“An intriguing question,” Spock said as he perused the 3-D chessboard in Kirk’s fireplace nook, still set up as it had been when they had left off their last game. It was too warm for a fire this time of year, but the nook had quickly become their traditional place for chess, to accommodate the half-Vulcan captain’s dislike for cold. It also had the advantage of being away from the wide, curved row of windows that gazed out across San Francisco Bay toward the Marin Headlands, so that the lights and sounds from outside intruded less on the players’ concentration.

“Certainly the Warborn’s plight is one I can comprehend,” Spock went on, projecting so Kirk could hear him clearly from the kitchen over the clinking of the china. “Outsiders to their culture by the nature of their birth… of their world, yet apart from it… seeking a place where their otherness will not be a hindrance.”

Kirk came back into the living room, carrying a tea tray. “Then you think we should admit them to the Academy.”

“I did not say that,” Spock replied as Kirk set the tray down beside the chessboard. “Empathy does not compel partisanship. It merely provides insight into all sides of a question.” Kirk finished pouring Spock’s cup and handed it to him. “Thank you, Jim. In this case, I can easily empathize with the other side as well. A race of soldiers that can be swiftly bred by the millions is a dangerous temptation. The potential for abuse is enormous.”

“The Arcturians have managed to resist that temptation for over a century,” Kirk countered as he lifted his own teacup. “With one notable exception.”

“Resisting temptation means nothing if the temptation is not present. The one time they were offered a justification, they took it.”

“After resisting it as long as they could.”

“True resistance does not yield.” Spock set down his cup. “In the Kolinahr ritual, there is a phase where one must remain completely silent for several months, acknowledging no others, even in their immediate presence. There is a phase where one must go with no more than the barest minimum of food and water for six weeks, even when meals are provided daily. There is a phase—”

“I get the idea.”

“There were many times while undertaking these rituals that my need grew desperate. I became convinced that I would not remain safe or even survive if I did not break the stricture. I felt certain that the cause was justified, that anyone would comprehend my need, that anyone would yield in the same circumstances.”

Kirk sipped his tea. “But you didn’t yield.”

“I understood that those feelings were the very temptations I needed to overcome. So I released them, and did not succumb.” The corner of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “At least until I sensed V’Ger’s mind calling out. There, at the point of no return… I wavered.”