue.'

"'I can't!' I was screaming and crying. 'I can't!' I was shaking all over. I couldn't even look at that gun. I felt so heavy.

"'Come on, Sue,' he encouraged. 'This is what you want: peace, release from pain. One little click and it'll be all over.'

"'I can't!' I started to sob.

"'You sure?' he asked.

"'Yes!' I was blubbering like a fool.

"He came over and took the gun out of my hand. 'Then don't ever pull this stunt again. Hear me?'

"'Yes." By then I was sobbing into the pillow. I guess he went to the door and called my friend, because she came in. She was real worried.

"'Oh, Sue, are you all right? I didn't want him to do that, but he wouldn't listen.'

"Pretty soon we were all crying and hugging each other, and then we were laughing. Paul found some wine in the fridge and we proceeded to sit around the table and get smashed. And that was the end of my suicide thoughts."

After several seconds Sarek asked, "This 'Paul' -- he could be that positive you would not harm yourself?"

"The bullets were blanks. He said that if I had pulled the trigger, they'd know I had problems and they would have insisted I get professional help."

* * *

As she sat in the dark sitting room, Sue heard Spock get out of bed. He had awakened, and she knew he would come to see why she wasn't in bed. She braced herself for another lecture about how her behavior was becoming increasingly agitated these past few days.

"Turn that off!" she hissed when light flooded the room.

"You do not usually have trouble sleeping."

"So?"

He came to sit beside her. "Would you care to discuss the reason for your restlessness?" He didn't try to keep the edge out of his voice.

"I'm scared. Vulcan scares me."

"Why should that be? There is no one on Vulcan who would harm you."

"You know it's not physical fear. It's facing that spaceport tomorrow. With the news of what happened on Towan all over the airwaves, I just know there'll be all kinds of people there gawking -- and reporters."

"On Vulcan? Really, Susan, have I taught you nothing of my home world in the past five years?" His voice could be so condescending!

"Well, some of them must be nosy, and there could be other races there, too."

"It is of no consequence. We will not be landing at the spaceport. The Enterprise is equipped with a transporter; we will beam directly to the house."

"Oh, shit! I should have thought of that."

"There is no reason for you to have considered it."

"Oh, yeah, I should have known. I'm just so damn stupid. I never -- "

"Pity I don't have my lytherette. Then I could accompany you through this little scenario."

She flashed him her best "Go to hell" look and the bird, and hoped his remarkable night vision was able to catch every nuance. "Sure, you can make jokes. You're going home, but what about me? I'm going to some alien planet where nobody is going to like me, but shit, what do you care -- "

Harshly, he interrupted her. "There is one thing about which you are correct: your language. Your use of profanity will not endear you to Vulcans."

"Well, screw you!" she said, anger at a flashpoint, then, with her voice a full octave lower, she said, "You just don't understand. I can't ever go home."

"Susan, it is not within my power to change that." The statement was a plea for understanding.

"And I wouldn't let you if you could."

"What, then?" Spock tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice.

"I don't know, goddamn it, I don't know!" He gathered her into his arms and held her as she went limp against him. After several minutes she said, "We're not going to fit in, you know -- the kids and me. We won't be accepted. Your mother's worried, too; she told me some things. Tried to prepare me."

"What did she say?"

"Well, she told me about how rough you had it growing up on Vulcan. You know -- with the other kids and all that."

Sue felt, rather than saw, him shake his head. "Susan, did you go through your whole childhood without any sort of confrontation with other children?"

"Of course not. I had more than my share of fights and hurt feelings. It's only natural… Are you telling me it wasn't that bad?"

"At the time, I perceived it as very painful. What I am trying to tell you is that what my mother was seeing was normal and happens to most children."

"But you were different?" she emphasized.

"Did you know any children who were mixed racially?"

Sue thought for a few seconds. "Yeah, there was this one kid. His mother had been a Japanese war bride."

"How did you feel about him? Did you taunt him?"

"No. For the most part I couldn't a cared less. Then he stole my candy bar."

"He did what?"

"He stole my candy bar. There was this school field trip and we had to bring a sack lunch, and he stole my candy bar."

"And?"

"And I called him a slanty eyed gook." She said that last part almost under her breath. "Well, he shouldn't have stolen my candy bar!" she added defensively.

"Suppose he had not been of mixed parentage?"

Sue shrugged. "Then I'd have found another name to call him."

"Exactly. And most children do it. I had my share of such incidents, and when my mother learned of them she became very distraught. Perhaps if I were not an only child…"

Sue remembered her own mother's reaction when her brother Jeff had come home all beat up. "Amanda was overprotective?"

"That hardly covers it. Susan, the children have already had several negative encounters in the day room on Towan. They, and you, handled them satisfactorily."

"You think it'll be all right?"

"Would I even consider leaving you and the children if I did not believe you to be safe and in good hands?"

With that statement Sue was able to relax and let some of her fear of Vulcan drain from her. "Let's go to bed. I think I'll be able to sleep now."

* * *

Why should Vulcan bother me? Sue asked herself as she snapped the last suitcase shut. It's not like I don't know what to expect. Spock has taught me so much -- told me what to expect in every aspect of life there. The house, for instance, he's taken me mentally through it any number of times. I know the layout, the colors; hell, in some cases even the furniture arrangement. She smiled as she remembered the first days she and Spock had spent together. It had been so awkward. He had had two moods: out of his head with madness, and overcome with guilt. Sue had made a couple of statements, just in passing, like, here she was on an alien planet, yet there were so many things that seemed the same as Earth. She would have thought that nothing would be recognizable. That one statement, thrown out to break the silence, had led into an hour and a half dissertation on how the similar needs of hominids produced similar responses and solutions in meeting these needs. As he had recited about the homogeneity of the hominids, Sue had learned two things: everything she had never wanted to know about hominids; and, when Spock was lecturing, he wasn't indulging in self-pity. So, during those first few weeks, when the quiet was about to drive her up the wall, she would ask a question and then, when his voice began to grate, she would fall asleep.

Later, when her opinion of him had changed, she had paid attention to his talks, and still later, when she knew that Vulcan would become her home, Sue had made it a point to learn and remember.

Well, here goes nothing, thought Sue as she stepped onto the transporter pad. Amanda, with Saren in her arms, Sarek, Jamie and Len had already beamed down. She, Spock, and the girls were next. Captain Sulu was there supervising the beam down himself and saying his good-byes. The only other people in the transporter room were the two ensigns who had been responsible for the children's care and the female in charge of the controls.

When the signal was given, Sue closed her eyes and gritted her teeth. She felt the tingle, then nothing. Her next sensation was heat, and her nostrils filled with the smell of sand. She began perspiring immediately. Lord, she thought, this is gonna be murder. She opened her eyes just in time to see Amanda and the boys enter a large stone structure. All that was visible from her vantage point was a four story high, curved stonewall. This must be the desert side of the cylindrical house. Because of the winds and occasional sandstorms, there were no windows on this side.

Landscaping consisted of a few low growing, brownish green shrubs on either side of the flat stone walk that led to the entry. Sue looked around at the nothingness. On a clear day you could see…sand. Sarek and Amanda's house sat on what Sue judged to be a city block of the stuff, as did the other dozen or so houses scattered around. Half a mile to the east was the city. There was only one word to describe this area where Sarek and Amanda lived, "suburbia," and it tickled Sue. The land was flat like her homeland, but even if you could plant corn and soybeans, it would never look like central Illinois, especially with the purplish twilight casting an eerie glow on everything.

Sue responded to Spock saying her name and Mandy tugging on her arm. As she walked toward the house, Sarek passed her on his way to gather the luggage that had just materialized.

Even before the door shut behind her, she felt the cool air and breathed in deeply. Sue found herself in a high ceiling, formal entryway. Several feet to her left was a staircase. She was considering having a look when voices from the opposite direction caught her attention, and she followed them. She entered the huge main floor sitting room just as a woman came through the doorway from what Sue thought must be the first floor storage area.

"Peace, T'Sana," Amanda said, apparently not surprised to see the other woman there. "How pleasant to be greeted by our neighbor on our return."

"Peace to you all on your homecoming," T'Sana responded, then added, "Spock, Vulcan rejoices at your return and the gifts you bring."

Though Spock accepted her words without visible reaction, Sue knew how relieved he must be and instantly warmed to this unknown woman. Sue knew that non-acceptance of his actions and his family was a major concern to Spock.

When introduced, Sue stumbled over a "hello" and a "peace and prosper," but T'Sana did not seem to notice. "When we learned," the neighbor continued, "how many would be arriving, I realized you would require help. I have prepared a meal and made ready the bedrooms." She looked at the child in Amanda's arms. "An infant. Amanda, I have not prepared for an infant."

"No matter, T'Sana. We brought the essentials with us." The two women, still discussing necessities, went into the kitchen area.

The children were looking wide-eyed around the room. When Spock noticed, he said, "You children may inspect the house." The adults had discussed the tactic while they were still on board the Enterprise. They were curious as to how the children would react to the large house. It would be the first time in their lives that they had so much freedom and so much space.

Jamie and Len conferred. The steps in the entryway had caught their eye. This was something new and different and was first choice for investigation. They started for the entryway, then stopped. Each approached a younger sister and, as was their habit, took a smaller outstretched hand. Then the four were off to explore their new world.

"Be careful," Sue called as she sank into a chair. Spock was at her side. "I'm all right," she said before he could ask.

Sarek was coming through the doorway with an armload of parcels. "Father," Spock asked, "how may I help?"

"Take these to your mother. I shall bring in what remains."

Sue sat quietly observing her surroundings. It was just as Spock had described it. Neutral walls, like the entryway; they made the large room appear even more spacious. The first floor was one large, circular room divided into specific areas. Near the far wall were a piano and another musical instrument, the name of which Sue could not remember. At the center, in a sunken area, facing the double doors leading to the garden, were a set of couches, two chairs, and several small tables. Closest to her, on the way by the entryway, was a built-in communication/entertainment center.

Behind these areas, against the natural stonewall, were the dining room, kitchen and storage areas. The other wall in front of the sitting areas did not complete the circle. It had been sliced off. A transparent wall covered the expanse and rose four stories to the roof.

Through this transparency Sue studied the garden, which consisted mostly of rocks and low growing shrubs. There was a sheltered spot with a table and chairs, and there were paths for walking. The garden was completely enclosed by a four-foot high stone wall. Her eyes were drawn upward to the three large panels suspended above and beyond the garden wall. They were there to shade the house from the morning sun while absorbing energy and storing it for night use.

The children burst into the room, distracting her. "Come see, Mother. The stairs -- we climbed them."

No mother could deny such a request, so Sue followed them to the entryway. It was an inside stairway, its light coming from the skylight four stories above and some form of indirect lighting on each riser.

The boys raced up and Mandy ascended like the mistress of a manor house. Sue became very choked at the thought that a set of lousy stairs could be such a treat. Thay-an was cautious. Sue took her hand, and together they climbed. Sue was wheezing by the time she reached the second floor, and she caught her breath as they all peered into Sarek and Amanda's study and gave their bedroom a quick once-over. The children were impatient to climb higher. Even Thay-an, having conquered the first flight was anxious to go again.

Sue was in actual pain as she struggled to the third floor and into another bedroom. "This has to be your father's room," she gasped as she staggered to the bed and flopped down. Len looked at her as if she had just desecrated a shrine.

The four children stared open-mouthed as they studied the room.

"This room was his? This whole room?" Jamie asked in utter disbelief.

"Yes, why? Oh, I see what you mean. It's as big as our whole cell, isn't it?"

The investigation began. Four sets of eyes and hands became very busy. Len became interested in a model rocket, but the others found little to hold their attention until Mandy struggled out of the closet pulling a container.

"Plays!" she cried. "Come see."

Excited hands grabbed a toy, examined it, then discarded it as bright eyes fell on other treasures.

Soon the container was empty, its contents scattered about the floor, and Mandy crawled inside. Jamie was giving the scattered toys a second, closer inspection, while Len was drawn back to the model rocket. Thay-an tugged at the container, trying to dislodge her sister.

"Mine!" was Mandy's only comment, as she held on tight. Thay-an turned, looking for a higher authority to which she could plead her case. Spotting Sue, she went to the bed.

"Mine. Thay-an wants it," she declared, pointing to the container.

"Yeah, I know you do," Sue soothed. "Later you can have a turn. Come sit by me for now." She helped the child crawl onto the bed. "Now tell me what you think of your father's room."

"Daddy's room? No. Daddy with us."

"When he was a boy, this was his room."

"Boy? Daddy a boy?" Annie giggled.

"Yes. Like Jamie and Len."

"No." She giggled again.

Spock stood in the doorway. Annie scrambled off the bed and went to him. He picked her up. "Mommy says Daddy a little boy, like Jamie and Len."

"And you find that difficult to believe?"

She giggled and laid her head on his shoulder. He took her to where there was a picture on the wall.

"Thay-an, this is a picture of me at the age of six."

She shook her head. She knew better. She squirmed to be let down and began investigating with the others.

Spock sat next to Sue. "How do you feel?"

"Like my rib belt's too tight."

Sarek appeared in the doorway. "I could use some help in locating and setting up the exyont."

"The who?"

"Crib," Spock said. "For Saren."

He left her there, and soon she was asleep.

* * *

Sue heard her name. Someone far away was calling her. Go away, she thought, and rolled over.

"Susan, emergency! You are needed in the clinic."

Responding instinctively, she rolled to get out of the bed enclosure and fell. "What the hell?"

Spock picked her up. "I was trying to awaken you for dinner. I did not intend you to fall."

"Well, hell. Ohhh! I'll probably be crippled for life."

"Doubtful."

"You're not a doctor. I know better…"

"Susan, dinner is waiting."

She stood, straightened her clothes, and ran her fingers through her hair. "I'm ready. Let's go."

"You are not wearing shoes."

She looked down at her swollen feet. "No. I'm not," she confirmed and limped out of the room.

* * *

The children could be held at the table only long enough to eat. Then they were off to more exploring.

The four adults remained at the table. Three of them savored their wine; the fourth had gulped hers and wanted more.

"Susan," Spock warned.

"I'm celebrating," she said, and began expounding on her many reasons to do so.

"Susan," Spock said again, after she had run on for several minutes.

She giggled in response to the look on his face, then lowered her eyes and tried not to giggle again.

Sarek cleared his throat. "Amanda and I have decided that you two should take our bedroom. The climb to the third floor is too strenuous for Susan."

"You'll get no argument from me," said Susan, thinking it was a great idea. She looked at Spock, expecting him to say something -- anything. "Thanks," she finally said when he didn't comment. "The kids can bunk on the -- "

"Susan." Whenever Spock used that tone she knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say. "The children have expressed an interest in sleeping in my room."

Sue felt as if she'd been hit. It had to come; she knew that, but not so soon, not their first day here… "All of them?"

"Yes. The boys initiated the idea, but the girls quickly joined in the planning."

"You think it's okay?" she asked, her voice faltering.

"I see it as a very healthy sign of their adjustment."

Sue knew that they were all watching her, waiting for her to explode, or cry. She was determined not to do either. "Okay," she said. "If they're ready to make the break, then I'll have to be ready, too." She held up her glass. "Could I have some more wine, please?"

* * *

Settling the children in for the night became rather involved, and Susan climbed to the third floor so as not to miss out on anything. The boys were willing to let the girls have the bed, but the height seemed to put them off. They decided on floor pallets. The whole idea almost went up in smoke when it was learned that Sue and Spock would be one floor below, and not just across the hall. Thay-an went to Spock and wrapped her arms around his legs. Suggestions, ideas, and opinions went back and forth. Three adults kept their patience; the fourth was about to lose hers. Just before this happened, the other children convinced Thay-an to stay with them. The door would be left open and there would be a light on dim setting.

After the children finally settled in bed for the night, all Sue wanted was to do the same. She headed for the second floor bedroom. Entering, she triggered the lights, and they automatically set on dim. After a quick glance around the room, her attention was drawn to the view beyond the transparent wall. She moved closer and stared into the darkness that was broken only by the city lights in the distance. So this is Vulcan by night. Funny, she thought. By night it doesn't look different from an Earth city. Or, for that matter, it's probably no different from any city on any planet. Suddenly she felt a little less out of place.

Her mood somewhat lighter, she turned to survey the room where she would spend her first night on Vulcan. She shook her head in amazement. This plush, opulent room, decorated in off-white with burgundy accents, was not what she had expected of Spock's parents' bedroom. She gazed at the large bed and ran her fingers over the surface of the furniture. It had a metallic luster and was cool to the touch. Positively sensuous, she thought as she peeked around a curved partition. There she found a large walk-in closet. She strolled through, noting that, like the rest of this house, there was a place for everything and everything was in its place. "Amanda's a little too neat, but she's got good taste," Sue said to herself as she flipped through the clothes that hung there. There was, of course, the required supply of tan long-robes -- the one-size-fits-all kind that was the at-home outfit for this culture. In contrast, there were several beautiful gowns and a full wardrobe of outfits for any occasion. Telling herself that she really had to do something about her own wardrobe, she went back into the bedroom.

"Wow!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as she entered the bathroom. "Talk about luxury!" She ran her hand over the walls, counter, built-in basin, and the back of the stool. Everything was made of the same material and seemed to have been molded from one piece. There were no visible seams anywhere. There's no shower, she thought, disappointed, then spotted a lever in the middle of the wall about waist-high. She raised it. "Wow!" she repeated as water spurted from several jets embedded in the walls. It was aimed so the spray converged at one point just off-center of the room, where the floor sloped slightly to a drain. Eager to try this, she stripped and stepped into the stream.

As the hot water soothed her body, some of the fatigue and tension flowed away. Hanging just above the water spray was a catchall. In it she found soap, and she lathered. She sniffed; it was scented. How long had it been since she had bathed with scented soap? She reached up again and found a container she hoped was shampoo. It lathered, so she washed her hair and then rinsed until she was sure the water would turn cold. But it continued to run hot, so she stayed, standing there, letting the hot water run over her body and staring at the night. On her inquiries about these window-walls, she had been told that one could see out but not in. Still, it was an odd feeling -- the hot water running over her as she stood naked in the dimly lit room, gazing out into the darkness. It was another world, and for an instant it seemed as if Towan had never happened. Almost.

Later, when she was dry and wrapped in one of the giant towels, she tried to think where she might find her nightgown. It sure won't go with the décor, she thought, picturing her granny-type gown. So who needs it? The kids aren't sleeping in here. It's just -- the two of us. It was at that instant that it occurred to Sue that she should take advantage of being alone with her husband. After all, this was the only honeymoon she would get.

When Spock slipped into bed, she sighed and rolled toward him. "After all these months," she whispered, "we're finally alone."

"Susan, you are naked."

"Ah. Clever, these Vulcans."

"Where is the gown you had aboard ship?"

"Still in the suitcase, I guess. Who cares?" she asked, wondering what difference it made.

"This is neither the time nor the place…"

"Not the place!" she sputtered. "It's a bed, isn't it? What do you think your folks do in here -- play checkers?"

"They rest."

"Sure they do, and they found you under a plomeek leaf."

"My mother conducts herself…"

Sue scrambled out of bed and flounced across to the closet. Returning in a sheer negligee, she waltzed around the room, swirling the skirt. "Frederick's of Vulcan, don't you agree?"

He eyed her closely. "That belongs to my mother?"

"Well, it's too small for Sarek."

"Have you no sense of privacy?"

"I was given permission to wear anything I like. Spock, you really are incredible," she sighed, realizing his discomfort was real. Suddenly the room was crowded with a tangible presence and Sue's mood dissolved. She felt awkward and naked in the flimsy negligee. She threw on a tan robe and went to find her own nightgown.

So much for the honeymoon!

* * *

Sue stormed into the kitchen. "What's the matter with your son this morning?"

Amanda looked up from her breakfast preparations. "My son? Spock must have upset you."

"He can be such an ass…I don't know what's gotten into him, but last night…and this morning he won't even talk."

"Sue, let's discuss this over a cup of coffee." By Amanda's expression, Sue knew that she was right; something was troubling Spock. She took the cup Amanda offered and followed her into the garden. Amanda stared at the rising sun that was just clearing the building in the distance.

"I'm jealous of my time here; it's so short. It will be bearable for another hour or so, then not until evening."

Sue's thoughts were not on the view. "What's stuck in his craw? Is it something I've done?"

"No. You mustn't think that. It's another matter entirely. What has Spock told you about how Vulcan governs itself?"

"How Vulcan governs itself? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Everything. Now tell me what you know."

"'Kinship'," Sue recited in a singsong voice. "'Kinships are the essence, the heart and head of Vulcan society. They select representatives to the central council, which governs the planet. All kinships are equal within the council regardless of size, status, or wealth." Sue didn't buy that. "Since each elects from its own, each censors its own."

"That sounds like my son."

"Word for word. There's more, but I've forgotten the rest."

"Sue, the kinship is more than that. One's place in it is one's life."

"Now I remember. Kinship takes care of its own. There is no welfare on Vulcan, no orphans, and no individual taxes. So what's the problem?"

She found her answer in Amanda's eyes.

"The children! But I don't understand. They're his -- how can that be denied?"

"There is no question of their biological parentage, and Saren's adoption will not be questioned. Spock is concerned that their legal status within the clan might be challenged."

"Who would do such a thing?"

"Any member of the kinship has the right. Think about it. Spock is an only child. If he should die without legal issue… but it's more than financial. What is beneficial for the whole kinship must be considered."

Sue ran her fingers through her hair. "If they're not accepted, what will that mean?"

"Very little as long as Spock lives, but after his death -- they would be without clan status on Vulcan, without inheritance."

"Shit." Sue was up and pacing. "Does anybody have to know what we're going to do?"

Amanda smiled at that remark. "Sue, you cannot smuggle six children into a kinship and hope that no one will notice."

"We're in for a fight, then?"

"I don't think so; neither does Sarek. The kinship has the authority to refuse status, but Sarek and I agree. They will not exercise that right." She shook her head, and there was sadness in her eyes. "Spock will not listen. This is the most visible sign of just how much these past five years have affected him."

"What will happen today?"

"Within hours of his coming home, Spock informed the kinship of his intention to declare the children his legal issue. We can assume that the information was discussed and a decision made."

"And?"

"If the decision is to accept -- and I'm sure it will be -- someone from the kinship will step forward to witness -- "

"And if the answer's no?"

"Sue, an appointed representative will be present regardless. If the decision is to reject legal status, the witness will remain silent. But that won't -- "

"They'll zap us without a word. They sound like a bunch of pricks to me. Why don't they just stay away?"

"So there can be no misreading of intentions. If no one were there, it could be due to an accident or a misunderstanding."

"Is that final? No recourse?"

"No. One can petition."

"With a snowball's chance, I bet."

"Sue, Sarek and I do not believe this will happen. We are attuned to the pulse of the kinship; in a telepathic society, it's impossible not to be. I know Spock is worried that the exaggerated news reports will have a negative effect on the kinship. You know Vulcans are terribly concerned with privacy, especially in certain areas."

"That's putting it mildly. Are you sure there won't be any hassles?"

"Yes. I only wish we could convince Spock. It's as if he's flung out a challenge, daring the kinship to oppose him in this matter."

"Lord, I hope you're right." Wearily, Sue got up and went inside.

She met Spock on the stairway. He had Saren in his arms, and from his stance she could tell that his mood was no better.

"Where's the rest of the gang?"

"Father has the children in the study."

Sue ignored the jab. "Where're you going with him?"

"Mother wants Saren with her."

"Okay. I'll be ready in a few minutes."

"I have decided to go alone."

"Fat chance!"

"I will not have a scene." If anything could get Sue's back up, it was his parental tone.

"Then don't start one! They're my children, too." She folded her arms across her chest, leaned against the wall, and matched his stare.

Stalemate.

"Very well, we go together."

* * *

They parked the aircar in a lot at the edge of the legal complex and started walking. Spock glanced around.

"What's wrong?" Sue asked.

"I have never seen this place so crowded."

"It's been a lot of years since you've been here, remember."

"Perhaps."

"But there do seem to be an awful lot of people heading in the same direction that we are."

"So, I believe, I stated."

"Do you recognize anyone?"

"Several."

"They're from your kinship, aren't they?"

"Yes."

Sue felt her heart pounding. What if Amanda and Sarek are wrong? She glanced at the crowd. Which one has the rope? "Let's not go now. We could -- " His look silenced her. She had seen that Spock before: on Towan, whenever he felt there would be trouble. She described it to herself as his "tall-in-the-saddle-and-defiant-as-hell" look. Well, whatever happens, we go down together, she told herself, feeling fiercely protective. She stuck out her chin and hurried to keep up with his long strides.

People continued to converge on the building that was Spock and Sue's destination. The two entered as part of a large group and, once inside, they had to pick their way through the crowded hall to the Department of Records. With a slight nod, Spock acknowledged several greetings. Sue tried to read faces, but should have known better. She found no expressions in these chiseled features.

Like everyone else, the woman behind the desk showed no emotion as she recorded the information Spock gave her. There were low voices behind them, and Sue had to fight the urge to glance over her shoulder.

"Susan, do you know Saren's father's planet of origin?"

"Hawking's Land," she said, her voice cracking.

The woman rose and walked around her desk. Her voice was loud and clear as she spoke in Vulcan. Sue did not need to understand the language to know that Spock's kinship was being addressed and that a witness was being requested. She shut her eyes and stood frozen to the floor.

"Susan. Susan," Spock whispered.

"Do we have a witness?"

"Yes. Open your eyes."

She did, and slowly turned and to her amazement realized that they had more witnesses than they could possibly use. Everyone, it seemed, was here for that express purpose.

"What does this mean?" she asked.

"It is the Vulcan way of expressing -- approval. Notice the emblem everyone is wearing. It is a symbol…" His voice faltered.

"It's for you, then? They're saying they support your decision to stay alive and rescue us from Towan, even if it did result in all that publicity?"

"So it would seem." His voice was still not normal.

"And the kids? They're in?"

He nodded.

Sue watched the defensiveness drain out of him as he relaxed.

An aisle parted for them as they left the records hall. Susan had enough sense and respect to remember to stay behind him. Just this once, she told herself, it won't hurt. She remained quiet as they walked to the aircar. Words seemed inadequate; they would only break the mood.

* * *

"What are you doing?" Sue exclaimed when Spock dipped the aircar toward the sandy desert floor.

"These are the family lands. It is customary to visit after a long absence." He handed her eye shields and took a pair for himself.

"Why didn't you tell me before we left the house? I would have worn something with sleeves. My arms are gonna fry."

"I had not considered coming here. I did not believe I would have the proper frame of mind for such a visit."

"Well, if it means you're in a better mood, then I'm glad we stopped."

Sue climbed out of the car and trudged along beside Spock. There was no doubt that the man-made stone formation ahead was their destination. They entered through an arch. Sue squinted her eyes and looked around. So Vulcan had its own Stonehenge. There really wasn't much to see: a high, walled arena and what looked like a fire pit in the center. Yet there was something eerie about this place. Spock went to stand near the pit while Sue moved next to the wall, where it was shaded. Testing the sand, she found it hot, but not burning. She sat and watched as he stood, unmoving, for a very long time. She was becoming impatient when he finally came to sit next to her.

"Spock, I've seen this place before."

"Yes, in my mind."

"This is where it all happened. What's-her-name and Jim and all that."

"She has a name."

"Yeah, well, it's not important. That's all over with."

"Yes, very true. The whole episode is ancient history." He leaned back against the wall.

Sue scooped up a handful of sand and let it run through her fingers. "Today is kind of a new beginning, isn't it? I mean, everything is settled now."

"Yes. I am most fortunate. So many things could have gone -- some other way." He took her hand and brushed away the sand grains, one finger at a time. "The escape, with so many things beyond my control -- "

"But you made it."

"Yes."

"And your father didn't turn tail and run when he saw all of us, like you thought he might."

"Susan, for a non-telepath, you read me very well."

"Not much genius involved -- just knowing. This morning was the frosting on the cake, wasn't it?"

"Yes. To sense the approval of one's own kin -- a most pleasurable experience."

"Well, just don't let the whole thing go to your head."

He held her hand more tightly. "I noticed that you knew to keep your place this morning."

"I knew it!" She jerked her hand away. "One lousy time and you throw it up to me. Next time you'll have footprints up your back."

He stood and reached to help her. "Come, woman, before you fry out here." He slowed his stride to match hers as they walked to the aircar.

It was true. Everything was settled, and if she felt as though a heavy load had just been removed from her back, what must he feel? His body movements and even his tone when he had called her "woman" suggested he was as relaxed as she'd ever seen him.

Not being one to miss an opportunity, Sue decided to try to set the mood for that night.

"Now that you're feeling better, when do you think we might consummate this marriage of ours?"

"Now."

"Huh?"

He repeated, "Now."

"Don't be funny," she said sarcastically. "I was thinking of tonight."

He took her arm and turned her around to face him. "Here and now."

"What's the matter with you?" She could not read the look in his eyes. "Are you all right?"

"What is wrong with here and now?"

"Stop this!" She pulled away from him. "You're nuts!" she said, exasperated. "Here in the sand? With bugs and sand -- everywhere? No, thanks, I prefer a bed, even if it belongs to your parents."

"You always claimed to be adventurous." There was a glint in his eye and haughtiness about his attitude that Sue had never seen before.

"I guess I'm getting old." She took two steps backwards.

He took two forward. " There is always the aircar."

"Oh, my god! The back seat of a car! It's probably a '52 Chevy. That's what got me into trouble the first time." She continued to back up while he slowly advanced toward her.

"You stop this," she said, half laughing. "You're crazy."

"No, not crazy; mad. Mad with the fever…"

Now he was dramatizing. She couldn't believe it. What next?

"…Here in the desert, on my family's lands -- the ancient drives are surfacing."

"They are not! Now stop!"

Glancing backwards, she caught sight of the aircar. She turned and began running. It was instinctive. She was breathing hard after the first few steps and knew she could never outrun Spock.

He chased her, but allowed her to stay just out of reach.

"Stop!" she squealed as she circled the car.

She was not paying attention to his movements; she ran around the car and into his arms. Holding her in a tight embrace, he kissed her long and hard.

Coming up for air, she said, "On the other hand, there is something to be said for spontaneity."

* * *

If the morning had turned out very pleasantly for Sue, the afternoon promised to be just the opposite. Arrangements had been made; the next day, Jamie and Len would begin school. This afternoon, parents and children would visit, in preparation for that beginning. Knots tightened in Sue's stomach, but she sai