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“Yes. He’s an exemplary student, despite the lack of any formal classroom structure. I hear he has already passed several Federation universities’ entrance exams.” As they walked, Thelin glanced over at the ambassador’s face, and couldn’t help but notice that Sarek’s eyes, intently focused upon the young boy, seemed to betray a sense of painful recollection, or perhaps forlorn longing-an oddly emotive expression for the usually stern Vulcan diplomat.

They approached the workstation, and over the shoulders of the assembled crowd they could see on the computer screen an image of a pulsating, spherical waveform. Thelin craned his neck as both his eyes focused upon the screen, straining to read the technical data that splashed down a column on one side of the display. His antennae stood erect, though they were of little help in interpreting the technical readouts. He perked up his ears.

Carol had fought her way through the crowd to join David, who was actively observing and modifying the properties of the simulated energy wave. “So you simply ran the same simulations of the bioelectrical energy matrix?” she asked her son.

“Right,” David replied. “But for the first time, I tried to integrate the metastatic properties of the meta-genome that we studied a few years ago.”

“And the reaction was self-sustaining?”

“Yep…. If the data is right, this wave can be used to convert any matter into other complex molecules, depending on how we configure the matrix. And the scale is unlimited.”

“Unlimited?” Carol was incredulous. “As in, an entire planetary ecosystem?”

“Well, yeah, in theory…I guess,” David replied.

The lab was shaken by the boom of a loud thunderclap. Looking out the windows to the outdoors, Thelin could see that the dark storm clouds that had gathered were finally unleashing their torrential downpour. He turned toward Sarek, who still watched the boy dolefully. While Thelin was certainly interested in the potential breakthrough that young David had apparently stumbled upon, he was more immediately concerned with the demeanor of his guest. “Mr. Ambassador, are you not feeling well? Can we provide you with anything?”

Sarek turned toward Thelin, then bowed his head as a look of shame emerged on his features. “Forgive me,” he said. “It seems that my thoughts are focused elsewhere. May I be seated?”

“Of course.” Thelin motioned him back toward the end of the lab nearer the entrance. The area was now cleared of any other technicians as they had all congregated down near Carol’s console to observe the new discovery.

Sarek seated himself in front of an unused workstation and Thelin took the chair next to him. The Vulcan closed his eyes, allowing himself a brief moment of meditation. For the first time, Thelin truly noticed the physical effects that years of stressful duty had imprinted upon the ambassador. The man was only 110 years old-typically the prime of a Vulcan’s middle-aged years-yet his face was etched with lines that suggested a lifetime’s worth of grief.

Sarek opened his eyes a moment later and spoke. “Not long ago, I returned from a mission where we had rescued several…abandoned children from a deserted planet. More than this I cannot reveal. But suffice it to say that the mission had a profound impact upon me.”

“I see,” Thelin replied with understanding. “And seeing young David reminds you of these children.”

“Partly,” Sarek replied pensively. “But mostly his precocious intelligence reminds me of my youngest son.”

“Ah,” said Thelin, uncertain if he should press for further details. He was not aware that the ambassador had any young children. “What is his name?”

“His name was Spock…and he died at the age of seven, alone in the wilderness, during his kahs-wan ritual.”

“Oh…” said Thelin, now wishing he had erred on the side of discretion. “Ambassador, I had no idea. I am truly sorry.”

“Thank you for your condolences, but your sympathy is unnecessary.” Sarek had regained tight control over his composure. “It is normal to carry grief for the dead, but this was thirty-seven years ago. It is illogical