After her debriefing, Lauren checked out a skimmer from the base and headed straight for her beach house near Carmel. The weather was beautiful, with puffy clouds drifting in the sky. She had always been a cautious pilot, but not today. She flew fast and low, recklessly hugging the green contours of the coastal valleys. Reaching the shoreline, she glided above the cool salt spray, startling beachcombers. The dangerous game lifted her spirits. It actually felt good leaving the Enterprise behind. Maybe all it took was a fresh way of looking at life. So you come to an apparent dead end. Just slip around a corner and try a new road. Do things differently. Go to a bar, maybe. Everyone else did. Have a drink, maybe two, and loosen up. Stop taking everything so seriously. Jan would know some good places. They could go out together.

As Lauren skimmed around a headland, the old Stemple beach house came into view. Spock also had family by that name. Last summer he had told her so on a beach north of here. But what did it matter now?

She glided toward the house and brought the skimmer down for a perfect landing near the graveled driveway. An onshore breeze caressed her she climbed out and looked the place over. She noticed at once that something was wrong. The shutters had been sealed tight when she went away, but now they were wide open, inviting anyone to break a window and climb in. And the shrubs seemed a little too neat, as if someone had been trimming them. There weren't many weeds around the stone foundation, either.

The wind shifted, bringing with it the scent of food cooking. Oh great, she thought, squatters! Ready for a fight, she was heading toward the walkway when a car drove up. A casually dressed man stepped out and faced her with a pleased but quizzical expression.

"Laurie!" exclaimed her brother. "I thought you were…" His voice trailed off in an uncharacteristic loss for words.

Lauren resisted an urge to run weeping into Larry's arms. The last thing she needed now was a tearful reunion. Keeping it light, she teased, "That's what you get for thinking. I might ask what you're doing here at the old homestead. In case you haven't noticed, this isn't Gamma Vertas. Don't tell me you're actually taking a vacation."

"It's mandatory." His gray eyes twinkled as he came over and delivered a hug. "Come inside. I want you to meet my friends."

Their names were Mike and Lucien, a pair of Salesian priests Larry had known since their seminary days. Judging by the clutter in the house, they had been having a most relaxing time, but they were sharp-witted pleasant company and Lucien could cook. Dinner was simple but delicious.

Afterward, Lauren suggested that she head over to the base and leave the three priests their privacy, but they insisted that she stay. "Alright," she said, "but don't think I'm going to clean up after you."

"Fair enough," Larry agreed.

The first night planetside was always strange after being hemmed in by a subtly vibrating starship. Bitterly lonely, Lauren lay awake far into the night, absorbing the solidness beneath her, listening to the breakers, watching the moonlight trace a silvery path across her bedspread. Wind sighed around the old house and she seemed to hear voices.

Soon, Spock had said. Anger stirred at the memory. How could he have thrown his life away? How could he touch her with such tender promise and then sacrifice those same hands to a reactor? It was no use arguing the logic of his choice when her heart felt only betrayal.

She slept late, but woke feeling just as tired as ever. After showering she pulled on some old comfortable clothes and went downstairs. Through the screen door she heard Larry and his friends out on the porch. Their voices went silent as she clattered around the kitchen. A moment later Larry came in, looking very concerned.

"My God, Laurie," he said in a hushed tone. "I just heard about it."

Cold gripped Lauren's heart and her stomach went leaden. Drawing in a deep breath, she cracked two eggs into a bowl. "It was on the news?"

"They said the Enterprise saw some pretty heavy action. There were a lot of casualties. And the captain died saving the ship."

She stood staring at the counter. "There were plenty of fatalities, Larry. Most of them just kids—a bunch of cadets from the Academy."

But Larry didn't want to talk about the cadets. "I remember how it was at St. Vincent's. You sweat blood over that man. And if I'm not mistaken, you even shared a kiss…"

Lauren shrugged as if she didn't care. And why should she when Spock threw away their future? "That kiss…it wasn't my idea. He used his mind on me."

"What?" Larry's eyes flashed. "Are you telling me he tried to—Laurie—how far—"

Her heart pounding, she beat up the eggs and dumped them into a buttered pan. They began to sizzle. "I blamed that one on the drugs. And later, that same voyage, he got away with another kiss. When I fought him off, he laid into me. You should've seen the bruises. Of course," she added with sarcasm, "that was the fault of a symbiant intruder. Oh, he always had an excuse."

Larry shook his head disbelievingly, the muscles working along his jaw. "He hit you? And there're calling him a hero? If I'd known any of this, I would've laid into him!"

After Larry left, Lauren forced down the eggs and some orange juice. Why had she told her brother those terrible things? Why would she sully Spock's memory? What was wrong with her? She went for a long, solitary walk along the sunlit beach. The tide had receded, leaving small shells and ropes of kelp stranded on the moist sand. Gulls strutted amid the debris, their sharp eyes searching out likely bits of food. At her approach they took wing and balanced on the wind. The plaintive sound of their cries made her heart ache.

Stopping, she gazed out at the restless surface of the ocean. Storm clouds loomed on the horizon. Foamy waves lapped at her feet, wetting her shoes as the breeze grew cooler and began to slice through her clothes. She imagined Spock at her side. She imagined his arms around her. As she stood shivering and lonely, her mind tried to deny that he was gone. For several minutes she struggled with her sanity. Then turning away from the hypnotic, beckoning waves, she started home.

The first thing she did was call Jan.

"You're asking me if I know any good bars?" Janice Rand gaped at her from the phone screen. "What, is this some kind of trick question? You never drink."

"You've never seen me drink," Lauren hedged. She kept her voice low. The priests were in the house. "Look, Jan, I want to go out tonight. Are you with me or not?"

Jan hesitated. "Laurie…I watched the Enterprise dock, I saw the damage. It must have been pretty rough out there, especially for a doctor. Sometimes, when—"

Lauren interrupted. "Are you with me?"

After a moment Jan nodded. "Come by around eight."

ooooo

The bar Janice chose was near base, a club-like gathering place for the more sedate class of Starfleet officers—a bunch of off duty paper-pushers and nail-filers talking shop. Lauren stuck her head in the door and balked. "No way, Jan. It has to be livelier. Raucous. Maybe even dangerous."

"Okay," Jan sighed. "You asked for it."

Fog was rolling in from the bay. It began drizzling as Jan guided Lauren along the crowded backstreets. Rough-looking males broke off their conversations to gape at the women as they strode through the neon-splashed district. Some of the human men whistled.

They ducked into a dimly lit tavern. The place was alive with music and gaming and the babble of exotic languages. Sweet smelling smoke drifted lazily.

"I ought to have my head examined," Jan said under her breath.

Lauren's hands were sweaty. Slipping out of her coat, she went up to the bar. Jan took the stool beside her. She waited for Jan to order, then asked for the same. The bartender set down two strawberry daiquiris. With a mixture of excitement and shame, Lauren sampled the sweet concoction before taking a deep swallow. It had a pleasant warming effect. Perhaps getting drunk would not be as hard as she had imagined.

They moved to a table with a good view of the action. Lauren was starting a second drink and feeling quite mellow when Jan spoiled it by saying, "Kirk's really broken up."

Pretending she hadn't heard, Lauren glanced around the room. A tall, dark-haired man met her eyes and smiled seductively. It made her feel strange inside.

"He watched Spock die," Jan was saying, "and couldn't do a thing for him. Couldn't even touch him because of the radiation."

Startled, Lauren turned to her friend. An acid surge of pain washed over her. "Oh Jan, I didn't know that. How awful."

Jan sighed. "Yeah. And as if that wasn't bed enough, they're scrapping his Enterprise."

You mean Spock's Enterprise. Shoving the thought aside, Lauren gazed back across the room. His chair was empty. Where did the guy go? She kept looking.

"At least McCoy's doing better," Jan said. "Did you know they released him?"

"No."

"He's at home, resting. They say it's just exhaustion."

"That's what I'd hoped." Lauren turned around and there he was, staring at her from behind Jan's chair, his pose an open, arrogant invitation. Her heart slammed as she took in his dark eyes and lean frame.

Jan swiveled and glowered at the stranger looming over her. "Do you mind not breathing down my neck, mister?"

The man didn't move. His eyes stayed on Lauren. "I've never seen you here before. I'd have remembered."

"How original," muttered Jan.

Lauren took a swallow of her drink. Emboldened, she said, "I gather you're a regular."

He shrugged. "I go wherever I want."

"Oh?" She felt steamy, lightheaded.

"Come with me," he suggested, "and I'll show you some real fun."

"Get lost!" Jan said, indignant.

"No." The word rasped from Lauren's throat as she stood up. The sudden change of position made the room wobble.

Jan grabbed her arm and hissed, "Laurie! What the heck are you doing? Don't you know this guy is only—"

"I like him." Lauren pulled free, took a defiant step, and almost lost her balance. The man caught her around the waist. His hand was warm and strong and masculine. Holding her close beside him, he guided her out a back door, into the damp shadows of an alley.

Feeling the drizzle, she said, "Wait…my coat…"

He tipped back her head and delivered a hard kiss, roughly pressing her against the icy bricks. Something inside her awakened fully to the danger. Suddenly she was aboard the Enterprise and it was the Spock-symbiant attacking her. Only this time she didn't fight it. She found herself responding, pulling him closer, demanding more. Somewhere in the background she heard a door open. There was a brief blast of music, then silence. The man laughed deep in his throat and shoved her down on the wet pavement. And it came to her then that this was not Spock and never would be.

"Stop it!" she said, struggling, but he kept on. She brought up her knee. He slapped her face.

From out of the fog came the wonderful sound of Jan's voice. "You bastard! Get the hell out of here before I call the police!"

The man hesitated. Then he rose and fled into the night.

Jan rushed over with Lauren's coat. Shivering uncontrollably, Lauren got up and Jan helped get her arms into the sleeves. She felt sick and dirty and lost. Tears filled her eyes and she began to sob.

"Hey," Jan soothed, "you're okay now. He's gone. What in the world got into you?"

Lauren was crying too hard to answer, even if she had known what to say.

"C'mon," Jan said gently. "We're getting soaked. Let's get out of here."

They went back down the streets of harbor district to her ground car. Lauren dropped weakly into the passenger seat and closed her eyes. The tears had stopped, for now. There was no relief for the hollow ache inside her.

Jan started the car and drove slowly toward the base. "Laurie…" she began in a tentative voice.

Lauren sighed. "I'm alright."

"No, you're not. I haven't known you all that long, but I know you well enough to see you're in trouble." Jan paused. "It's a man, isn't it? You lost someone on that ship."

Jan's perception shouldn't have surprised Lauren. After all, Janice was older, with experience far beyond Lauren's narrow world of research laboratories.

"You'll feel better if you talk about it," Jan urged.

Lauren longed to share her pain. Jan was a good friend, she knew she could trust her, but still she hesitated.

"Was he…off limits? Enlisted? Don't worry, I wouldn't tell."

Lauren drew in a shaky breath. "He…was the captain."

Jan swiveled her head and stared. "Spock?" She looked back at the road and swerved to avoid another ground car. "You can't be serious. Why, you two didn't even get along."

"We didn't," Lauren said, "at first."

"Are you honestly telling me that you and Captain Spock—" Jan still sounded flustered. "That he—"

Lauren sighed. "This is exactly why I haven't told anyone. It's ironic. He was always concerned about exposing me to gossip. Now if this gets out, he's the one people will be talking about."

After a moment Jan said, "Laurie…I thought Vulcans only took interest in women once every seven years. But don't misunderstand. I wouldn't think less of Spock if he…well, if he broke with tradition."

"I don't know about their traditions," Lauren admitted. "I only know about him. But look at it this way. Do you really think his mother would've married a Vulcan if they only came together every seven years?"

"Gosh," Jan said, "I never thought of that…" They moved through the foggy streets in silence. "No wonder you're a wreck. I didn't have any idea, Laurie. We were all so fond of him. I'm sorry."

"So am I."

ooooo

Lauren spent the night at the starbase with Jan and gave herself over to regrets. Rising early, she borrowed some clothes from her sleeping friend and headed back to the beach house. Wind-driven rain buffeted her skimmer as she flew along, nursing a dull headache, still berating herself. What a fool she had been last night. She shuddered to think what might have happened if Jan hadn't followed her out of that dive. Liquor wasn't the answer—it never was, and there was no use pretending some stranger was Spock. Oh, why had she let herself get so involved with him? She had given her heart and now she was paying a bitter price.

At the beach house she asked Larry into her room and said, "I have a confession to make." He looked startled. "No, I don't mean the sacramental kind. It's about Spock and those things I told you. They're not really true."

Larry looked skeptical. "You're saying he didn't use his mind…or force himself on you…or leave those bruises you were talking about?"

How could she explain? Yes, he had done all of those things. "But none of it was his fault."

"That's mighty hard to believe. Laurie, I think you're just covering for him. You're afraid I'll go to the press."

Lauren's heart froze. "You wouldn't!"

"No—for your sake, I wouldn't. I couldn't care less about his sainted reputation."

"Promise me," she said.

Nodding, he gave her a hug and said, "It's not just about the press, is it? You still have feelings for that man."

This time she did not deny it.

"But Laurie, he's not worth grieving over. He never was."

She was glad when he left the room. With the door closed, Lauren went to the old cherry wood dresser and opened the bottom drawer. Gently she drew out a Gamman shirt woven in a bold chevron pattern, all rich blues and cream. Holding it to her face, she could almost imagine Spock's scent. He had worn it often on Gamma Vertas and when they left, she rescued it from their discards. The shirt had long been a secret source of pleasure.

And now she realized this was all she had left of him.

Hesitantly she put it over her clothes. The long sleeves dangled well past her wrists, giving her a warm, protected feeling. Rolling them up a bit, she found her flute case, opened it, and took the gleaming instrument into her hands. I'm sorry, her heart cried, I should never have said those things to my brother. He doesn't understand…and now he blames you.

Sitting down on her bed, she raised the flute to her lips and played a sad, haunting melody while raindrops struck the windows.

ooooo

That afternoon the clouds broke up. Sunshine drew wisps of steam from the drenched tidelands, and the gulls resumed their foraging. There followed several days of clear weather, a period of reassessment and healing disturbed only by the startling bits of news Jan brought her. Spock's burial tube found intact on Genesis, McCoy's arrest and subsequent jailbreak, the theft of the Enterprise by Admiral Kirk. It all seemed more than implausible. It seemed insane. The more Lauren heard, the more it made her determined to pick up the pieces of her own life and go on.

At night she slept with the warm security of Spock's shirt against her skin, but during the day she made an effort to get out more, do some sightseeing, try new restaurants with Jan or kindly Doctor M'Benga, who she had known from her days at Starfleet Medical Center. Together with Larry, she visited their mother in New York and upon returning found the courage to access her plakir-fee project for the first time since docking. The shipboard computer automatically updated her home unit every time the Enterprise reached Earth. All her latest work was there, including Spock's final contributions.

Looking at his entries hurt badly. She had expected that. What surprised her was the way she handled the pain, turning it against the disease that had once ravaged Spock and still had the potential to decimate Vulcan. Perhaps this could be the focus of her life now—to find a weapon for Spock's people in the war against plakir-fee.

Lauren lost herself in her work, moving endlessly between her biocomp and the makeshift lab she kept in one corner of the big old kitchen. Sometime during that period Larry and his friends quietly cleaned up the house and packed. Lauren sent her brother off with warm wishes, and then she had the place all to herself. She was working with a beaker of compounds when Jan walked into the kitchen. It was, Lauren thought, a weekday. Shouldn't a Transporter Chief be on duty somewhere? She gave her friend an absent-minded greeting.

Jan studied the lab sprawl and shook her head. "I can see why you didn't hear me knocking."

Lauren spared her a brief glance. "Sorry. I'm kind of busy."

"Evidently. When's the last time you stepped foot out of this house?"

Lauren sensed a lecture coming and she had no patience for it. The timing on this experiment was crucial. "Look Jan, I really am sorry, but—"

Jan interrupted. "We have to talk."

Lauren bent over the beaker solicitously. "Just give me a few minutes, okay? Get yourself some coffee."

"No, Laurie." Jan's voice was firm. "This is important."

"And this isn't?" But Lauren turned around anyway and was chilled by the look in Jan's eyes. Now what…? Could anything more possibly go wrong?

"Come out on the porch," Jan said.

With a growing sense of foreboding, Lauren reluctantly left her project and sat beside Jan on the porch steps. Jan was right about one thing. It had been too long since she was outside, but the crystalline beauty of the day made little impression on her. She had no interest in the churning surf or Jan's latest bulletin from the Starfleet Funny Farm. She, for one, was determined to keep sane, which meant keeping very, very busy. "Well?" she prompted, eager to get back to her work. "I only have ten minutes."

Jan searched her face. Reaching out, she gently touched Lauren's hand. "I came over as soon as I confirmed it." Her voice barely held steady. "Laurie, listen to me. Spock is alive."

A surge of strange feelings froze Lauren. Her heart pounded. "What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind, too?"

Jan's green eyes sparkled. "It's true, Laurie. Just before his death Spock put some part of his consciousness in Doctor McCoy—that's why McCoy was acting so peculiar. And when Spock's burial tube landed intact on Genesis, the planet somehow rejuvenated his body."

"But that's impossible!"

"It's the reason why Kirk broke McCoy out of jail and took the Enterprise. They went to get Spock's body and take him to Vulcan. There was some kind of ceremony that restored him."

Lauren rose up, indignant. "Jan, for Pete's sake, stop it! You're talking about some fairy tale—but this is real life. Spock's gone."

Calmly Jan stood and faced her. "I know this sounds incredible, but I'm not making it up. The news is all over Starfleet. Spock is back." Without another word she went to her car and drove off.

Shaken, Lauren stood staring out at the ocean. A lazy wave slowly rolled to shore, luminous green-blue in the sunlight. Its graceful curl ended in an explosion of foam, leaving a tenuous mist hanging in the air. For an instant it felt to Lauren as if time had slipped and Spock was just out of sight, about to rejoin her. Then she came to her senses. He's gone, she repeated to herself, he's gone…

Yet Jan's strange assertion had planted a tiny seed of hope that clung stubbornly. That night Lauren sat by her phone, thinking. There would be no rest for her until she had driven Jan's ridiculous notions out of her head. Once more she told herself, people don't come back from the dead. But her heart refused to listen.

At last, struggling to compose herself, she sent out a call to the one person who would bluntly tell her the truth, no matter how painful.

A ripple of surprise stirred Christine Chapel's features as her image appeared on the phone screen. "Fielding," she said. "Well then, I suppose you've heard."

Lauren's pulse went wild. "About Spock—"

"Yes." Chapel's lips curved into a grim smile. "Hard to believe, isn't it? But don't go getting your uniform all in a twist. I'm afraid the early reports were a bit optimistic. Word is that he's…well, not exactly his old self."

Lauren struggled to grasp Chapel's words. They were coming too fast, hitting too hard. "You're telling me he…he's really alive?"

Chapel just gazed at her. Then she said, "If by that you mean is he up and walking, the answer is yes. But…the Vulcans seem to have had a little trouble reconnecting his mind."

There were, Lauren, knew, worse things than being dead—especially for an intellectual Vulcan. Fearing the answer, she said, "What have they done to him?"

Obviously dealing with her own share of pain, Chapel lowered her eyes. "Maybe with time…with therapy…with re-education. Maybe."

"Oh my God." Lauren broke the connection and sobbed into her arms. Oh, why didn't they leave him alone? The Vulcans had to play God, they had to mess around with him! Why? Out of what sick brand of logic?

It was a long while before the tears slowed, but the pain lingered on, bitterly twisting and turning in her soul. So these were the noble Vulcan people she had been working to help—these same people who had used Spock in some ghoulish failure of an experiment. Well, to hell with them! Let the cold-hearted bastards find their own cure!

Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, Lauren strode away from the phone and systematically destroyed her research.