THE FIRST THING Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott had done back aboard the Enterprise was head straight to the part of the ship he called home and plant a big, sloppy kiss on the engineering systems monitoring board. Mr. Spock found the gesture melodramatic and said so.
"Ah, Mr. Spock," Scotty replied, "if ye'd been the one to bide a wee among the beasties instead o' me, ye'd not be so quick to criticize. It's good to be home."
"And I am extremely gratified to see you returned safely to your post, Mr. Scott," Spock commented, "but we do not have the time for emotional displays at the moment, regardless of how well merited they might be. The installation of the baryon reverter has first claim on our attention."
"Aye," Scotty said, settling down to business, "and to figurin' out how the little beauty works."
The first problem was that the Zirgosians had built the reverter for their own use, when and if it was ever needed. Not expecting any other race to have to read the control panels, the Zirgosian inventors had quite naturally labeled all the switches and dials in their own language alone. So the first thing Spock did was ask the language banks in the ship's computer for translations. Once he had them, the problem of puzzling out the baryon reverter began in earnest.
After a while Spock said, "As well as I can interpret these controls, the baryon reverter does not revert baryons into something else. It seems the Zirgosians found a way to revert leptons into baryons."
"What?!" Scotty cried, flabbergasted. "That's impossible! Y'canna change leptons into baryons!"
"Normally I would have agreed with you, Engineer, but evidently the leptons first transform into mesons and then into the heavier baryons. The reverter uses antiparticles instead of particles."
"Let me see." Scotty studied the control panels and shook his head. "The minute the baryons pass through that barrier separatin' our universe from the one next to us, they'll all decay, Mr. Spock, ever' blessed one o' them."
"And that, presumably, is why the Zirgosians used antiparticles. When the antiparticles pass through the barrier, they will undergo the same sort of reversal, only in their case it will result in antidecay."
"And the baryons are reconstituted on the other side, in the other universe?" Scotty mused. "Aye, that might do it—like puttin' a heavy particle patch on the inside o' the rupture. But ye'd need a power source larger than this ship to do it!"
Spock folded his arms and stared at the baryon reverter. "But this is what we have, Mr. Scott—this one instrument. The only possible way this reverter could work would be by means of some miniaturized internal power generator we do not have in our technology."
Scotty's face glowed. "When this is all over—if it works, o' course—y'think we might be openin' it up to take a peek inside? A miniaturized power generator!"
"The same thought had crossed my mind," Spock admitted. "I too would be most interested in examining such a magnificent leap in technology. But we are getting ahead of ourselves. The reverter will need some sort of external start-up power."
"That's nae problem. There's a port here on the side."
"And we'll need a way of directing the antiparticle stream. If we cannot control the stream's bearings, our chances of hitting the exact location where the rupture between the two universes took place are minuscule."
Scotty was walking around the reverter, inspecting for the tenth or eleventh time every visible part of the instrument. "I've been thinkin' about that. There ought to be a way o' directin' the stream through our phaser banks."
"The phaser banks," Spock repeated slowly. "That is an excellent suggestion, Mr. Scott. To be controlled from the bridge?"
"Oh, that's the easy part." Scotty hunkered down and removed a small panel near the base of the reverter. "Aha. In-line diverter switches. It'll take some trial and error, it will, but this may be our answer, Mr. Spock."
Without further ado they got to work.
Ensign Chekov had laid in a course for that burning section of the galaxy that had once contained the Beta Castelli star system; the Enterprise was headed right back to the place where it had all started. "Estimated time of encounter vith heat front—three hours, tventy-one minutes," the navigator announced.
He sounds tired, Captain Kirk thought. We're all tired. Kirk was sitting in his own command chair once again, and openly exulting in it. They'd taken the time to shower and change into uniforms and eat, but what they all needed most was a long stretch of worry-free sleep. He could have ordered Chekov and Uhura to get some rest; but he knew they'd want to be here for the moment the baryon reverter was put to the test. After all, it might be the last moment they'd share together. He glanced over at his communications officer; Uhura's back was erect and her head held high. Why didn't she look as tired as the rest of them?
Kirk slapped a hand on the armrest control panel. "Kirk to Spock."
"Spock here."
"Report, Mr. Spock. Have you and Scotty figured out a way to make the reverter work?"
"We believe so, Captain. We have computer-tested it, and it checks out. Mr. Scott is currently devising an interior shielding to protect the phaser banks from the antiparticle stream that will be passing through them."
Kirk paused. "We're going to plug up the hole by shooting antiparticles at it?"
"That is what the baryon reverter is designed to do," Spock said. "A wide-beam steady stream of a minute's duration should accomplish the task admirably."
Kirk blew air out through his lips. "I hope the Zirgosians knew what they were doing."
"That is my sincere wish also, Captain."
"Kirk out."
Chekov had turned in his seat and was staring at the captain. "Antiparticles?"
"Antiparticles."
The navigator shook his head. "Thet is dangerous stuff."
"Very dangerous."
"Ve should be vorried."
"Yes, we should."
"But I am too numb to vorry."
Kirk smiled. "I know the feeling, Mr. Chekov. Too much has happened, and we're all tired. If you wish to be relieved—"
"No, sir!" Chekov interrupted emphatically. "I vish to be right vhere I am, Kepten! I do not vant to be relieved!"
"I didn't think so," Kirk murmured. "What about you, Uhura?"
"I'd also prefer to stay, Captain."
Kirk nodded. "Yes, we should all be here for this."
They lapsed into silence. The bridge was unusually still. What speaking was necessary was done quietly, in lowered voices. Even physical movements were soft and noiseless—like a funeral, Kirk thought. Showing respect for the dead. Hushed tones, somber faces, quiet movements. It made Kirk edgy. We're not dead yet!
The intercom broke the silence; it was Dr. McCoy. "Jim, I've finished the post-morten."
"I'll be right there." Kirk headed toward the turbolift. "Uhura, you have the conn. Let me know when we get within half an hour of the heat front."
On his way down to G Deck, Kirk tried not to think what would happen if the baryon reverter didn't work. Then he caught himself: that was exactly what he should be thinking about. Lord knows he'd told Babe often enough that a starship captain has to think ahead. He must be more tired than he thought.
In sickbay, Dr. McCoy was putting the results of his post-mortem into the medical computer. He broke off when he saw the captain and said, "Have a seat, Jim—you're in for a surprise."
Kirk sat down. "Did you find out what that sac fluid does?"
"It keeps them from freezing to death. Dr. Bonesovna—I find it hard to keep a straight face when I say that—anyway, Bonesovna had already told me about the fluid. But I checked it and she was right. It regulates the Vinithi body temperature. It not only keeps the internal organs warm, but it's also their early warning system when temperatures fall to dangerously low levels. Didn't you tell me the older Vinithi died when their sac fluid froze?"
"Yes, that's what we were told."
"They never felt it. They had to have died long before the fluid solidified—it would have been the last thing in their bodies to freeze. The kids that survived can take lower temperatures, but even they would be uncomfortable if they had to spend any length of time in a temperature like, say, the one we maintain on the Enterprise."
"I can believe it. They kept their own ship like an oven—and told us they'd lowered the temperature to accommodate us. But what's this surprise you have for me?"
"Well, it seems the Vinithi are a long-lived race. Very long-lived. As close as I can pin it down, their period of childhood and adolescence lasts well over a hundred of our years. Since your Commander Babe is the oldest, I'd put her age at about a hundred ten, maybe twenty."
"What?" Kirk was astounded. "Over a hundred? That means …"
"It means that those kids you made dog food of are about eighty years older than you are."
Kirk stared at him. "I'm glad I didn't know that."
McCoy laughed. "It might have changed your approach?"
"No question. Whew."
"But they're still children and adolescents, Jim, no matter what our way of measuring time tells us. They're still going to need adults for a while."
Kirk was silent for a few moments. "Bones, you've just told me that Babe has lived for more than a century without ever putting foot on a planet."
"Oh, surely not! They—"
"The adults never took their offspring with them when they visited different worlds. Remember that incubation dome the kids put up on Holox? That was the first time they'd ever been planetside. The ones that didn't go down, like Babe, have spent their whole lives on board ship. Not on that ship, but on the one the adult Vinithi abandoned when they stole the unfinished Babe in Arms from the Zirgosians."
"A hundred years … cooped up inside a ship." McCoy shook his head. "It's a wonder they stayed sane."
Kirk nodded; the same thought had occurred to him. "We are the first 'aliens' they've ever had any sustained contact with. Remember, only the adults ever went planetside—the young ones were always kept on board. After the accident killed all the adults, a few of the kids did talk to the Zirgosian delegation that wanted them to leave Holox. And they had the three Gelchenites on board for a while, long enough to persuade them to do that dirty poisoning job. But we're the only ones they've seen up close for any period of time."
"So we're just as strange to them as they are to us. Well, maybe not so strange now. But we still have a hell of a lot to learn about these people."
"It makes me wonder about the other Vinithi youngsters," Kirk remarked, "on those other ships. They've undoubtedly been brainwashed just as thoroughly as our Vinithi kids were. What's going to happen to them?"
"You can't save everybody, Jim."
"We were damned lucky, Bones, you know that? What if that ship had been filled with adult Vinithi?"
They were interrupted by the intercom. "Captain Kirk, Admiral Quinlan is on subspace."
"Pipe it through to sickbay, Uhura."
The admiral's face appeared on McCoy's screen. "Captain Kirk—again, congratulations on a job well done. I'm happy to see you back on the Enterprise."
"Thank you, sir. You don't know how glad I am to be here. But the job isn't done yet."
"No. Any problems with the baryon reverter?"
"None that we can see at this point. We won't know whether it works or not until we try it."
"Of course. Nevertheless, I've ordered the Bellefonte to rendezvous with the Vinithi ship—they're carrying extra crew who'll take over for your people on the Babe in Arms." Admiral Quinlan snorted. "Babe in Arms! What an absurd name for a starship."
"You think so?" Kirk asked innocently.
"Anyway, we're taking your recommendation that the young Vinithi be re-educated under consideration. Off the record, Kirk—just how feasible would such an undertaking be? They are killers, you know. In your honest opinion, can they be re-educated?"
"In my honest opinion—absolutely," Kirk replied with emphasis. "And they are not killers by nature. They're kids, Admiral, a tremendously gifted group of youngsters who've been mercilessly conditioned into thinking they have the right to take by violence what their elders failed to win through peaceful means. The Vinithi did try to establish amicable relations with the Federation, you know. They tried for years."
"I know. We obviously fell short there. Well, if you think these youngsters are salvageable—"
"I do, Admiral, without any question. And they're a likable bunch, once you get used to their appearance. And their smell."
"And you had time to acclimate yourselves?"
"We were just beginning to." Kirk cleared his throat. "In fact, we were on a first-name basis with a lot of them."
"Indeed? That bodes well for future Federation-Vinithi relations. Too bad the other Vinithi are not so amenable."
"Ah, yes … what about those other Vinithi ships?"
"They've disappeared. Simply vanished. Once they learned we had the baryon reverter, they left their starbase orbits and took off for parts unknown. That's a problem we'll have to deal with in the future. If there is a future."
Kirk knew that was his cue to say There will be, sir, but he couldn't quite bring himself to say it. He settled for stating the obvious: "We'll know in a couple of hours."
"Yes, we will." Silence. "Well, good luck, Kirk. Good luck to all of us." Admiral Quinlan's image disappeared.
"We'll need it," Kirk murmured to the empty screen.
Dr. McCoy, who'd moved out of the picture when the admiral came on, pulled up a chair near to Kirk. "Jim, doesn't it strike you as ironic? After all we've been through in all these years, our very survival now rests not on ourselves but on a piece of untested equipment that we didn't even develop! Doesn't seem right, going out that way."
"What a pessimist you are, Bones. We've got a good chance of not 'going out' at all."
"How good? Can you quote me odds?"
"I'm not Mr. Spock. But yes, come to think of it, I can quote you odds. Fifty-fifty. It'll either work or it won't."
McCoy grunted. "Believe it or not, I'd already figured that out for myself. But none of us has any idea whether that thing will work or not. Spock doesn't know, Scotty doesn't know … you don't know. The Zirgosians themselves didn't know it would work."
"The Zirgosians were sure it would."
"That's not good enough, dammit! It won't work, I know it!"
"It will work."
"How do you know?"
"Because," Kirk answered simply, "it has to."
The heat front was only twenty minutes away.
Kirk glanced over to where Scotty was seated at the weapons station, nervously checking his connections for the umpteenth time. Chief Engineer Montgomery Scott had faced death before, and the death of his shipmates as well. But never before had any of them had to grapple with the idea that the near-simultaneous death of everybody was imminent, every living soul in the universe; and all they had to prevent it was an instrument no one had used before. No wonder Scotty was making sure he hadn't made a mistake.
Scotty wasn't the only one who was nervous. McCoy was pacing back and forth behind the command chair, muttering to himself. Even the normally stalwart Mr. Spock seemed jumpy—and that made everyone more nervous than they already were. They'd all fallen into the habit of expecting their Vulcan first officer to remain rock-steady no matter how serious the crisis. Seeing him so ill-at-ease like that … everyone was strung-out, wired.
No, not quite everyone, Kirk thought. Uhura was an oasis of calm in the midst of a bridge crew ready to jump out of their skins if anyone so much as said boo to them.
Right then Uhura was serenely looking at the main viewscreen, which showed a starfield that was gradually growing lighter the nearer they came to the heat front. She became aware that Captain Kirk was watching her, and looked a question at him.
"All right?" he asked.
She smiled. "All right."
Kirk smiled back; she was indeed all right. Uhura understood as well as any of them that these might be their last moments. But she was prepared to die in the celestial furnace they were heading toward if that was to be her fate. The thought of fire no longer terrified her; it was a fact of existence, a source of warmth as well as a danger to be faced. And she would face it. Uhura had conquered her demon.
The temperature was growing uncomfortably high. Kirk got up and moved silently over to stand behind Spock at the sciences station. "Spock, I—"
The Vulcan spun around. "Yes?" he barked.
Kirk let his surprise show.
Spock sighed. "I am sorry, Jim. I find myself possessed by a strange uneasiness. It will not happen again."
The uneasiness wasn't the only thing that was strange; Spock had always been careful never to call him Jim on the bridge. A small distraction seemed to be called for. Kirk said, "I wanted to ask you about the Zirgosian woman, Dorelian. Where is she?"
"She beamed down to Holox immediately after you had been kidnapped by the Vinithi. I did not tell her what had happened."
"Just as well. I'm sorry I didn't get to say goodbye."
"She said the same thing, Captain. In fact, she gave me a message to deliver to you."
"Which is?"
"She said I was to tell you that she holds you to your promise."
Kirk nodded. "To stop the Vinithi—only we were still calling them Sackers then. Well, we've stopped them. But we still have to stop what they started."
"It won't work," McCoy muttered, not even pausing in his pacing.
"Doctor," Spock said in an unusually cold tone, "do you think you could possibly find a place to sit down?"
"I don't want to sit down!"
Chekov turned to face them. "There is an empty seat at the weapons station," he said pointedly.
"I tell you I don't want—"
"McCoy—siddown," Kirk ordered. "You're getting on everyone's nerves."
The doctor grumbled, but he went over and plopped down next to Scotty. The engineer didn't even notice; he was busy running another check.
"It can't work," McCoy told him just the same.
"It can and it will," Kirk said with an optimism he was far from feeling. He went back to the command chair; only when he was seated did he notice that every face on the bridge was turned toward him, and those faces were wearing expressions that could only be described as dubious. Even Uhura's.
Kirk punched a button. "Attention, all decks. Now hear this. It will work! Kirk out."
"That should reassure everybody," McCoy remarked dryly.
A tension-filled silence reigned for a few minutes. The heat was oppressive. Then Spock said, in an almost dreamy tone of voice, "And still we cannot measure it."
"What's that, Spock?"
"I said we do not have the technology to measure the amount of energy leaking into our universe, Captain. If the baryon reverter does not stop the flow from the neighboring universe, what will happen? If the outpouring is large, the inhabitants of other planets will suffer the same heat death as the Zirgosians. The Zirgosians had no knowledge of what was going to happen. Without warning, their sky lit up with the brightness of many suns, and their planet was wrapped in a searing flash of radiation. Farther away from the source, death would come more slowly."
"That's a cheerful thought," McCoy remarked.
"But even if the flow is small enough that it will be attenuated by the time it reaches a distant populated planet, there will still be disaster. The gaseous matter and the cosmic dust of the two universes will oscillate violently and start emitting large quantities of radio waves. What if only a small flow reaches Earth, for instance? The friction between Earth's surface and the particles of dust and gas could leech away Earth's mechanical energy and force it into a smaller orbit. Say Earth lost half its store of mechanical energy that way—its orbit would shrink to half its present size, putting it about forty-six and a half million miles from the sun. Earth would receive four times as much light and heat as it does now, creating thermal conditions that would be quite unsuitable for life."
"Spock," McCoy asked, "is this supposed to make us feel better?"
"That close," Spock went on, unheeding, "the sun's tidal action would act as a giant brake on Earth's rotation, slowing it to a standstill. Earth would then present the same side to the sun at all times, so that one half the planet would be in perpetual darkness. On the side facing the sun, all the vegetation would burn off the surface. All the lakes, rivers, and oceans would start to boil, and would eventually evaporate. Only an unlivable desert would remain. The dark side of Earth, on the other hand, would be covered with layers of ice several thousands of feet thick. Also, if the—"
"Mr. Spock," Kirk said quietly. "Enough."
Silence returned to the bridge. Kirk ran his eyes over the people around him at this most critical moment of his life. Scotty had stopped checking his instruments and sat without moving, waiting tensely for the moment he'd be called upon to activate the baryon reverter. McCoy huddled next to him at the weapons system, arms folded and legs crossed tightly … making himself small. The two men at the engineering station and the two security guards were familiar faces, but at the helm sat a woman named Raina whom Kirk didn't know very well. Maybe it had been a mistake to leave Sulu on the Babe-in-Arms—no, she had to be qualified or she wouldn't be here. But Raina looked every bit as tense as everyone else.
"Four minutes to heat front," Chekov announced.
The bridge temperature was by then in a range that was barely tolerable. Kirk moved over to the environmental systems monitor; the temperature was up all over the ship. "Spock, how much more of this can we take?"
"Approaching critical now, Captain."
Spock and Scotty had agreed that Captain Kirk should take the Enterprise in as close to the heat front as possible. Although they knew the range of the baryon reverter, there was no way to measure the exact distance to the rupture between the two universes. Thus, the closer the better.
"One minute," said Chekov.
"Helm, full stop," Kirk ordered.
"Full stop," Raina said.
"Reverse engines. Match rate of retreat to that of the heat front's advance."
"Aye, sir." The Enterprise began moving back.
"Spock?"
"Temperature is still increasing, Captain."
"Then this is it," Kirk said. "Reverter ready."
"Ready, sir," Scotty replied.
"Activate."
There was nothing to see, no dramatic spectacle, no way of watching or listening to the billions of antiparticles that went streaming out of the Enterprise's phaser banks toward the rupture between the two universes. On and on they poured, until the reverter's preset automatic cutoff stopped the flow. "That's it, sir," Scotty announced. "Our baryon patch is in place."
Everyone on the bridge was thinking the same thing: But will it hold?
"Temperature?"
"Holding steady."
It would take a while for any decrease to show. The temperature would continue to rise as long as it was fueled by new energy pouring in from the other universe; the front would begin to lose heat only if the source were completely sealed off. The residual heat could still do damage, but there was nothing anyone could do about that; eventually it would dissipate. All they could hope to do was prevent its growing larger.
They lived through an eon of anxiety before Spock spoke the magic words: "Temperature down half a degree!"
"Wait," Kirk said sharply, cutting off any premature surge of hope.
They waited a little longer. When Spock was sure, he announced, "Now it's down a full degree … a degree and a half … two … Captain, the heat level is definitely on the decline!"
"Ah ha! Got 'im!" Kirk laughed out loud in relief and slapped a button on the armrest. But while he was announcing their success to the rest of the crew, an uproar of whooping and cheering erupted on the bridge that forced him to yell to make himself heard.
When he'd finished, he gazed at his normally well-disciplined crew in astonishment. Scotty and McCoy were hugging each other like brothers who'd been separated for twenty years. The two men at the engineering station were shaking hands and pounding each other on the back and screaming congratulations. The two security guards were punching each other like a couple of small boys whose team had just won the Big Game. Uhura was doing a little dance in front of her station, providing her own music and snapping her fingers to the beat. And Chekov and Raina—oblivious to everything around them, Chekov and Raina were locked in a passionate embrace.
Kirk wondered if the rest of the ship had gone as mad as the bridge. He opened his mouth to tell them to knock it off—but then shut it again. Oh, why the hell not.
And then they were all over him—pulling him out of the command chair, slapping his back, shaking his hand, shouting congratulations at him. Uhura gave him a hug which he didn't have time to enjoy because Scotty grabbed his hand and was doing his damnedest to shake his arm off. They all kept touching him, giving him little pats of approval. Kirk was not one to pass up a development like that, so he went with the flow and gloried in the moment—until he caught sight of Spock standing stiffly apart from the others, distancing himself from the celebration.
Eventually the furor died down and the crew cheerfully drifted back to their posts and Kirk sank down into the command chair. Only then did Spock approach him. But instead of offering his congratulations, he said, "Captain, permission to leave the bridge."
Kirk was surprised. "Is something wrong?"
"I need … to return to my quarters. Permission to leave?"
"Granted."
Kirk stared after his first officer as Spock disappeared into the turbolift. Dr. McCoy too had noticed something was amiss. He leaned in close to Kirk and said, low, "Something is troubling our Vulcan friend, Jim. Perhaps I should—"
"No, I'd better go. If he needs help, I'll call you." He vacated the command chair. "Uhura, notify Starfleet Command that the baryon reverter did its job."
"You betcha, sir!" she sang.
"Scotty!"
"Sir?"
"Take over." Kirk headed toward the turbolift.
"Aye, sir!" Scotty boomed heartily. "Mr. Chekov! Do y'think it'd be possible for ye to find us a nice safe route out o' these burnin' heavens?"
"Oh, I think thet vould be possible, Mr. Scott!" Chekov allowed happily.
Kirk wasted no time in getting to his first officer's quarters. "It's Jim," he said to the door speaker. The doors hissed open.
Inside, he found the Vulcan in a physical posture he'd never seen once in all the years he'd known him. Spock was seated, his elbows resting on his knees and his face buried in his hands.
Despair? Kirk thought, shocked. Spock? Spock lifted his head and Kirk tried to read his expression—but the Vulcan mask was back in place.
"I have just realized I was remiss in the matter of offering my congratulations," Spock said formally. "You have brought about a successful conclusion to a catastrophic situation and you deserve the highest commendation. I should have said so on the bridge."
Kirk deliberately adopted a casual manner as he dropped into a chair and said, "Well, you didn't have much chance. Discipline on the bridge kind of broke down there for a minute or two. It was a special situation."
Spock did not respond to the friendliness in Kirk's voice; he said nothing, offering no clue.
Seize the bull by the horns. "Spock," Kirk said earnestly, "I want you to tell me what's wrong. I'm not ordering you to say anything. But I'm asking you, as a friend."
Spock was silent for so long that Kirk thought he wasn't going to answer. But at last the Vulcan said, "I am overcome with awe, Jim. I have understood for the first time something humans have had to deal with their entire lives. Can you imagine what it is like to feel a brand-new emotion for the first time? Something that you have known about for years, that you have a name for … but which you have never experienced firsthand? Jim, for the first time in my life, I have felt fear."
Oh-h-h-h, Kirk groaned silently, so that was it. If he were to answer Spock's question, he would have to say no, he could not imagine what it was like for a mature man to experience fear for the first time. That was beyond him; no one could imagine that. He just knew that it must be a terrible thing indeed. Especially for a man as disciplined and self-controlled as Mr. Spock.
He chose his words carefully before he started to speak. "You know, Spock, fear is not altogether a bad thing. Believe me, I've had lots of experience with it. But fear is … full of opposites. It can paralyze you, or it can galvanize you into actions you never thought yourself capable of. It can make you rash, or it can make you overly cautious. It can fill your veins with ice—or it can pump you so full of adrenaline you can't wait to get going, to do something, anything."
Spock's head sank forward to his chest. "A highly contradictory and destructive emotion."
"Not necessarily. It's a question of directing your fear into channels that help you, making it work for you instead of against you. It's a question of control." Kirk paused. "And I don't know of anyone in all of Starfleet who's better equipped to find that control than you, Spock."
Spock repeated the key word: "Control."
"Yes! Don't deny your fear. Use it. You'll see, it will add a whole new dimension to your life—you'll start seeing things in a way you've never seen them before. Anyone with human genes in him who's never known fear—well, he's not … whole. Oh, Spock, don't you see? You've found a part of yourself that was missing. Don't despair, Spock! Rejoice! Rejoice."
For a long moment there was no response. Then the Vulcan slowly lifted his head, looked his friend straight in the eye … and rejoiced.
The Enterprise went home, leaving the universe next door to develop in its own time and, as it always should have been, in its own space.