Chapter 2

Spock's stay on Vulcan proved successful and he arrived home on a mild summer day. Though he had sent several communiqués to D'Gar, friendly greetings and gentle queries about school assignments, there had not been a single reply. The only word of the boy came through T'Naisa. And since the night D'Gar learned about Nayo's Black League connection, he had said nothing more about it. His brief phone conversations centered on the movie industry and Nayo's status as a star. Clearly D'Gar had grown fond of his father, and it roused in Spock an unpleasant sense of rivalry that he could not quite master. He wanted D'Gar back…safe and secure in their peaceful home. But first, a difficult task lay ahead, and Spock was anxious to be done with it.

By phone, he invited Nayo to Plum Creek for the treatment process. Nayo was between projects, so he arrived with D'Gar that very day, just as T'Naisa was putting dinner on the table. It was the first time Nayo had shared a meal with the family. Tess happily accepted her father's twin, as she did most things, without questioning why Nayo had never visited until now. She kissed Nayo's cheek as if he were a second father, laughing at the way his fresh growth of beard tickled. D'Gar sat at his father's side, as far away from Spock as possible, and frowningly replied to Spock's questions about his studies, admitting that he had "fallen behind".

"Behind?" Spock said drily. "Precisely how many assignments have you completed?"

D'Gar only shrugged, and Spock decided he would say nothing more about education until Nayo left. That night, the boy announced that he would not be sleeping in his old room. Instead, he would share Nayo's quarters at the seminary. T'Naisa cast Spock a pained look. The boy had not even asked permission. Yet, under the circumstances, they thought it best to allow the arrangement.

Under a cloud of tension the treatments began, and after a week of intensive melds involving delicate adjustments, Nayo's cerebral function showed a marked improvement. Then came the second, more difficult phase, when Nayo must learn the technique. Despite a few ill-tempered outbursts, he persevered with the training until Spock thought he might safely put himself into his brother's hands. A fresh week of treatments commenced, with Spock as the recipient—day after day of piercing headaches, followed by yet another week of melds made necessary by Nayo's lack of finesse. It was during this interval that Sola Thane swept in, further distracting Nayo, and warmly welcoming D'Gar into her life. The disruption caused more delay, but one flaming July morning the process was finally over. Only time would tell how long the treatment held.

Nayo packed his bag, eager to leave Plum Creek for the fast-paced world of a celebrity. As he and his wife were about to depart, they took Spock aside and quietly informed him that D'Gar was leaving with them. Spock's face gave no sign of his inner turmoil as he looked at his determined brother and the exotic halfling with whom Spock had a "past" of his own. Legally, Spock still held guardianship over D'Gar, but the boy was Nayo's son. He vividly remembered the bitter custody battle when his former mother-in-law tried to take his own son, James. He would not subject D'Gar to that sort of pain, if the boy truly wanted to live in Colorado.

"One moment," Spock told his brother. He went to D'Gar's old bedroom and found him stuffing a suitcase full of boyhood keepsakes.

Spock's throat tightened. "So…you are moving out?"

Looking aside, D'Gar said, "He's not as bad as you think."

Spock held on to his patience. "Have your ever heard me say anything against him?"

D'Gar muttered an old Vulcan adage. "Silence can be more telling than words."

Spock truthfully said, "Your father and I both thought it best to shield you from his reputation."

D'Gar's dark eyes rose to challenge him. "It wasn't Nayo who stole my memories!"

Spock was startled into silence. So D'Gar knew even about that, and an act of mercy was made to sound like a violation. Spock was on the verge of saying, "It was for your welfare—and with Nayo's permission," but that information would likely drive a wedge between the boy and his father. With an excruciating effort, he said in a kindly manner, "Very well, then. Take whatever you wish. The rest, we can send along later." And he left to inform the others of D'Gar's decision.

In a moment, the boy was ready. He had a quick hug for his Aunt T'Naisa before Tess kissed him on the cheek. Without a word to Spock, he rushed out the door, followed by Nayo and Sola Thane. There was the sound of a skimmer rising into the air. Then quiet settled over the cabin.

With a sorrowful expression, Tess went to the piano and began to play a somber theme. Struggling to contain his own emotions, Spock headed for the porch and stood staring at the clearing where D'Gar had played as a child, where he had just walked away, most likely forever. The prints from his shoes were still visible in the dirt.

T'Naisa came up from behind, and as she embraced him, he could feel her tears on his neck and the pain of her loss mingling with his own. To her credit she did not lay the blame at his feet, but only said, "Well…it's over."

As if, like the healing melds, D'Gar was a project that had reached completion. But nothing about it felt complete to Spock. He had cherished such high hopes for his nephew, who like Spock himself, was gifted in the sciences. Fondly he remembered the faraway, dreamy expression D'Gar sometimes wore. It was not something one expected in a Vulcan, but D'Gar usually managed to keep his mind on the business at hand. Spock believed there was nothing wrong with a dream if it led to a worthwhile goal. But now he feared for his nephew, exposed on a daily basis to Nayo's bad habits and the allure of celebrity life. One stint as an "extra" would not be enough for the boy. Ultimately he would want more, and Nayo would be glad to oblige him. Perhaps they would form a crime-fighting cinema team like the classic Batman and Robin, and D'Gar would turn away from serious studies altogether.

From that day on, Spock was dependent on whatever news T'Naisa gathered from occasional phone conversations with D'Gar. His concern for his nephew's studies eased when Nayo enrolled D'Gar in a school for the gifted. Apparently that educational setting agreed with the boy. When Spock viewed his phone recordings, D'Gar seemed well-spoken and confident.

At Christmas, T'Naisa invited Nayo's family back to Plum Creek, but the gathering felt awkward, for D'Gar continued to ignore his uncle. After that, there were no further attempts at conciliation.

oooo

Three years went by, and very little had changed at Plum Creek. Through official channels, Spock knew that D'Gar still made some effort to practice his Yanashite faith. That alone provided a measure of hope for D'Gar's future, but the loss of his nephew continued to weigh heavily.

Winter returned to Idaho, bringing snowy gales that bent the treetops and sent deadwood crashing to the ground. One blustery day, Spock dismissed his seminarians and was startled to find a well-dressed visitor loitering outside the classroom. With a shock he recognized D'Gar, who at sixteen was nearly as tall as Spock, broad-shouldered, with facial contours maturing into those of a man. A scent of cologne mingled with stale tobacco.

The hallway cleared and still Spock could not take his eyes off him. Finally he said, "I have missed you."

D'Gar's gaze dropped. In a deepened voice he said, "I came through the seminary alcove. I can't stay long…"

"I see," Spock replied. "I'm afraid T'Naisa isn't home. She's making a lecture tour of the temples, and Tess is in Pinehaven."

D'Gar's head came up and his jaw tightened with resolve. "My business is with you. You have something that belongs to me, and I want it back."

"Oh?" Spock took mental inventory of D'Gar's belongings. "Did we overlook some item when we shipped your…" With a sudden pang, Spock realized what his nephew wanted. In the stillness he seemed to hear a distant echo whispering through the hall. He saw himself bending over a frightened, wounded little boy, using his mind to calm him. Right here, in this very building. I am your uncle…you can trust me…I will never harm you…

A thickness gathered in Spock's throat. Swallowing against it, he said, "Come with me."

D'Gar followed him to a tidy little bedroom with a view of the falling snow. Spock shut the door, enclosing them in complete privacy before he said, "This is the room where I kept you."

"Kept me!" D'Gar's voice rose in anger. "Like an animal?"

Though the accusation stung, Spock answered with a Vulcan's studied calm. "The door was locked and the windows shuttered for your protection. I spent my nights here with you, and as many daytime hours as I could spare. At first, you were completely unapproachable. Your psyche had been seriously damaged by the Black League, and you trusted no one. But little by little you came to trust me…and that foundation of trust became a bridge to complete normalcy. On Christmas Day, I brought you into the cabin to live with our family, but there were many setbacks. You would sometimes fly into tantrums and destroy things. On the day you broke Tess's arm, it became clear that you would needed a deeper, more drastic therapy. It was then, after consulting your father, that I expunged the debilitating memories. From that point on, your behavior improved markedly. One might say that you became…a happy child."

Tears welled in D'Gar's eyes. "I'm sorry if I broke Tessie's arm, but don't you understand? I can't remember, so it's as if you're talking about someone else. It's as if I'm missing a part of myself."

Spock went over to the bed where little D'Gar had slept, and sat down on it. Wearily he said, "I raised you as I would a son."

"And I loved you as if you were my father," D'Gar said with feeling. He stepped closer and his face fell into shadow, making him seem even more intense. "Show me. Show me how it was, back then. I know you can."

Spock immediately realized what he meant. A Vulcan mind-meld. "Why now? Why today, after three years of silence?" Bitter years, he might have added, made painful by your resentment and ingratitude.

D'Gar's head bowed as if he had read his uncle's thoughts. "Because I have a favor to ask you…but I can't do it until I know…without a doubt."

Spock tamped down a stirring of anger. "That I am telling you the truth? That I did not, in fact, expunge your early memories for some personal, perhaps unsavory, motive?"

D'Gar's face flushed and his eyes remained fixed on the floor. "I would not have chosen those words."

"And I have nothing to hide," Spock countered. "Come then, if you wish. See for yourself how it happened. I will begin with my point of view."

As Spock waited, he could sense D'Gar struggling between adolescent belligerency and shame. The joining of their minds was not likely to be pleasant, nor end well.

D'Gar sat down beside him. Taking a bit longer than usual, Spock set himself in the time-honored Vulcan discipline that even Yanashites taught their children in a modified form. D'Gar was proficient in the mental skills, for as in all matters of education, Spock had been his instructor.

Achieving the necessary state of mind, Spock turned and arranged his fingertips on D'Gar's smooth young face, firmly contacting the meld points. He must be very careful to safeguard D'Gar's privacy and his own as he introduced the missing memories. Meeting the apprehension in D'Gar's eyes, he began to recite the familiar formula. "My thoughts to your thoughts…"

…And children are milling around a large Vulcan compound, lashing out at one another like animals. Spock's attention focuses on a dark-haired boy…and the scene shifts to a starliner where the same boy lies heavily sedated for the voyage to Earth.

…There is a rush of images and Spock is at Plum Creek, walking down a hallway to the door that is kept locked. As he enters the room, the boy reacts to Spock's presence with a howl of terror, scuttling to his favorite hiding place under the bed. Spock speaks gently to D'Gar in Vulcan. Then it comes time to scrub the child. With the tub ready, Spock lifts the bed frame with one hand and captures his flailing nephew with the other. The four-year-old is strong, and Spock decides to subdue him with a nerve pinch, thus avoiding the usual bruises and bites that accompany a bath.

…More memories speed by, and when Spock's patient efforts fail to improve the child's behavior, he makes his first attempt at remote mental influence. Little D'Gar calms noticeably, but is the invasive method justified? Spock wonders if he is only using it to save himself trouble, but the continuing contact brings a steady improvement that is gratifying.

…There is a string of successes. D'Gar communicates with Spock and they start to share meals together. D'Gar leaves the room and walks in the corridor. He enters the Temple. He experiences the outdoors from the safety of Spock's arms.

…Spock is proud of his achievements with the boy, and never more so than Christmas morning when D'Gar accompanies him through the clearing, walking at his side, and they enter the cabin together. All the care that Spock has invested in his nephew culminate in the shining moment when T'Naisa and Tess welcome D'Gar into the family home.

…But the weeks that follow that triumph become increasingly chaotic, and Spock realizes that D'Gar is still deeply troubled. In the Black League, he had been trained in cruelty toward other children, and Spock's relationship with his daughter triggers jealousy in D'Gar. The boy's unpredictable rampages escalate until the day he viciously attacks Tess, breaking her arm.

…Once again, D'Gar is confined to the locked room, and though he begs for forgiveness and cries to be let out, Spock begins to fear that D'Gar will never lead a normal life. For the first time, Spock decides to initiate direct mental contact, and ventures into his nephew's past at the underground complex of the Black League.

Now, Spock paused in the meld to question the present day D'Gar. This is it. These next memories are the ones that I removed from you. Do you still want to see them?

D'Gar expressed a desire to continue. So with no attempt at detachment, Spock passed on the memory of that meld, holding back none of its horror. The teenager shuddered, but did not pull free. Still mentally joined, Spock told him, This is why I consulted your father. This is why I entered your mind a second time and relieved you of the burden. Now you may judge whether or not it was right. At that, Spock ended the meld.

D'Gar shot to his feet and left the room.

oooo

The last of the daylight began to fade, bringing a sense of chill, though Spock's seminary office was well heated. It had been two hours since his nephew's abrupt departure and it was becoming clear that D'Gar had no intention of returning. Once more Spock tried to lose himself in work, but his thoughts kept straying back to their meld, wondering what he might have done differently to soften the harrowing images of child abuse.

He was about to shut down his computer when he decided to contact Nayo, so his brother would be prepared for any problems arising from the meld. As usual, Nayo took an adversarial stance, but this time Spock did not blame him. As it turned out, D'Gar had come without his father's knowledge and had not yet returned home.

Quickly transferring the call to his wrist phone, Spock left his desk and strode down the hallway, to the transporter alcove. A review of the data log showed no record of D'Gar leaving. Either he had fled Plum Creek by some other means, or the teen was still here on the mountain. Spock passed the information on to Nayo as he stepped outdoors.

Nayo's voice was as wintry as the air. "If anything happens to my son—I swear on my blood, anything…"

Shutting out the threat, Spock stood shivering near the entry and looked around. The storm had subsided, leaving a thick blanket of snow. Spock's snow blaster was gone from its bracket beside the door, and a footpath had been cleared all the way to the cabin. Helpful seminarians had been known to open the path, but they would have returned the blaster. And through the dusk, light glimmered in the cabin windows.

"He may be over at my house," Spock informed his brother, sincerely hoping it was true. "I'll get back to you."

The instant Spock came through the door, he knew D'Gar had been there. The odors of stale tobacco and coffee were unmistakable. Turning, Spock found the youth seated in the kitchen, unharmed, his big hands wrapped around a steaming mug. Greatly relieved, Spock approached him, and D'Gar glanced up with a guarded expression.

Spock stopped near the table. From there, the stench of tobacco seemed stronger than ever. Had D'Gar taken up the habit? What other vices might he have acquired from Nayo? Perhaps it was not the proper moment to ask, but Spock decided to voice his concern frankly. "I keep smelling tobacco. Have you been smoking?"

D'Gar swallowed some coffee. Then he said, "It's Father…again."

Reassured, Spock sat down and took advantage of the opening. "You didn't tell him you where you went. He has been concerned."

D'Gar's slanted eyebrows drew together in a frown. "He might have guessed."

"Oh?"

"He knows what's been on my mind."

"Your past," Spock presumed, but D'Gar's response took him by surprise.

"No, Uncle. My future."

It had been a long time since D'Gar had called him "Uncle" in such a respectful tone. And now D'Gar was also referencing the future. What could it mean? Spock studied his nephew's clear eyes and resolute face. He had not expected D'Gar to assimilate the meld's shock so quickly, and it indicated an impressive level of maturity.

"Your future," Spock repeated. Testing the waters, he said, "I have seen you assume small roles in some of your father's movies. I suppose you will want to enter the film industry, like him." In Spock's opinion, a great waste of scientific aptitude. Nevertheless, he mildly added, "That is only natural."

D'Gar actually smiled. "Oh, no. Acting is nothing more than fantasizing. When it comes to my life's work, I want the real thing. You understand, don't you?"

Spock arched a brow. D'Gar's stress on "you" implied that someone else did not understand. Might that someone be Nayo? Clearing his throat, Spock said, "The real thing. Yes…I can certainly understand that. And what, pray tell, is your plan for the future?"

Watching Spock closely, D'Gar squared his shoulders and said, "First, I want you to know…that you've done the right thing for me…back then and today. And I want you to know…I…I'm sorry."

The tears that shimmered in D'Gar's eyes affected Spock so deeply that he came dangerously close to shedding a tear of his own. He nodded, letting D'Gar know that the apology had been accepted.

D'Gar continued in a husky voice. "Knowing what I do now, I'm more determined than ever to make my life count. Next month, I'm taking the entrance exam for Starfleet Academy."

Spock blinked, and his heart skipped a row of beats before settling back into a normal pattern.

"You attended the Academy," D'Gar was saying, "and taught there, and even served as its Commandant."

Recovering from his shock, Spock grew uneasy as he acknowledged, "Yes. A long time ago." Would the boy expect him to use his influence in some underhanded manner, like one of the unsavory characters in Nayo's films?

"And you retired from Starfleet with full honors," D'Gar pressed.

Though Spock's record was not without blemish, he had served meritoriously. "Yes, full honors."

D'Gar drew in a deep breath, as if what he was about to say demanded great effort. "Uncle Spock, I'll need a sponsor…and I was hoping that you might…" With eyes full of expectation, his voice trailed off.

So that's it, Spock thought, relaxing. He merely wanted a list of potential sponsors.

Then D'Gar said it plainly. "I'll understand if you refuse, after the way I've treated you these past three years, but…will you sponsor me for the Academy?'

Somehow, Spock had never anticipated this. His duties as a Yanashite teacher were so far removed from Starfleet. With Jim Kirk gone back to the Nexus, there was little to remind him of those days, so he seldom thought about his former life of space exploration. Even when he visited Dr. McCoy, who had served with him aboard the starship Enterprise, their conversation usually centered on health and family.

Spock had not sponsored a cadet since the brilliant and lovely Valeris, who later shamed him by turning traitor. Questioning his ability to judge character, he had vowed then to never sponsor another. But this was D'Gar, and the face of his beloved nephew shone with hopeful anticipation.

Reaching across the table, Spock clasped D'Gar's hand tightly and the youth returned the pressure like a man. Warmly, Spock said, "I will be proud to sponsor you."

As the last of the tension between them eased, D'Gar broke into a radiant Yanashite smile. And then they began to make plans for the future.

oooo

His pulse racing with excitement, D'Gar stood outside Starfleet Academy's main assembly hall with his father, Uncle Spock, and five other family members. He tried to stand patiently while Spock adjusted the collar of his cadet uniform. It was late August, and the hot Phoenix sun beat down on a stream of youths in gray—plebes like him—accompanied by their loved ones. This was where they must all say goodbye, for once inside, the cadets would sit apart, under the authority of Starfleet. A quick handshake or hug sufficed, for any words would have brought the risk of an emotional scene. Once that ordeal was over, they entered the hall and D'Gar went his separate way.

It felt exhilarating to be on his own. Choosing a seat among the other cadets, he quietly awaited the induction ceremony and orientation that followed. Looking out across the assembly, he saw Nayo and Spock drawing some attention, and was glad to be sitting where no one knew he was related to them. He was determined to succeed strictly through his own efforts, without any special privileges or consideration. And he had no doubt that he would succeed, for Spock had taught him honor and discipline, and from his father he was learning a Vulcan's pride.

No. Failure was not an option for the future Ensign D'Gar, heroic Starfleet figure decorated for outstanding performance under enemy fire, while all around him the ship was…

D'Gar snapped himself out of the reverie. Someday, perhaps, it would all happen. But this was real.

Gazing up at the vast ceiling, he let his mind travel back to the early childhood memories Spock had restored—phantom images of those brutal years in the Black League nursery, without mother or father, dreadfully frightened and alone. His thoughts moved to a rustic cabin, a mouthwatering aroma of food, the warm secure feeling of someone holding him, loving him. The simple joy of family life.

And here in Starfleet he would find another sort of family. D'Gar gave his attention to his fellow cadets and future comrades. Most of them were human, but here and there an alien stood out. On his left, a reserved-looking young man turned toward him and they eyed one another curiously.

"Vulcan?" the cadet asked with a marked British accent.

"Mostly," D'Gar responded. And as a friendly gesture, he introduced himself, omitting his famous surname.

His seatmate extended a hand in greeting. "Jean-Luc."

They shook hands. Then the Commandant approached the podium and the new class of cadets rose as one.

oooo

After the induction ceremony, Nayo followed Spock into a breezeway, expecting the rest of the family to join them. But T'Naisa and the others had gone off looking for refreshments. Stuck alone with Spock, he eyed his brother's drab civilian suit and said, "I'm surprised you're not wearing your pretty Starfleet uniform. Doesn't fit anymore?"

Spock glanced at Nayo's stylish, flamboyant clothing, but before he could say anything, a brusque voice erupted nearby.

"Off the grass, sonny!"

Nayo turned and saw a gardener waving his clippers at a cadet crossing the manicured lawn. The tardy plebe took off and ran. "Pleasant fellow," Nayo observed with sarcasm.

Keeping his voice low, Spock said, "Academy groundskeepers are not known for mild dispositions. The cadets sometimes tease them…albeit affectionately. And in their own way, the groundskeepers return the affection."

A peculiar relationship, thought Nayo, but not more so than our own. At least the two of them had managed to come together for D'Gar's sake, but—perhaps because of D'Gar—they felt more like adversaries than twin brothers.

Craving a cigarette, Nayo slipped a piece of spearmint gum into his mouth. "Well," he said, "so much for the clothes. Tell me, have you gotten around to watching Warp Speed?" Spock had been pointedly absent from the movie's private screening, but curiosity might have driven him to see how Nayo portrayed him in the latest Starfleet adventure.

To his surprise, Spock replied, "Yes."

"And?" It was foolish to press Spock, knowing that he would not soothe Nayo's ego with a lie. Judging by Spock's disapproving look, he did not have a high opinion of chewing gum, either. "I suppose you didn't like it."

Shrugging ever-so-slightly, Spock said, "T'Naisa thought you captured me perfectly. She could hardly stop laughing."

Nayo bristled. "It's not a comedy!"

Just then an upperclassman caught sight of them and hesitantly approached with a piece of paper in hand. "Excuse me, sir…but may I have your autograph?" Nayo began to reach for the stylus, but the flustered cadet quickly said, "Oh, I'm sorry, not you, sir—I meant the real Captain Spock."

Spock coolly tipped his head to one side and inscribed his signature for the grateful cadet. Not missing a beat, he resumed the conversation. "We were discussing the concept of humor…?"

Nayo felt like punching him right in the jaw, but he could already hear it on the entertainment news, six o'clock sharp, and word would find its way straight to D'Gar. No, he would not do anything so crude to embarrass his son, but the resentment burst from him in fierce, cutting words. "You think you're so damned superior! Starfleet hero, my ass!"

Spock seemed truly astonished. "Nayo—why are you angry? Because this particular young man didn't ask for your autograph? As for your movie, T'Naisa truly thought you did an excellent job of portraying me…and for that matter, so did I. My only objection involved technical details."

Nayo's anger eased, but it did not go away completely. Would he ever overcome his envy of this privileged brother? Starfleet hero, indeed—even D'Gar longed to follow in Spock's footsteps, and Spock had readily obliged him with a sponsorship. For that reason, if no other, Nayo could not bring himself to apologize. But as a gesture of conciliation he suggested, "If there's ever another sequel, perhaps you would like to serve as a technical advisor."

Spock silently considered the offer, no doubt seeking a graceful way to decline it. Predictably he chose vague, noncommittal words. "Perhaps so."

Nayo decided to make an exit before his temper gave way. Glancing at the display on his wrist phone, he said, "Oh, look at that—I have a meeting scheduled. Good day, Spock." And he turned to go.

"Nayo."

The strangely emotional tone of Spock's voice stopped him, and Nayo swung around. Was there actually a hint of tears in his brother's eyes?

Spock said, "I find it most unfortunate. Think of what we have accomplished together, bringing D'Gar to this day…yet we do not seem to have grown any closer."

Nayo felt a pang deep in his heart. Perhaps it was only the twinge of an old scar, but for once all the anger and jealousy drained from him. "Oh, brother," he said, "you're mistaken. There was a time when you wouldn't have said such a thing to me. Nor would I have accepted it."

Spock's eyebrow rose, slightly at first, then higher as the full import of Nayo's words sank in. Nayo could not help but smile. Closing the distance between them, he made a fist, and cuffing Spock's shoulder, said, "There may yet be hope for us."

As Nayo turned and strode away, the groundskeeper stopped pruning to stare curiously at him, and then at Spock, who stood holding his shoulder long after his brother was gone.

oooOOooo