Chapter 1

It was time. On Luna, Spock shut down his computer. Rising from his desk, he left the secluded office that had been his base of operation for several weeks. His boot steps echoed in the bright, refurbished hallway of the former prison colony. Gone was the dank, dingy atmosphere he had endured as an inmate. The recirculating air smelled fresh and clean, with a pleasing hint of paint and disinfectant.

He was glad he had undertaken this "cover" assignment. Transforming the infamous Luna Correctional Facility into a zero atmosphere training base had proven to be almost as personally satisfying as his secret diplomatic exchanges with the Klingon Chancellor Gorkon, but there remained plenty of work here for his successor.

Spock suspected that Captain Kirk would openly oppose the new orders he was about to receive—orders for which Spock was directly responsible. The thought of confronting his estranged friend today at Headquarters, of working side by side with him in the coming days, brought a current of uneasiness that resisted Spock's Vulcan control.

Preparations for the emergency meeting were underway in San Francisco. Spock drew in a slow breath and headed for the shuttle bay.

oooo

Jim Kirk came into the conference room and took the seat Doctor McCoy had saved for him.

McCoy leaned his way. "I was starting to wonder if you were going to show up."

"Visiting a friend," Kirk said, very much aware that his breath smelled of Antonia Cordova's enchiladas. He had spent all morning with her in Idaho, and it might be the last visit for a long while. There had been rumblings of war for weeks. Was this it? Would the Federation finally square off with the Klingon Empire?

Kirk took stock of the other attendees. He and his senior officers seemed out of place amid the top brass of Starfleet. No sign of Spock, either. These days the Vulcan was definitely out of the loop. A bitter smile stirred Kirk's lips as he wondered how Spock felt about losing his chance at the Enterprise, how he liked commanding his paint brigade on the moon…

The reverie was cut short when Admiral Smillie, Starfleet's young Commander-in-Chief, abruptly arrived and called the meeting to order.

Then Smillie said, "I'll make this as simple as possible. The Klingon Empire has roughly fifty years of life left to it."

Kirk did not gasp as so many others did. Fully attentive, he leaned forward.

"For complete details," the admiral continued, "I am turning this briefing over to our special Federation envoy."

Footsteps sounded from the back of the room. Kirk turned to take a look. At the sight of Spock, he sucked in his breath and his fingernails gouged into his palms. "What the hell…?"

As Spock arrived at the lectern, Kirk forced his body to relax. He forced himself to concentrate on the incredible words falling from the Vulcan's mouth. An explosion on the Klingon moon Praxis had contaminated their home world's atmosphere and destabilized its orbit. The effect on the Klingon environment and economy had been disastrous.

Kirk's mind raced ahead. Now he understood why Klingons had begun raiding along the Neutral Zone. No doubt the entire Empire would soon swarm down upon the Federation like bees struck from their hive. War seemed certain.

He turned his attention back on Spock. The "envoy" was saying, "This past month, at the behest of the Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, I have opened a dialogue with Gorkon, Chancellor of the Klingon High Council. He proposes to commence negotiations at once."

"Negotiations for what?" Admiral Cartwright asked.

Kirk scarcely believed Spock's cool reply. Dismantle our space stations? Make peace with the Klingon Empire? He listened in total agreement as Cartwright rose angrily to protest offering Klingons any kind of haven within Federation space. It infuriated him to think of Spock engineering a Klingon peace summit. Like Kirk, the Vulcan had experienced his own share of Klingon treachery. He knew they could not be trusted.

As Admiral Cartwright and Admiral Smillie exchanged words, Kirk could barely restrain himself.

"Sir!" he addressed Smillie.

The C-in-C nodded. "Captain Kirk?"

"Sir, I'm no diplomat, but the Klingons have never been trustworthy. I'm forced to agree with Admiral Cartwright. This is…a terrible, a terrifying idea…"

Smillie's aide leaned toward the admiral and there was a whispered exchange. Smillie turned sympathetic eyes upon Kirk. "I had forgotten your son was killed by a Klingon."

The remark stunned and embarrassed Kirk. Admiral Smillie was using David's death to discredit his opinion in front of the entire assembly. He felt every eye turn toward him.

"Yes sir," he replied stiffly. "However—"

"I am truly sorry," Smillie cut in, "but the Federation agrees with Captain Spock's assessment. The current situation holds great promise."

At the lectern, Spock nodded. "There are those Klingons who advocate a military solution. We must act immediately and lend our support to the Gorkon Initiative."

Kirk listened as Spock described the power struggle between the Klingon warrior class and a "silent majority" that had supposedly come to power since the Praxis disaster. He held on to his anger as the Vulcan praised Chancellor Gorkon for "pursuing a peaceful solution".

The Commander-in-Chief smiled. "Captain Kirk, you are to be our first olive branch."

"Me?" Kirk gaped at Smillie in disbelief.

Whispers rustled through the audience.

Spock directly addressed Kirk. "The Enterprise will rendezvous with the ship carrying Chancellor Gorkon and his party. We will provide a safe escort through Federation space."

Kirk stared in astonishment.

Smillie gave a nod of satisfaction. "Kirk, you may find it interesting that the chancellor himself requested you and your officers for the mission."

"Me and my—" Kirk's voice gave out. "But why, in God's name?"

"Captain, you have a tough reputation among the Klingons. They would think twice before attacking the Enterprise under your command."

Coolly, Spock added, "I have personally vouched for you in this matter, Captain."

"You have personally—" Kirk was too furious to continue. Had the Vulcan forgotten what Klingons did to him and his daughter T'Beth? Kirk could remember when Spock was ruled by his hatred for the whole brutal race. Now what motivated him? Was it really the hope of peace? Or was it just another kind of revenge, a very personal revenge against him for having slipped the Vulcan's grasp—for having hidden himself in Idaho when Spock tried to take control of his life.

Kirk felt as if he had been manipulated by Spock and all of Starfleet. Obviously Spock had never really been considered to command the Enterprise. All along, Spock had been hard at work behind the scene, "in the know" while Kirk was being played like a puppet on strings.

"Captain Kirk," Smillie was saying, "you will accord Chancellor Gorkon full diplomatic courtesy."

Barely managing his anger, Kirk said, "Surely a full ambassador would be better equipped to—"

Smillie interrupted. "Captain Spock will accompany you in his role of envoy. For the duration of this mission he will also serve as your first officer…and diplomatic advisor. I wish you and your crew Godspeed. Thank you all."

The meeting was at an end.

It must have been clear to everyone that Kirk was in no mood for conversation. He stayed in his seat as the others filed out. Spock alone remained, standing by the lectern, quietly meeting the fury in Kirk's eyes.

At last, with bitter sarcasm, Kirk said, "Well, you've found a way to order me around, after all. You've even found a way to get your hands on the Enterprise—but you're a damned fool if you think the Klingons intend to negotiate in good faith. This time you're going to get us all killed."

"Captain," Spock said, his tone as rational as Kirk's was heated, "I have no intention of usurping your authority. You alone must command the Enterprise. The Klingons are afraid of you. You have become a legend to them. You have earned their fear and, more importantly, their respect. This is vital to the success of the mission."

"Had I known what you were up to," Kirk said, fighting to keep his voice steady, "I would never have come back to Starfleet."

Spock merely looked at him.

"How could you do this? After all our years together—" Kirk broke off, too incensed to continue.

"Jim," Spock said with an unusual depth of emotion, "I was asked by my father to open neg—"

Kirk cut him off. "I know your father's the Vulcan ambassador, for godsake, but you know how I feel about this." An upsurge of grief nearly choked him. "You're talking about the people who killed David. Maybe that doesn't mean anything to you, but what about T'Beth? They kidnapped your own daughter. They beat her. They used her!"

Spock retreated back behind his Vulcan mask. "All Klingons did not kill David. All Klingons did not harm T'Beth. You are blaming an entire race for the acts of a few individuals."

"Spock, the entire Klingon race is made of cold-blooded murderers like Kruge, of perverted sadists like Torlath. Killing, raping, is their way of life, all they understand. They're animals!"

It pleased Kirk to see Spock's eyes narrow and lips part ever so slightly. So he had struck a nerve.

But the Vulcan quickly recovered himself. "You are upset, but when you have had time to consider the situation, you will agree. I, too, had my doubts at the outset, but I have found Chancellor Gorkon to be a reasonable, intelligent man. There is a historic opportunity here—"

"Don't trust them. Don't believe them," Kirk urged.

"They're dying."

"Let them die." Kirk inwardly shrank from the ugliness of his own words, but even so, he meant them.

Spock briefly glanced aside before looking back at Kirk. His voice was quiet. "We have been given a choice: peace or war. As a Vulcan, I am bound to choose peace. My choice has nothing to do with the difficulty between us. For the good of this mission, I ask that you set aside your hostile feelings toward me."

Kirk's anger rekindled. He rose up. "Yes, first officer, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Just one big happy ship."

Spock came down from the lectern and walked up to him. Outwardly calm, he said, "The last time we met, you were wheelchair-bound and wanted very much to strike me. I said you would have to stand up to do it. Well, you are standing now."

Kirk felt his rage taking over. His hands balled into fists. He forced them to reopen. "This is neither the time nor the place—but believe me, the time will come."

Spock responded with an almost human appeal. "Jim…must it be so?"

"Captain, to you!" Kirk snapped. "All leaves recalled. Collect your gear and report to the Enterprise."

oooo

The Enterprise had not even left Spacedock, but the mission was already proving difficult for Spock. Kirk's current first officer had made it quite clear she did not appreciate being supplanted even temporarily, and as for the captain—he was correct, polite, and as cold as a Minnesota winter.

With three hours to warp out, Spock entered the tiny cabin assigned to him. The walls had been bare of decoration, so his eyes were drawn at once to a painting over his bunk. His eyebrow rose in puzzlement at the scaled-down version of the Chagall original that hung at home. As he studied the print, Adam and Eve became Klingons driven from their home world, facing an uncertain peace after centuries of warring. And yet again, he saw a somber reflection of himself, thrust forever from the warmth of Jim Kirk's friendship. But for Spock's wife, its meaning would be quite different.

His cabin door opened. He turned and found Lauren in full uniform, smiling at him in the taut way that had nothing to do with humor.

"Surprised?" she asked, gesturing at the Chagall print.

"To some degree," he replied. Yet he understood his wife's intent. After all, Lieutenant Valeris was aboard. The Vulcan had graduated at the top of her class the year Spock was appointed Commandant of Starfleet Academy. Before that, he had been her sponsor. It was only natural that he took satisfaction in her accomplishments. Likewise, the devotion Valeris showed him was not unusual between a student and mentor. Yet Lauren's human insecurity found reason for concern. It was, no doubt, that very insecurity that had led her to place the picture here, where he would look upon it in her absence—a silent yet eloquent reminder of past marital difficulties.

Spock found her concern somewhat amusing. His pride in Valeris was that of a teacher. He could enjoy the lieutenant's company without falling into intimacies reserved for a bondmate.

Lauren stepped closer and the door shut behind her. "I just happened to be passing through," she said, putting her arms around him. "I was hoping I'd get a chance to see you again and say goodbye."

Spock did not remind her that they had already said goodbye in the privacy of their home in San Francisco. He simply held her close and enjoyed her physical nearness. He would be glad when the time of secrecy was over. After the mission he would not have to withhold any part of himself from her.

Lauren drew back, her brow furrowed with concern. "How's Jim behaving?"

"Like the captain of the Enterprise," Spock replied and changed the subject. "This ship is currently restricted. As first officer I must ask you how you managed to…"

"Yes dear, I know." She took an electronic pass out of her jacket. "Doctor McCoy okayed my visit. But you're right, I better beam down before my authorization expires." Her blue eyes sobered. "No use asking you what's going on, is there?"

Spock looked upon her fondly. "No use at all."

She sighed. Rising up on her toes, she touched her lips to his. As she started to move away Spock pulled her back and delivered a proper kiss.

Lauren came away flushed and breathless. "That was not a Vulcan goodbye."

Spock raised an eyebrow. "My wife, you are not a Vulcan."

oooo

"Captain's personal log, Stardate 9522.6 : First day out of Spacedock and I am still troubled about our mission to escort the Chancellor of the Klingon High Council. The arguments of'—Kirk refused to name Spock as his first officer—"the Special Federation Envoy have left me unmoved by any feeling but anger. I resent being forced into a position I regard as untenable, foolhardy and downright dangerous. I have never trusted Klingons and never will. I've never been able to forgive them for the death of my son. As a Starfleet officer, I am duty bound to follow orders, and I will do so. The Klingons will be extended every diplomatic courtesy. Yet I remain convinced that any attempts at dialogue with them will be futile; our cultures are simply too different, and too much hatred has been stirred up within the Federation over past atrocities…"

Kirk paused in the dictation of his personal log and looked at the portrait of David on his desk. A faint cough made him start. He whirled to find Spock's protégée standing in the open cabin doorway. Lieutenant Valeris was an attractive young Vulcan. Kirk had noticed the way she sometimes gazed at Spock, with a glow in her eyes that went well beyond simple loyalty and respect. He wondered if Spock realized she was infatuated with him. He wondered if Lauren knew. He wondered what the hell Valeris was doing here and exactly how much she had heard.

"Valeris." Kirk carefully hid his annoyance. "You should make your presence known by knocking. It's human courtesy."

The greenish hue of her complexion deepened, but she kept her composure as she said, "We are almost at the rendezvous, Captain. I thought you would want to know."

As Kirk slipped into his jacket she suddenly asked, "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

He gave the lieutenant his full attention.

"I…gather you are not enthusiastic about the assignment," she ventured. "I do not think many on board are. Sir."

Kirk felt a fresh surge of irritation. Obviously she had overheard the anti-Klingon comments in his log entry. Now would Spock's starry-eyed protégée presume to lecture him? Brushing past her, he said, "I suggest you take the matter up with the special envoy."

oooo

Dressed in a meditation robe, Spock was lighting his attunement flame when the door chime sounded.

"Come in," he said.

The door opened, then closed behind Lieutenant Valeris as she entered his cabin. As always, Spock was pleased to see her.

"I have come to tell you," Valeris said, "that we are arriving at the rendezvous point."

Spock nodded, but for the moment remained as he was. Valeris' eyes seemed troubled as they took in his cramped quarters and came to settle on the Chagall. Not proper Vulcan behavior, but her initiation into the disciplines had been delayed.

This was her first starship assignment. Thinking to put her at ease, Spock said, "You have done well, Valeris. In your career, in your…personal development, you have surpassed my expectations. I feel certain the captain is also satisfied with your performance."

Her face flushed. "Sometimes I seem…to annoy him."

"He is human," Spock reminded her. "I do not need to tell you that humans are an emotional race."

He had no chair to offer her, so he gestured to his neatly made bunk.

Valeris drew a breath and sat. "Sir, I mean no disrespect to the captain…"

Once more Spock nodded. There was very little he could offer her, aside from the advice he had been giving himself. "It is not so important that you understand him, but you must trust him."

He was not certain if Valeris found his response helpful. She turned her head and scrutinized the well-framed print on the wall behind her.

"Do you like the painting, Lieutenant?"

"I do not understand the representation," she replied.

"It is a depiction from an ancient religious text on Earth. The Expulsion from Paradise."

She frowned. "Why keep it in your cabin?"

Spock suppressed a smile. "Among other thing, it is a reminder to me…that even in the midst of failure one might find a new beginning."

Valeris rose, her expression openly incredulous. "Sir, if by failure you mean your recent imprisonment…" She broke off with a look of chagrin. "Oh, sir…"

This time Spock permitted himself the suggestion of a smile. "It's alright, Lieutenant. You have not caused any offense."

Her expression remained as intense as ever. "Sir, I realize that your confinement was not due to any failure on your part—yet it is of failure that I wish to speak. I address you as a kindred intellect. Now that a turning point has been reached in the affairs of the Federation, I am concerned that we might choose the wrong path."

"History is filled with turning points," Spock said. Seeing her puzzlement, he added, "You must have faith."

"Faith..?"

"That the universe will unfold as it should."

"It that logical?" she asked. "Surely we must take action to—"

Captain Kirk's voice broke over the intercom. "Klingon battle cruiser off the port bow. All hands on deck. Mister Spock, kindly report to the bridge."

One feminine brow rose. "The captain seems…"

Ignoring her remark, Spock slipped off his meditation robe and donned his uniform jacket. "We were speaking of logic. It is the beginning of wisdom, Lieutenant, not the end." He started for the door, then hesitated. "This will be my last voyage aboard this ship as a member of her crew. A Vulcan of your demonstrated ability should have no difficulty rising to the occasion. As you are aware, nature abhors a vacuum. It is my wish that you replace me."

Her dark, shining eyes gazed up at him. "I could only succeed you, sir—never replace you."

They left for the bridge together.

oooo

After a tense day playing host to the Klingons, Jim Kirk sat in the officers' mess where dinner was—so far—proceeding smoothly. His fingers toyed with a half-drained goblet of Romulan ale as he made polite conversation with Chancellor Gorkon and his daughter Azetbur.

It was Lieutenant Valeris who had suggested serving the ale. Predictably, Spock had taken Kirk aside to say, "Captain, is that wise?" Which of course meant, "Captain, might you get drunk?" Down the table, Spock was keeping a wary eye on him, monitoring every sip, no doubt gauging his fitness to command.

Chancellor Gorkon proposed the first in a series of toasts. Kirk looked over at Spock and took a deliberate, fiery swallow. The evening progressed. Here and there discussions began to take on the strident sound of argument, but as Kirk downed more ale he felt curiously detached.

Suddenly General Chang turned to him. "Captain Kirk, are you willing to give up Starfleet—for the sake of peace?"

Kirk stared at the one-eyed Klingon, struggling to summon an appropriately diplomatic response.

Spock's voice rose calmly. "I believe the captain feels that Starfleet's mission has always been one of peace."

Kirk glared at the Vulcan. "Far be it from me to dispute my…esteemed first officer. Starfleet has always been—"

Chang interrupted. Kirk sat by, silent, as the discussion quickly escalated into a shouting match between his crew and the Klingon delegation. He felt the numbing effects of the liquor working on him and experienced an unexpected sense of shame. Every human at the table was flushed from the potent ale. Of Kirk's officers, Spock alone maintained his usual placid demeanor, for all the good it did. Thankfully, Chancellor Gorkon and Azetbur also remained—if one could say it of a Klingon—reasonable.

Kirk was quite glad when the Klingons returned to their ship. He fully anticipated that Spock would follow him into the lift and blame him for the debacle—as if this whole diplomatic nightmare weren't Spock's doing from beginning to end. But Kirk walked alone to his quarters. Unfastening his jacket, he sat on his bunk and rubbed his aching temples. After a brief log entry he lay on his back and closed his eyes. He was drifting on the verge of sleep when the intercom sounded.

Spock's voice broke through. "Captain Kirk, will you please join me on the bridge? Captain Kirk…"

What now?

oooo

Spock had more on his mind than the evening's "diplomatic" dinner. The bridge viewscreen showed the Klingon battle cruiser Kronos One keeping station beside the Enterprise. All appeared well, but for the disturbing readout at the science station. He was rechecking his data when the turbolift doors hissed open and Captain Kirk walked in.

Tensing, Spock straightened. "Captain."

Kirk glanced at the main viewscreen and turned hostile eyes on Spock. "This better be good."

Even under the best of circumstances, dealing with the captain was not easy these days. Romulan ale would only add to the difficulty. Nevertheless, Spock reported the surge of neutron radiation that appeared to be emanating from the Enterprise. He was detailing his system checks when a photon torpedo streaked from the base of the viewscreen and impacted Kronos with blinding force.

"What the—" Kirk squinted into the glare.

Quickly Spock consulted the science station. He could scarcely believe the readout. "We have fired on the chancellor's ship."

As Kirk delivered a spate of orders, a second torpedo struck Kronos.

"Who's doing that?" Kirk demanded.

Spock's readout spewed data and he watched all hope for peace fade before his eyes. "The Klingon ship's hull has been breeched," he reported. "They have lost gravity and are slowly losing life support. Damage to the vessel is severe." Straightening, he faced the captain. "They never even raised their shields."

Kirk gave him a searing look, then turned away as the viewscreen came alive with a furious image of General Chang. The Klingon briefly screamed at Kirk in his native language before the screen went dark.

Uhura fingered her earpiece. "He says we've fired at them in a blatant act of war."

"We haven't fired…" Kirk insisted.

"According to the data bank, we have," Spock said. "Twice."

As Kronos came about and prepared to attack, Chekov swiveled his head. "Shields up, Keptin?"

Kirk stared at the screen. Grimly he said, "Uhura, signal our surrender."

Spock looked up in surprise.

"But Captain—" Uhura said.

Kirk repeated, "We surrender." As Uhura complied, he went to his command chair and called below. "Torpedo bay. Did we fire those torpedoes?"

"Negative, Captain," came the reply. "According to inventory, we're still fully loaded."

With his hand on the com button, Kirk turned and met Spock's eyes. "Well, Mister Spock, have we fired or haven't we?"

Once more Spock checked the information on his viewer. "Data banks reconfirm, Captain. Two photon torpedoes fired."

Kirk ordered torpedo bay, "Stand down your weapons."

A tense silence settled over the bridge.

Spock studied his viewer. "The Klingons appear to be holding their fire, Captain."

Kirk came over to the science station and motioning Spock aside, checked the data banks for himself.

Kirk straightened, his face resolute. Without looking at Spock, he said, "I'm going aboard the Kronos. You have the con."

Spock stepped in his way. "I am responsible for involving you in this, Captain. I will go."

Anger flared in Kirk's eyes. "You will not. It will be your responsibility to get me out of this."

Spock always kept a viridium patch close at hand in case of emergency. He had intended to use it on himself, but now he surreptitiously pressed the viridium to Kirk's shoulder and said, "Be careful."

Kirk shrugged away from the contact as if thinking Spock might disable him with a nerve pinch. "I hope you're satisfied," he said in parting.

oooo

Doctor McCoy accompanied Kirk as he beamed off the Enterprise. Kirk was still steaming. It was no selfless, heroic urge that had made Spock volunteer to go in his place. Ale or no ale, Spock did not trust him with the Klingons. The touch of Spock's hand had made Kirk sick to his stomach. The sense of queasiness deepened as they arrived in the Kronos transporter room.

Klingon blasters nudged Kirk's head. Heart pounding, he raised his hands in surrender, and McCoy followed his example. Heavily armed guards hurried them through corridors drenched with red-violet blood. Dismembered corpses and their severed limbs were everywhere. Kirk struggled to make sense of the carnage. Since there was no damage to this area of the ship, the injuries could not have resulted from any torpedo.

They came to Gorkon's stateroom where the chancellor lay bleeding in the arms of his daughter, Azetbur.

"My God," Kirk said, "what's happened here?"

General Chang sprang toward him. "You, Kirk! You crippled our gravitational field with a torpedo hit. Two Starfleet crewmen beamed aboard in magnetic boots and they did this! We have witnesses!"

The incredible accusation left Kirk speechless. He watched as McCoy convinced the Klingons to let him try to save Gorkon since their own medical officer was dead. He forced himself not to flinch at the sight of the man's wounds. It seemed impossible that he was still alive.

"Jim, hold him," McCoy said.

Kirk overcame his prejudice enough to grip the Klingon's arms. As McCoy worked on Gorkon, the chancellor's bloody hands closed over Kirk's wrists.

Looking into Kirk's eyes, Gorkon gasped, "Are…you…alright?"

The question shook Kirk. Gorkon was at death's door and he was worrying about a human? Kirk seemed to hear the echo of his own words. They're animals. Let them die. Yet now he found himself hoping against hope, even praying in his own way, that McCoy would somehow work a medical miracle and save this one Klingon. But it was not to be.

oooo

On the bridge of the Enterprise, the senior officers solemnly received Uhura's announcement. "They've been arrested for the assassination of Chancellor Gorkon!"

Spock felt the burden of responsibility settle more heavily on his shoulders. With Gorkon's death, the galaxy had lost its best hope—perhaps its only hope—for peace. Under the circumstances he was not surprised that Kirk and McCoy had been arrested. It was fortunate that he had attached a viridium patch to Kirk before he boarded the Klingon vessel. If the Klingon court ruled against Kirk and McCoy, Spock might be able to track them and attempt a rescue—although he did not yet know how that could be accomplished without provoking a war. It would take some time for the Klingons to transport their prisoners to the trial site and conduct the trial itself. For now, Spock could do no more than keep the Enterprise safe and carry out his own shipboard investigation. He was glad that three trusted officers were there to assist him: Uhura, Chekov, and Scott. He was quite certain he could depend on Lieutenant Valeris, as well.

Now, in the presence of the bridge crew, he said, "I assume command of this ship as of oh-two-thirty hours. Uhura, notify Starfleet Headquarters. Explain precisely what has taken place and request instructions."

She turned to comply.

It would be hours before he received those instructions. Perhaps by then he would know how to respond to them.