Free Corona by Greg Bear

parents."
    T'Prylla watched in horror as Grake's face grew rigid, then softened. All resistance vanished in her husband's features. Then her own will seemed to melt, and she was returned to the undifferentiated state in which they had both spent the past nine years. Deep inside, however—below all the carefully nurtured, civilized levels, in the regions of her personality that emulated the violent Vulcan figures of the past—T'Prylla hated, and fought, and screamed with rage …

    "Mr. Veblen, I have to say I don't place much trust in your stochastic algorithm. Still, since nothing else seems to make much sense, what do the new versions tell us?" Kirk sat in his favorite chair, a worn manually-operated Delkin he had purchased while on shore leave some years before. On the cabin's more modern conference chairs sat Spock, Veblen, McCoy, Ensign Devereaux, Lieutenant Olaus and Mason, who carried a simple voice recorder.
    "Sir," Veblen began, swallowing. "The computers suggest the algorithms are not appropriate at this point. We are close to having information we can use to find out what really happened—"
    "Oh? How close are we?" Kirk turned to Spock. "Are the enhancements any help?"
    "Whatever Ensign Devereaux saw in the station corridor, it does not register on the tricorder. And Mister Mason's opinion to the contrary, we are fortunate the tricorder was present, and not her own press equipment; the tricorder is far more diversified and sensitive."
    "Mr. Devereaux?"
    "The picture of the boy—he was only three years old at the time the record was made. I can't be positive. But it does resemble the older boy I saw in the station."
    "Spock, any chance there would be other Vulcan children on the station by now?"
    "Not of that age, Captain."
    "Of course. So how does Radak become so disembodied that he doesn't show up on a tricorder?"
    "There is only one way to find out, Captain. We must send down another landing party."
    "Spock, I've been known to take risks, but I'm not sure that's one I want to take right now—"
    Uhura's voice broke in over the com. "Captain, a signal from Station One has just come in."
    Kirk sat up. "Relay, Lieutenant."
    "With visual, Captain."
    Kirk reached over and activated his cabin screen. The image was hazy at first, but quickly sharpened. Kirk recognized Grake immediately; the Vulcan looked tired, but sounded as enthusiastic as possible for a Vulcan. "This is researcher Grake on Black Box Nebula Station One. I wish to speak to the captain of the Federation starship Enterprise ."
    "I'm Captain James T. Kirk. We're relieved to see you alive and well, Grake. We've had some alarming moments in your station."
    "Yes, my son informed me. I apologize for the confusion. We have been rather isolated here, and all of our communications equipment has been deactivated to transfer power to other projects. We are all indeed well, Captain—with the exception, unfortunately, of our colleagues in suspended animation."
    "Tell him we have to come down soon," McCoy said.
    "Request permission to enter your station and carry out our orders," Kirk said. "We are acting on your distress call, Grake."
    "Yes, of course. It has been a very long time, Captain, even for Vulcans. Much has changed … and some of the changes may be startling. May I suggest that only essential personnel be sent down first?"
    "Of course. Spock, myself and Dr. McCoy will be in the second landing party."
    "Yes, how marvelous. T'Prylla and I will be very pleased to see Spock again. And of course, all of you have been long awaited."
    Kirk glanced at Spock, who was out of range of the console cameras. His first officer's expression was troubled, verging on a frown. "Please give us proper coordinates, Grake," Kirk said, "so we won't interfere with any of your … ah … projects."
    Grake read them transporter coordinates and repeated his gladness at seeing them, then signed off. "Spock?" Kirk asked when the screen had gone dark. "Something wrong?"
    "I cannot