“Jim?” the doctor prompted, concern evident in his eyes. “You okay?”

Kirk nodded, attempting a small smile. “I’m fine, Bones. Just lost in thought, is all.” Glancing past McCoy, he saw that Spock also was regarding him from where he sat at the science console. “Mister Spock? You look as though you might have something on your mind.”

As McCoy perched himself on the railing next to Kirk, the science officer swiveled his chair so that he faced both men. “I have just completed my final diagnostics of the library computer following the . . . modifications it received during our stay at Starbase 12. As expected, the primary and backup memory banks have been purged of all files and references to Operation Vanguard.”

“Don’t you just love Starfleet?” McCoy asked. “Always looking out for our best interests.”

Ignoring the doctor’s remark, Kirk turned and rested his forearms on the railing between him and Spock. “Well, we knew that was going to happen. For all intents and purposes, Vanguard never happened.”

Spock’s right eyebrow rose as he clasped his hands in his lap. Keeping his voice low, he replied, “Yes, sir, the alterations were not unanticipated. However, while the computer was performing its diagnostics, I took the opportunity to interface with Starbase 12’s systems and access the master Starfleet data network. I have found several . . . interesting developments.”

His curiosity piqued, Kirk asked, “Such as?”

“For example,” the Vulcan said, “Starbase 47 is now the designation of a Starfleet ship research and development facility located near the Tammeron star system. However, I know that this same facility was—until recently—designated Starbase 210. So far as I am able to determine, it is just one of several starbases that Starfleet is renaming.”

McCoy frowned as he asked, “Is that something they do very often?”

“Starfleet has lost or decommissioned several bases and other facilities over the course of a century’s worth of interstellar expansion,” Spock answered, “but I can find no record of any such previous action.”

Shrugging, Kirk rubbed his hands together. “Still, it doesn’t sound thatunusual.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew he was not convinced. Besides, Spock would not have seen fit to mention the detail if he believed it irrelevant.

“I agree,” the first officer said. “So I conducted additional research; specifically, the Starfleet personnel databases. There is no record of a Diego Reyes having ever served in Starfleet in any capacity. Further, I found no other data on him. No birth or citizenship records or property or financial transcripts. It is as though the commodore never existed.”

“Are you saying they just erased him?” McCoy asked.

Spock seemed to consider the question for a moment before responding. “The commodore was convicted by a Starfleet court-martial and sentenced to a term of incarceration at the New Zealand Penal Settlement on Earth. There is no record of that conviction, or of his having arrived at the colony. It is possible that Starfleet Command viewed the nature of Reyes’s connection to Vanguard as being in need of particular safeguarding and provided him with a new identity before securing him in a safe location.”

Snorting, McCoy replied, “Or maybe they just threw him in a hole somewhere.”

“Bones,” Kirk said, casting a hard glare at his friend as a reminder to keep his voice down and his bearing in check, lest their conversation attract the attention of the other officers working about the bridge. He could understand Starfleet’s extraordinary efforts to conceal any and all knowledge of Operation Vanguard, but Kirk had to believe there was a line that could not be crossed. Regardless of whatever information Diego Reyes might possess with respect to the supersecret project and the tumultuous events that had surrounded it, he still was a decorated officer with decades of experience. If nothing else, he was a resource that could prove useful at some unknown future point in time. It was easier for Kirk to accept that Starfleet had used some of the considerable resources at its disposal simply to relocate the former commodore, archiving him, in a manner of speaking, for safekeeping.

“Other personnel attached to the project likewise seem to have disappeared,” Spock continued. “Lieutenant T’Prynn has been transferred to Starfleet Intelligence, but her duties are classified. The surviving members of Starbase 47’s senior staff also have been reassigned, but their present locations are unknown.”

Sensing where this might be going, Kirk looked down at his hands for a moment before asking, “What about Doctor Carol Marcus?”

“Her current location is classified,” replied the science officer. “She is listed as attached to Starfleet’s research and development division, but no specific position title or description of duties is given.”

Kirk could see McCoy in his peripheral vision, perhaps gauging his reaction to Spock’s report. As the first officer had no knowledge of his prior relationship to Marcus, and it was not a subject Kirk wished to raise here on his bridge, he forced his expression not to change as he said, “That’s too bad. I would’ve liked to have said good-bye before she left the station for . . . wherever.” Then, for Spock’s benefit, he added, “We’re . . . old friends.”

If Spock interpreted any additional meaning behind the explanation, he chose not to demonstrate it. “If you wish, I can endeavor to ascertain more information, Captain.”

Perhaps too quickly, Kirk shook his head. “No, that won’t be necessary.” Even if the Vulcan was successful in locating her, Kirk was compelled to acknowledge the possibility that Carol might not want to be found, at least not by him. Once more, he recalled their last, unpleasant conversation while she was still assigned to Starbase 47. If he had known it might be the last opportunity they would have to speak—for the foreseeable future, at any rate—he might well have done a better job carrying his part of the rather animated discussion.

Then again, probably not.It was a bitter thought, taunting him with its stark, brutal assessment. He deserved the upbraiding, Kirk knew. For the moment, all he could do was hope that fate one day would reunite him with Carol Marcus, and that he might introduce himself to his son.

My son.

“So,” McCoy said, intruding on Kirk’s thoughts, “I guess that’s it, then. Operation Vanguard is no more. We’re all just supposed to pretend it never happened and get on with our lives. Is that it?”

“That is essentially correct, Doctor,” Spock replied. “Operational security would seem to demand that all information on this subject be sequestered until such time as someone with the proper authority decides otherwise.”

Releasing a derisive chuckle, McCoy said, “And how often does that happen?”

“Not very often,” Kirk said, his thoughts only partially on the subject at hand. “To be honest, I’d bet a case of Saurian brandy that we never even hear the name Vanguard again.”

TWELVE

Stardate 7098.5

Starfleet Archives Annex, Aldrin City, Luna

Never say never.

Kirk hated the new uniforms.

He slid his right index finger between his neck and the stiff high collar of his admiral’s uniform. Was it him, or was it just too warm in this section of the complex? A glance at his companion, Admiral Nogura, told him that the older man seemed to be suffering no ill effects, either due to his own uniform or the environment within the subterranean lunar facility. Since Kirk knew that the internal temperature was kept at a comfortable level throughout the installation, the only other explanation for his apparent unease had to be the purpose of their visit.