It was the most difficult task Spock had performed since assuming the position of Starfleet Academy's commandant. Disciplinary matters were often awkward to handle, but this case was no ordinary one. From the first, he had taken a special interest in Cadet T'Naisa Brandt—an interest that had, admittedly, deepened after the death of his daughter.

What initially drew him to T'Naisa was the obvious similarity between her parentage and his own. Spock's father was Vulcan and his mother human. In T'Naisa's case, the reverse was true. Her human father was an engineering specialist who had met and married a Vulcan scientist while working at a research outpost in deep Space. Like Spock, T'Naisa's appearance favored the dominant Vulcan genomes, right down to her pointed ears and copper based blood. Even her startling red hair was not unheard of on his home world, although it was considered quite rare. The color suited the vivacious cadet. She was, simply put, a beautiful young woman, and over the months of Spock's association with her, he had come to realize that she was a little too aware of that fact.

It would have been better if T'Naisa had received a solid grounding in Vulcan discipline. It might have helped integrate her personality and steady the conflicting emotions that seemed to cause her so much difficulty. But her formative years had been spent away from Vulcan, and her parents had raised her in the human way.

Thanks to native intelligence and fine tutoring, T'Naisa had gleaned a solid education, but Spock had reached the unfortunate conclusion that she was too unstable for life as a Starfleet officer. It would have been better if she never entered the academy. Now, as she neared the completion of her second year, Spock had been forced to convene a disciplinary hearing that resulted in her immediate expulsion. Cadet Brandt had received the news quietly, which was most unlike her. But now she was back in his office, seated before him, and Spock was uncomfortably aware of something sinister stirring in the wounded depths of her brown eyes.

"You ruled against me," she said stiffly.

"Expulsions," Spock replied, "can be ordered only by a unanimous decision."

T'Naisa studied him. "Maybe you felt you had to…but you're the commandant. You could reopen my case. You could put it up for reconsideration."

Spock steepled his fingers in his lap and said, "The decision stands…but please believe me, I take no pleasure in it."

Tears filled her eyes. "I want to believe that," she said softly. "I always thought you understood…"

"Perhaps I do," he conceded. "Perhaps too well."

She leaned forward intently. "Then tell me what I can do—how I can change your mind. Anything, Captain, just say it."

With regret Spock told her, "There is nothing more that can be done. I'm sorry, I must ask you to leave now."

For a moment T'Naisa acted as if she had not heard. Then she slowly rose from her chair. Moving around the desk, she approached him, her long red hair hanging in a typically non-regulation style. She could not even conform herself in so small a fashion.

Coming very near, she placed one hand on the arm of his chair and gazed into his eyes. "You've been so good to me, so kind. I'll do anything," she pleaded, "anything. Don't you understand?"

Tears splashed down her face. Disturbed by the display, Spock drew back as far as his chair permitted, but she moved even closer and her hand went to his thigh. The intensity of her emotions lapped against his mental shielding and now there was no mistaking her intention.

"Anything," she repeated softly.

Repelled, Spock thrust her away from him and rose. "Enough!" he commanded. "This crude attempt at manipulation only confirms the unfortunate conclusion I have reached about you."

Her eyes flamed with sudden fury. "I'll appeal! I'll appeal the decision!"

"That is your privilege," Spock told her, "but if you do, I shall have to report what transpired here today." He paused, and allowed some measure of compassion to enter his voice once more. "Leave, Miss Brandt, while you still have some shred of dignity left. It is not so terrible to be dismissed from the academy. Your record will state only that you are unsuited to the life."

Her anger showed no indication of subsiding. "I thought you were a kindred spirit, but you're nothing but an arrogant prig. You think you're so damn special because you were raised on Vulcan."

"Leave here at once," Spock ordered. "Or must I call for security?"

"Alright," she declared, "I'll get out of your precious office. I'll get out of your precious academy. But you'll regret it. Mark my words, Captain—you're going to regret this until the day you die!"

Turning on her heel, she stormed out. The door hissed shut behind her.

For a moment Spock remained as he was, and then reached for the intercom and asked that he not be disturbed. There were no appointments scheduled for this final hour of the day. Leaving his desk, he walked through a false holographic wall, into the comfortable little retreat he had devised one afternoon when there was not a great deal else to occupy him. Since then he had equipped the area with sound buffers, which completed the illusion of privacy.

Going to his meditation stool, he assumed the customary Vulcan posture of recollection, and closed his eyes. The exchange with T'Naisa Brandt had left him shaken. Her bold advance made him wonder if he had stepped so far out of his role of commandant that she misinterpreted the nature of his interest in her. If so, he must never repeat the mistake.

After his mind settled, he returned to his desk and checked in with his yeoman by intercom.

"Sir, you have a visitor," Nichols reported. His youthful voice hesitated. "She…uh…doesn't want me to give out her name."

All the ground gained by Spock's meditation was in danger of slipping away. Had Brandt come back yet again? Nichols knew her by sight. Why would he not keep Spock properly informed? "Yeoman, her name."

Nichols answered in a strange tone, "Sir…maybe you should come out here and see for yourself."

Spock's mouth tightened in annoyance. Crossing his office, he triggered the door, preparing to confront both Nichols and former Cadet Brandt. His glance took in the apologetic-looking yeoman, and then lit on the young woman waiting in a chair. Spock drew in a sharp breath. This was clearly not Brandt. Her eyes were hazel, not brown—the hair dark in color and plaited in a Vulcan manner. Instead of a cadet's uniform, she wore shabby civilian clothing and scuffed shoes. But this was no stranger.

Spock's mind staggered at the surge of recognition and struggled with it, actively denying the evidence of his own eyes. It simply was not possible! His predecessor at the academy had suffered a mental breakdown. Was he next? In the periphery of his awareness be became conscious of his yeoman gaping at him, and withdrew back into his office.

He was still staring at the door, working through the confusion, when the door slid open and the young woman walked in, uninvited. Her face was wet with tears. Falling to her knees before him, she bowed her head.

"Father," she choked out.

Spock felt an ache gathering in his throat. "Stand up," he told her.

With downcast eyes she obeyed him.

"Look at me," he whispered.

She did.

Unbelieving, Spock searched every detail of her appearance. With utmost care he raised one hand and lightly traced a scar that ran from her temple into her hairline. This was new. Resonances of her emotions brushed the fringes of his mind. He swallowed hard.

"T'Beth."

"Yes, Father," she said, "it's me."

Closing his eyes, he drew her into his embrace and she wept against him.

oooo

For the third time in as many minutes, Lauren glanced at the chronometer on the living room wall. She was definitely having one of her bad feelings. Spock was a considerate husband; he always made it a point to call if he was going to be very late. There had been calls, alright—a strange, disturbing series of blank screens and broken connections. And Spock was not answering his phone. What could it mean? Something was going on, she knew it. She could feel trouble stirring in the bond they shared.

Three-year-old Simon cuddled up to her on the couch and gave her a nudge. "Mommy, what's the matter?"

"Nothing," she lied.

His blue eyes reproached her. "Then read to me, Mommy."

Once more Lauren forced her attention back to the picture book on her lap. It was an antique; a gift from Jim Kirk, who wanted the boy to know what it was like to hold the real thing in his hands, and grow up loving it.

She pointed to the brilliantly colored page. "Here, read this part yourself. You can do it."

Simon frowned in concentration. "Sam…I…am…I…do…not…lick. Like…green…eggs…and…ham." Completing the rhyme, he grinned up at her proudly. "Just like Daddy. He won't eat eggs and ham, neither."

"Either," Lauren absently corrected.

Simon made a face and stroked the cat purring alongside him. Suddenly he perked up, listening. Leaping off the couch, he scurried toward the front door.

"Daddy's home!" he cried out.

A second later, Lauren also heard the hum of Spock's skimmer landing, and relaxed. Simon stood waiting to ambush his father with a hug, but as the door opened, he shrank back.

"Simon, what's—" the words died in Lauren's throat. Dumbstruck, she stood up and stared at the dark-haired girl following Spock into the house. Unpleasant emotions swept over her as she recognized Spock's daughter.

"You're alive," Lauren blurted. It should have been a good thing, a marvelous thing. But the onrush of disagreeable memories left no room for happiness. It had been so peaceful when they thought she was dead…

Simon edged over to Lauren and clutched her hand. "Who's dat, Mommy?"

"Cristabeth," Lauren forced out in an unsteady voice.

"It's alright," Spock's daughter said with a gentleness completely unlike her. "You can call me T'Beth."

Oh, thought Lauren, so now it's "T'Beth"again. For how long? Just for today? Maybe for a week or two? Then what? Then I stand here and watch you rip our family apart, all over again?

"Perhaps," Spock said, "I should have forewarned you."

Lauren gave him a pained look. She knew how hard it had been for him, coming to terms with his grief for the troublesome girl. She could see he was having almost as much difficulty dealing with T'Beth's reappearance.

"She only now arrived," he said. "This past month she has been making her way back here on a cargo freighter."

"Back?" Lauren turned her attention to T'Beth. "Back from where?"

"Donari," T'Beth answered in that same pleasant tone. "I was there the whole time after my fighter crashed. It's a long story."

"A long…remarkable…story." Spock met Lauren's eyes, silently informing her that he had serious reservations, but asking that she give T'Beth a fair hearing, just the same.

For the sake of her husband she would give T'Beth every chance. For Spock's sake she would welcome his daughter into their home, however personally difficult.

T'Beth crouched down and held her arms out to Simon. "Come here, baby brother. I can't believe how big you've gotten. And there's Mosha! Here, kitty, kitty!"

T'Beth's calico cat approached her cautiously, staying just out of reach. Simon held tight to Lauren's hand, silently staring at the strange girl.

"Simon," Spock said, "this is your sister."

Simon shook his curly head. "Uh-uh, Daddy. She's dead. You told me."

"I was mistaken," Spock said. "As you can see, she is quite alive. Come say 'hello' to her."

Lauren felt relieved when the boy refused to budge.

oooo

Dinner was an uneasy affair. Lauren had no appetite and she noticed that Spock also ate very little. Simon spent the entire time ogling T'Beth, as if trying to convince himself that she was not just pretending to be alive. T'Beth ate as if she had not had a decent meal in some time. Between hearty mouthfuls, she told bits and pieces of an incredible story.

The more Lauren heard, the more skeptical she became. "So you were in some underground world on Donari, with your legs crushed and burned. And…and these Donari warriors prayed over you, and a miracle happened…"

Spock remarked in a neutral tone, "Although it is not widely known, there is documentation of a rebel peace movement based in remote caves on Donari."

"Miracle workers," Lauren said, trying to keep the doubt from her voice, and failing.

"It's God who performs miracles." T'Beth smiled sadly. "I don't blame either of you for not believing me. That's what comes of lying. That's what comes of treating you all the way I did—even poor little Simon." She gave her brother a seemingly fond look. "Sometimes, when no one was watching, I used to tease him until he cried."

Lauren flashed Spock a worried glance.

T'Beth rose from the table and came over to Lauren. Rolling up her worn pant leg, she displayed an odd pattern of scarring on her skin. "See? This is all that was left after the healing."

It did not look convincing to Lauren's medical eye. "Wait a minute," she said, and left the room to get her medscanner. When she came back, she examined T'Beth's legs thoroughly and the results startled her. "There's evidence of massive recalcification in both the upper and lower leg bones. The tissue also shows signs of recent healing."

T'Beth's eyes shone. "Instantaneous healing. Miraculous healing."

Lauren found herself wanting to believe her. Unlike Spock, she had some religious faith. A prayerful person might hope for a miracle, but why would someone like T'Beth be healed? It made no sense.

Spock slowly shook his head and leaned back in his chair. "The explanation is probably quite simple. T'Beth, you are part Vulcan. Physical trauma may have sent you into a healing trance. On awakening, you would have lost all sense of time passing."

"Of course!" Lauren said.

Tears glistened in T'Beth's eyes. Pulling down her pant legs, she sighed. "It wasn't like that. I was there—I was fully awake. It's not something either of you can explain away with science." Her sad gaze passed between them. "Thanks for the dinner. I was going to ask if I could stay here for now, but I…I won't even consider it unless you both agree. Please, go ahead and talk it over. I'm going for a walk."

The front door shut. Lauren and Spock silently looked at one another across the table. She told him, "I don't want Simon hearing what I have to say."

"Nor I," Spock agreed.

After settling their son into bed for the night, they went down the hall to Spock's study.

Lauren closed the door. "Spock, I'm sorry, but I just don't know what to think. Our T'Beth—the recipient of a miracle? She's definitely changed, but I'm having a hard time accepting any of it."

Spock nodded gravely. "I understand your concern and I certainly share it. You know where I stand in regard to religion…and so-called 'miracles'. Obviously her story is untrue, however…" It took a moment for him to continue. "However, she might not be aware that it is untrue."

"What?"

He drew in a slow breath. "Lauren, do you recall the Gamman children we took aboard the Enterprise when I was commanding?"

She could hardly forget the bizarre events that had followed the children's awakening, and later standing by helplessly watching them die, one by one. The children were victims of mind-altering experiments conducted by the Donaris. Shocked by her husband's implication, she said, "You think they've done something to T'Beth's mind?"

Spock's eyes were bleak. "I keep asking myself these questions: Why did she fail to follow proper military procedures and return to her base on Sydok for debriefing? Why did she come here instead—to the home of Starfleet Headquarters? What if she has been programmed by her captors for some destructive purpose?"

Lauren felt a chill of fear. "Was T'Beth with you around 6:45 this evening?"

"No. As we were leaving the academy, a cadet asked to speak with me. T'Beth went ahead to the skimmer and waited there. Why do you ask?"

"Because I had a series of phone calls from a public booth at the academy. There was no image, and the person wouldn't speak. They just kept hanging up. There was something very disturbing about the whole thing."

Spock's eyebrow rose. When at last he spoke, his voice was heavy with the weight of his decision. "After she returns from her walk, I will leave the living room briefly and call Starbase Security. An escort will take her to the medical center."

"An escort." Lauren knew full well what he meant. T'Beth would be leaving the house under guard.

oooo

T'Beth sat on a bed in the top security section of Starfleet Medical Center. All night long she had been picked over and questioned by an exhausting series of medical experts and military brass. Throughout the ordeal she had steadily prayed for the strength to forgive her father. The sense of betrayal was still painfully strong when the door to her room opened and Spock himself entered.

Keeping his distance, he gazed at her with those dark, inscrutable eyes that had made her squirm guiltily as a child. Only this time there was no guilt in her.

"How are you?" he spoke at last.

How was she? What kind of thing was that to say, after what he had done to her? But of course he had some logical reason for not telling her of his concerns, but having her carted off from his home like a criminal.

"If you didn't want me in your house," she told him, "you only had to say so. Why have me arrested?"

"You are not under arrest," he corrected. "You are under medical observation."

She was not going to argue that point with him. The doors were locked and guarded. She was far from free. "I know what you're thinking," she said, "but the Donaris didn't do anything to my mind."

"Are you so sure of that?"

"Yes I am," she said with all the patience she could summon. "Everything I told you is the truth."

He just looked at her.

"You don't trust me," she said.

"I don't trust the Donaris," he responded. "You probably know their history as well as I, but I have seen firsthand what little value they place on the lives of other species. And I have told you how I negotiated a prisoner exchange to gain your release. Their scanning devices are quite sophisticated enough to reveal that the young woman using your name had no Vulcan ancestry. That is why they refused to release any firm identification. The Donaris use trickery and deceit."

T'Beth's throat tightened at the mention of her friend. "Oh Father, you probably saved Lelia's life and my co-pilot, too. You don't regret that, do you?'

"Of course not. I am merely stating that the Donaris are not trustworthy." He was silent for a moment, and then he asked, "Why did you not return at once to your unit on Sydok?"

Sighing, she lay back and put her hands under her head. How many people had asked her that very question since her arrival here? "I wanted to see you first. It seemed more important than anything else."

His expression did not change. "You are a lieutenant in the Border Patrol. It was your duty upon escaping to make your way directly to a military installation for debriefing."

T'Beth could not quite swallow all of the hurt and the anger. "Then I guess that makes me a pretty lousy officer. I'm sorry. You must be very disappointed in me." Fighting tears, she turned her face aside.

After a moment he came over to the bed and stood beside her. With surprising gentleness he said, "I am not so much disappointed, as concerned. There are important reasons for Starfleet procedures, reasons that involve your own safety as much as the safety of others."

The heaviness in her heart eased a little and she found the courage to look up at him. "I know. But believe me, there's nothing to worry about. I haven't put anyone at risk." A sudden inspiration struck, and she rose to feet. Taking hold of his hand, she interlaced their fingers. She was telepathic enough to sense how uncomfortable her touch made him, but she did not let go. Searching his eyes, she said, "Father, you can know what I know. You can see for yourself—in my mind."

Spock disengaged his hand and backed away. "You know that I cannot."

"Why? Because you're my father? Because it's a Vulcan taboo?"

Shaking his head, he explained, "It is not only the fact that you are a female child. You could have been altered in some way by the Donaris without being aware of it."

"Not my Donaris," she insisted. "They didn't do anything to my mind. They didn't even have the proper medicine and facilities to treat my legs. I was dying, Father—but their prayers saved me. Why can't you accept that?"

oooo

By now Spock was almost coming to expect it—the blank screen staring at him from his desk, the sinister silence, the abrupt breaking of the phone connection. Whoever was harassing him used the direct line to his academy office and knew when he was most likely to be there. The calls were unsettling, and his suspicions even more so. As he sat before the screen, an image of the unseen caller sprang, unbidden, to his mind's eye. Tall, slender, dark-haired—consumed by a pathological rage that perhaps she could not admit even to herself.

T'Beth was back under his roof, released from the hospital with a so-called "clean bill of health", but Spock did not entirely trust the official pronouncement. It bothered him that she had not been given a date to report back to the Border Patrol. The omission would seem to suggest that they had not yet decided what to do with her. It would seem to suggest that, like Cadet Brandt, she was considered too mentally unstable to be of any further use. Earlier in the week he had attempted to access T'Beth's military file, only to find it locked behind a "need to know" marker one level above his own security clearance. Strange, indeed.

The sun was still shining when Spock left his office for the day. As he headed for the parking area, a sudden rustling in a landscape barrier diverted his attention. The branches of a bush swayed. Somewhere beyond it, he detected a flash of movement, the sound of running.

He sprinted over to the spot. The only people in sight wore uniforms and did not seem at all suspicious, but he found two indistinct prints in the planter soil. They were of a size that could easily belong to a tall woman. Somehow, that did not surprise him. The joy he had experienced when he first embraced his daughter had been dirtied by misgivings.

All the way home he reviewed the growing body of circumstantial evidence against T'Beth . As he lowered his skimmer onto the pad, he was relieved to see Lauren and Simon safe on the front porch. Simon had recently entered the Suzuki program for violin. Now the boy carefully set down the little instrument provided by their gardener and rushed excitedly to the fence.

"Daddy, I learned a song!" he cried out. "T'Beth helped me! You gotta listen!"

Spock passed through the gate. Lifting his son into his arms stirred a deeply protective feeling. "Of course," he told Simon, "I want to hear it." His eyes met those of his wife. "It happened again. Is T'Beth here?"

Lauren looked frightened. "No, she's been gone for hours. I had calls here, too."

oooo

T'Beth failed to show up for dinner. Afterward, Spock felt the need to be alone with his thoughts and retreated to his study. There Simon found him, sitting at his desk holding the old teddy bear he had bought as a Christmas gift for his daughter when she was fourteen. It was the only thing he had ever given to the girl that she truly enjoyed. He remembered well the look of happiness on her face as she opened the gift box—and the pain he felt on her eighteenth birthday when he found the discarded toy stuffed in the closet of his ransacked room.

Simon approached him, eyeing the worn bear with all the avarice of early childhood. "Daddy, where'd you get dat? Is it for me?"

Spock looked upon his handsome son and thought of T'Beth and all the years of her early childhood that he had missed. "No, Simon. It belongs to your sister."

Spock heard the front door close downstairs and something inside him tensed. Simon's face lit up. Reaching over to pat the bear, he said in a conspiratorial whisper, "Do you s'pose she'll let me have it—if I ask?"

Spock's first impulse was to forbid such a query. Bringing out the toy would only stir unpleasant feelings that still lingered between him and his daughter. And just now he would rather not encourage Simon's fondness for T'Beth. He did not understand how Simon had quickly become so comfortable around her. The boy was barely three; his mental shielding was not well developed. Each time T'Beth touched him, Spock expected his son to react negatively, as he had when he was an infant. Instead, Simon actually seemed to enjoy having his sister near him. Either T'Beth no longer harbored any ill will toward her little brother, or she had repressed those emotions to such a degree that she was no longer consciously aware of them.

Looking into Simon's eyes, Spock wondered. "Very well," he said at last, "take the bear to her and ask nicely."

Simon snatched it from his hands and sped off. Spock followed him down into the living room. He watched T'Beth give away the toy with apparent graciousness and was ready when she turned from the boy and met his gaze. Her remorseful expression was quite convincing. Perhaps she had a future as an actress.

Before she could bring up the past, he told her, "You were expected here for dinner."

"I know," she said quietly. "Sorry, Father. I didn't mean to inconvenience anyone. I…I just lost track."

"Next time, call," he said and added pointedly, "I am sure you do know how to use the phone in an appropriate manner."

She looked guilty and ashamed.

"You spend a great deal of time away from the house," he observed. "Where do you go? What do you do?"

T'Beth blushed and stared at the floor. "There's a…a Buddhist temple," she stammered, "across from Golden Gate Park on Fell Street. It's so peaceful inside, like the grotto beneath Donari. Sometimes I…I go there to meditate…and pray. Sometimes, though, I just go for a walk in the park."

At least she had the grace to look embarrassed over her lies. Spock hoped the emotional discomfort would put an end to her childish campaign of harassment. "I am sure," he said, "that you could benefit from some time spent in meditation."

oooo

T'Beth sat cross-legged on the floor of her bedroom. Using a method taught to her by her Donari companion, she opened her anguished soul to the healing Light of the Divine Presence. She waited in stillness, ready to accept whatever might be revealed. But tonight there was no relief from the bitter turmoil. Her heart ached. Her mind kept wandering. Her body fell prey to intemperate urges, enticing her to roam the night and seek out the sense of intimacy that eluded her in her father's home.

She felt so lonely here, where everyone but Simon treated her with coolness and suspicion. Only yesterday she had offered to take care of her brother while Lauren put in her mornings in the research department at Starfleet Medical Center. But no, they had insisted on keeping Mrs. Sakata, the gardener's wife. "Auntie", as Simon called her affectionately. The woman watched over him—and eyed T'Beth—like a wrinkled old hawk, as if someone had warned her that T'Beth was dangerous.

Why couldn't they see that she had changed? Why couldn't they see how much she loved her baby brother?

Collecting her thoughts yet again, she reminded herself, Everything happens for a reason. Even this. My life is being guided by a Higher Power. All is as it should be…

oooo

Lauren lay in bed beside her husband. Their whispered conversation had trailed off into the silence of night, but she knew Spock was still awake. Thinking, like her. Struggling with the pall of uneasiness that had come into their home with T'Beth's return.

Suddenly he spoke, his voice tinged with regret. "It is many years since I have been able to reach her. An impenetrable wall has risen between us."

Lauren wondered if it was not best just to leave T'Beth behind her wall of lies. Who knew what the girl was hiding? Aloud she said, "Spock, she knows you suspect her now. She'll have enough sense to stop bothering us—won't she?"

She wanted him to reassure her. She needed to draw on his Vulcan strength. She needed to hear him say that there was nothing to worry about, that one way or another he would handle the trouble with his daughter. When he failed to reply, she rose up on her elbow and looked at him. His eyes met hers, black in the shadows of the bedroom. His hand went to her hair.

"Come closer," he said, and Lauren curled contentedly against him. When she was safe in his arms, all her worries seemed less significant. With a sigh she let herself relax and gradually drifted to sleep.

oooo

Long after Lauren had nodded off, Spock got out of bed and quietly slipped into his clothes. It was early in the morning when the door of his study opened and T'Beth peeked in.

"I…saw the light under your door," she said with hesitation. "Can we talk?"

Turning from his work, Spock gave her his full attention.

She came inside. "Father, there's something I've been wanting to say to you. Something personal."

With T'Beth, such an announcement could mean anything. Spock prepared himself for the worst.

She remained near the closed door, nervously clenching her hands together. "It's about the fal-tor-pan ceremony on Vulcan, when T'Lar reunited your katra with your body. That was a genuine rebirth. I mean there you were, given a second chance at life. It must have made a very deep impression on you." She paused for a breath, and the words rushed out. "I'd like to know—how did you feel afterward?"

The question was totally unexpected. Spock did not like thinking back to that period following the ceremony at Mount Seleya. "The major impression I recall is one of confusion. You were there."

"Yes. At first you didn't remember me."

"My clarity of mind only returned gradually, with much study and effort. Why do you ask?"

She moved closer, her face showing the strain of some inner conflict. "I was hoping…that maybe it's something we have in common. Maybe it would help you understand what I'm going through."

"I see."

Pulling up a chair, she sat down near him. "I didn't deserve to be healed," she said softly, "yet my life was spared, the use of my legs returned to me. Things like that don't happen without a reason, and if the reason isn't in my past, then it has to be somewhere in my future." She bent forward, her eyes intent. "Father, I feel called. I feel chosen. I feel like I have a mission to perform, only I don't know what it is."

Spock leaned back in his chair, uneasy. It was not the first time he had heard such words spoken, with the same fanatical intensity. As a boy, he had heard them from his half-brother Sybok. Only a few short years ago he had heard them again, when Sybok's religious delusions lured him to his death. He saw now that he should have told T'Beth about her uncle when she first heard his name and became curious. Now he wondered if it was too late for her to listen.

Rising, he went to the French doors that opened onto the balcony, and drew aside one of the curtains. The stars shone brightly tonight. In his mind's eye he envisioned the flight of the Enterprise as it took them beyond the Great Barrier, to Sybok's Sha Ka Ree.

"You think I'm crazy," she said, "don't you?"

"I think," he said with his back to her, "that there is something you need to know…about my brother."

Clear across the room, he sensed T'Beth's astonishment and turned toward her. "Yes. I also had a half-brother. His name was Sybok."

It was nearly dawn when he finished the tale. Wasted effort, he realized. Judging by the look on T'Beth's face, he had only managed to incur her anger.

"This is different," she said heatedly. "Father, listen to me. I'm not insane, I'm not obsessed, and I'm not under some weird alien control." She stopped and visibly struggled to compose herself before starting over in a calmer tone. "I'm sorry, Father…it's just that…I guess I expected more from you. I would have thought, with your knowledge of Vulcan mysticism…"

There was quiet. Then Spock told her, "The form of so-called 'Vulcan mysticism' I practice is not aimed at communication with an imaginary deity. I have tried to teach you my form of meditation. Its purpose is to eradicate emotion and expand the mind. Nothing more."

T'Beth stared at him in dismay. "I should have realized. You've never once mentioned God to me. Oh, Father…" She lowered her head into her hands. Her thick, dark braid fell forward over her shoulder. As if to herself, she said, "You'll never understand. Never…" He watched her draw in a slow breath, and then abruptly she stood. "I'll leave you alone now. That's what you want, isn't it?"

Spock found that he could summon little sympathy for her. "Yes, T'Beth, that is precisely what I want. Either leave me and my family in peace, or go elsewhere."

"Your family" Tears flooded her eyes. She went to the door and paused. "Are you saying you want me to move out?"

"I hope it will not come to that."

She swallowed hard and seemed to transform into the T'Beth of old. With a defiant lift of her chin, she said, "There's something else. I couldn't help but notice that my Golheni dagger wasn't in with the other things the Patrol sent. Do you know where it is?"

Here was yet another sore point between them. "Yes," Spock said. "I do."

Her eyes narrowed. "That dagger is rightfully mine."

Spock felt his patience slipping. T'Beth's manner suggested that he had meant to appropriate the valuable artifact for himself—in essence, steal it—rather than just keep it safely out of young Simon's reach.

"I would like it now," she said stiffly.

The sense of insult deepened. Spock considered well before unlocking his desk drawer. His eyes met hers as he stood and put the sheathed assassin's dagger into her outstretched hand.

"I trust," he said levelly, "that you will keep this where your brother cannot find it." As if there were any kind of trust left between them—as if there ever had been.

She gave a cool nod.

After she left, Spock went into Simon's room and gently picked up his sleeping son. When he settled him into bed beside Lauren, his wife stirred.

"What's going on?" she mumbled.

Spock told her what had happened, and they argued in whispers while Simon slept on. Lauren's indignation about the knife did not surprise him. Over the years he had become so skilled at bending the truth that she sometimes forgot he could not lie outright like a human. There were times when he almost wished he could.

"Okay," Lauren conceded, "so you had to tell her the dagger was here. But why did you hand it over to her?"

The answers that occurred to Spock did not satisfy even him. A point of pride? An unwillingness to trigger one of T'Beth's epic tantrums? "What is done, is done. Until the situation with T'Beth is resolved, Simon will sleep here with us."