fathertotheman

Father to the Man

"So I am afraid, Ambassador, that I have been ordered to the colony

immediately to take charge of the relief operations."

Spock listened to his father saying the gracious, meaningless things

humans seemed to require and thought how illogical it was of

Captain Nogura to apologise for that which could not be helped.

Rumours of the emergency had swept the ship hours ago and even

the two Vulcans had been unable to avoid hearing them. It was

unfortunate that their return to Vulcan would be delayed, especially

as Sarek had arranged for Spock to attend a series of lectures at

the Science Academy, however, relief operations of this type were

obviously a higher priority with Starfleet than transporting a diplomat

and his son back home, especially as their mission had already

been completed.

Conscious that his attention had wondered from the conversation,

Spock hurriedly took up its threads once more to hear his father

offer their services in the forthcoming emergency. Like all Vulcans

both had basic first aid training.

"Although I thank you for the offer, Ambassador, from the reports

we are receiving it does not appear that there are many injured

requiring attention."

"In that case Captain, I find myself somewhat fatigued following our

recent mission I believe I will take this opportunity to engage in

F'as'al." Captain Nogura made an oddly graceful gesture of inquiry

and Sarek explained. "A period of deep meditation in seclusion, my

people use it as an aid to recuperation."

Captain Nogura nodded and got to his feet, bowing to the

Ambassador. "I must return to the bridge. By the way, will your son

be participating in this meditation?"

Sarek raised an eyebrow at Spock, who shook his head and then

noted the courtesy that addressed the next remarks to him directly,

rather than speaking to him through his father. "My Science Officer

is most impressed with your abilities, Spock, he has asked me to

inform you that a terminal is available for your use in Computer

Lab. 3 if you wish to continue your studies during this delay."

Spock's eyes widened. Then the expression vanished as he glanced

quickly, anxiously at his father and hurriedly schooled his face into

the required impassivity. Sarek who was gathering up the papers on

the desk before him and heard only the decent Vulcan formality of

his son's acceptance.

Captain Nogura left and Spock listened dutifully as his father

detailed the programme of studies he wished his son to pursue

during the period of his absence. Although Spock carefully recorded

the instructions at the tertiary memory level, most of his mind was

given over to a sort of wordless, singing delight which he was

momentarily powerless to resist. The memory banks of a Constitution

class starship at his disposal! The amount of data he would be able

to access, the detailed descriptions of ship missions, the first

contacts, the surveys - and all of it the raw, first-hand information he

craved. Suddenly anxious that his father would somehow sense his

excitement, he clamped his shields down hard and devoted his entire

attention to the programme being outlined.

During the next four days the ship hurtled through space at warp six

and the crew devoted themselves to preparations for the horrors

they expected to meet on Tarsus IV. In Computer Laboratory 3

Spock gave up sleep as he raced to complete his assigned tasks and

free his time for his own researches. Science Officer Kumar tried

protesting against the exhaustion he feared such activity must

produce but retired, defeated by Spock's calm rejection of anything

quite so unVulcan as physical fatigue.

Spock was so engrossed that he hardly realised when the ship

arrived at Tarsus, and began the relief operations, so it came as a

distinct shock when, on the way to the Mess one day, he came across

a group of sick and traumatised colonists being taken to Sickbay

from one of the transporter rooms.

A little while later, as he joined the queue for the food replicators, he

recognised the crewman standing behind him as Medical Orderly

Chung and asked why the colonists had been brought back to the ship.

Chung shrugged. "This is a very new colony," he said, "there's hardly

any public buildings of any size on the surface that could act as a

hospital. There's the Governor's Palace of course, but nobody wants

to go there!" Spock would have questioned him further but at that

moment it was his turn at the replicator and, when he obtained his

meal and turned to question the orderly further, he found that Chung

had gone to sit at a table all of whose chairs were now occupied.

Spock shrugged mentally and ate his meal in his customary solitude;

it was by no means the first time someone had indicated their

unwillingness to continue a conversation. He finished his meal with

as much haste as was consistent with good digestion and set off for

the laboratory, his mind already running through his last set of

analyses. Another six hours should see Sarek's tasks accomplished

and then ... He was so engrossed in anticipation, although he would

have fiercely denied any such emotion, that he ran straight into

another group of refugees from the surface.

Abruptly recalled to himself, he hastened to disentangle himself from

the group which, he realised, consisted entirely of human children, a

score of them between the ages of perhaps one and fifteen years.

Oddly enough, unlike the earlier group he had seen, the children,

although thin and unbelievably dirty, were neither injured nor even

particularly emaciated.

There was a cry and he looked down to see one of the youngest of

the children turn to cling to an older boy, hiding his face in his chest.

After a brief hug, the terrified face was gently prised from its hiding

place and turned to face Spock.

"Sasha don't be silly, he's a Vulcan. They're on our side." The voice

was gentle but firm. "Look." A grubby hand formed the Vulcan salute

and to Spock's utter astonishment the older boy said, "Tel aren'sar

Etever'aam." The accent, although by no means perfect, was

considerably better than most Terrans Spock had ever heard, with

the sole exception of his mother.

Gravely he returned the greeting and stood to one side, as the boy

who had greeted him gathered the children back into a group and

began shepherding them along the corridor. As they moved away,

Spock heard. "What did you say, Jimmy?"

"May you live long and prosper - it's what Vulcans say instead of

hello. Jenny, you'd better let me have Baby - you're all in."

Spock was about to resume his interrupted journey, when he realised

the boy Jimmy had turned and was still watching from the end of the

corridor, a large, sleeping infant balanced expertly on one hip. Their

eyes met and the small, dirty face creased into a smile that seemed

to light up the whole corridor. The child saluted him lightly, one finger

to his forehead, hitched the infant deftly over his shoulder, turned the

corner and was gone.

Spock continued on his way to Computer Lab. 3 thinking hard about

what he had seen. Eidetic recall presented him with his usual accurate

picture but somehow oddly enhanced, made more vivid in a way he

could sense but not describe, an unaccustomed and unsettling reaction.

He replayed the scene in his mind, froze it at the last second and

examined the moment in detail: the child at the end of the corridor,

fair head cocked, the dazzling smile, the quirky little gesture, the dirt.

There was something odd about his clothing too, a pair of the knee-high

boots all Terran children seemed to be affecting that season, denim

pants and a uniform jacket that had originally belonged to a much

larger being which he wore as a coat belted at the waist with rope.

As he contemplated the picture, Spock realised with a sense of shock

that the object protruding from the leg of the child's right boot had

been the handle of a large knife. He ran the scene forward to consider

the sight of the child turning the corner to reveal the enigmatic phrase

'RACE POLICE' emblazoned across the back of his jacket and the

incongruity of the sleeping infant, whose peaceful, dark brown face

rested on the shoulder above the fluorescent lettering in innocent

defiance.

Even as he finished the tasks his father had set him, Spock's thought's

were never far from that picture and he struggled to find words in

either English or Vulcan which could express the essence of what

he had seen. A child, fresh from a disaster which had obviously not

left him unscathed, caring for his companions and smiling at a stranger.

The best he could find was the English word - gallant. A word he

had only ever seen in his mother's old novels and whose connotations

of light-hearted bravery he had never understood until now.

He shook his head to dispel the appalling romanticism of the thought

and applied himself, working late into ship's night, finally finishing

some 2.7 hours inside his self-appointed deadline.

He contemplated beginning his private research immediately but

saner counsel suggested a period of mediation if not sleep before

beginning a new undertaking. He decided on meditation, ignoring

the internal voice that told him that his reasons for making that

choice were illogical, and made his way to the Observation Deck.

He told himself that the stars were an excellent focus for and

background to his mediation but, even as he did so, he knew that

he lied. He went to the Observation Deck because the stars were

beautiful beyond anything he had ever seen and because they drew

him.

It was a little after 1 a.m. ships time. However, although he had

expected to be alone, for some reason he was not the slightest bit

surprised to find who was there before him. Standing close to the

great window was the boy Jimmy, feet planted firmly apart, hands

in pockets, staring out into the brilliant darkness.

After a moment's hesitation Spock went and joined him and they

stood in silence for sometime. Eventually the human spoke, in

hesitant but reasonably grammatical Vulcan, he said, "I trust you

were not displeased by the child this morning - he is very young

and did not understand."

"Why should I be displeased?" said Spock in English and was

rewarded with a flashing smile.

"Thank heavens for that! I learnt Vulcan out of a book - I can read

and write a fair bit but I've never needed to speak it before. I couldn't

think of the word for offended - displeased was the best I could

come up with."

"Vulcan has no word for offended but you need not have concerned

yourself; I was neither offended nor displeased, as you say he is very

young."

The child shot him a sideways glance and asked tentatively. "Are

you part of the crew?"

"No, my father and I are passengers, we were returning from the

Assembly on Calsaria III when the ship was diverted to Tarsus."

"Do you travel with him a lot?" Something odd happened to the boy's

voice as his child's treble suddenly and briefly became an adult growl.

"No - it is an ancient tradition on Calsaria that those attending such

meetings should bring one of their children as a proof that no

attack is intended. Why does your voice do that?" He watched as the

open face beside him scowled and realised that he must have offended

one of the many human taboos of which he was always falling foul.

Hurriedly he summoned up his stock of those meaningless formulas

called "apologies". However, before he could use one, the little face

cleared and he realised with a surprising amount of gratification that

he had been both accused and then acquitted of mockery.

"Puberty," said the child laconically.

"Ah."

"Yours?"

"A more gradual process."

The child grinned. "How very... efficient," he said appreciatively

and they gazed out together. The Observation Deck was on the side

of the ship away from the planet and, as the arc of the heavens

wheeled across their field of vision, the Eborican Nebula edged into

view, the transparent aluminium of the window giving a slight

refraction to the light, making the nebula seem to coruscate at the

edges. "What's that?"

Spock told him and watched as he rummaged in a pocket and

produced a bundle of tattered papers and the first pencil Spock had

ever seen outside a museum. Then, leaning the paper against the

window, he asked, "How do you spell 'nebula'?"

Spock told him and, looking over his shoulder as he wrote, saw that

the paper was covered in little notes, 'Transporter', 'Post-traumatic

shock syndrome', 'Starfleet Dependants' Welfare Fund', 'Quasar' .

The child looked up, caught him reading and flushed. "Stuff I'm going

to look up on the infonets when I get home," he said awkwardly.

"There should be a computer terminal with basic library services in

your cabin."

"There is but someone has restricted access and there's nothing but

a bunch of dumb games on it." He stuffed the papers back in his

pocket. "We spent the last three months in the bush playing hide and

seek with the Race Police and they expect me to play 'Zap the

Klingon' games."

Spock considered the last sentence and the anger in the voice

carefully, neither appeared to make sense. "Why is hide and seek

with the Race Police an acceptable game and er... zap the

Klingons.. not?"

Startled the child swung round to face him. "I didn't mean we were

literally playing with the Race Police - I meant they were looking

for us and we were hiding from them. It wasn't a game - if they'd

found us they'd have killed us. Don't you know anything about what

was going on down there?"

"I have been engaged in my own researches for the last 5.3 days." He

was surprised to find himself on the defensive.

The little face below him was aghast. "And you managed to ignore

what was happening on Tarsus? Jeez, if the Federation is made up

of people like you, it's no wonder it took 'em six months to come and

rescue us. Out of sight - out of mind eh?"

"There was nothing I could have done."

"How do you know?" The answer snapped back. "You didn't even

look," and with that the boy stuffed his hand back into his pockets

and left, his whole body stiff with outrage.

Shocked, Spock started after him only to come to a halt a few paces

later. He had no idea what to say to him. He forced himself to

consider the accusation. The intelligence that demanded clear thought

from others was no less demanding of himself and, after a very few

minutes, he was forced to concede the justice of the charge. He had

allowed the siren lure of his own researches to cut himself off from

the events that were happening around him, he had allowed his

personal quest to prevent him from doing his duty to the greater

welfare and he was ashamed.

It was too easy to say there was nothing he could have done, with

no knowledge of the events on Tarsus, that was not a judgement

he was adequately equipped to make. He stood for a long time

looking at the stars without seeing them, while he struggled to

subdue both his shame and the even more ignoble impulse to ignore

the revelation he had just achieved. Then, when this was accomplished,

he strode back to his quarters for a detailed examination of the

recent mission logs.

What he found did not surprise him. He was young but the study of

history (and life in a diplomat's household) had taught him much

about the cruelty of some beings, but it did enlighten him. He read

with distaste the story of the take-over of Tarsus by Governor Kodos,

the eventual sacrifice of half the colonists, the ruthless seizure of

victims, the public executions to deter food hoarders, the forced

imposition of eugenic theories as cruel as they were scientifically

absurd and the total subjugation of the populace to the whim of Kodos

and his private army, the Race Police.

It was early the following morning when he finished his researches

and contemplated what he had learned. As he prepared for sleep,

he tried to think of something he could do, a contribution he could

make to the relief operation. As sleep overtook him, only one action

came to mind.

The next day he went in search of Science Officer Kumar and found

him having breakfast. At the officer's invitation he took a seat opposite

him. "I had a conversation last night with one of the children from

the planet," he began, "a boy named Jimmy - I regret I do not know

his other names. He was distressed by his lack of access to the

computer's library facilities and I would like to recommend that they

are returned to the terminal in his quarters. He appears to be an

intelligent and inquisitive child and such qualities should be encouraged."

Kumar looked at him oddly, it was the first time he had heard Spock

express a concern for anything but his own researches. "I can certainly

arrange that - I take it he's not interested in the games?"

"I think it would be more accurate to say that he feels insulted by

them. He referred to 'playing hide and seek with the Race Police' from

which I infer that his life recently has been such that he considers

computer games to be both juvenile and trivial."

Kumar nodded. "I guess you're right at that, I'll see to it."

For the rest of the day Spock kept an eye open for the boy but, the

only time he saw him, he was surrounded by the other children

rom the planet. Uneasily conscious that his demeanour might be

considered intimidating, Spock did not like to approach him and

the children he was with, so he returned to his studies and waited

for night. Somehow he knew where he would find Jimmy.

Spock entered the Observation Deck at 22.30 and found him waiting,

back to the window, standing almost to attention, wearing what,

many years later Doctor McCoy would come to call, 'Jim's facing

the firing-squad look'.

"I've come to apologise," he said almost before Spock had entered

the room. "I shouldn't have shouted like that," he looked away. "It's

just when something real horrible happens to you, you tend to think

the whole Universe ought to be interested."

Spock shook his head. "Although the expression of your opinion

was somewhat intemperate, you were essentially correct in your

analysis," he said. "I had isolated myself from events - a selfish and

unworthy reaction." He watched as Jimmy's shoulders relaxed with

relief and the ready smile returned.

"I'm glad you feel like that. I felt even worse when I found out it

was you that got me the computer access - there's so much stuff in

there!" His eyes were shining and Spock could sense his delight. "By

the way, I'm Jimmy Kirk."

"I know, I made inquiries - I am Spock of Vulcan."

"I know, I asked too."

Spock waited for the outstretched hand that he had learned to expect

from humans following introductions and decided that this was one

hand he would shake. It had taken considerable courage for the child

to apologise; the least he could do was make some return. However,

no hand was extended and he wondered whether this was due to a

knowledge of Vulcan etiquette or a reluctance to come into contact

with race who, according to some stories, could turn a person's mind

inside out with a touch. "It is very late, should you not be asleep at

this hour," he said eventually.

Jimmy looked outraged. "Aw c'mon Spock! Next you'll be asking me

what I want to be when I grow up." Spock was startled, he had the

distinct impression that the outrage was assumed, a delaying tactic perhaps?

"I fail to see why a perfectly natural query concerning the adequacy of

your rest periods should imply a further query about your future career."

"I only meant that that's the sort of dumb question adults ask when

they can't think of anything sensible to say to a kid."

Spock raised an eyebrow and Jimmy giggled delightedly. "I wish I

could do that!" He stuffed his hands back into his pockets and looked

out at the stars, "I'll go to bed in a bit. We all got used to taking a

siesta while we were down there. I've only just got the little 'uns to

sleep. I've never needed that much myself."

"A siesta?"

"Oh..um..a mid-day nap because the sun is too hot, it's mid-summer

down there. If we'd stayed out in the sun we'd have fried." He looked

sideways and grinned. "Metaphorically speaking, of course."

They stood in companionable silence for sometime, watching the stars

go by until Jimmy spoke, "Do you play chess?"

Spock hesitated, unwilling to disappoint the child but also unwilling

to humiliate him.

Jimmy smiled sweetly. "I'm a much better player than you think I'm

going to be," he said and Spock found himself agreeing to "just one

game" in Rec.Room 1. He also found himself, to his considerable

surprise, conceding the match after an hour and a half of highly

illogical but, he had to admit, highly effective chess from his opponent.

"Told you I was better than you thought I'd be," Jimmy sitting back

in his chair, with a look of distinctly smug triumph. "But you didn't

believe me, did you? I haven't been beaten in a year and a half and

I've made over fifteen hundred credits at it."

"You play chess for money?" Something in Spock's puritanical soul

revolted at the idea of exploiting an intellectual pursuit like chess for

money.

"Hey, access to the infonets isn't cheap you know - I've been to

fourteen schools in the last eight years, I've got to get an education

where I can."

"I thought from the ship's log that you were on Tarsus to receive

an education."

Jimmy's lip curled in a very unchildlike sneer. "Oh yeah that's the

official story - 'send your child to the Pioneer School of Tarsus, a

disciplined education in a wholesome, outdoor setting'," he said,

obviously quoting and sat, for fully thirty seconds, clenching and

unclenching his fist, his face tight with anger. Then, with a movement

that took Spock completely by surprise, he swept the board off the

table with his arm. The pieces scattered with a satisfying crash.

There was a long, pregnant pause, then Spock bent down and began

to pick up the pieces.

After a moment Jimmy joined him. "I'm sorry Spock," he said softly,

"I really I am. It's my rotten temper. I've only seen you twice, I like

you and I still end up shouting at you."

The last piece retrieved from where it had rolled, Spock looked up to

into a pair of very wide and contrite eyes. Truly the child's emotions

were dangerously near the surface. Jimmy looked away and Spock

saw that he had gone very pale.

"Truth is, Spock, the Pioneer School of Tarsus was Dotheboys Hall

in space. Is your kid angry and confused? Is he misbehaving? Is she

under-achieving? Are you sick of the sight of the little bastard?

Then send your kid to Tarsus - it's light years away, so you won't

even have to watch."

Spock had read Nicholas Nickelby, although he was surprised that

Jimmy had, and wondered how best to proceed. "Tell me about it,"

he said gently and watched as the boy's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Why?"

"Because you are human and, according to my studies, the discussion

of unusual and/or and traumatic experiences will assist you to

assimilate them." There was no response. "Jimmy, have you

researched post-traumatic stress? I saw you had the subject

listed for future investigation." It was that cryptic note which had

been the catalyst for Spock's own research.

"Some, I couldn't get the computer to show me much." Jimmy's

head was down, the chin tucked in defensively.

"Then you know how important it is for you to talk about your

experiences."

"That's what the doctor said. Maybe I still don't want to." He folded

his arms high on his chest and glared at Spock from under lowered

brows.

Spock cast around for some response to this illogical statement.

For several seconds he examined and discarded strategies and then

he had it. "Jimmy, if you do not undergo this procedure, how are

you to assist the other children when they need to do so?"

Jimmy went white. "You bastard!" he whispered. Then he jumped

to his feet and left the room at a run.

The next twenty-four hours required all Spock's control. Although

he had acted with the best of intentions, he realised only too well

that this was of little consolation to Jimmy. All Spock could do was

wait and hope that calmer deliberation would lead the boy to the

correct course of action. It was, however with considerable relief,

that he saw Jimmy come into the Rec.Room the following night

and take a chair opposite him.

Jimmy got straight down to business. "You've gotta promise you

won't tell anyone."

"If you do not wish me to, then I will not."

"And don't interrupt. I've worked out what to say and if you

interrupt I won't get it all out." He swallowed hard and stared

down at the table top between them.

"They called it the Pioneer School - that was to make it sound

healthy and outdoor and sort of not corrupted by modern life."

Spock nodded his understanding. "Basically it was a place to dump

people. Most of us had parents but with all the re-marrying and

divorcing and stuff nobody wanted us." The voice was soft but

even, and after a few minutes, Spock knew that he would never

forget the sound of the low, childish voice as it recounted horrors.

"We were all supposed to be problem kids - truants, thieves, low

achievers - the idea was to send us to this place to be straightened

out. Straightening out was two hours worthless schooling and eight

hours farm work a day, not enough food, not enough sleep and..

and other stuff I'm not telling you." He looked up, suddenly

pugnacious. "And I'm not telling anyone else either." He rubbed

his mouth with the back of his hand. "Until I got things organised,

the bigger ones used to steal the little un's food and everybody

told tales for extra rations. We couldn't even run away because

there was nowhere to go and the locals were paid a bounty on us."

"I'd been there for about three months when food started to get

really tight. That was about four, five months back. Kodos brought

in rationing. After another couple of weeks, he announced there

wasn't enough to last until the next supply ship and 'sacrifices'

would have to be made."

Spock looked down and saw that the child was literally wringing

his hands, twisting and crushing his fingers, the knuckles white

under the tan and the old scratches. "First it was the old and the

sick, some of them even volunteered, happy to go, didn't want to

be a burden. There was a big ceremony and speeches and ....stuff.

Then, after a bit, it was the half dozen people in the jail - not

contributing anything, see? Nobody much cared for them, so that

was all right. Then it was the non-terrans - not part of "us", so

nobody stood up for them. Then it was the "flawed" - the blind,

the disabled, a little albino girl called Cally I used to see with her

dog."

Unable to bear the sight of the punishment the little hands were

inflicting upon themselves, Spock leant over and put his hand over

the twisting fingers. "Jimmy, do not." The child flinched and tucked

his hands into his armpits and continued.

"Well, you didn't have to be a genius to see who was going to be

next, off-worlders, trouble-makers, unwanted. So, some of us

raided the storeroom of all the gear we could carry and made off

for the bush."

"Whose idea was that?"

"Mine," surprised, as though the answer were obvious. "Nearly

everybody came along. Some didn't - they're all dead now."

"What did you live on ?"

"Well, there was stuff in the bush that was edible if you weren't

fussy and we weren't. I dunno why Kodos never investigated that

- maybe there wasn't enough to go round. Most of the rest we

stole. Until right at the end there were plenty of people - Kodos

and his gang mostly - who weren't going hungry. I managed to

steal quite bit of stuff in the beginning." Spock blinked, the

off-hand tone disguised the difficulty of the enterprise. He also

noticed the change from the first person plural to singular.

"You went undetected ?"

"Yeah for ages - then they realised what I was doing and sent the

Race Police into the bush after us with dogs." There was a long

pause and then with a huge effort. "I killed a couple of them,

after that they left us alone."

Spock recoiled. He had never met anyone who had killed

before.

"Shocked you, eh?" Anger was returning, a cold, calculating

anger, that weighed Spock's response and found it wanting.

"The taking of life is always abhorrent." A statement he had

always thought axiomatic.

"Was I supposed to let them get us? They'd have killed us."

Jimmy was singularly unimpressed.

"No life is more valuable than any other."

"That sounds like the sort of thing that works in a library and isn't

worth doodly squat in real life. They were the Race Police, they'd

signed up to boss people around and then kill 'em. I had

twenty-two children to look after. Wasn't hard to decide!"

"And who are you to make that decision?" Am I losing my temper?

thought Spock, suddenly disorientated by the argument. The tenets

he had accepted all his life obviously meaning little to the furious

little figure on the other side of the chess board.

"I'm the one who was there!" Jimmy was shouting and his hand

came up to cover his mouth. He stared at Spock, his eyes wide

and Spock watched as they filled with tears.

Suddenly he felt ashamed. Although primarily a touch telepath,

like many Vulcans he could occasionally sense emotions broadcast

by a compatible mind. As the wave of remembered horror and

terror flowed towards him, his revulsion collapsed, to be replaced

with compassion.

"Yes, you were Jimmy," he said gently, "and I am grateful the

choice was not mine to make."

Jimmy glared at him, poker-backed and red-faced but something

in the gentle voice seemed to undermine his anger and, after a few

seconds he slumped, sniffing furiously and wiping his nose on his

sleeve.

"Please do not do that," said Spock, sternly. "It is both

unhygenienic and aesthetically displeasing."

He was rewarded by a watery chuckle. "Sorry, guess I left my

manners in the bush. Do you know, I can't remember the last time

I had a handkerchief."

"Are you all right?" Was this wild emotional see-sawing natural?

Healthy? Should he press for an explanation of the matters Jimmy

was withholding or had he endured sufficient for one night?

"Yeah, I'm okay," said Jimmy and then yawned.

Spock glanced at the wall chronometer. It was after 1.am.

"Perhaps this time you will agree with me that it is time for you

to sleep."

"Yeah - maybe you're right. I ought to go and check on the others

anyway." He smiled shyly. "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For making me talk about it - I couldn't before. Not to the doctors

and stuff. I knew I had to, I just ... couldn't."

"I am pleased I was able to help."

Again the shy smile. "See you tomorrow?"

"Yes," said Spock.

After that night it became a habit for them to meet. During the day

Jimmy would spend time with the other children from the planet,

but at night he would meet Spock for a few hours of conversation,

chess and (usually) argument.

The first night was spent in explaining how to get the best from the

computer. In response to a bombardment of questions, Spock did

his best to explain the proper use of the machine. Jimmy was

ecstatic, scribbling notes on his ubiquitous bundle of papers,

his handwriting (and his spelling) leaving, in Spock's opinion,

much to be desired.

The Vulcan frowned. "This is a most inefficient method of storing

data. Why do you not use a padd?"

Jimmy looked up at him with an expression Spock had last seen

on his mother's face, and which he had come to characterise as

'affectionate exasperation'. "I wish! Do you have any idea how

much one of those things costs?"

Spock knew exactly how much a datapadd cost, a more than

adequate unit could be purchased for considerably less than the

cost of the boots he was currently wearing. He reassessed

Jimmy's appearance. Although he had discarded the coat, he was

still dressed as he had been the first time Spock had seen him

but now Spock realised that the boots were shabby and down at

heel, the denim pants frayed and too short in the leg and the

enormous, ugly, muddy-coloured, woollen sweater

hung over the thin wrists and was unravelling at the cuffs.

Jimmy saw him doing it and flushed. "Hey, you don't think I

chose any of these?" he said indignantly.

Spock realised that he had hurt his feelings and found himself

hastening to make amends. "I have a padd you may borrow," he

said, "and when you leave the ship I will arrange for a hard

copy printout to be supplied."

Jimmy beamed. "Spock, you're a real pal," and at the raised

eyebrow explained, "Pal - friend, comrade."

Spock shook his head. "Jimmy you must understand," he said,

firmly. "Vulcans neither believe in nor practice friendship as you

understand it. I assist you because the education of the young is

the duty of all." He looked down and with some difficulty

deciphered the expression on the boy's face as a combination of

compassion and gentle amusement.

"Yeah, yeah I know. 'Call all men and no man brother'." Spock

was startled by the quotation from the Analects of Surak but did

not interrupt as Jimmy continued, "Look, let's leave it like this,

you assist my education and I'll be your friend. That way we both

get what we want out of this."

Over the next few nights the crew got used to seeing them

together in the middle of the night, the Vulcan as tall as an adult,

the Human not even reaching his shoulder. The Vulcan dark,

calm, dignified, almost stately, as he strode through the corridors;

the fair-headed Human child all quicksilver movement and

laughter as he trotted beside the being he had claimed as a friend,

arms waving, sometimes even running backwards, so he could

look up into the narrow face, and see the evidence of that

magnificent mind at work in the minute fluxes and changes in

expression.

They argued about pacifism, politics and the acceptability of

swearing. "It makes what you say stronger!" "It is merely evidence

of an inadequate vocabulary."

They discussed Vulcan and Calsaria and all the other places Spock

had seen. They discussed why humans smiled and why a certain

look from under his eye-lashes earned Jimmy an extra helping of

dessert. "Spock, people, human people I mean, think that children

are small and well... nice-looking. You know - 'cute' - and they

want to be extra nice to them. I was just sort of 'turning on the

cute'."

"That sounds most unethical."

"Yeah but it works."

They discussed their futures, Spock's at the Science Academy on

Vulcan and Jimmy's extraordinary ideas about some of the officers

on the ship.

"They want me. No, not like that!" (Spock had not the faintest idea

what 'that' meant) "I mean they want me to join Starfleet." Spock

must have looked sceptical because Jimmy protested. "They DO!

If they don't, how come my de-brief was five times longer than

anyone else's? How come I'm the only kid who gets taken round

the engine-rooms and up to the Bridge? How come they keep

asking me what I want to be when I grow up?

I haven't worked out yet whether they know that I know but,"

he shrugged, "I do."

"And will you?"

"I can't see the point. In four or five years I can sign on as a

deckhand on a freighter and get out here that way - without all

the spit and polish and exams. The Universe is full of tough shit

- nothing I can do is going to make a difference. I might as well

enjoy myself."

"Jimmy, I do not believe that you would be satisfied to remain in

such a position. It would, therefore, be logical to obtain the

training necessary at the start of your career; rather than be obliged

to seek it later in life."

"You just mean I'm naturally bossy."

Spock examined Jimmy's expression carefully and, concluding he

was not offended, continued, "In addition, what you have done has

already made a difference to your twenty-two companions. If

Starfleet believes you have the skills to continue to do this on a

larger scale it would surely be logical for you to make the best use

of those skills. My mother has a favourite saying 'it is better to

light a single candle than to curse the darkness'. I believe you

have it within you to light a large number of such candles."

Jimmy shifted uneasily in his chair, embarrassed by the

compliment. "That's not a Vulcan proverb."

"My mother is human." Spock waited for one of the two standard

human responses - prurient curiosity or repulsion.

Neither was vouchsafed, Jimmy looked first mildly interested and

then glum. "I wish mine was," he said putting his elbows on the

table and resting his chin on his fists.

"You are not full human?" Spock was startled.

Jimmy looked up and shrugged awkwardly. "Sorry, I was being

sarcastic and probably ...... what's that word for hating aliens?"

"Xenophobic."

"Yeah that too. I just meant that she isn't very nice." His stomach

growled. "C'mon let's go get something to eat, I'm hungry."

"You are always hungry."

"Yeah and you know what? I'm never going to be hungry again,

not as long as I live."

After a week the ship put into Lambrax Prime, a small, largely

human settlement to pick up supplies and mail. There they

attracted the attentions of the media, alerted to the disaster on

Tarsus and hungry for interviews and pictures, which were not

forthcoming.

Also on the planet were envoys from the neighbouring Ganymede

system, anxious to secure the good offices of Ambassador Sarek

during the four day lay-over. The ambassador came out of

seclusionand, together with his aides, settled down to mediate

a knotty problem involving mining rights to an asteroid belt,

intending to stay over if that should prove necessary.

Jimmy and Spock had confined their meetings to the night hours,

so Spock was somewhat surprised to find an obviously enraged

Jimmy storming into Computer Laboratory 3 one afternoon.

"Have you heard?"

"Jimmy, you must learn how to ask questions properly, there is

no..."

"Oh shut up, Spock. This is important. They've managed to

contact our parents and such, and you know where half of us

are going? The fucking Pioneer School of Rigel."

Spock sighed. "Jimmy, you have no reason to believe the school

on Rigel will be anything like the establishment you attended on

Tarsus."

Jimmy glared at him. "That's what Captain Nogura said and he's

wrong too." He wrapped his arms round his shoulders, as though

he were cold. "You don't get it, do you? Maybe it won't be quite

as bad but it still won't be right. Nobody inspects these places out

on the colonies, nobody much cares about the kids sent there." He

reached out and grabbed Spock by the shoulders. " Don't you see,

eventually the people running these places will behave badly just

because they can and there's no one there to stop them."

"That is a most cynical view point."

Jimmy dropped his arms. "Jeez you're naive for a grown-up. You

ought to try being little for a change, that way learn about people

or you get stomped." He was pacing up and down the lab now,

hands in the pockets of his ancient jeans, forehead knotted as he

struggled to get his thoughts into order. "I don't mind so much

for me - I can get by - it's the others. I promised them they

wouldn't have to go back." He came and perched on the edge of

Spock's desk. "What am I going to do?"

"Logically, you must either tell them you cannot keep that promise

or find some way to do so. Is there no higher authority you can

appeal to?"

"Higher than Captain Nogura? Out here? There isn't any......... "

He broke off - a light dawning. "Spock, you know what you are?

You're a genius!"

"What have I......?" began Spock, but Jimmy was gone.

Spock did not see Jimmy again for the rest of the day. Indeed it

was not until the evening, when he went to one of the Rec Rooms

for a meal, that he found out what he had been doing all day.

"Hey, Spock!" It was Ensign Ramirez, one of the officers Spock

had seen in the computer laboratory. "You're a friend of Jimmy

Kirk's aren't you? Come and see what the little devil's done now."

Spock thought about explaining the true nature of their relationship

but decided against it, humans had such limited ideas. Besides he

was curious. He went over to where the ensign sat in front of a

desk-top terminal.

"Computer replay 'The Universe Tonight' from my last mark."

The ensign motioned Spock to take his place and disappeared back

to his duty station.

Spock sat down and watched as the screen cleared and a

craggy-faced, human male appeared sitting behind a desk. "So

far the terrible news from Tarsus has not had a human face," he

said gravely. "But tonight and for the first time we can speak to

some of those who faced the famine and lived to tell their stories.

We go over now to our live link with three children aboard the

Starship Potempkin. Esther, Jimmy and Sacha."

Spock stared, aghast as the picture cleared to show Jimmy, the

boy Sacha Spock had seen before and a slender, dark-haired,

doe-eyed girl of about 12, whom Spock had last seen attempting

to thrust another child's head into a food replicator slot.

They were all crammed into a single chair, which he recognised

as one of the type kept for heavy-worlders and other large species.

It made them look even smaller than they were.

The children smiled nervously as the presenter spoke off-camera in

deep, avuncular tones. "Jimmy, you were all at school on Tarsus,

weren't you?"

Jimmy nodded, the hair he usually slicked back with water had

been combed out, so that the curls clustered round his face. He

looked impossibly angelic. "That's right, we were all at the Pioneer

School of Tarsus until the famine and then we escaped into the bush."

"And can you tell us what that was like?" The voice was

glutinously compassionate.

"Oh it was really good, we liked it," said Jimmy, smiling

brilliantly.

"You liked it?" The voice was incredulous, the speaker obviously

completely "thrown" by the turn the interview had taken.

"Oh yes, it was much better than school," this from Esther. "We

didn't get sunburnt working the fields, we got to sleep as much as

we wanted, we were all together ..."

"And nobody hitted us," Sasha piped up from under Esther's arm.

"But... but surely you were starving?"

"Well, we were hungry but we were used to that!" said Jimmy,

dismissively. "And there was stuff in the bush if you knew where

to look. We'd been eating the mud apples and the rat lizards for

months before the famine, so we did all right, didn't we?"

The other two nodded enthusiastically.

"You were eating 'rat lizards'?" The inverted commas were almost

visible.

"Well, we didn't know the real name for them so we called them

rat lizards, " said Esther, patiently. "We used to catch them in their

holes and then I had to take the innards out because the boys were

too squeamish!"

"I was not!" Jimmy was indignant.

"Oh yes you were!And I had to get the feathers off the birds."

"Oh yeah, and who was it climbed up to the nests?" Jimmy was

leaning over, belligerently.

"Children, children please!" They settled down, Esther and Jimmy

glaring at one another mutinously.

"Are you saying you weren't affected by the famine?" The

interviewer now sounded completely baffled.

"No." Jimmy appeared willing to concede there might have been

some marginal effect. "We were hungry all the time and hiding

from the Race Police. And when they started rounding people up,

we used to go and take the stuff we needed from their houses,

blankets and things. We found a baby in one of them! She's on

the ship until her grandparents come for her."

"And we got lots of books and stylos and stuff." This was Sasha

again, coming out from behind the older children. "That was the

best bit. Esther learned me to read, didn't you, Esther?" He smiled,

confidingly into the camera. "She's a much better teacher than

rotten ol' Mrs Jackson at the school and she never hitted us once!"

"That's why we got in touch with you." Jimmy, determinedly

getting the interview back on the track he had designed for it.

"Some of us are going home but the rest of us are going to

another Pioneer School, on Rigel and we don't want to go. It

was horrible on Tarsus and we think it'll be horrible on Rigel too."

"We got hitted lots!" Sasha, insisting that the point be made. "I

hated it." His upper lip was trembling now. "We promise we

won't be bad anymore. Can we come home -- please?"

The camera framed the trio, the two older children attempting to

comfort the little boy, as the (obviously disconcerted) newsreader

said something unscripted about inquiries that needed to be made

and courage in adversity.

The recorded segment ended and Spock stared blankly at the

screen.

"What do you think?" Spock spun round in his chair to find an

elated Jimmy standing behind him. "Wasn't Sacha great? 'Can we

come home - please!' " He crooned and laughed in obvious delight.

"Move over Tiny Tim!"

"This was a performance?" Spock was completely disorientated.

Although the presentation of the facts had been noticeably

emotional, he had been convinced of its essential truth.

"Did we over-do it? It wasn't too much, was it?" Jimmy came

round to sit on the table. "Sacha went a bit over-board with all

that 'hitted' stuff but he's only little."

"I do not understand. Was it all invented?"

Jimmy looked offended. "No! It was all true, well most of it. I

mean, we ate the lizards, but we called 'em geckoes. Rat lizards

just sounds nastier. And we all want to go home, it's just better

if a little kid says it and best of all if he cries."

"Why would you do this? Surely a simple statement of the truth

would have served your purpose equally well?"

Jimmy sighed. "Not with humans it wouldn't. Yes we were in the

famine, but no we didn't starve, and actually we managed pretty

good, and by the way please don't send us back to school." He

snorted derisively. "With that and a credit you could buy yourself

a cup of coffee. So we had to..." He gestured, "present the

truth."

Spock looked at him narrowly. He was sure there was a flaw in

Jimmy's logic somewhere, he was just not sure where. " I am

beginning to suspect that you are a most dishonest and

manipulative child," he said, uneasily conscious that he had been

as thoroughly manoeuvred as the rest of the audience probably

had been.

"I am not dishonest. I just ....exaggerated a bit." Jimmy was all

hurt innocence. Spock was not fooled.

"And as for the other thing." Jimmy dropped into the seat next to

him, suddenly serious. "Look, Spock, if you woke up in the night

with stomach ache, what would you do?"

"If I could not manage the pain myself, I would alert my parents

so that a healer could be summoned."

"And if ... if you didn't understand a class at school or your room

was too cold or somebody stole something of yours."

"I would approach my teachers in the first instance you cite and my

parents in .....

"Exactly! You've got people you can turn to. I haven't. The only

person I can rely on is me." Jimmy jabbed a thumb at his own

chest. "I've got to get strangers to do things for me and I've got

to get them to do it any way I can. It's the same for all of us,

nobody gives us anything, we have to get it or we do without.

That's why we have to get people to like us. S'not our fault we

got good at it."

Spock looked down at the resolute little face beside him and

wondered what sort of life had forced this pathetically ruthless

creed upon one so young. "In that case," he said gently, "I hope

you will not regard it as an insult to your self-reliance or to your

views on life, if I offer you one of my garments. I have a short

jacket called a k'tai, and I occurs to me that it would be an

excellent replacement for that woollen... article."

"Will it fit?" Jimmy looked dubious.

"It is cut to reach to the edge of my rib cage. It should serve as an

adequate jacket or coat for you, although the sleeves will have to

be turned over."

Jimmy smiled and then ducked his head to look at his feet. "You

know what I said about getting strangers to do things for me? I

wouldn't do that to you, Spock, honest I wouldn't."

"I find that most reassuring," said Spock, dryly. "Shall we go and

get the k'tai? And on the way you can tell me how you managed

to arrange a comm-connection all the way to Earth. " He headed

for the door followed by a still slightly subdued Jimmy.

"Can't you guess?"

"I presume you made the call through the commercial network

on the planet, as I find it difficult to believe Captain Nogura

would sanction such a broadcast. What I do not understand is

how you paid for it."

"Ah, well, you know I said I hadn't been beaten at chess in a year

and a half?"

"Yes"

"I still haven't!"

*******

Sarek put aside the work Spock had just shown him, sat back in

his chair and looked up at his son. "Captain Nogura informs me

you have been spending much of your time with one of the child

refugees from Tarsus. Why do you do this?"

Spock kept his face carefully neutral. "The boy's education

appears to have been sadly neglected, indeed he seems to be

largely self-taught. I am endeavouring to assist him by providing

a more secure basis for the knowledge he already has. A basis

upon which he can build in the future; if, as appears likely, he is

obliged to continue as an auto-didact."

"It is an onerous responsibility you have taken upon yourself,

my son. Are you sure you are qualified to accept it?"

"No," answered Spock honestly. "However, I do not believe there

is any alternative. There are no educational facilities for children

aboard a starship, even if the other children were interested, which

they are not. If I do not assist Jimmy in this way, no one else will."

There was surely little point in revealing that Jimmy was also one

of the most interesting individuals Spock had ever met?

Sarek nodded, apparently satisfied. So why did Spock feel a faint

pang of something he could only identify as 'guilt'?

"He appears to be a being of considerable ingenuity," said Sarek.

"It is well that he receives as much guidance as possible."

Despite his best endeavours, Spock could not avoid looking

startled at this echo of his own thoughts.

"I saw the broadcast," explained his father, reading his reaction

with his usual alarming acumen. "Captain Nogura drew it to my

attention. It was really quite an accomplished performance for

three such young people."

"May I ask, father, how you knew it was a performance?"

"I found it difficult to believe that any group of humans would

refer to an animal they were about to ingest as a 'rat lizard'," said

his father, dryly. He got to his feet. "I must be on my way. This

letter is for your mother and these papers are to be delivered to

my office when you return."

"Yes father."

"Travel safely, my son."

"Live long and prosper, my father."

Spock watched his father leave their shared quarters on his way

to the transporter room, attempting to subdue the faint sense of

relief he always felt when his father departed. It was a reaction

unworthy of himself and disrespectful to his father, but several

years of conscientious effort had not succeeded in eradicating it.

It was a particularly illogical reaction because, in many ways, it

was unfortunate that his father had been obliged to stay on

Lambrax, his advice on Jimmy's education would have been

valuable.

He also wondered if he ought to have asked about his relationship

with Jimmy. Spock was very well aware that the child was

becoming attached to him, might this prove a problem for Jimmy

when they both left the ship? Was it fair to him to encourage a

relationship to develop when it was to end so soon? On the other

hand, perhaps his father was not the most appropriate person to

consult. If only his mother were here.

He shook himself mentally, what mattered was the situation in

which he found himself. He directed his thoughts to the

forthcoming evening.

His conversations with Jimmy had revealed an education in

complete disarray. One moment he would display surprisingly

profound knowledge of a subject; followed almost immediately

by quite appalling ignorance of another.

How could anyone know algebra but not geometry? Have read

Milton but not Shakespeare? Speak very reasonable Vulcan and

even a smattering of Andorian and Telophnic but no Terran

language except English? Know astronomy but not the geography

of his own planet?

Carefully questioning had eventually revealed that Jimmy was

largely self-taught, the gaps in his education caused by his

personal researches only into those subjects which had caught

his interest.

"I told you, Spock, fourteen schools in eight years. By the time

they realise I should be in a higher age group, we've moved on.

The next school doesn't believe the last school's test scores and I

have to start all over again. The good schools try and sort it out

but the bad ones don't. The last but two stuck me in a corner with

a copy of Grayson's Vulcan Grammar. It was winter and far too

cold to hook it, so I had a go." He smiled, an innocent expression

Spock was learning to distrust. "Besides they only did it because

they thought I wouldn't be able to handle it, so I showed them!"

"Hook it?"

"Truant." Jimmy was only the second human Spock had ever met

who did not mind explaining idioms, most appeared to become

exasperated very quickly for some reason Spock had never been

able to ascertain.

He did his best to fill the gaps in Jimmy's education, explaining

and, where appropriate, helping Jimmy himself find the information

he needed on the computer. Spock watched as he absorbed both

the attention and the information, drawing them in greedily.

He was a joy to teach, endlessly curious, endlessly interested.

His introduction to the delights of geometry sent him happily

triangulating up and down the corridors; his introduction to

Shakespeare made his conversation all but impenetrable for days.

The only question was what to cover next? Spock launched

them both into a study of the history of Earth and its peoples and

tried not to feel proud of himself and his pupil.

Meanwhile, as the ship travelled towards Rigel, the media's

interest in both the children themselves and the whole question

of off-world schools grew exponentially. Most news agencies had

a local representative in the colonies and very little research

indeed was needed to reveal a catalogue of neglect and worse.

The scandal led to a review of off-world schools and to the

intervention of a number of welfare agencies, anxious to drown

questions about their lack of action in the past with a flurry of

action in the present. There was now no question of anyone

remaining on Rigel and the three 'media stars' became completely

insufferable for several days.

The ship travelled on.

Spock and Jimmy spent their days in the own pursuits and came

together at night, and neither of them quite noticed that the times

of their meetings were creeping earlier and earlier.

For Spock, there was a certain unreality to the journey. For the

first time in his life he was without either of his parents for an

extended period. Arrangements had been made for him to stay

with the ship until it reached Earth, where his mother was visiting

relatives.

Although he was confined within the ship, he felt as though his

horizons had suddenly broadened. The humans around him,

illogical and disorganised though they were, seemed to hum with

life. There was so much going on aboard the ship, so much

research, so much learning.

A chance remark to Jimmy, overheard by Ensign Ramirez, about

an investigation he had conducted at home into water-retaining

plants, led to Spock being invited to participate in a study group

on plants from Rigel. A group that gave him so many ideas for

his own research, that it would be weeks before he would be able

to put them all into practice.

Ideas he suspected he might never otherwise have had. It was not

that the same information would never be available on Vulcan, it

would; but by then it would be second-hand, another being's

discovery, filtered through their thoughts and prejudices.

What was more, and what he truly did not understand, was the

success rate of the research undertaken aboard ship. To Vulcan

eyes, the pitifully inept and chaotic framework within which they

worked should have prevented them from coming to any

worthwhile conclusions. It did not, although in the case of the

most useful discovery made, Spock was completely unable to

see how the researcher had progressed from where she had

started, to the discovery itself and Jimmy spent an entire evening

attempting to explain intuition.

Spock was also surprised to note that, somehow, the mere act

of watching the humans cheerfully plodding away, occasionally

rushing up blind alleys and making (carefully documented) leaps

in the dark, acted as an catalyst to his own creativity. It was not

that he too developed intuition, more that he began to see more

possibilities in his own research. Surely he had not become

over-rigid in his thinking?

This was such an alarming hypotheses that he might even have

permitted himself to feel discouraged, had he not soon realised

that his own particular gifts of concentration and logic allowed

him to contribute where other, perhaps more emotional, beings

could not. His persistence with a line of inquiry with which others

had become discouraged, had already yielded valuable

information.

Then the evenings with Jimmy. Jimmy who took nothing for

granted, thus forcing Spock to justify the principals he had taken

for granted all his life. It did not matter that there were some

things upon which they never agreed, Spock found that the

discussion strengthened those convictions which were worth

retaining and allowed him to re-examine those that were not.

This time aboard the Potempkin was, without any doubt, the

most liberating and, in some ways, the most challenging of

Spock's life and he found himself wishing it might never end.

It did. Although not in the way anyone had expected.

Disaster struck the ship without warning, 11 days out of Rigel.

0515 ship's time. Spock woke abruptly, too shocked to be

frightened, pinned to his bed by some massive weight, unable to

move.

He could hear the engines howling and felt, actually felt, the

massive deceleration as the ship dropped out of warp. Above the

noise of ship's systems strained to their limits and beyond, automatic

alarms were warning all hands that power was being diverted to the

inertial dampers.

The engine note dropped suddenly as the ship lost warp drive and

impulse power, there was a sickening lurch as the dampers

compensated. Then all hell broke loose as the internal gravity

failed altogether.

It was 22.47 hours before Spock got out of his cabin. Gravity had

returned only three hours previously and the intervening hours had

been spent in meditation, lying on the floor under his bunk, where

he was relatively unaffected by the wild fluctuations in the strength

of the artificial gravity field.

His anxieties, for the future of the ship and fate of Jimmy and the

other children, he had set aside. There was nothing to be done,

the intercom did not function and, even had he been able to leave

the cabin, there was no assistance he was qualified to give. He

composed a brief message of farewell to his parents and settled

into the meditation he had neglected of late.

Eventually the noise of the doors to his quarters being levered

open recalled him to himself and he hurried to assist. A

harried-looking assistant engineer peered in at him. "We're

evacuating this deck, c'mon!"

"Is the ship in any danger?"

"No, but the secondary systems, doors, light, water etc. are out

on this deck and we don't know when we'll get them back." He

stood back to let Spock squeeze through the gap, then shouldered

his lever, slung his hand light from his belt, and headed back

down the darkened corridor to the empty shaft of the turbo-lift.

They climbed down for several decks and Spock could hear his

muttered complaints. "Builder of Worlds, why now? Another

couple of months we get the new duotronics and this old rubbish'll

be thrown out!"

They clambered out of the shaft. "Can you tell me what has

happened to the other passengers?"

The crewman shook his head. " 'fraid not. We haven't lost anyone

as far as I know. Try Rec. Room 3, that's the operations centre,

they'll assign you new quarters."

Rec. Room 3 was filled with deceptively chaotic activity. Within

ten minutes Spock had been medically examined, briefed on the

current situation, informed of the casualties (several serious, none

fatal) and told where he and the other passengers were to eat

and sleep.

He went looking for Jimmy later that morning. He was not,

typically enough, in his assigned quarters with the older boys and

Spock eventually found him in the cabin assigned to the youngest

of the children, seven boys and girls under the age of approximately

eight. Perhaps reverting to behaviour learned in the bush of Tarsus,

they had constructed a sort of nest for themselves, a pile of

mattresses, pillows, cushions and towels in the corner of the room;

where they lay, fast asleep, inter-twined like a litter of sehlats, each

snuggling close to the person who meant security to them.

Jimmy, however, was awake and he gently extricated himself from

the tangle of warm little arms and legs and joined Spock over by

the door. "Hello Spock," he said, apparently taking the situation

in his stride. "You okay?"

"I am uninjured. And you?"

"I'm okay. Big bruise on my behind from when the gravity came

back on, that's all."

"And the others?"

"Indira broke her hip and Paulie had an asthma attack and

everyone was scared silly but apart from that and some bumps and

bruises we're okay." He looked up at Spock, keenly. "There's

something still wrong with the ship though, isn't there? Something

big."

"There are problems with the main gravity generator and the ship's

internal sensors are off-line and likely to remain so."

Jimmy nodded. "I could feel something was wrong, like the ship's

'down' in that corner," he pointed, "which is dumb, right? Because

there is no 'down' in space. Can they fix it?"

"The gravity generators themselves have been repaired, however,

without the internal sensors, it has proved impossible to ensure

that the gravity field they create is level with the deck." Spock

held out one hand, flat, palm up and held the other, palm down,

a few centimetres above it and parallel. "The normal configuration

may be visualised thus," he said. Then he tilted the top hand.

"However the current configuration more nearly resembles this."

Jimmy was concentrating fiercely. "You mean the gravity isn't

pulling everything straight down towards the decks - it's pulling

things sort of sideways." Spock nodded. "Well, it can't be

that bad or we'd all be plastered to the walls."

"It is bad enough, even a subtle misalignment will soon begin to

effect on-board systems which are of course designed to function

in the correct gravitational environment. Without internal

sensors, the degree of misalignment cannot be measured and the

Science Officer is attempting to construct a number of hand-held

units to provide the necessary data."

"Tricorders won't do?"

"Insufficiently precise. A further problem is that the crew has

very little control over the realignment, it is a job usually

undertaken in the shipyards of a starbase, and, every time they

make an adjustment to the field, it will be necessary to re-take all

the readings so that the adjustment can be measured in three

dimensions."

He paused, looked down, and realised for the first time how very

young Jimmy was. He had called him a child, both to others and to

himself, but he realised now that he had never truly thought of

Jimmy as any younger than himself. He saw with, a stab of

self-disgust, that he had allowed himself to be misled by the

intelligence, by the assumption of responsibility for the other

children and by the unchildlike competence, into thinking of Jimmy

as a near-adult.

He was not and Spock found he was suddenly unwilling to lay any

further burdens on the childish shoulders that had carried so much

for so long. He found it almost impossible to contemplate warning

Jimmy that the ship's food stores were unlikely to last the entire

period needed for the repairs, and that stringent rationing was

almost certain to be necessary, bringing with it all the unpleasant

memories the children had done their best to forget.

"There's more, isn't there?"

Spock looked down at the serious little face and steeled himself to

the necessary task. "Jimmy, the gravitational alignment is likely

to take several weeks. There was some hull damage following the

loss of the navigational sensors and there is currently no access to

main engineering or the engineering stores and access cannot be

gained until gravity is restored. Much of the equipment needed for

the construction of the units is not available and is having to be --

I believe the Starfleet term is jury-rigged."

Jimmy snorted with derision. "This is really dumb. They're going

about it all wrong. You don't look at what you haven't got --

you look at what you have got. There's a much easier way of

making the measurements than all that, and they're too hung up on

building some fancy doodad out of string and spit to notice!"

Recalled to himself, Spock arched an eyebrow in a tolerant and,

if he were honest, rather patronising expression of interest.

"The gravity field is constant, isn't it? I mean it's level with itself

even if it's cock-eyed to the ship?"

Spock caught himself just before he shrugged. "They cannot tell."

Jimmy smiled brilliantly, and Spock listened in amazement as he

pulled, what Spock was later to realise, was merely the first in

a long line of very strange rabbits from some very peculiar hats.

"All you have to do is build a tank, a big one, in one of the shuttle

bays maybe, fill it half-full of water. The tank will be level with the

rest of the ship but the water will always be level with the gravity

field. Once you've got it more or less right, you do the same thing

on a smaller scale all over the ship to check for blips. You could

even flood entire decks if you wanted to." He giggled, happily.

"You should see the look on your face!" he said.

Spock stared at him blankly. The solution was elegantly simple, it

allowed for accurate measurement in all three dimensions and

required no technology more complex than a tricorder. He rose

to his feet, "We must tell Science Officer Kumar at once." Jimmy

did not move. "Will you not accompany me?"

"Nah, you go ahead - I'd better stay here in case one of the little

'uns wakes up and Spock ...." he broke off, looked up and

appeared to change his mind. "Doesn't matter - you go and tell

them."

Spock left, only to return less than five minutes later.

Jimmy was unsurprised. "Told you to run away and play did he?"

"That was certainly the gist of Mr Kumar's remarks. This is

most illogical, I came to bring him a solution and he would not

even take the time to listen to me."

"Spock, you're a kid. No, I know your people count you as an

adult, but Kumar is human and to him you're a kid, plus he's

probably half-out of his mind with worry, plus the captain's

leaning on him, plus the crew are depending on him. Maybe it was

illogical but it's not exactly unexpected."

Spock sat down beside him on a bunk, he did not dispute the

diagnosis, he had come to trust Jimmy's explanations of matters

human. He folded his hands and concentrated on subduing his

indignation.

"Bet you could do it."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Bet you could do it - measure the gravity field. If we had results

to show Kumar he'd have to listen." Jimmy was on the edge of

the bunk now, his eyes dancing. "I've been thinking. There's a sort

of tank-thing in the Arboretum, in the tropical bit. They were

going to put some plants in it but, with all this fuss, I bet they

never got round to it"

Spock considered, the calculations themselves would be relatively

simple once the measurements had been taken. It would, of course,

be necessary to allow for the refraction of the water and for

evaporation, and he would need to know the capacity of the tank.

"I shall require a tricorder," he said, caught up in his analysis.

"Oh, I think I know where I can get one." Spock glanced at Jimmy

and quickly decided that he did not want to know. "See you in

the Arboretum in about quarter of an hour."

The Arboretum was deserted for, with the ship at yellow alert, all

crew were at their stations. Spock found the empty tank, an

irregularly-shaped container, approximately 3 metres across,

obviously designed for some form of water garden. He searched

around until he found a hosepipe and then searched for the

carefully hidden tap and began to fill the tank.

As he worked, Spock contemplated a culture so confident of its

water supplies that it would even think of using the precious liquid

to create an artificial water garden in deep space. It was the first

time he had visited this section of the Arboretum and he thought

it one of the most alien artefacts he had ever encountered.

17.2 minutes later, Jimmy strolled in. With a flourish he produced

a tricorder from the bundled-up k'tai under his arm. "Right, what

do you want me to do?"

"Sit quietly out of the way," said Spock, repressively, his mind

already busy. Jimmy obligingly got out of the way and sat

crossed-legged on the ground, watching in curious silence as

Spock took his measurements, made his calculations and applied

the results to the ship as a whole. The results were simple, accurate

and checkable.

He went over to explain them to Jimmy and the two shared a

moment of triumph. "Will you come to Mr Kumar with me this

time?"

"Nah - he'll listen now. I'm going to have another look round here."

When Spock returned, with not only Mr Kumar but also Captain

Nogura, in tow, they found Jimmy laying on the ground in the

desert section with his shirt off, soaking up the 'sun'.

It was the first time Spock had seen him with so little clothing on

and he was shocked, not by the near nudity but by the obvious

evidence of ill-treatment. Apart from his hands, face and neck

which were burnt dark by the sun, the thin, childish body was pale

and cross-hatched with scars and weals, ranging from minor

scratches to the unmistakable signs of a brutal beating, inflicted

some time in the quite recent past .

Nogura must have seen the brief flicker of horror on Spock's face.

"Doesn't bear thinking about does it? The others are all more or

less okay but we still know virtually nothing about what happened

to Jimmy on the planet. If the other kids know, they're certainly

not telling us."

"Is there nothing that can be done?"

"He's in no pain and as soon as he's less malnourished, and as

soon as he trusts us, the doctor will see to the scars - the physical

ones anyway."

Spock thought for a moment. The captain seemed very

well-informed about the condition of this particular passenger.

"He believes you wish him to join Starfleet."

Nogura nodded ruefully. "I said the little beggar was perceptive.

He's right. That quality of leadership is rare, he's not the oldest of

that group, he's certainly not the largest, but he's in charge. It's

even rarer to find leadership combined with a sense of

responsibility, especially in one so young."

He turned to look at Spock, obviously assessing him. "We'd also

like you to consider a career with Starfleet."

"Me?" Spock was startled.

"Mr Kumar has told me of your talents, they'd be valuable to us

but, more importantly, you have an open mind. You don't realise

it, but you're probably the only scientist on board who would have

listened to Jimmy. That's a rare gift - the ability to consider the

information first and the source second."

"My father has arranged a career for me at the Vulcan Science

Academy."

"That's a very prestigious institution, I can see why you'd you

want to attend it." The captain shrugged. "Of course, we like to

think that there's nothing to beat real, first-hand experience in the

field. A starship crew sees more in a year than most people see

in a lifetime and we apply what we learn every day of our lives,

but that's probably just our human bias showing."

It was many years before Spock realised just how expertly the

bait had been dangled before him.

They walked over to where Jimmy lay and watched as he snatched

his shirt and hurried to put it back on, scrambling to his feet as he

did so. It seemed to Spock that, for some reason, Jimmy was wary

of the men with him. It was a reaction Spock had seen before,

usually Jimmy made sure he was with a crowd of people whenever

senior members of the crew were about.

If Captain Nogura noticed anything, he did not comment. "Well,

son," he said cheerfully. "Congratulations, you've just saved us

three weeks of hanging around in the back end of beyond, working

our tails off."

Jimmy shrugged, his usual public nonchalance very much in

evidence. "Wasn't difficult."

Mr Kumar laughed. "No it wasn't, was it? All over the ship people

are going, 'Why didn't I think of that?'. Too dependant on

technology, I guess. What gave you the idea?"

Jimmy leaned up against the bulkhead and put his hands in his

pockets. "My grandpa had an old-fashioned cabin in the mountains.

I once saw him use a bowl of water to see if the stove he was

fitting was level. Same thing really."

Kumar laughed again and reached out to ruffle his hair.

Instantly Jimmy flinched, ducking down and away from him, one

arm coming up to protect his head.

Kumar snatched his hands back, shocked by the reaction and for

several seconds they all froze. Then Kumar pulled his hands up

and away, pressing them back towards his shoulders. "It's all

right, Jimmy," he said slowly and softly. "I'm sorry. It's all right."

In the dead silence Jimmy straightened up from where he had

crouched, pulling back the hand that had reached for his boot-top

and the knife that was no longer there. He looked up at them,

half-defiant, half-embarrassed, his face pale beneath the tan and

pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. The hand was trembling

and Spock watched as Jimmy bit down hard on his knuckles.

Spock had not the faintest idea what to do, and was relieved when

it became apparent that Jimmy did. After a few seconds, he took

the fist from his mouth, squared his shoulders and looked up at the

two officers. "So, I guess this means you all owe me, big time," he

said, and if his voice trembled slightly, no one was going to be so

cruel as to comment.

Captain Nogura nodded his agreement. "I think that just about sums

it up."

"You know what I want." The conversation was between these two

now, the others merely onlookers.

"And you know you can't have it. Surely you can't think you need it

here?"

"That's not why I want it."

"Jimmy, it doesn't matter why you want it, you can't have it. It's

evidence in the inquiry." He was a small man and, when he bent

down slightly, they stood eye-to-eye. "Besides, it's not a fit thing

or anybody to have, least of all you."

Jimmy was obviously not convinced. He looked Nogura straight in

the eye. "It's mine. I want it back."

"No, Jimmy. I'm sorry but no. It wouldn't be.."

"Don't tell me it's for my own good." said Jimmy, bitterly, his face

cold with a wholly adult anger. "It's not. You just want to make

yourself feel better. You're trying to make up for failing us by

pretending it never happened. Well, it won't work. You failed, you

all failed."

"Jimmy..." Kumar tried to interrupt but the boy just talked over him.

"I don't need the knife to remind me. I'll never forget it, never. I

want it because my brother gave it to me. It's the only thing of his

I've got left." He pressed his fist to his lips, breathing hard,

looking from face to face for... something. Spock did not know

what he was looking for but, whatever it was, he did not find it.

"Aw screw the lot of you!" said Jimmy, hoarsely and, elbowing his

way out between them, he was gone.

Kumar wiped a hand over his face and blew out a breath. "There

goes a kid who knows how to go for the jugular," he said.

Nogura shrugged. "We're in no position to argue with him. You

know who paid for him to go to that hell-hole, don't you? The

Starfleet Dependants' Welfare Fund."

"What?"

"His father was a 'fleeter, died when the Petrograd was lost. The

mother remarried and said they couldn't cope with him. So the

Fund paid to send him out here to keep him out of trouble. Ironic

isn't it?"

"I'll say," Kumar shook his head. "Nice to know our subscriptions

are going to such a good cause. What about the brother?"

"Seventeen. The minute Jimmy was packed off to school, he

bailed out of the family too. The child welfare people are still trying

to find him."

Spock was not really listening, although the information was filed

for later consideration. Instead he was trying to analyse the

expression he had seen on Jimmy's face as he had left. He had been

white with ... what? Anger? Pain?

His first thought was to allow Jimmy time to recover his

self-control in decent privacy, his second was to recognise that

thought as a product of his own cowardice in the face of so

much emotion. Jimmy was not Vulcan and he was in distress.

Leaving Mr Kumar and Captain Nogura without a word, he

followed Jimmy out of the Arboretum.

A moment's thought told him where to go and he headed for the

Observation Deck, where found Jimmy, his forehead resting on

the cold of the window, his fists clenching and unclenching.

"Jimmy, what is wrong?" he asked gently.

Jimmy did not turn round. "Do they really think I'll forget if they

keep it? Do they? I'll never forget! Never!" He was shivering

convulsively as he wrapped his arms round himself. His voice

dropped to a whisper. "Do you know what it's like .... killing

someone?"

The hairs rose on the back of Spock's neck. "No."

"It's real difficult. People are tougher than they look.... especially

when they're all wrapped up in a uniform. You have to hack and

hack.... and when they bleed .... it's warm.... on your hands like...

like bath water and it soaks into your clothes and you can't wash

it out, so you walk around with on you, all stiff and hard and... we

couldn't find a new shirt." Jimmy still had not turned round, his

whole body was shaking. "And I took his coat, because of the thorn

grass and because it made the little ones feel safer... because Jimmy

can do anything and I had his phaser and... and the second one was

easier and that was worse... because one minute he was there and

the next he was gone and I'd done that... because I had to...

because they all depended on me and... I couldn't cry... because they

were watching me and...and..... I keep dreaming about it, Spock,

and I don't... I can't..." He broke off and Spock could hear ragged

breathing, and the sound of something that might have become

sobbing if had it been allowed to, the sound of Jimmy fighting for

a control he should have been too young to want.

At the end of his life, Spock had many regrets about his dealings

with this most dear of beings; the kalifee, his own precipitous flight

to Gol, the cost to his friend of the Fal Tor Pan. But his greatest

regret was that he failed, that day on the Observation Desk, to take

into his arms, a boy who needed somewhere to go where it was

safe to cry. Instead he stood, in an agony of pity and embarrassment,

battered by the waves of emotion breaking over him. Until, after

long minutes, Jimmy's breathing steadied and he straightened, wiping

his eyes with his fingers.

He turned round. "Sorry, Spock," he said awkwardly. "I know I

shouldn't, not in front of you."

Suddenly Spock knew what to say. "Tell me about your brother,"

he said .

Jimmy smiled. "His name is Sam," he replied.

CHAPTER 9

The description of the manifold virtues of Sam Kirk took them out

of the Observation Deck, down to Rec Room 2 and half-way

through a meal which, Spock was shocked to realise, was still only

breakfast.

"You'd like him, Spock, he's a scientist too and the cleverest person

I know. Except you, of course. Even the rotten schools we end up in

half the time don't faze him, he just gets stuck into the books on

his own. He wants to go to college and everything and I figure,

when he does, I can go and live with him and to hell with

everyone else."

"You do not anticipate returning to your parents?"

"Shit no! My Dad's dead and as for Mom and that... that rat

lizard she married, they wouldn't have me back and I wouldn't go."

"Why not?" asked Spock, unconvinced by this casual dismissal.

"I'm sick to death of trailing round the country while those two

try and strike it lucky. " Jimmy grinned maliciously. "I told them

when I left. They're not smart enough to get rich quick and

they never stick around anywhere long enough to get rich slow.

Hey, is that an epigram?"

"Yes and a most disrespectful one."

Jimmy was about to argue, when his eyes shifted to something

over Spock's shoulder. Spock turned to see the captain coming

over to their table with a tray.

"Mind if I join you?"

"Please yourself," said Jimmy, answering for them both. "We've

just finished."

Nogura's lips twitched. "Well, before you go - I'll be writing up

my log tonight. How do you want to be entered - 'Jimmy' or

'James' ?"

Jimmy considered for a moment. "James T." he said, eventually,

getting to his feet.

"James T. it is," said the captain equably. "Oh and Jimmy, do me

favour will you? Stop playing poker with the crew. It's against

regulations and besides, they can't afford you."

Jimmy leaned over and swiped the captain's doughnut. "Hey,

they're your crew. You control them." And he sauntered away to

a table with a chessboard and began to set it up.

Startled by this display of disrespect, Spock turned to the captain,

just in time to see him burst out laughing. "I hope to hell he does

join up," said Nogura. "I'd hate to have him on the other side."

Spock nodded politely and went over to where Jimmy was

sitting. "James T.?"

Jimmy nodded. "Jimmy's a kid's name and there's already a James

Kirk in Starfleet, a cousin of my Dad's, I was named after him.

I don't want him getting the credit for my idea, I might need it

one day."

"You are thinking of joining Starfleet then?

"I might." Jimmy looked oddly embarrassed.

"What changed your mind?"

"I dunno. It's all right here, clean, you know? And... decent. Good

people mostly, trying to do their best." He looked down at his hands.

"Besides... they want me." He shook his head, and advanced a pawn

with a careless, hurried movement.

Spock eyed the board suspiciously. It was never safe to assume

anything with Jimmy. Was that move really as careless as it

seemed? He countered warily.

Jimmy looked up. "What about you? You going to join?"

"My father has made other plans."

"So you said, can't you change them?" Spock shook his head but

Jimmy ignored him. "You ought to, you know. It'd suit you down

to the ground. Not just the science but the .. the excitement, the

whole life down there." His enthusiasm was rising. "I saw you

when Lieutenant Schmidt found out about that enzyme, your face

went all blank but your mind was racing. C'mon admit it. You

loved it."

"Jimmy..."

"Okay, okay. You found it.... extremely stimulating." He leaned

over the table, urgent and persuasive. "Why not? You know you

want to and you'd be good at it. We might even end up serving

on the same ship!"

"My father has made other plans."

"So what? My father wanted me to play football, left me the

helmet he used in high school and everything. Trouble is, I hate

football, and it looks like I'm never going to be big enough

to play it properly anyway." He shrugged. "He was wrong. It

happens. I reckon you should talk to your Dad, get him to change

his mind."

Spock tried to envisage himself attempting to persuading Sarek to

change his mind and knew the exercise would be futile. Sarek

had already considered the available choices, his son's character

and Spock's duty to the family. There would be no changing his

decision. Logic had been applied to such facts as Sarek considered

pertinent and there was, therefore, no more to be said. "My father

does not often change his mind," said Spock. Then, trying to

explain to an obviously concerned Jimmy, "My welfare would have

been of the most important factor in the decision, and he does

know me extremely well."

"Not if he thinks you're suited to a life on Vulcan, he doesn't,"

retorted Jimmy and Spock very nearly flinched. It was a thought

that had never before occurred to him but, now it had been

brought into the open, it was a factor he knew he would find

difficult to discount.

Jimmy, like the consummate tactician he was, said no more, they

played out the game in silence and parted.

Later that day, they resumed their regular evening sessions. During

the day, Spock would occasionally see Jimmy with the other

children, eating in the Mess or heading down to the gym, always

at the centre of the group, laughing, cajoling, encouraging.

At night they would meet for sessions of research on the computer

or for long rolling discussions which covered everything from

the ethical basis of the Prime Directive to the works of

Conan-Doyle, from the principles of the warp drive to the

nature of free will.

Gradually, as the days passed, Jimmy gained weight and stopped

sitting with his back to the wall. One day he even went to Sickbay,

on his own, and asked for the scarring to be removed.

The first cloud on the horizon was a rendezvous, in deep space,

with a private craft, containing the grandparents of the orphaned

infant Spock had seen Jimmy carrying that first day on Tarsus.

A few, careless words from the Communications Officer told

Jimmy what was happening and Spock, who was sitting beside

him showing him how to configure the computer for geometry

in multiple dimensions, saw the shock on his face. He made a point

of being with Jimmy when the grandparents arrived.

They were a handsome couple in early-middle age who exuded

competence and warmth, and who could not find the words to

express their gratitude. They handled the child with such

tenderness that even Jimmy was convinced.

"Don't forget," he said. "She needs a nap every day and don't give

her oranges, they give her bellyache."

The grandmother looked up from the child in her arms. "What's she

called?"

"We don't know. There was nothing with her name on and all the

records are gone. We called her Belle, because Pascal said it

means beautiful in French."

"Belle." She bent down and kissed her. "It suits her. I think we'll

keep it."

"You'll have to - she knows it now," his voice was hoarse and he

took the baby's hand and waggled it. "Bye-bye Belle."

Spock stood beside him as the rest of the children said good-bye

and the baby was carried off to the shuttle-bay.

Jimmy sighed. "Everything's changing, Spock." He sounded tired

and dispirited.

It was a phrase Spock found difficult to interpret. "Yes, but surely

you expected this."

"I suppose. It's just... I don't think I ever really thought we'd all

split up. I got used to thinking of them as my people and they're

not. When we get to Earth, chances are I'll never see any of them

again. I guess I feel... cheated." He looked up and smiled,

lopsidedly. "I know, I know, most illogical."

"Jimmy, do you know what is going to happen to you?" It was

something that had been concerning Spock.

"No." Jimmy seemed unworried. "Sam'll sort something out. Mom

won't be able to argue with him this time."

"I heard the captain say the authorities do not know where your

brother is." He had avoided sharing this information for as long as

possible, unwilling to share the burden of knowing.

Jimmy was still unbothered. "That's all right. Sam knows where I

am now. That's one of the reasons I got myself on the Tri-vi. He'll

get in touch when he's made the arrangements." He glanced down

the corridor. "Look, I'd better go and talk to them, they'll all be

upset and worried. See you tonight."

He pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and fore-finger,

breathed in deeply, squared his shoulders and headed down the

corridor. He was, Spock realised, taking care of his people while

he still could.

CHAPTER 10

It was not long before Jimmy's faith in his brother was justified.

There was a comm-call from Earth, which arrived late at night

during one of their chess games. Spock sat to one side as Jimmy

took the call on the desk-top screen.

"Sam!" Jimmy put out his hand to touch the screen. "Oh, Sam."

The young man on the screen seemed scarcely less moved. "It's

not fair, I've been worried sick about you and you sit there

looking like that." His smile wavered. "Jim, I'm so sorry. I'd never

have let you go if I'd known what it was going to be like. I

thought you'd be getting an education somewhere safe and you've

always wanted to go into space. I'd no idea..."

"I know that, you idiot."

"I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get in touch. There was a lot to

sort out and it got..... sticky. They wanted you back."

"What!"

Sam Kirk shook his head. "Sorry Jim, I didn't mean like that. It

was just more of the usual. When I got there, I found them selling

their story to the media. 'How our troubled son become a hero'."

Jimmy, recovering quickly, put two fingers in his mouth and

mimed vomiting.

Sam grinned. "I thought that's what you'd say. I had a hell of a fight

to shut them up. I had to threaten to sell my story. 'Why my

brother the hero was so damn troubled in the first place and by

the way is anyone interested in the details of the scam these two

tried to pull in Arizona'."

"I still say you and me could have gotten that one to work."

"Good job we didn't, Dandy Dan started backing off the minute

I mentioned it. Look Jim, I think I've got things sorted out, it's

not ideal but I think it'll work. You're to go to Uncle Jack in Idaho,

Mom's signed the papers and it's all set. Jack's dumb but he's

decent. You'll be safe there."

Jimmy was sitting very still, his eyes huge. "What about you?

Can't I come to you?"

"I'm okay, I got that scholarship. I started a couple of months back.

I'm sorry Jim, you can't come with me, legally I'm too young. I

only just got them to accept me, they'd never let you come too.

We'd have the child welfare people crawling all over us." He sighed

and put out a hand."Aw, come on, Jim, don't look like that, you

used to like it there. Remember the horses, and there's a school in

the town and everything. You'll be fine and maybe when I graduate

we can sort something else out."

He glanced at something off-screen. "Oh shit, that's the time

running out. Jim, I'll see you when you get to Earth." He didn't

wait for a reply. "Missed you, little brother. Bye." And he was

gone.

Jimmy sat for a long time, just looking at the screen, his face set.

"This is not an acceptable solution?" It seemed perfectly suitable

to Spock. "You spend the next three years with a relative and join

your brother when he is in position to support you."

Jimmy shook his head. "It's not going to happen," he said quietly.

"He's got used to being without me. It used to be us two against

the world, now it isn't. By the time he graduates, there'll be a

whole hatfull of reasons why I can't join him - all of them good."

"You mean he lied, he has abandoned you?"

"No, he means it now. It just won't last." He shrugged. "Anyway,

he's right I'll be okay with Uncle Jack and after that it won't really

matter. In a couple of years I'll be at the Academy."

Spock hurried to correct him, more false hopes might be damaging.

"Jimmy, the minimum age for entry to the Academy is eighteen

years, standard."

Jimmy's head came up, a huge smile breaking over his face. "You

looked it up!" he said, pointing an accusing finger.

Spock backtracked hurriedly. "The source of my information is

irrelevant, the minimum age is still eighteen."

Jimmy put his hands in the pockets of the k'tai and leaned back in

his chair. "Wanna bet?"

Before Spock could respond to the disconcerting arrogance of

this statement, Jimmy got to his feet, rubbing his hands over his

face. "Sorry, Spock I'm going to have to duck out of our game.

Now I know where I'm going to be, I can sort something out so

I can keep an eye on the others." He rubbed his upper lip with

his thumb. "I wonder if I can blackmail the Dependants' Welfare

Fund into paying for regular meetings - peer support and all that

- gotta be good for the old post-traumatic stress."

"Jimmy, why do you believe they are still your responsibility?"

"Because they are - I can't just abandon them, they need me." He

sat down again and leaned over the table, needing to make Spock

understand. "Everyone else has messed them around, everybody

else has let them down. I can't just walk out on them."

Spock looked at him, so heavy a burden on such young shoulders.

"And will you do if some crisis does arise?"

Jimmy shrugged again. "There's always something you can do."

During the last few days of the voyage Jimmy and Spock hardly

met. Some of the children from Tarsus did indeed become

distressed and Jimmy spent much of his time in reassurance and

in his projected (and ultimately successful) blackmail of the

Starfleet Dependants' Welfare Fund.

Captain Nogura, who authorised and witnessed the call, described

it to Spock as 'a masterful combination of blackmail and careful

research'.

"It was obvious they were expecting a repeat of the Universe

Today broadcast," he said. "I wound up feeling sorry for the guy

who took the call. There he was expecting a kid he could fob off

with a few reassurances; instead he ended up with Jimmy, who

quoted Reischmann on Post-Traumatic Stress, Hernandez on Peer

Group Dynamics and somebody unpronounceable on Childhood

Trauma. He then just happened to mentioned that he had arranged

a meeting with a lawyer for when he got back and started talking

about negligence and breach of the duty of care. By the end of the

call the poor guy was promising to arrange for meetings, free

comms-link time - the works."

It was so exactly what he ought to have expected, that Spock was

faintly surprised to find that he had not. He was also surprised

at the gratification he felt, when he realised it was the research

skills he had imparted, that had enabled Jimmy to be quite so

effective.

It was late one evening when the Potempkin finally took up orbit

over Earth. Although no appointment had been made, Spock went

to the Observation Deck, knowing whom he would find there.

They stood for a long time, just watching the great blue and silver

ball passing below them.

"It is a most beautiful planet," said Spock eventually.

Jimmy nodded. "Beautiful but small. You can't get lost on Earth."

He smiled slightly. "I know - I tried." There was a strange

melancholy in his voice, not quite disillusion more, Spock

sensed, a realisation that this place was home and yet, despite

its beauty, it was insufficient.

Jimmy gestured, a wide, spread-hands movement that both

encompassed and dismissed the planet beneath them. "There are

no surprises on Earth anymore, Spock, nothing to find that hasn't

been found before. Like I said, small." He turned to look up at

his friend. "And Vulcan?"

"It is somewhat larger." Spock paused and then admitted, "and

just as small."

"I read a book once, about the old explorers of Earth," said Jimmy

and for once his voice was steady and entirely adult. "It said

about someone, Magellan or Cook or one of those guys, 'He

walked on far mountains where the stars were strange'. I always

liked the sound of that." He leaned on the rail and looked up and

away from Earth.

Spock looked up as well and, as he looked, he too was seized with

a sudden, terrible, visceral yearning to travel, beyond Earth,

beyond Vulcan, beyond all the known worlds, to see what had

never been seen before, far mountains and strange stars.

Then Vulcan re-asserted itself and the well-trained barriers against

illogical and indisciplined thought, snapped into place. Firmly he

set the sensation aside as both foolish and inappropriate,

resolving to deal with it during the next day's meditation.

Jimmy turned his back on the stars and looked up into Spock's

face. "Do me a favour, Spock. Don't come to the transporter room

tomorrow. All of us from Tarsus'll be setting off together and

people are going to be upset, emotional. You'd hate it and there's

nothing you can do to help. Let's say goodbye now, it's always

worse if you drag it out."

"Very well." Spock reached into the pocket of his robes and

produced a slender, cloth-wrapped bundle. "I have a gift for

you," he said, holding it out.

Jimmy took it and unwrapped the cloth to reveal a small curved

knife in a leather scabbard. "It is called a brai," said Spock. "I

carried it with me on my Khas wan. You remember, we discussed

the Khas wan?" Jimmy nodded dumbly. "I realise that it cannot

replace the knife you lost, however I thought it might serve as

both a reassurance and a memento. My mother assures me that

humans appreciate such gestures."

Carefully, Jimmy wrapped the knife back up in its cloth. "She's right.

I don't need it to remember you by but I'm glad to have it. Thank

you, Spock, I'll keep it always." He looked down at the knife, turning

it over and over in his hands. "I don't want to go all emotional on

you but... I'm going to miss you."

"I also regret this parting," said Spock then, remembering an earlier

conversation, "You have greatly assisted my education."

Jimmy grinned. "And you've been a good friend." He put out a

tentative hand and grasped Spock's arm. "I'm not going to say

good bye, it's not good bye, not really. I know you think we're

never going to meet again, but we will. I know it and I think,

somewhere deep down, you know it too." He shook the arm

gently. "Some people just aren't meant to stay home."

"Jimmy..."

"No, don't say anything. Just promise me you'll think about it."

Spock nodded. "I do not believe I will have any choice about

that." He held out his hand and Jimmy shook it. "Live long and

prosper, Jimmy."

"Peace and long life, Spock."

Jimmy turned and walked towards the door. As it swept open he

turned. "This isn't the end, Spock. This is just the beginning."

He smiled, his face full of life and hope and endurance.

"See you on the mountains," he said.

THE END

The child is father to the man. William Wordsworth