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A Tellarite seated next to him turned and snorted loudly. “Too easy,” he said dubiously, then returned his attention to Roth and the next matter at hand.

David opened his eyes, and the graceful features of Saavik’s serene face slowly came into focus, even as, paradoxically, the most intense sensations of her presence gradually faded into oblivion.

She gently removed her fingers from David’s temple and cheek while he looked around, reacquainting himself with his surroundings. The bed upon which he lay was warm and comfortable, and the room, while somewhat plain and sterile, was reasonably cozy by hospital standards. A hot reddish glow from the Vulcan sun helped to illuminate the room through the nearby window.

David took a moment to assess the status of his memory, and was overjoyed to discover that all of his repressed knowledge, safely hidden away in his subconscious during their Klingon captivity, had now, with Saavik’s help, been restored to him. “Oh, gosh!” he exclaimed. “Saavik, I can’t tell you how comforting that feels. I was afraid I’d never be able to do any scientific work again…not without starting my university studies over from scratch, anyway.”

Sitting next to him on the edge of the bed, Saavik smiled. “It’s just one more step toward making you whole again,” she said. “How are you adjusting to your hand?”

He held up his left hand. The newly attached prosthetic was nearly indistinguishable from his lost extremity, except that the movement was a little erratic while he continued adapting to the artificially induced sensations. He tested his grip a couple of times. “It’s impressive,” he said. “And strong, too. I’ll never have trouble with stuck bottle tops again.”

Saavik raised an eyebrow. “That was a joke, correct?”

“Yeah,” David laughed, “though not a very good one, I’m afraid.”

Still smiling, Saavik acknowledged the humor with a nod. But then she looked down, appearing slightly anxious, and placed her hand upon David’s natural one. “David, I…” She stopped herself, her expression a mix of embarrassment and concern.

David cocked his head. “What is it?”

She sighed. “It is wrong of me to intrude upon your private thoughts. But David…when I was just now joined to your mind, I was overwhelmed by the level of guilt that you are enduring.”

David turned his head and gazed out the window at the skyline of the Vulcan city of ShiKahr. “Why shouldn’t I feel guilty?” he quietly mused. “My father died while trying to save my life.”

“And that was his choice, not yours,” Saavik replied. “But it runs much deeper than that. Everything that has happened…the massacre at Regula One, our capture, and the torture you endured…You’re unfairly bearing the weight of responsibility for all these events.”

“Because it’s mostly my fault!” David cried out, rising to a sitting position. “My mother gave me the responsibility of developing the matrix. She trusted me to use good judgment, and I was so smitten with the power of the technology, I never stopped to consider the consequences.” He sank back onto the bed. “I don’t even blame the Klingons for what they did to me. I deserved it.”

“You believe that you deserved to be tortured and to have your father murdered?”

David sighed. “The point is, by creating what they perceived as a threat, I provoked them. I should have known better. Why should I hate them for doing what they always do? Would I blame a rabid animal if it attacked me after I poked it with a stick?” He took a breath to continue, but held it, and finally blew out the air and threw up his hands. “I mean, what about you?” he challenged her. “You told me what the Romulans did to your mother, and then they abandoned you as a child…yet you don’t hate them!”

“I forgave them because I refused to let my circumstances define who I would become,” Saavik said firmly, beginning to show a hint of anger. “I did not blame myself for actions freely chosen by other individuals. I did not wallow in self-loathing over a history that I could not change.”

David turned away. He was lashing out blindly-he knew this. But he didn’t know