Chapter 9

As their journey neared its end, Spock sat beside his son in the starliner's observation lounge. It was good to leave the trouble at Gol behind him for a time. Rokar and Dalek remained under arrest. The police investigation had turned up no sign of Yanashite sabotage, but had led to additional indictments against Nath and Dekin, as well four other kolinahru involved in the Baruk abduction. So it seemed there would be some justice for Yanashites, after all.

The closer Spock came to Earth, the more he found himself yearning for his wife and family. Lauren was certainly right in one regard; he had been away much too long.

The starliner approached the Solar System and dropped out of warp. Planets glided past the steelglass windows. When Earth came into view, Simon grinned, teeth white and straight against his deeply tanned skin. Spock was glad the "sunburn" had healed without leaving any mark. Lauren's initial sight of her son would give her no cause for worry.

"Let's go," Simon said with an eagerness that was infectious.

They picked up their luggage and were among the first to board the shuttles. The sun was setting as they disembarked at San Francisco Spaceport. Walking into the concourse, Spock caught sight of his family waiting. The twins saw him and rushed over with Lauren on their heels. James and Teresa latched onto him with a force that nearly knocked him off-balance. Lauren spread her arms wide and included Spock and Simon in one giant embrace.

Smiling broadly, she drew back, her attention dancing from one to the other as she said, "You both look great!"

Spock put his hand to her face and looked into her eyes. Her smile wavered as even her surface thoughts closed to him. Troubled, he let his hand drop.

Lauren drove the groundcar home, for the twins were clamoring for his attention. James, who had finally grown as tall as his sister, glowed with perfect health. Teresa chattered without ceasing, and before long they settled onto the driveway.

The house shone with countless blue lights strung around the eaves and windows.

"Christmas lights!" Simon exclaimed. "We've never had those before."

Lauren shut down the motor and turned to Spock with a hopeful expression. "Do you like them?"

"Everything is fine," he assured her. "You have done very well in my absence."

She smiled nervously and averted her eyes in a way that brought back the disquieting words of her subspace message. There are things that I haven't told you, either. For the sake of our marriage, we have to get this straightened out.

It was hours before the twins were asleep. Then Simon went off to his bedroom with another embrace from his mother.

Lauren's gaze followed their eldest son as he left the living room and walked upstairs. Softly she said, "I can't get over the change in that boy. He's gotten so much more mature." She looked over to the sofa where Spock was seated. "You've done a wonderful job with him."

"It is Yanash who changed him," Spock said.

A shadow crossed her face. All evening they had not spoken about anything of real importance. Now that they were finally alone, she seemed more remote than ever.

"Come in the lab," she said abruptly. "You won't believe some of the progress I've made in that new project of mine."

Spock rose and followed her down the hall, into her laboratory, controlling his impatience while she sat before her biocomp and brought him up to date. It seemed there would be no end to her nervous talking.

At last he turned and closed the door. Gently confronting her, he said, "Enough about research."

She fell silent and her eyes widened with apprehension.

Spock moved nearer, as if mere physical proximity might close the emotional distance between them. And he said, "Lauren, I will not be put off any longer. What is the trouble?"

Tears welled in her eyes; she shook her head. "You're so different."

The words cut a swath of fear in Spock's heart. She had loved him the way he was—empty like so many others, searching for something to fill and satisfy him. Now that he had found the answer, he seemed strange to her. What would become of their marriage?

Cautiously he said, "Am I so very different? In time you will grow accustomed to the change in me."

Keeping to her seat, Lauren let out a deep sigh. "How, when we're not even living together? What kind of life is this?"

"It is the life to which Yanash has called me."

"Yanash!" she cried. "I'm getting sick of the very name!" Her face crumpled. Hiding behind a hand, she struggled for control.

Spock held his tongue rather than say how offensive he found her attitude. One wrong remark from him and they would be quarreling.

At last she lowered her hand. Staring at the floor, she spoke in a thick, halting voice. "I'm sorry. I had no right to say that—not after what he did for Jamie. But I'm so scared. Scared of what all this will mean for us. You've changed…and I've changed, too."

Spock struggled for words of his own. "It…pains me that you have grown so distant. In your messages you mentioned…'things' that you have not told me. Well, I am here now. I am listening."

Lauren sat in silence for a long moment. Another sigh escaped her. "You won't like it."

"Lauren," he urged.

Her eyes rose and met his, full of unspoken anguish. "So much has happened. You can't possibly understand."

"I will try," he promised.

Once more her gaze dropped. Softly she said, "It all began with Tony…"

At the masculine sounding name, Spock's thin thread of hope snapped. In his absence, had she found another? There was fresh anger…and bitter loss.

"Tony…" The name rasped in his throat.

"Jim's wife," Lauren clarified, to Spock's considerable relief.

Emotional involvement had made him forego logic and jump to an unsavory conclusion. Not Tony then, but Toni—Antonia Cordova Kirk, who had become fast friends with his wife and even painted the lovely portrait of Lauren that hung on the living room wall.

But Lauren was still far from calm as she said, "You know I had some Catholic training when I was a child…but it didn't amount to much. I've always been kind of surprised that my brother Larry turned out so religious. I've told you that I believe in God…but it wasn't a very active faith."

Spock asked, "What has all this to do with Antonia?"

"I'm getting around to that." But then she paused yet again before saying, "Remember how surprised you were when I went along with your plan for taking James to Vulcan? Well, I'd been praying hard all night. I would have tried anything to save him…and when Yanash touched Jamie and brought him back to life…well, something happened inside me, too."

Spock held himself very still.

Wiping a tear from her face, Lauren continued. "Yanash said not to tell anyone, but when I came back to Earth I confided in Toni. She began talking to me about her Catholic beliefs, and introduced me to a wonderful old priest. The more time I spent with them, the more I admired their kind of faith…and before long, I began to share it. For the first time in my life, Jesus Christ became real to me. I wasn't just talking about him, I was learning to talk with him. I finally got up the courage to go to church, and it felt as if I was coming home."

"Coming home to the Truth?" Spock questioned.

Looking desolate, she bit her lip. "I'm glad you believe in God now. But you're a Yanashite, with strong beliefs of your own…so you're going to tell me there's only one truth."

"Yes," he replied, "and not only as a Yanashite, but as a scientist."

Tears welled again. "Of course. I knew it. Well, here goes. Like it or not, I'm Catholic now. The twins and I have been attending Mass over at St. Bridget's, and they're also enrolled in religious classes. I need your cooperation to get them baptized…and unless our marriage is validated, I won't be able to receive Communion." Her eyes sparked with anger. "You think I'm wrong, but if you really love me, you won't stand in my way."

For a moment Spock just stood there, reviewing each and every nuance of her revelation. So this was her carefully guarded secret? Stepping closer, he drew her from her seat. With his hands on her arms, he searched her defiant face and said, "Lauren…aisha…you speak as if we are in opposition to one another—as if even the Gods we reverence are somehow in conflict, when in fact they are one in the same."

Her brows puckered in a frown. "One and the same? How, Spock?"

"If there is but one Truth, it must by definition be universal. Do you not agree?"

Lauren's frown deepened. "Of course I agree. The word 'Catholic' means 'universal'. But what are you telling me? You don't care if the children become Catholics instead of Yanashites? You don't mind consulting a Catholic priest about our marriage?"

Spock felt his mouth curve into a smile, and did nothing to prevent it. "Once, when Simon was much younger, he came to me asking about the Christian Savior. I would not speak to him of such 'mythical' matters, but told him to consult you. Well, on the voyage here, Simon repeated the question. This time I tested his Latin and told him 'Jesu Christi Domine Deus'."

She was clearly shocked. "You…told him that?"

He explained, "I am not entirely alone in that opinion. Would not a loving Creator send His Son to any one of His worlds in need of redemption? And there are indeed many with evidence of a savior's visit." Taking her by the hand, he said, "Now come with me. There is something I want to show you."

Upstairs in their bedroom, he opened his valise, drew out a folded document from an inner compartment, and handed it to her. Lauren carefully opened the high-grade paper. As she read its flowery script, her eyes widened with astonishment.

She said, "You have an audience with the pope?"

"I am not specifically named," he pointed out. "As you can see, the invitation is for a 'duly authorized representative of Vulcan's Yanashite Community'. Since I was coming to Earth, since I am half human and have experience as an envoy, Sorel chose me. I have an appointment at the Vatican after the first of the year."

Lauren glanced up from the document in amazement. Taking the paper from her hands, Spock set it aside. Then he touched her cheek and gently wiped a lingering tear as he said, "I was educated in the sciences, and your training is in the medical field. It is in our natures to want—to demand—an answer for every question. But one cannot demand answers from God. In time, everything will come clear. For now all we can do is trust in Him and in one another."

Lauren looked at him with an expression approaching wonder. Her trembling fingers rose up and as they enclosed his hand, he could sense a longing that matched his own. Spock drew her into a kiss and she received him with her heart open wide.

oooo

Early Christmas morning, Lauren sat with her family in a pew at St. Bridget Church. She had not expected Spock to accompany her; she had made it clear to him that she would understand if he and Simon chose to stay home. Yet when Mass began, both of them were present. For Spock, it was perhaps a matter of study, and Simon did not want to be left out.

As the scriptures for the day were read, she was reminded of the stories about Yanash and ancient prophetic writings that Spock had been showing her. She thought of the solemn Kuru rite of Living Water that Spock spoke of with such reverence, and as she took his hand into hers, Lauren's love for him deepened until it seemed that her heart would burst.

Glancing up, she met his caring eyes and wished that he did not have to go back to Vulcan. Their time together was so short, but he had assured her that "it would not always be so". She was grateful for the new spiritual understanding that bound them more tightly than ever. Returning her look, Spock raised an eyebrow and smiled slightly, with warmth, as if he were reading her thoughts and appreciated them.

After Mass, the pastor sought out Spock and greeted him. They had already met with Father Thompson during the previous week to discuss the twins' baptism and make the necessary appeal regarding their marriage. And of course, they had talked about Yanash.

News traveled fast among the parishioners and curiosity was rampant. The sight of a Vulcan among them drew a crowd, all intent on being introduced and hearing about what was happening on Spock's planet.

Then, without warning, a discordant note struck. Shaking Spock's hand, a jovial-looking man jested, "So I hear that you're Judas. Any truth to that?"

Spock froze and Lauren could only stand by, wondering how he would react to such an outrageous, distasteful remark. Coming to himself, Spock withdrew his hand and quietly said, "If by that you mean, did I betray the Shiav? The answer is yes."

Lauren stared at him with such shock that she scarcely noticed how the parishioners responded to the news.

He continued, "My misguided concern for Vulcan's welfare led me to act in reprehensible ways, but the Shiav is merciful."

The crowd slowly broke up and drifted out of the church. Lauren was thankful that the children had been off talking with friends. Gathering them, she headed out to their groundcar with Spock. There she told Simon and the twins to get inside and wait.

A light drizzle was falling as she faced Spock in his overcoat and said, "Judas! You? I can't believe that for one second."

"Then try it for two seconds," he grimly retorted. "I should have told you before now. On Vulcan I was in frequent contact with my father, offering information and advice that led to Yanash's arrest. Of course I did not realize he would be killed, but that hardly excuses me."

Lauren struggled to assimilate this new information. Spock and Sarek working together against the Vulcan Savior! "And when Yanash rose?"

"He forgave me. Even more, he overwhelmed me with a depth of loving acceptance beyond all comprehension." And he added, "Simon knows. It is common knowledge among the Yanashites, though they do not often speak of it."

Sighing, Lauren said, "Well you can bet that tongues will be wagging here in San Francisco. Merry Christmas. Let's go home."

oooo

Teresa and James hurriedly took every gift from under the Christmas tree and distributed them, but before the grand opening could begin, Teresa called for a halt.

"Wait, Daddy!" she said, her brown eyes dancing with excitement. "We can't open anything till you get your special present."

Lauren gave Spock a blank look and shrugged.

"Come on, Jamie," Teresa beckoned, "let's go!" Giggling, she ran upstairs with her brother.

"I can't imagine," Lauren admitted to Spock and Simon with some trepidation. The trouble was, Teresa had such an active imagination that almost anything was possible. She was about to follow them upstairs when the twins came running down, empty-handed. Grinning mischievously, they stood on each side of their father's chair and urged him to his feet.

Looking distinctly uncomfortable, Spock complied.

There was a sound on the stairs, but Lauren's eyes were on her husband. She saw him glance toward the sound, saw his face register both shock and pleasure. Then she turned and looked for herself.

A young, dark-haired woman was descending the stairs with a golden child in her arms.

"T'Beth!" hollered Simon.

At the base of the staircase, T'Beth set Bethany on her own small feet and walked over to her father. For a moment they just looked at one another. Then without saying a word, Spock held out his arms to her and they embraced. T'Beth murmured something, kissed his face, and backed away with tears in her eyes.

She hugged Simon, then came over to Lauren.

"Sorry I didn't warn you," T'Beth said apologetically. "Teresa and I cooked this up. If I'd let you in on it, Father would have found out."

"I'm glad you could make it," Lauren assured her, and then they, too, were embracing.

Eventually the Christmas presents were opened and the torn wrappings cleared out of the living room. All his life Jamie had hungered for his big brother's attention, and now was overjoyed when Simon showed an interest in his new toys. Lauren watched Teresa dote on little Bethany and found it difficult to think of herself as a step-grandmother. It was easier to accept Spock in that role, for though he looked only fortyish, he was old enough to be a great-grandfather. He had always shown such patience with the children when they were small, and now he was accepting Bethany as if she were his own.

The aroma of roasting turkey began to permeate the house, and with it came thoughts of the dinner guests who would soon be arriving. Lauren hoped and prayed that it would not be too awkward having T'Beth and the Kirks at the same table. She was not sure how much Antonia knew about Jim's relationship with Spock's eldest daughter. She had warned T'Beth that Jim and his wife were coming, had seen pain briefly flicker in her hazel eyes before T'Beth recovered and said lightly, "That's great. How are they doing?"

The doorbell chimed.

Dropping his toys, Jamie sped to the door, flung it open, and greeted the former starship captain whose name he bore. "Uncle Jim! Aunt Toni! Merry Christmas!"

Jim mussed the boy's hair and delighted him by saying, "Who's this great big Vulcan fellow? Why, you're getting almost as tall as your dad…and twice as handsome."

Turning, Jamie pointed across the room. "I'm an uncle, too. See? T'Beth is here and her little girl is my niece."

Jim and T'Beth locked eyes.

Lauren quickly made the introductions, and Antonia opened a little sack of presents for the children.

In a somewhat distant but polite manner, Jim took notice of T'Beth's daughter. "So this is Bethany," he said to no one in particular.

T'Beth responded with equal restraint. "Yes. She's three. Congratulations on your marriage. I hear that you're raising horses in Idaho."

"Appaloosas," Jim said and left it at that.

Then, to Lauren's relief, the conversation turned toward Spock. Everywhere and with everyone it was the same. Spock, tell us about Yanash. But Lauren no longer wondered how he managed to remain free of conceit with so many people hanging on his every word. Now she knew the painful source of that humility—but unlike Judas, Spock had risen from his despair and received the forgiveness that God offered to every sincere penitent.

Lauren went into the kitchen and before long T'Beth joined her. They were peeling potatoes when Antonia came in.

Jim's wife walked over to T'Beth and said, "It really is so nice to meet you. Jim's told me how you tried to help him when he was drinking. He probably wouldn't have made it, if it wasn't for you and your family."

T'Beth's eyes brimmed with tears. "I didn't know if he even remembered…"

"He remembers," Antonia assured her.

The tension eased perceptively, and there was a friendly atmosphere at the table when they sat down to an early dinner.

Jim looked over the traditional Christmas dishes and gently teased Spock. "What? No Vulcan cuisine?"

"I have had my fill of Vulcan food for months," Spock replied. "Lauren's cooking is a most pleasant change."

Looking amused, Jim offered Spock a platter of sliced meat. "Here then, have some of Lauren's 'most pleasant' turkey."

Antonia nudged her husband in the ribs, eliciting giggles from the twins as Jim contritely set the platter down.

Spock merely raised an eyebrow. "Actually, it is permissible for a follower of Yanash to consume meat. The Shiav himself partook of it when he was among the Golheni, but I cannot bring myself to do so." He added, "I have, however, grown more tolerant of the odor."

"And he eats eggs," Simon said with a smile. "Unfertilized eggs."

"What's that mean?" asked Teresa.

Lauren answered, "It means eggs laid by lonely chickens."

Even Spock smiled at that one.

After dinner the twins went off to play, and they took little Bethany with them. The others were lingering at the table when Jim turned once more to Spock and said, "I was sorry to hear about your mother. How's Sarek doing? I thought he might be here today, since he's in town."

"I was not aware of that," Spock admitted. "Although I have been living on Vulcan, I haven't spoken to my father since the day Yanash died."

"Oh," Jim said. "Then I gather he's not too pleased about your involvement with the sect."

Lauren met her husband's eyes. Earlier, in a private moment, he had stressed that no one must ever know about Sarek's part in the Shiav's arrest. Even in Spock's ongoing manuscript, his "contact" remained a nebulous figure.

Now as the silence stretched, he looked aside. Toying with his glass of non-alcoholic wine, he said, "The name of Yanash evokes a quite…vigorous response…among certain segments of Vulcan society. Neither the traditionalists nor the government support our Community. And as you well know, Sarek's life is deeply entrenched in both governmental affairs and traditions."

T'Beth snorted. "A 'vigorous response'? From traditional Vulcans?"

Spock took a sip of his Zinfandel and reminded her, "It was traditional Vulcans who murdered Yanash."

oooo

The day after Christmas, all government offices were closed for a long weekend. After lunch Spock donned a warm, hooded rain cloak and made his way through a fine mist to the Vulcan Embassy. The long, cold walk gave him ample time to think about his responsibility as a son. Yanash had warned that those who followed him might be ostracized by members of their own families, but his doctrine of love seemed to demand at least some effort at reconciliation.

Perhaps here, far from the pressures and prejudices of Vulcan—here where Sarek had first fallen under the charm of a human named Amanda—he would open his mind and his heart to the son they had conceived together.

Spock came to the door of the embassy and was admitted. Drawing back his hood, he waited uneasily as the doorkeeper informed Sarek by intercom that his son wished to see him.

There was a telling pause.

At last Sarek's deep voice filtered through the speaker. "I will receive the visitor in the secondary conference room."

Spock knew the way well. He had occasionally lived in the embassy as a boy. After his re-education on Vulcan, he had stayed here with his father before returning to Starfleet. In this same building he had taken Lauren to be his wife, and Sarek had danced a waltz at their wedding reception.

He entered the richly paneled room, turned on a lamp, and stood waiting. It seemed a hopeful sign that his father had consented to meet him. At least Sarek had not yet fully retreated into his usual bitter, unyielding silence. Perhaps he had come to realize that nothing was ever solved in that way.

Spock heard heavy footsteps in the hall. The turning of the antique doorknob sent him fleeing back in time to that insecure halfling boy, desperate to please his eminent father. He scarcely recognized the Vulcan who entered the room.

Sarek's steel-gray hair had gone mostly white. His cheeks were hollow, his frame shrunken and frail-looking beneath the robes of his office. Only his eyes were unchanged; they struck at Spock like a pair of dark, penetrating daggers.

It took a moment for Spock to find his voice. "Father," he said, and the wrenching thought followed, Have I done this to you?

Sarek coolly scrutinized him. "So…you have come back to Earth. Have you also come back to your senses?"

The boy in Spock shrank before his father's question. With all his heart he longed to tell him, Yes, have come back to my senses. I will not grieve you any longer. I will do whatever you ask, if only you will accept me as your son. If only you will love me.

Sarek grew impatient with waiting and said, "Do you intend to answer?"

The harshly spoken words yanked Spock free from the temptation. Sarek was blind to his emotional needs; he would only have found them weak and disgusting. The love and acceptance Spock had always sought from his father could only come from a higher Source. Had not Yanash said to him, "My son"?

Sending the Eater of Souls fleeing, Spock affirmed, "I am pledged to serve Yanash."

"A dead criminal?" Sarek exclaimed. "You went among the Yanashites as an agent of sanity. You advocated the renegade's arrest. What has become of your logic? Turn away from this Yanashite madness!"

The verbal attack struck Spock with all the force of a blow. Struggling for composure, he said, "Father, you do not realize what you are asking. If you knew the Shiav as I do…"

"The Shiav," Sarek countered with disdain. "You sound like—" he barely stopped short of speaking the forbidden name—"like your deluded half-brother. What have you and your fellow Yanashites done? At the Hall of Ancient Thought, our treasury of katras was lost forever. You were there."

"Yes, and we submitted ourselves to verifier scans. Surely you must know that the Yanashites have been vindicated of any wrongdoing. The collapse of the power grid cannot be explained by anything but an act of God."

"An act of God! I give no credence to such things, "Sarek declared. "You are a scientist. There is cause and there is effect. With your background, you are quite capable of masterminding an act of sabotage that would be all but undetectable."

Spock could not deny that he possessed such a capability. "Nevertheless," he insisted, "I did not, and duly testified to that fact."

Sarek glared at him. "Perhaps you now fancy yourself as another Surak. Scientist and reformer."

"No," Spock said, weary of the conflict. Any further remarks would only fuel the argument. There was but one way Sarek might be made to understand, and as daunting as it seemed, he had to make the attempt. "Father, if I could share what I have experienced among the Yanashites these past months, you would see us differently." He tried in vain to swallow the dryness from his mouth. "Although I have never made such a request of you, it is permitted by Vulcan custom. I am asking you to meld with me."

Sarek reacted as if the invitation were an insult. His dark eyes flashed as he pronounced each word forcefully. "I…will…not! I will not enter into your twisted, illogical mind!"

Spock stood mute before his father's rejection, his last hope for reconciliation crushed. He might have sought escape if Sarek were not blocking the only exit.

"At least think of your mother," Sarek continued, "and the shame you are bringing to her memory on Vulcan. There have always been those who blamed her when you behaved inappropriately. Plak-waru. It is the same in both worlds. Bad blood."

Spock cleared his throat, but no words came. Was he really hurting his mother? Before the end she had encouraged him to begin a spiritual journey, and since her death she had journeyed far ahead. But someday, when he also passed through that portal, they would surely meet again.

Disgusted by his silence, Sarek pronounced, "You should have died with your brother."

The ambassador turned on his heel and left the room.

Alone, Spock closed his eyes, shut them tight, forcing away the stinging pressure that was gathering behind them. He needed to leave this place. He needed to walk out calmly, in complete control of himself. But it was not so easy to submerge his emotions as it had once been, when the discipline of Vulcan was his only creed.

His thoughts went to Yanash, and he was thankful that he had not denied his faith in the Shiav. In the midst of his anguish he remembered how Yanash had also been rejected; how he had willingly lain down and offered himself upon the ledge. As Spock united his suffering with that of the Shiav, his pain took on new meaning and became manageable.

He opened his eyes, set his jaw. And drawing up his hood, he walked out of the Vulcan embassy into the damp winter day.

oooo

Lauren was amazed at how at how word of Spock's arrival spread. Their time together as a family had become very limited; she longed for privacy, but each day brought a steady influx of visitors to the house on the hill. There were relatives such as Lauren's mother who came in from New York for an evening. There was Doctor McCoy, now semi-retired from Starfleet, and Aaron Pascal, who had unexpectedly taken a shy interest in T'Beth and returned almost every day to see her. There was Leo Kessler, Spock's friend from prison, who had won his release and taken a job at a desalinization plant in Long Beach.

All of these were to be expected, particularly since they knew that Spock would not be on Earth very long. It was the others who began to try Lauren's patience—the ever-increasing number of journalists, media representatives, and curiosity seekers who found their way to the front door, and even sometimes the back door. The polite ones were not too objectionable, but the people who angrily demanded an interview with "the Yashanite"—an all-too-common mispronunciation—found the door firmly shut in their faces. There were crackpots who shrilly denounced Spock for everything from "scientific heresy" and "cultural perversion", to a "male clergy sexist". And worst of all were those who branded him a "Judas". Spock had never acted out of avarice, but from a concern for Vulcan's welfare.

Lauren had just banished one such lady from her porch when the doorbell chimed yet again. Annoyed, she flung the door open.

A slender, balding tower of a man grinned at her. His gray eyes twinkled with mischief and he caught her in a hug that lifted her right off her feet.

"Larry!" she gasped.

"Hi, Sis." His moustache tickled as he gave her a peck on the cheek. Then he set her down. "I'm staying out at the beach house. I tried to call, but couldn't seem to get through. What happened to your phones?"

"We had to turn them off…" she began to explain.

"Money that tight?" he quipped. Drawing her completely onto the porch, he pulled the door closed so that no one in the house could overhear them. Suddenly serious, he said, "I know Spock's back from Vulcan. That's why I came. I need to talk to him."

Lauren's heart seized. It pained her that Larry had never had any use for her husband. He had avoided Spock ever since their wedding reception, when the two men nearly came to blows. Larry was a Salesian priest and seldom left his mission field on Gamma Vertas IV; until now he had carefully timed his visits for those occasions when Spock was away from Earth.

"Don't look so worried," he said. "I didn't come all this way just to pick a fight." He slashed an invisible X over the front of his sweater. "Cross my heart."

Lauren studied his face. "Okay then," she said with trepidation, "but mind your temper. He's already had enough trouble from his own relatives."

She opened the door and they went inside. For once, the house was quiet. T'Beth and Aaron had taken all the children up to the snow. Spock was upstairs going over the material he would need at the Vatican tomorrow.

"Wait here in the living room," she said, and turned to the staircase only to discover that Spock was just starting down.

She met him at the base of the stairs and looked a warning into his eyes. "My brother Larry is here. He wants to talk to you."

Spock raised an eyebrow and waited to see if she would add anything, but all she could do was shrug. Lauren followed him into the living room and stood watching at a discreet distance. These were the two most important men in her life. She intended to make sure they didn't kill each other.

Larry turned from the Christmas tree and gave Spock an odd, searching look. "Captain. It's been a long while."

"Indeed," Spock said. "But you need not call me Captain, for I am retired from Starfleet."

Larry nodded. "So Laurie told me. She's kept me pretty well-informed over the years…" He stopped to rub the back of his neck in a self-conscious gesture carried over from childhood. "It must seem pretty strange to you, my showing up all of a sudden…after the way I've always shut you out."

Very courteously Spock said, "I know that you have always acted out of concern for your sister's wellbeing."

Larry sighed. "Yes, that's how I saw it at the time. But lately…" His voice trailed off.

"Please," Spock said, "sit down."

Lauren stayed in a corner of the room while the men took chairs at a comfortable distance from one another. She could only hope that, for once, the doorbell would remain silent.

Larry leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I hear you were on Vulcan before Yanash was executed. Laurie says that he cured your son Jamie, and after that you stayed on with him. That you saw Yanash die and you saw him come back from the dead. She says there's a church forming with a priesthood and sacraments."

"All correct," Spock said, "only in the case of James, our son actually died. Yanash touched the boy and restored him to life…but I did not commit myself to the Shiav until after he had died and come back."

Looking suitably amazed, Larry glanced over at Lauren. "Jamie was dead?"

At her affirming nod, he turned his attention back to Spock. "And Yanash—you're absolutely certain that he died? There was no possibility of mistaken identity, or a hoax?"

Though it was a common question, Spock patiently described the cruel ordeal he had witnessed with his own eyes. "…and so as you see," he concluded, "at the point of death his body was in a state of complete mutilation. By morning—although I did not stay to see it—there would have been only skeletal remains. T'Lar's healer was present and she attested to that fact. It was she who first saw the Shiav when he rose from the tomb. Although she participated in his execution, she is now a devoted believer. And you may as well know there is more."

Lauren held her breath as Spock unflinchingly described his own role in the Shiav's arrest.

Larry sat up very straight, just listening until it was over. "Oh my God," he said. "How difficult that must be for you." Then, like so many others before him, he asked, "Can you tell me about your Yanash? What he was like, what he taught. I hear that he's turned Vulcan upside-down."

Lauren knew it was safe now. Humming happily to herself, she went into her laboratory and set to work on some research. Later, when she came out, the two men were on their feet. Larry was shaking Spock's hand like a brother.

oooo

The hour was late, and Spock had taken his Vulcan lamp into his study and lit the attunement flame. While his family slept, he sat down on a meditation stool. With eyes closed and palms open to the heavens, he surrendered that interior region of which Love alone was now master. In traditional Vulcan meditation, he had been taught to exclude his animal senses from his consciousness, free his mind of emotion, and systematically remove every thought as he gave himself over to the universe. As a Yanashite, he did not exclude any aspect of his being—physical or spiritual, human or Vulcan. He no longer surrendered himself to the universe, but to its Creator. His experience of God was immediate, personal, and deeply humbling.

The only true meditation was a meeting with Yanash, and now more than ever, Spock needed the Shiav's guidance. Vatican City awaited him. The hour had come and he felt inadequate for the task that lay ahead; by comparison, all his years representing Starfleet and the Federation seemed as nothing. He and he alone would travel to the seat of Christianity and speak on behalf of the Shiav.

Hoping for some last minute reprieve, he asked, Must it be me?

A thought formed in his mind, and perhaps it was only a distraction. Earlier today, in her brother's presence, Lauren had spoken of the memorial service after Spock's death aboard the Enterprise. Due to her injuries, she had been unable to attend, but lay listening in sickbay as it was piped over the intercom. For the very first time she described it; Kirk's touching words and Scott's rendition of "Amazing Grace" on his bagpipes. Bagpipes. How strange it was for Spock to visualize his own funeral, with Kirk lauding his "human soul" and a Christian hymn playing for a confirmed Vulcan atheist. I once was lost…but now am found…was blind…but now I see. His mother would approve of the verses. So very poetic, and so true.

This, then, was his answer. He had been found. He had been given new insight. And now, like Sparn before him, he was expected to share it.

Shortly after midnight he rose, donned a cloak over his Vulcan styled suit, and took up his briefcase. As he came downstairs, his eyes focused on the painting that faced the steps. Over the years, Chagall's "Expulsion from Paradise" had taken on many different meanings for him. Since returning from Vulcan he saw for the first time the desolating effects of Adam and Eve's sin. Yet the picture was incomplete. They had not, after all, been abandoned to the outer darkness. God Himself had gone out searching for his lost children in order to gather them back to Himself.

Spock continued into the living room and found his brother-in-law dressed in a black clerical suit, roman collar, and overcoat.

Reverend Fielding rose up and asked, "Ready?"

"Yes, Larry," Spock replied. Earlier in the evening he had contacted the Vatican and asked if a Salesian priest might accompany him. He was glad that the response was positive. In the span of a few hours, Lauren's brother had turned from an adversary into a supportive friend.

Spock phoned for transport, and they were beamed through an orbital relay station to the heart of Rome. Getting their bearings, they stepped off the sheltered tourist pads into a cool morning at St. Peter's Square. Pigeons startled into flight, then quickly settled nearby and strutted over the pavement.

Spock looked up at the exquisite dome of St. Peter's Basilica that dominated the skyline. He had toured Vatican City once before, as a cadet on break from Starfleet Academy. He had studied the architecture of its great buildings and visited the art galleries with their paintings and statuary. He had gazed upon the magnificent frescos by Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel. He had done all that, and more, while entirely missing the point of so much grandeur. Blind to living faith, he had looked upon all of this as nothing more than an interesting collection of Earth relics.

"Ready?" Larry asked again. He was clearly anxious to be moving.

Spock nodded. Now that they had arrived, he felt a great sense of serenity. Together with his brother-in-law, he set out toward the long, uneven structures of the Vatican palace. There, a congenial priest ushered them into a reception room adorned with frescos by Raphael.

"His Holiness will be with you in a moment," the priest said, and after briefly explaining matters of protocol, chatted pleasantly as he waited with them.

After glancing at the door through which the pope would enter, Spock asked, "How much time will we be permitted?"

"As much time as His Holiness deems appropriate," the priest replied noncommittally, "but I do believe he has cleared his schedule for the entire morning."

Spock was surprised. The most he had hoped for was an hour, perhaps two.

The door swung open. Dressed in white robes and skullcap, Pope Augustine entered, accompanied by a purple and red entourage of Church hierarchy. The pope's attention immediately focused on Spock. With a vigorous gait the stocky, gray-haired American approached his Vulcan guest and smiled warmly. He did not wait for Spock's name to be announced.

"S'chn T'gai Spock," he said as well as any human had ever pronounced it.

"Spock gave a dignified Vulcan head-bow, then raised his right hand, fingers splayed in salute. "Peace be with you, Your Holiness. I come before you as the Shiav's servant."

"Welcome, welcome," the pope responded. He turned his attention to Spock's companion.

The priest who had escorted Spock and Larry said, "Your Holiness, this is Father Laurence Fielding, a Salesian missionary who has worked to heal the wounds inflicted by Donari raiders on the people of Gamma Vertas IV." He added, "Spock is married to his sister."

When Pope Augustine greeted Larry, the priest dropped to one knee and kissed the pontiff's ring in a show of respect for his office. After the bishops and cardinals were introduced, everyone settled into the chairs that were appointed to them. Spock found himself positioned directly to the left of the pope, with Larry close at his side.

The eyes of the pontiff settled upon Spock with intense interest. "I'm so glad we have this opportunity to speak. Vulcan restrictions have made it impossible for us to send a delegation there. We are currently appealing through the Vulcan Embassy in San Francisco." He paused. "I understand that your father is Ambassador Sarek."

The name lanced at Spock. "Yes," he acknowledged, "but I regret to say that he has little sympathy for the Yanashite Community. The Vulcan government considers us…something of an embarrassment."

"How unfortunate," Augustine said with heartfelt compassion. "It's so difficult when one meets opposition…" And though his words ended there, the silence seemed to infer, from one's own family.

With a sigh, the pope gently turned the conversation to Spock's background. It became clear from Augustine's questions that he had researched his guest well beyond the public news files. He showed a particular interest in Spock's genealogy, both Vulcan and human. He inquired about Spock's wife and seemed very interested in the health and activities of each of his children.

Eventually the discussion came to James, whom Spock described as "…my son who died of Vash-Lester Disease and was returned to me by Yanash, in perfect health."

There was a faint rustle of fabric as several of the men leaned forward.

Then Augustine said, "It is true then, that you knew Yanash personally?"

"I was indeed honored to know him when he walked upon Vulcan soil," Spock replied, "and I know him still."

The pope smiled with understanding. "Take your time," he said. "Please…if you will, start at the very beginning. Tell us how you came to have such faith. Tell us everything just as it happened, just as you remember it."

Spock raised a slanted eyebrow. He had come with a briefcase of information about Yanash, as well as a carefully worded apologetic for the faith. Yet now he was being asked for his personal testimony. Knowing that it would prove embarrassing, he was tempted to offer an abridged version casting himself in a more favorable light. But truth demanded something better of him.

The pope had chosen the name of a man who lived as a profligate sinner before converting to Christianity. Keeping that in mind, Spock left his briefcase on the floor and said, "The story, as it concerns me, began with my uncle on Vulcan…"

oooOOooo