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“Thank you,” she said numbly, then gathered her children and slowly walked toward her new home. David watched her go, wondering as he often did what the future would hold for her and her family.

“It never gets easier, does it?” asked the Vulcan next to him.

“No, it sure doesn’t,” David replied, “Mister, um…I’m sorry, what was your name?” David was fairly certain he hadn’t worked with this particular individual before-the man had enough unique qualities about him that he would have left a definite impression.

“My name is Sybok,” the Vulcan said, smiling broadly.

“Right,” David said. For the first time, he had begun to notice how oddly emotive this particular Vulcan was. Perhaps, given all the time he had spent around Saavik, David didn’t find the man’s quirks nearly as jarring as others might have. “Well, at least things aren’t as bad as they were this time last year. Back then we’d get four of these refugee transports every day.”

“Yes, I remember,” the Vulcan somberly recalled. “It seemed for a while that the Klingons were determined to strike every colony world in the quadrant.”

“Yeah…the bad news is, there probably aren’t many left for them to attack.” He paused, then tried to brighten his affect a little. “But the good news is, we’re seeing more shuttles full of families who have escaped the tyranny of Klingon rule over the Earth.”

The Vulcan nodded. “I hear the underground railroad is doing a tremendous job there.” Then the conversation lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.

“Well,” David said, looking about, “it looks like that’s all of them for now.” He ejected the data card from the terminal he had been using to record the names of the refugees and stood up from the table. “I’d better get this to the office.”

Sybok rose to his feet with him. “I’ll walk with you, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure,” David agreed, and together they made their way along the service road that ran alongside the camp from the landing pad to the administration center, where the permanent employees of the operation were stationed.

They walked in silence for a minute or so, surrounded by the sounds of the displaced escapees as they struggled to settle into their new surroundings. Most of the voices were calm, but the relative peace was often punctuated with shouts of frustration or the troubled cries of children. David did not react to the distressing sounds of grief, but not because he had become desensitized to the suffering; his mind was simply focused elsewhere.

Sybok watched the young human with interest. “Forgive me,” he eventually said, his face marked with a mixture of compassion and concern. “I couldn’t help but notice your pain.”

David looked at him with bewilderment. “My pain? What are you talking about?”

“The pain of loss,” Sybok replied. “It haunts you.”

“Of course I’ve suffered loss,” David said with mild annoyance. He swept his arm across the sea of makeshift housing spread out before them. “Look around you. If you haven’t noticed, there’s a war going on.”

“Yes, I know,” the Vulcan affirmed, nodding. “But for you, it’s something more personal-a sacrifice, made by someone close to you.”

David’s eyebrows drew close together. “Do you do this with everyone you meet for the first time?”

Sybok shrugged. “Some would call it a gift.”

David rolled his eyes with a laugh, then threw up his right hand with exasperation. “All right, what the hell…It was my father, James Kirk. He was a Starfleet admiral. Five years ago he sacrificed his life saving me from Klingon captivity. Now I suppose you’re gonna tell me that you can talk to his spirit, right?”

“Ah!” the Vulcan replied, raising his index finger. “I know who you are! You’re David Marcus. It all makes sense now. You’ve actually done quite well for yourself-recovered from your trauma, assuaged your guilt, conquered your fear…very good! All that remains is the pain.”

David stared at him and slowly shook his head. “Who are you???”

“Interesting you should ask. We have much in common, you and I. We each lost our