“I have no time for what thee ‘believe.’ I meet with thee because thou are Spock’s friend. Ask a question, or end the conversation.”
“You asked me to explain.”
“Yet thee do not.”
“I believe Spock is still alive, and I believe the way to find him is to find Norinda.” Kirk felt secure in that statement, knowing Janeway had also reached the same conclusion.
T’Vrel angled her head by millimeters, and considering her lack of reaction thus far, to Kirk it was as if she had applauded in enthusiastic agreement. “Logical,” she said.
Hoping that T’Vrel’s response was acceptance of his explanation, Kirk finally asked his question.
“I’ve been given reason to suspect that Norinda, or others acting on her behalf, might be on Vulcan, attempting to do here what she attempted on Romulus and Remus. Are you aware of any political, philosophical, or academic movement on Vulcan that fits that profile?”
For the first time, T’Vrel took her attention away from Kirk and glanced around at the other Vulcans and aliens on the viewing platform. When she looked back at Kirk, she gave no indication of what she was thinking, yet from her next words, Kirk could guess.
“Come with me to my s’url.”
Kirk recognized the Vulcan word. T’Vrel had invited him to her school-the closest thing a Surakian had to a home.
“Of course. I’ll get my son,” Kirk said.
“This is not a matter for children.”
Kirk looked at the Doctor.
“I’ll be happy to take Joseph back to the ship,” the hologram said.
Kirk and the Doctor walked with T’Vrel toward the staircase. “I’ll just tell my son where I’m going.”
T’Vrel said nothing. Again, Kirk took her silence as acceptance.
At ground level, a noisy, grunting group of Tellarites jostled around the confectionery stand. While T’Vrel waited by an ornately carved stone baluster at the base of the staircase, Kirk and the Doctor squeezed past the Tellarites.
Kirk sighed. There was no sign of Joseph at the counter. He scanned the small plaza ringed by restaurants, shops, and hotel entrances.
“I don’t see him,” the Doctor said at Kirk’s side.
“He has a voucher padd,” Kirk said with a parent’s wisdom. “He’s probably in one of the shops.”
Kirk reached inside his cooling cloak and tapped the combadge pinned to his shirt. To all outward appearances, it was a plain silver disk with a manufacturer’s symbol embossed in its center, no different from any other civilian model. Inside, though, it had the latest Starfleet circuitry and could operate through subspace at ranges approaching several light-days. “Kirk to Joseph,” Kirk said.
He waited a few seconds, in no mood for his son’s games. Annoyed, he tapped the combadge again. “Kirk to Belle Reve.”
This time the reply was almost instantaneous. “Scott here, Captain.”
“Scotty, lock on to my signal and Joseph’s and tell me where he is.”
Kirk heard the engineer’s knowing laugh. “Up t’ his old tricks, is he?”
Kirk didn’t have time to explain. He didn’t know how long T’Vrel would wait. “Just stand by to beam him up along with the doctor.”
“Aye… I’ve got him. Five meters south of your position.”
“Five meters…” Kirk said. He looked south.
The confectionery stand.
Kirk checked that T’Vrel hadn’t left, then quickly walked back to the stand, certain Joseph was hiding behind it. The doctor helpfully skirted the Tellarites and went around the other side.
They met at the back. No Joseph.
Kirk tapped his combadge again. “Scotty, where’d he go?”
“Och, he hasn’t moved. You’re within two meters of him.”
Kirk looked around, truly puzzled, his frustration at Joseph’s timing tempered by his admiration for his son’s renowned skill at hiding.
He looked at the back of the confectionery stand. “He’s got to be inside.”
The Doctor pulled back the fabric drape concealing the gap between the stand’s sloped roof and its waist- high wooden wall.
Almost at once, the stand’s indignant Ferengi proprietor grabbed the drape away from the Doctor. “Customer service at the counter!”
The Doctor ignored the protest, tugged the drape open again, leaned over the wall to examine the stand.
Kirk saw the Ferengi draw back, then shove his hand forcefully at the Doctor’s shoulder to push him away. But the Doctor adjusted his holographic density so that the Ferengi’s hand passed through him.
Having attempted to shove a ghost, the Ferengi shrank back, squealing in fright. The Doctor ignored him, turned back to Kirk, shook his head.
Kirk didn’t understand. The only other thing back here was—
With a sudden surge of alarm, Kirk rushed to the waste container-a drum-shaped barrel a meter tall.
Kirk ripped the cover from it, looked down, felt true fear as he saw the hood of a cooling cloak.
“Joseph!” Kirk pulled up on the cloak, terrified of what might be beneath it.
But all he revealed was a sticky mound of confectionery wrappers and jumja sticks.
Kirk ran his hands down the empty cloak, felt Joseph’s combadge pinned to it, and nothing else.
His child was gone.
9
U.S.S. ENTERPRISE
STARDATE 58562.5
Had it been any other time, any other occasion, Picard would already have begun to feel restless. This close to home, he always was.
Earth and her solar system had been tamed generations ago. Each planet, moon, and major asteroid mapped to resolutions that banished all mysteries. The domed cities of the moon allowed families to picnic by Earthlight. Mars had green fields and blue oceans, fresh clean air, skiing at the poles, and soon, according to the environmental engineers, burgeoning rain forests would arise in the equatorial lowlands.
Even the vast, underground data repositories and museums of Pluto had stripped the romance from that distant world, still considered a planet by tradition, if not by astronomers.
In fairness, Picard couldn’t complain about humanity’s imprint on nearspace-the sectors that surrounded his homeworld and home system. Those were the first his species had visited in the great wave of exploration that followed in Cochrane’s wake.
But he didn’t have to like it. And he didn’t.
This close to home, his heart remained on the frontier.
In his soul, he was an explorer, and he feared for the day when humanity’s descendants would place their footprints on the last world at the galaxy’s edge. Where would the human spirit turn to then? Would there be new frontiers to delve into? Or was he part of a dying breed? Just a point on the graph from Cochrane and Archer and Kirk to a future that had a definite end?
“Captain…?”
Troi’s gentle inquiry broke through Picard’s introspection. He saw her standing beside his chair on the bridge, concern and curiosity in her large dark eyes.
“Is coming home really that bad?” she asked.
