All at once she felt the improvisation draw to a close. The melody culminated artfully and found its ending with a quiet grace. The measured, dignified conclusion reverberated softly inside the deserted cabaret, and as the last note decayed into silence, T’Prynn opened her eyes. She understood then what Spock had meant. It had simply felt right.

Neither of them spoke for several seconds. They sat together, reverent in their respect for the silence and each other. Reflecting upon her inner state, T’Prynn discovered a feeling she had not truly known since her childhood: contentment.

Spock’s communicator beeped twice. He tucked his lyre under his left arm, plucked his communicator from his belt, and opened its gold grille with a flick of his wrist. “Spock here.”

A voice that T’Prynn recognized as James Kirk’s responded, “Spock, we need you back on the Enterprise. There’s an emergency, and we’re shipping out in twenty minutes.”

“On my way. Spock out.” He closed the communicator and tucked it back onto his belt as he stood. “You must excuse me.”

As he moved to step away from the piano, T’Prynn reached out and gently grasped his left wrist. He met her gaze as she said in a humble voice, “Thank you, Spock.”

He turned to face her and raised his right hand, fingers spread in the Vulcan salute. “Live long and prosper, T’Prynn.”

She stood and returned the salute. “Peace and long life, Spock.”

He lowered his hand, then hurried down the stage’s front steps and crossed the cabaret’s main room at a quick step on his way to the rear kitchen entrance. As she watched him leave, she wondered how she would ever repay him for this great kindness.

Then she imagined what Spock would want her to do: He would want her to live a life worthy of such a gift. She didn’t know if she was equal to such a goal, or if she ever would be.

But as he disappeared from her sight, she vowed to try.

15

I don’t know whether to admire the Tholians’ tenacity or pity them for it, Khatami brooded.

Two days had passed since the Endeavour and its Tholian pursuers both had run out of torpedoes, but the twelve wedge-shaped warships remained close behind, engines pushed to their limits in order to keep pace with the heavy cruiser and its speedy companion, the Sagittarius. The only way the Tholians would be able to continue their assault would be if one or both of the Starfleet vessels dropped from warp speed to impulse, enabling the Tholians to bring their beam weapons to bear, but that wasn’t likely to happen before they reached Vanguard. And once Endeavour and Sagittarius reached the station, they would be under the protection of its formidable defenses, which would easily pulverize the twelve Tholian ships.

All we have to do now, Khatami reminded herself, is not let the ship fall apart before we get back to Vanguard.

Stano conferred with an engineering liaison officer at a console on the bridge’s upper ring, updated some figures on her data slate, then stepped down to join Khatami. “Mog reports he and his people have salvaged enough working parts to keep the last shield emitter running until we get back to Vanguard, but to do that they’ll have to seal off nonessential compartments and shut down a number of auxiliary systems to conserve power.” She handed the slate to Khatami. “Also, I’ve approved his proposal to consolidate crew accommodations and seal off outer sections in the saucer to reduce the strain on the life-support systems.”

“How long to get it all done?”

“About two hours. They’ve already started.”

An approving nod. “Good. Keep me posted.”

The first officer stepped away to continue coordinating the crew’s seemingly Sisyphean tasks. Though damage-control operations on the Endeavour had continued around the clock since the first shots were exchanged with the Tholians days earlier, so many of the ship’s systems had been overloaded, compromised, or simply destroyed that complete repairs would not be possible without the aid of a starbase. Only the tireless efforts of the crew, guided by the unorthodox solutions of their Tellarite chief engineer, had kept the ship cruising at warp speed.

Fortunately, the Sagittarius had suffered only moderate damage before escaping from the statite, and that was due in large part to the Endeavour serving as its shield for the entire marathon run for home. Whatever they might have found or learned on the statite apparently had been important enough for Admiral Nogura to make its safe return to Vanguard a top priority. Unfortunately, the numbers on the data slate in Khatami’s hand made it clear that her ship was one mishap away from a total warp core failure, and she had no doubt that if the Endeavour fell behind, the Tholians would scream past it and continue chasing the Sagittarius.

Her grave ponderings were interrupted by the anxious voice of Lieutenant Klisiewicz. “Captain? Long-range sensors detect a ship ahead of us, moving at warp eight, on an intercept trajectory. Whatever it is, it’s big.”

Stano crossed the bridge to look over his shoulder. “Can you identify it?”

“Not yet. I’ll keep scanning for an energy signature.”

Neelakanta turned his chair to look back at Khatami. “Captain, if the Tholians have flanked us with a battleship, and our only functional shield emitter is angled aft—”

“I’m aware of our tactical predicament, Lieutenant.”

The Arcturian navigator’s red eyes widened with alarm. “I should also remind you, Captain, that we can’t use phasers at warp, or power them without dropping the shields.”

“Luckily,” Khatami replied, “we’re not alone out here. Estrada, hail Captain Nassir and let him know we need the Sagittarius to cover our bow. Whatever shield power they have should be angled forward, and if they still carry a pair of photon torpedoes, they should get ready to use them.” The communications officer nodded and set to work relaying the message.

Khatami took a deep breath and forced herself to present a calm front to her crew as the minutes ticked down, bringing the Endeavour and the Sagittarius closer to whatever was heading their way. She was contemplating turning the Endeavour’s shuttlecraft into bombs and launching them on autopilot at the pursuing Tholian fleet when Klisiewicz suddenly exclaimed at the top of his lungs, “Yes!” All eyes turned toward the lieutenant, who looked up, eyes bright and wide. “Sir, I’ve identified the incoming vessel! It’s the Enterprise!”

A loud cheer erupted from around the bridge, and if not for the demands of propriety, Khatami would gladly have joined them. She raised her voice to be heard above the noisy celebration. “Estrada, tell Captain Nassir to belay my last, then hail the Tholian fleet commander. Let him know he’s about to meet our reinforcements.”

“With pleasure, Captain,” Estrada said, already at work.

As she expected, there was no immediate response from the Tholian fleet commander, though she wasn’t sure if it was merely posturing or the fact that the Tholians’ sensors hadn’t yet confirmed the identity of the approaching Starfleet vessel—a Constitution-class heavy cruiser like the Endeavour. Once the Enterprise closed to visual range, however, the Tholian fleet abruptly dropped out of warp and began a hasty course correction, back toward Tholian space.

“Not a moment too soon,” Stano said under her breath.

Before Khatami could reply, Estrada said, “The Tholian commander’s hailing us.”

“Put him on,” Khatami said.

The image on the main viewer shifted from an aft view of the Tholian fleet to a hazy crimson glow, within which Khatami could barely discern the outline of the Tholian fleet commander’s arthropodal crystalline body. His metallic shriek of a voice came through the universal translator charged with fury. “This is not over,” he said. “You have meddled with forces you do not understand—and you will all pay for your interference.”