The journey to Vulcan proved difficult. The ship provided by Lauren’s mother came complete with crew and a nursing staff devoted to James’ care, but despite their professional attention, the boy slipped into a coma. Hour by hour the displays above his bed registered his steady decline.

While Lauren maintained a steadfast vigil, Spock preferred not to watch so closely. He spent much of his time in the cockpit where he found a certain comfort amid the familiar instruments that had been a part of his life for so many years. He was there, together with Sparn, when they approached Vulcan. As the red planet loomed nearer, it became evident that its Space lanes were carrying an abnormally high number of vessels. The pilot made their presence known and they merged into the orbiting traffic.

Spock took over communications. His family’s emergency medical visas had been preregistered along with their flight plan. He had only to request final authorization from Vulcan Space Central and beam down.

An emotionless Vulcan voice filtered back from the intercom. “The visa for S’chn T’gai Lauren Alice Fielding and S’chn T’gai James Skon have been invalidated as per yesterday’s High Council ruling PR775-81. At this time only medically approved citizens of Vulcan will be admitted. The citizens S’chn T’gai Sparn and S’chn T’gai Spock are qualified to transport to Space Central for medical approval.”

The pilot swung his chair toward Spock and remarked, “I’d call that a double-cross! Is it legal?”

“It is within their rights,” Spock answered numbly.

Sparn said, “First they suppress the news. Now they exclude the sick, the maimed, and the outworlders. They are growing frightened.”

Spock thought of his son lying amid the machines working to sustain his failing body, and worked to control his own fear.  

Sparn rose from his chair and placed a hand on Spock’s shoulder. “Go to your mother in ShiKahr. Sarek has influence. He may help if you tell him that you are here seeking a healer for James.”

Looking up at his uncle, Spock said, “But Yanash is not a certified healer.”

“Yet he heals,” Sparn declared.

***

After undergoing a brief medical scan at Space Central, Spock transported directly into the back garden of his boyhood home. It took an instant to orient himself. Then turning, he found a frail-looking woman seated in the morning shade on the patio.

Her face lit with a smile of recognition, but she made no attempt to rise. Only her hand lifted, urging him nearer. “You’ve arrived,” she said warmly. “Come here, Spock.”

He felt a prickling behind his eyes and refused the tears that threatened his composure. Outwardly calm, he entered the patio and grasped the bony fingers that seemed much too cool, even for a human. Yet her affection was as strong as ever.

“Mother,” he said, “you are not well.”

She shrugged. “Just a little ‘under the weather’.” Her expression changed to one of sympathetic concern. “Poor little James. He reminds me so much of you at the same age—so very Vulcan. Is there any hope for him at all?”

“I don’t know,” Spock replied.

Sarek came out of the house.

Releasing his mother’s hand, Spock faced him and said, “Father, I must speak to you.”

Sarek glanced at Amanda, then nodded. “Come inside.”

Spock followed his father into the living room. His eyes were briefly drawn to his solemn childhood portrait—so like James that there was a wrenching inside him. Deep down, he already knew the outcome of this conversation. One could more easily move a mountain than move a Vulcan. Only logic would sway Sarek, and there was little logic in what Spock had to say.

He began with the words Sparn had suggested. “Father, as I mentioned over the com-link, I have come seeking a healer for James. There is no more that can be done for him on Earth. He is here…dying…aboard a medical courier ship orbiting Vulcan. I ask you to use your influence with the Council.”

Sarek’s deep-set eyes studied him for a moment. Finally he said, “The Council will make no exceptions to its ruling. Vulcan’s Space lanes are full of misguided people hoping to receive the ‘blessing of Yanash’.” The name was spoken with thinly veiled sarcasm. “What healer do you seek?”

Spock hesitated. “A healer who might save my son.”

“There is no healer capable of curing Vash-Lester disease. Nevertheless, I will summon mine and he will accompany you to your ship.” Sarek turned toward the com center.

“No.” Spock braced for the storm that was sure to break. “You are right in saying there is no healer who can cure James. His only chance lies with Yanash.”

Sarek froze, his expression icy. “So it is as I suspected. You have joined company with Sparn, the fool. I will not have you two disgracing our family.”

It was the very reaction that Spock had expected, and he had a retort ready. “You speak to me of disgrace, yet you would stand there and let you grandson die without even trying to save him?”

Sarek’s eyes flamed. His hand actually twitched at his side, as if sorely tempted to strike out.

Taking note of the unusual behavior, Spock said, “Father, are you so threatened by Yanash?”

Sarek’s hand relaxed and he spoke in a weary voice. “Yanash is a threat to every Vulcan. Spock, I grieve for you and James, but you have not seen the change creeping over our world. If, in fact, you still consider yourself a student of logic, I appeal to you…”

“At the cost of my son’s life?” Spock drew out his communicator. “I must go. I will see this renegade for myself and inform you of my observations. Please tell Mother that I shall return…”

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