“My only reward will be the safe delivery of your daughter. And her continued safety thereafter.”

“Do you intend to watch over her the rest of her life? You’ve made your point, Ree. You’ve proven your commitment to her safety. You’ve proven your worth as a protector. You don’t need to take this any further.”

Suddenly his snout was in her face, his hot breath ruffling her hair. “Proven my worth? Says the female who called me ridiculous? You’ve seen that I don’t appreciate being lied to, Counselor. It’s intensely impolite. Be as angry with me as you like, but do not deceive me or attempt to interfere with my efforts to protect your child. As you have heard, I will not tolerate lack of cooperation.” He lowered his head, eyes locking on hers while the front of his jaws hovered over her neck. “Your child is able to survive on her own now. I suggest you do not make yourself superfluous to her wellbeing.”

As she looked into his eyes, Deanna realized she had miscalculated. Ree’s concern for the child’s safety did not necessarily extend to her mother. But what terrified her, even more than the implied threat to her own life, was another thought: once the child was delivered, how did she know Ree would let her keep it?

CHAPTER T

HIRTEEN

TITAN

T’Pel looked up from the poem she was composing as Noah Powell came into her quarters, where he had been staying since his mother—and T’Pel’s husband—had departed the ship nearly five standard days before. “Greetings, Noah,” she said. “How was your afternoon with Commander Keru?”

“It was acceptable,” the boy said, his tone devoid of affect.

T’Pel lifted a brow. “Has there been any news pertaining to your mother?” Logically, if there had been, T’Pel would have received word pertaining to her husband as well. Yet there was occasional value in human conversational gambits such as asking questions whose answers were known—at least when conversing with humans. The status of Nurse Ogawa had weighed heavily on the ten-year-old boy these past several days, so T’Pel had striven to be receptive to his concerns on the issue.

“No, there has not,” the boy said, still evincing no emotion.

“I see. And how do you feel about that?”

Noah endeavored to cock an eyebrow at her, though the other one went partway up along with it. “I feel nothing.”

“Indeed?”

“There is nothing I can do to alter the situation. So it would be illogical to expend emotional energy upon it.”

T’Pel rose from her console and crossed her arms. “You are attempting to emulate Vulcan behavior in the belief that it will insulate you from your current emotional distress.”

Noah frowned at her. “I thought you’d like—approve of that. You were the one who told me it was illogical to worry.”

“That is a misinterpretation, Noah. I said that it would be illogical to dwell unduly upon your fears. But those fears are perfectly natural for you to experience.”

“Well, maybe I don’t want to experience them anymore. If you can do it, why can’t I?”

“It is not that simple. Come.” She moved to the couch and sat; a moment later, Noah followed, though he kept a formal distance. “Noah, the Vulcan way is a lifelong path of discipline and self-examination. If you chose, after careful consideration, to dedicate yourself to pursuing that path, I would not disapprove—so long as your mother gave herapproval. But it takes many years of immersive training to discipline oneself to the point that one’s emotions can be successfully managed and partitioned from one’s everyday decision-making. It requires a careful and gradual reorientation of the cognitive process, for it is not the natural way for a humanoid mind to function.

“You do not have that training, Noah. Your emotions are an integral and normal part of your psyche. So a sudden attempt to lock them away and deny their influence upon you can only do you harm. The feelings will not be managed, only ignored.”

She met his gaze squarely. “You say you do not wish to experience your current fears as to your mother’s wellbeing. Is that your only motive? Or is there some other emotional experience you are hoping to avoid?”

By now, Noah was struggling to maintain his façade of detachment. “I went through that once…with my father. And I hardly knew him. If…if Mom doesn’t come back…I don’t want to feel that.”

T’Pel was silent for a time, gathering her thoughts. “I understand. But if that were to happen…even a fully trained Vulcan could not avoid experiencing the grief. Grief is too powerful an emotion to wish away. It is a transformative experience. No matter how ideal your control…the grief is there. Vulcan discipline does not erase that.”

She lowered her eyes, gazing at her folded hands upon her lap. “Indeed, in some ways, it makes the process of dealing with grief more…intense. More difficult. Because we must master it within ourselves—confront it directly in meditation and…negotiate with it until we find a way to make peace with it. It requires great strength and self-control.

“In some ways, I believe, the human way must be easier. For you can share your grief with others…turn to them for comfort and release.”