Reyes saw no point in lying. “Nope.”

“We should consider some of the possibilities,” Ezthene said. “Perhaps they wish to interrogate us for intelligence to use against our peoples.”

“I’ve been here for three days,” Reyes said. “So far, no one’s asked me a goddamned thing.”

Ezthene ruminated quietly for a few seconds. “There were rumors the Klingons had placed a bounty on your life.”

“It wasn’t a rumor,” Reyes said. “But if that’s all this was, they could’ve killed me weeks ago. And whoever grabbed me handed me over in a hibernation pod. If they plan to put me on trial back on Qo’noS, why thaw me out before I get there?”

“Excellent queries,” Ezthene said. “In any event, their vendetta against you would still not explain my presence.”

“Also true,” Reyes said. “Unless you ticked them off. Did you ever insult some random Klingon’s mother?”

“Not that I am aware of.”

Reyes frowned with boredom. “So much for that theory.”

“Is it possible,” Ezthene asked, “we are being held for ransom?”

“Maybe you are,” Reyes replied. “But me? Not a chance.”

“Why do you think that?”

Unable to help himself, Reyes let out a grim chortle. He wondered whether Ezthene could appreciate his gallows humor as he replied with a taut smile, “Haven’t you heard? I’m dead.”

8

February 21, 2267

Days of hiking through the mountains had left Pennington tasting nothing but dust and dried-fruit rations. After a long night’s march over broken ground, he was glad to have the intimidating peaks of the L-langon mountain range behind him.

He and T’Prynn reached Toth’Sen, a settlement just beyond the southern end of the Khomir Pass, shortly after dawn. The small agrarian village glowed like burning gold in the light of early morning. Like most cities and towns on Vulcan, it had been built around a rare oasis of fresh water and green vegetation. Its main roads radiated from its center and were linked at regular intervals by circular boulevards.

“I need to procure supplies for our journey,” T’Prynn said. She stopped in front of a small meditation temple. “Wait for me here until I return. Do not speak to anyone. Is that clear?”

Too tired to argue, Pennington said, “Crystal.”

Without further explanation, T’Prynn vanished down a street toward the village’s center.

Pennington took off his pack and set it against the temple wall. He planted his hands on his lower back and stretched until he felt a few vertebrae release their tension with satisfying pops. His entire back ached, from his shoulder blades to his pelvis—a consequence of spending three days sleeping on a thin bedroll stretched over rocky soil.

Flexing his fingers, he found dehydration had left his skin feeling brittle and tight. He fished his last canteen of water from his pack and drained half of what was left in it.

There was no shade where he was standing, so he picked up his pack and moved around the corner, beyond the suns’ reach. He sat down on the dusty ground and leaned against the overfilled pack.

And he waited.

It hadn’t occurred to him to ask T’Prynn how long she would be gone. He silently berated himself for not being more curious.

Spindrifts the color of nutmeg flew low to the ground.

Nevasa burned brighter as it ascended by slow degrees.

From somewhere in the heart of the village, a lonely melody of flute music, as soft as a breath and as light as air, rippled through the town’s deep reservoir of silence.

Toth’Sen began to stir. Then all at once it was awake.

Pedestrians cast wary glances at Pennington as they passed by. He began to feel self-conscious and exposed. Maybe I should find someplace less visible to wait,he thought. Then he remembered T’Prynn had instructed him to stay at the temple.

Nearly two hours passed without any sign of T’Prynn, and he began to fear she had, in fact, ditched him. That’d be just brilliant,he brooded. Alone and broke on Vulcan. He smiled as he thought, Might not be a bad start for a novel.

He had started to nod off when T’Prynn finally returned. She was almost silhouetted against the pale red sky. He squinted up at her. She had traded her large pack for a small canvas overnight bag, which was slung over her shoulder. He asked, “Where’s your gear?”

“I exchanged it to facilitate the creation of new travel documents.”

Lifting his arm to shield his eyes so he could see her expression better, he said, “You paid someone to forge a new ID for you? I didn’t know Vulcans did that sort of thing.”

“Not all of this planet’s residents are Vulcans,” T’Prynn said.

“And I made the documents myself. My payment was merely for access to the necessary materials and equipment.”

“Right,” Pennington said. Overcoming the stiffness in his legs and back, he got up. “Someone gave you that kind of access in exchange for camping gear?”

“Actually, Mister Pennington, your pack contains the bulk of our outdoor survival equipment. Most of the contents in my pack were relics from the commune at Kren’than, which outside the settlement are rare and considered rather valuable.”

“I’ll add forgery and theft to your growing list of crimes,” Pennington said. “Did you at least get a good price for your loot?”

“Enough to make my documents and buy us passage on a private transport to Ajilon,” T’Prynn said. “An offworld merchant whose business here has concluded offered us a ride to the spaceport in Khomir. There we will board our transport and leave Vulcan.”

Pennington shook his head. “I know it might seem like a great plan, but I think you’re forgetting a few things. A new ID won’t be enough to get you off Vulcan. Even though the UFP says its worlds have open borders, the reality—”

“I am aware of my homeworld’s stringent regulation of its citizens’ movements on and off the planet,” T’Prynn said. “My new travel documents will enable me to overcome any impediments to my travel.”

“But they’ll scan your DNA so they can verify your identity if and when you return,” Pennington said. “The moment they do, they’ll know who you really are. And that’ll be the end of your little holiday.”

She regarded him with determined eyes. “It is therefore imperative that you help me prevent Vulcan Security from forcing me to submit to such a scan.”

He wondered if she was being deliberately obtuse. “How am I supposed to do that? All Vulcan citizens have to get scanned before leaving the planet.”

“Which is why I must become a citizen of a world that exempts its people from such invasions of personal sovereignty.”

It took a second for Pennington to realize what she was proposing. “You mean Earth citizenship? But the only way for me to help you become an Earth citizen would be …” His voice trailed off as understanding dawned.

“Correct,” T’Prynn said, taking him by the hand and leading him inside the meditation temple. “We are getting married.”

9

February 22, 2267

A pair of Klingon soldiers led Reyes into a dimly lit briefing room. “Hello, Diego,” said Ezthene.

Reyes nodded at the Tholian, who was being shadowed by two Klingon guards of his own. “Morning,” Reyes said.

“Sit down,” said one of Reyes’s guards. Reyes pulled out a chair from the conference table and took a seat.

A week had passed since Ezthene’s arrival, but this was the first time Reyes had seen him since their first night of shared captivity. By the next morning, the Klingons had modified a small compartment to provide the kind of superheated high-pressure environment Ezthene needed if he was to remain a long-term prisoner; just as with most other varieties of self-contained environment suits, the Tholian’s silk garment could function for only so long before needing to be recharged and replenished.