by Diane Duane
Spock nodded.
Anderson’s features suddenly broke out in a wide grin. “Well…damn! Looks like you’ve spent too much time in space, Cadet Kirk. This test is designed forinexperienced trainees!” He shook his head. “Believe me, we’ll fix those readings for the next poor fool who has to face this scenario! But for now…it looks like you’re the second Kirk to beat the no-win scenario. And you didn’t have to reprogram the computer to do it!” He extended his hand to the cadet, who took it, shaking it heartily.
“But sir,” Chekov protested, “the Romulans would have surely killed him!”
“But he would’ve saved his ship and the people from theKobayashi Maru, and all without firing a shot!” another voice added from the bridge doors.
Peter looked up to see his uncle standing there, smiling at him.
“A captain must be willing to sacrifice himself for his ship,” Kirk reminded everyone. “That’s his job. Congratulations, Peter. That was one hell of a test.”
Peter nodded at everyone as they filed out. It was several minutes before Peter and his uncle had privacy. The captain held out his hand and, when his nephew took it, clapped him on the shoulder, grinning proudly. “I knew you could do it,” he exclaimed.
“I was inspired by recent events,” Peter said, dryly.
“Obviously—but that doesn’t take away from the fact that you kept your head, and figured it all out. You’re going to make a great captain someday.”
The younger man shook his head. “With all due respect, Uncle Jim…I’m quitting Command track today. I’m requesting reassignment to the Starfleet diplomatic corps. Ambassador Sarek is giving me a recommendation. Recent events have made me realize that that’s what Ireally want to do with my life.”
Kirk regarded his nephew intently for nearly a minute, then nodded. “It’s your choice, Peter, and I respect you for making a difficult decision.” Humor glinted in the hazel eyes. “You weren’t influenced in your decision by the notion of attending long diplomatic conferences with the Klingons, were you?”
Peter grinned. “Let’s just say that I’ll be taking a lot more classes in Klingon language and culture,” he admitted.
The two fell into step and went out into the corridor, through the gleaming lobby of the Starfleet Academy. “You’re writing to her?” the captain asked.
“Yes…and I got a reply last week. She’s in school already and likes it.She’s taking a course in advanced Standard English!”
“By the time you two meet again, any language barrier should be a thing of the past,” Kirk said, as they crossed the broad plaza that lay at the foot of Starfleet’s gleaming towers.
“By the time we meet again, let’s hope a lot of barriers will be a thing of the past,” Peter said. “We’ll both be working toward that, Uncle Jim.”
James Tiberius Kirk smiled at his brother’s son. “It isn’t often that personal interest and duty coincide.”
Peter nodded. “But when it does…it’s great.”
“I wish both of you the best of luck, Peter, I mean that.”
The younger Kirk smiled. “I know you do. And that means a lot to me, Uncle Jim.”
“And I want you to know something else,” Jim admitted. “I also think you would’ve been a hell of a starship captain.”
Peter beamed. He knew that, in his uncle’s eyes, this was the finest compliment he could give anyone. “Thanks, Uncle Jim. But I’d never hold a candle to you.”
The senior Kirk grinned and slapped his nephew on the back. The captain of theEnterprise quickened his pace. “Come on…everyone’s waiting for us.” Then, suddenly, the hazel eyes twinkled.“Ambassador Kirk, do you think? Someday?”
Peter shrugged. “You never know…”
“AmbassadorKirk…” the captain muttered, trying it on for size. “The more I say it, the better it sounds…. ”
Spock stood in the huge, skylighted conference chamber on the world called Khitomer. The new peace conference boasted dozens of beings from many worlds…but not one Freelan. The absence of the cloaked and masked delegates had been noted and commented upon, but only the member worlds of the Federation Security Council knew the truth.
In the weeks since theEnterprise had brought the captive Vulcans out of the Neutral Zone, the tensions in the galaxy had eased considerably. The ringleaders of the KEHL, including Lisa Tennant, had been arrested and charged with breaking into the computer system at the Vulcan consulate, and for assaulting and abducting Peter Kirk. With its most dedicated members out of action, the group was gradually returning to its status as a harmless fringe organization.
Azetbur’s dramatic rescue operation against the Klingon renegades had restored the Federation’s faith in the new chancellor, and this new peace conference was a result. Scientists from many worlds had been asked to join with governmental delegates to advise the Federation on how best to help the Klingon homeworld solve its many problems. Today’s sessions had been devoted to discussion of how the effects of Praxis’s explosion on Qo’noS might be overcome. Tomorrow the agenda included the possibility of economic aid.
The Vulcan was attending the conference as one of Starfleet’s representatives. He’d enjoyed the day’s session; searching for scientific solutions to the problems facing Qo’noS was a stimulating challenge. Now, as the delegates milled around, talking in groups after the formal meetings had broken up, Spock searched the room for his father. He had not seen Sarek since his arrival yesterday.
“A good session today, don’t you think, Captain Spock?” came a voice from behind him. Turning, Spock saw the new Romulan delegate, Pardek, standing beside him. The Vulcan had been somewhat surprised when the Empire had sent a delegate to replace Nanclus, in light of recent events with Freelan, but, then, the Romulans had always excelled at talking peace while plotting war.
“I agree,” he said. Pardek was a little older than the Vulcan, with rather heavy features and thick brow ridges. He was stocky and compactly built, with the air of one who has known military service. Not unusual in a Romulan.
“It is an honor to meet you, Captain,” Pardek said. “Your name has been…prominent…in the Empire for a long time, now.”
Spock raised an eyebrow, amused at the word choice. “Indeed?” he asked dryly.
“You and your father both are well known to my government,” Pardek said, and the Vulcan knew he hadn’t missed the irony. “Especially in the light of recent events.”
Spock had to conceal surprise that the Romulan was being even this direct. “Recent events,” Spock repeated, “have certainly been…stimulating.”
“Undeniably,” Pardek agreed. “By the way…what has become of that radical organization that was causing Earth so much trouble in the recent past? That group of xenophobes. I have scanned nothing about it in the media reports for days.”
Spock slanted the Romulan an ironic glance, but Pardek remained unruffled. “The Keep Earth Human League has been singularly quiet lately,” the Starfleet officer replied. “The membership seems to be…dissolving. Odd, isn’t it?”
“Isn’t it?” Pardek agreed, blandly. “I was thinking, Captain Spock. A discussion of…recent events might prove interesting between us. An…unofficialdiscussion, you understand.”
“The human phrase for what you mean is ‘off the record,’ Delegate Pardek.”
“I like that term.” Pardek smiled faintly, reminiscently. “English is such a colorful language…so descriptive. I enjoyed learning it.”
“You were saying there were matters you wished to discuss…off the record?”
Pardek hesitated, then said, “Your name and your father’s—but especially the name of Sarek—have been on everyone’s lips lately. Including the praetor’s.”
“For some reason,” Spock said, “that does not surprise me. My father has a…friend…who was setting off on a journey to see the praetor. Perhaps you know of him?”
Pardek’s fleshy features were carefully neutral. “Possibly,” he admitted. “Are w
e speaking of someone in the military?”
“Yes. He is rather highly ranked.”
Pardek looked away. “ ‘Was’ is a more appropriate term, I fear.”
“Ah,” Spock said. “I am…grieved…to hear you say that.”
Pardek raised an eyebrow. “But hardly surprised.”
“No.”
“It is regrettable,” Pardek said, after a moment. “He was my friend, too.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, I knew him for many years. And I cannot find it in myself to condemn his actions in effecting the release of a number of captives. Far better,” Pardek said thoughtfully, “to allow those who wished to leave to do so.”
“But not all of those in question chose to leave,” Spock pointed out. “Which concerns me. There was a possibility of…bloodshed. Reprisal, on those who stayed.”
“I am pleased to tell you that no such tragedy has occurred,” Pardek said earnestly. “The individuals who did not choose to leave have gone underground, merging into the general population. No active search for them has been mounted, under the circumstances. Most of the ones who stayed did so because they had married into Romulan families. The praetor understands this. He values public opinion, like any head of state.”
“Understandably. These individuals we are speaking of—” Spock began.
“Off the record, of course. Not in any official capacity…” Pardek reminded him.
“Of course. These individuals…they have successfully managed to infiltrate, to mingle and become lost amid the rest of your society?”
“Quite successfully. It was remarkable how quickly they simply…melted away. I suspect most of them have changed their names, and will simply keep a low profile as a part of their Romulan families. They will raise their children, grow old…live ordinary lives as respectable citizens of the Empire. In time, they will be virtually indistinguishable from native-born Romulans.”
“The praetor is not searching for them?”
“Not at all. As long as none of them surface to cause trouble, I expect that policy to continue.”
“Fascinating,” Spock murmured. “Who knows how this…mingling will affect your people, in years to come…”
“I have been wondering the same thing, Captain,” the Romulan said.
“Perhaps this is not so surprising after all,” Spock murmured thoughtfully. “In days past, we were, after all, one people.”
“Millennia past,” Pardek pointed out. “Still, as recent events have shown, there are still…cultural links.”
“Indeed,” Spock agreed, thinking of the challenge and thesenapa duel. Watching it had brought home to him, as nothing else ever had, that Vulcans and Romulans had once been one people. They were still far more similar than they were different, at least physically…
“Perhaps we might discuss our idea further. During the conference…and afterward.”
“I would like that, Spock,” the delegate said, and the Vulcan realized they were speaking almost as if they both took some kind of vow to explore this concept together. “After I return to Romulus…perhaps we might stay in contact? Correspond?”
“I would be honored,” Spock said.
“Spock?” A third voice reached them, and the Vulcan turned to see Sarek approaching through the thinning crowd of diplomats.
After quickly introducing his father to the Romulan delegate, Spock excused himself to leave the chamber with his father. Together, they walked out of the conference center and down the massive steps.
As Sarek and his son walked down the steps leading from the conference chamber, he reminded himself not to push: the rapprochement between them was still very fragile. It was extremely…satisfactory…to simply walk beside his son again, shoulder to shoulder.
“For a first day, the negotiations went well,” the ambassador observed as they strolled across a manicured lawn beneath a vivid blue sky. In the east, the sun was setting in a magnificent splash of coral and fuchsia.
“I agree,” Spock replied. “It seems possible that Qo’noS the planet may indeed be salvageable. Destruction of the ring would be a colossal task…but, given the time frame, it is feasible.”
Sarek nodded; then the curiosity he had been holding back overcame him. He searched for an appropriate opening. “I was not expecting the Romulans to send a delegate,” he began.
“I must admit I was surprised myself,” Spock said.
Then Spock hesitated, and his father gained the impression that he was about to say something, but changed his mind. “It has been nearly three weeks since theEnterprise brought the captured Vulcans back to their native world,” he observed.
“Tell me, Father, how are they doing? Are the efforts at reeducating them regarding the ethics of mental contact succeeding?”
“Their teachers are optimistic,” Sarek said. “Particularly since Savel seems to have emerged as a leader for them, and she is committed to using her telepathic abilities ethically, to help others. She told me the last time I saw her that she intends to train to become a Healer, and work as a telepathic therapist. I am encouraged that the newcomers will be able to adjust and prosper in our society.”
“I believe they can,” Spock said. “I spent considerable time talking with Savel on the voyage back to Vulcan. She seems like a young person with a great deal of potential. I was impressed by her.”
“Not as impressed as young Soran is,” Sarek said dryly.
Spock raised an eyebrow. “Indeed? And does she return his interest?”
“My impression is that she does.”
“Soran is unbonded, is he not?”
“Yes. His parents did not hold with the tradition of bonding as children. That trend appears to be growing,” Sarek said, thoughtfully.
“Then Soran is free.”
“For the moment,” Sarek said, with a glint of humor in his dark eyes. “I do not expect that state of affairs to continue for long, however.”
His son cocked an eyebrow at him, and there was an answering glint in his own dark eyes.
Reaching the edge of the parklike grounds, father and son halted to watch the sunset for a few minutes in silence. “On the whole,” Spock said finally, “I am impressed with Pardek. He strikes me as an intelligent individual, one who is something of a visionary.”
Sarek glanced up at his son, realizing that Spock was deliberately granting him an opening. “Indeed? What makes you say that?”
“Our discussion at the end of today’s session.”
Sarek raised an eyebrow. “Yes? And what were you two discussing, if I may ask? You seemed very intent.”
“We were,” Spock admitted. “We began by speaking about the KEHL,” he said, with a faint glimmer of humor. “And then we moved on to speaking, off the record, about the young Vulcans who elected not to go with theEnterprise…” Spock went on to summarize that portion of the conversation with Pardek.
“Knowing that the praetor has decided to ignore their existence is good news,” Sarek said, when his son had finished. “Did Pardek give any hint as to Taryn’s fate?”
Spock nodded, his expression darkening. “Taryn is dead, Father,” he said. “I regret that I must be the one to tell you.”
Sarek closed his eyes briefly. “I have been expecting to discover that,” he said, heavily. “It is hardly a surprise, under the circumstances.”
Finally, Sarek took a deep breath and broke the resulting silence. “Was it Taryn’s fate that you and Pardek were speaking of so intently, as I approached?”
His son slanted a sidelong glance at him. “Curious, Father?”
“I must admit that I am.”
Spock took a deep breath, and began walking again, in the general direction of the delegates’ living quarters. “Very well. Pardek was saying that it was surprising how easily the young Vulcans were able to adapt to Romulan society. I observed that, after all, we were one people long ago.” The officer hesitated, then continued, “I wonder if we might ever hope to be one people agai
n.”
Sarek stopped in midstride and stared at the other, barely troubling to conceal his consternation. “My son, surely you are not serious.”
“Why not?” Spock’s expression held a glint of stubborn resolve that his father well remembered. “We are working toward peace with the Klingons. Why not peace—and eventual cooperation—with the Romulans?”
Sarek struggled to repress his dismay. “You are speaking of…a fusion of the two cultures?”
“Yes, I was…although I concede that it would be…difficult.”
The ambassador sighed, shaking his head. “Spock…my son, do you have any idea how unrealistically idealistic you sound? You are speaking ofRomulans, remember? They have grown so far apart from our ideals that there is no longer any common meeting ground, I assure you. Witness their actions on Freelan—witness Nanclus’s treachery and meddling!”
“Witness Taryn,” Spock pointed out, quietly. “Witness his response to your challenge. A challenge so old that both our peoples share it.”
“Taryn,” Sarek reminded him curtly, “was aVulcan.”
“He died a Romulan,” Spock countered, with an edge in his voice, “upholding his concept of Romulan honor and duty.”
Sarek sighed. “Spock…Spock…your dedication to the cause of peace does you credit, my son. But the entire notion is…ridiculous.”
“I do not believe so. I intend to explore the concept with Pardek, but I do not choose to discuss the topic further. Your mind is closed, Father.”
Sarek’s eyes flashed, but his features never changed. “As you wish,” he said, coldly. But then, thinking of how Amanda would react if she could hear them at the moment, the ambassador modulated his tones, attempting to conciliate, using his best diplomatic manner. “Perhaps you are right, Spock…perhaps there is nothing to be gained from discussing a subject on which we will never agree. But there are other topics we might discuss…say, over dinner?”
His son turned to regard him, his features cold and composed, but then, in response to what he saw in his father’s eyes, they softened fractionally, and he nodded. “You are right. There are other topics.” Spock’s expression lightened. “Very well, Father. At dinner, then,” he agreed.
