SAREK [066-118-4.7]
By A.C. CRISPIN
Synopsis
Sunset on Vulcan.
In the west, 40 Eridani A--Nevasa--was setting, staining the magenta sky
with swaths of deep amethyst, gold, and coral. But the tall figure
silhouetted against the sunset was blind to the glory behind him; Sarek
of Vulcan faced east, watching his world's sister world, T'Rukh, at full
phase. The giant planet orbited a mere 149,895.3579 Federation Standard
kilometers from her companion world--and filled thirty degrees of sky.
Because the two worlds were tidally locked, Vulcan's sister planet,
T'Rukh, was only visible from this side of Vulcan. Looming perpetually
against the high, jagged horizon, the giant world went through a full
set of phases each day. Only at sunset did the bloated sphere fully
reveal her ravaged visage.
Sarek had chosen this remote location for his mountain villa in part
because of its view of T'Rukh. Here at the edge of the civilized world,
the ambassador never tired of watching T'Rukh poised atop the Forge, an
inhospitable continent-sized plateau seven kilometers higher than the
rest of the planet. Few indeed were the individuals who saw the sister
world's whole face on a regular basis; only the ancient retreat and
shrine of Gol lay farther east than Sarek's villa.
The wind, cooling now that Nevasa had set, plucked at Sarek's
light-colored tunic and loose trousers. As he watched T'Rukh intently,
his lean, long-fingered hands tightened on the balustrade of the terrace
overlooking the eastern gardens. The ambassador was attempting to reach
a decision.
Logic versus ethics... Should the needs of the many outweigh the
conscience and honor of the one? Could he compromise what he knew to be
right, in order to accomplish what was necessary?
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents
are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is
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Copyright 1994 by Paramount Pictures. All Rights Reserved.
/ STAR TREK is a Registered Trademark of Paramount Pictures.
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First Pocket Books paperback printing February 1995
10987654321
Printed in the U.S.A.
To Michael Capobianco, with love
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many people helped me produce this book. With the caveat that any errors
are assuredly my own, I wish to thank
Mark Lenard, whose evocative portrayal of the character inspired Sarek.
Mark is a fine actor who is also a gracious and warm human being. He
took a personal interest in this novel from its earliest inception.
For technical information
Michael Capobianco, fellow author and amateur astronomer, for
information on planetary orbits, rings and the like. (Not to mention
driving me to the Fed Ex depot, faxing hunks of the manuscript, fixing
dinner and providing much-needed shoulder rubs and encouragement during
tough times.)
Irene Kress and Judy May, for information on the effects of stroke. ix
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS For STAR TREK brainstorming, viewpoint and lore
John Jobeck and Ellen Marie Konicki, my favorite Klingons
Margaret Wander Bonanno, my favorite Vulcan... well, my favorite female
Vulcan.
Marc Okrand, for inventing words and phrases in Klingonese when I needed
them. Thanks, Marc. Now I know what to say if I ever make love to a
Klingon!
For editorial advice and assistance
Kevin Ryan and John Ordover, the STAR TREK editors at Pocket Books.
And, for just Being There when I needed them
Vonda, Nancy, Merrilee, Liza, Deb and Teresa.
And last, but foremost, I have to thank my longtime friend and co-author
Kathleen O'Malley, who provided valuable editorial insight and
criticism... and much, much more. Without Kathy, I doubt this book would
have made it into print.
PROLOGUE
Sunset on Vulcan.
In the west, 40 Eridani A--Nevasa--was setting, staining the magenta sky
with swaths of deep amethyst, gold, and coral. But the tall figure
silhouetted against the sunset was blind to the glory behind him; Sarek
of Vulcan faced east, watching his world's sister world, T'Rukh, at full
phase. The giant planet orbited a mere 149,895.3579 Federation Standard
kilometers from her companion worldmand filled thirty degrees of sky.
Because the two worlds were tidally locked, Vulcan's sister planet,
T'Rukh, was only visible from this side of Vulcan. Looming perpetually
against the high, jagged horizon, the giant world went through a full
set of phases each day. Only at sunset did the bloated sphere fully
reveal her ravaged visage.
Sarek had chosen this remote location for his mountain villa in part
because of its view of T'Rulda. Here at the edge of the civilized world,
the ambassador never tired of watching T'Rukh poised atop the Forge, an
inhospitable continent-sized plateau seven kilometers higher than the
rest of the planet. Few indeed were the individuals who saw the sister
world's whole face on a regular basis; only the ancient retreat and
shrine of Gol lay farther east than Sarek's villa.
The wind, cooling now that Nevasa had set, plucked at Sarek's
light-colored tunic and loose trousers. As he watched T'Rukh intently,
his lean, long-fingered hands tightened on the balustrade of the terrace
overlooking t
he eastern gardens. The ambassador was attemptins to reach
a decision.
Logic versus ethics ... Should the needs of the many outweigh the
conscience and honor of the one? Could he compromise what he knew to be
right, in order to accomplish what was necessary?
Sarek gazed across the Plains of Gol, considering. Long ago, he had
studied with several of the Masters there. What would his teachers do if
they were in his place?
The ambassador drew a deep breath of the evening air, then let it out
for his private retreat decades ago, when he and his second wife had
first been married. These remote hills were cooler, even during the
daylight hours, and thus easier for humans--in particular, one special
human--to endure than the scorching heat of the rest of his world.
Night deepened around Sarek as he watched T'Rukh.
Evening on this hemisphere of Vulcan did not bring darkness, though.
T'Rukh, the huge world humans called Charis, provided forty times the
light of Earth's full moon. At full phase, T'Rukh was a swollen
yellowish half-sphere, a dissipated eye that never blinked, even when
spumes and geysers of fire from her volcano-wracked surface penetrated
her cloud cover. Sarek noted absently that a new volcano had erupted
since yesterday; the large, fire-red dot resembled an inflamed abscess
on the planet's sulfuric countenance.
T'Rukh was only one of The Warchef's names; her name varied according to
the time of the Vulcan year. More than twice as large as Vulcan, T'Rukh
boasted a moon of her own in a low, fast-moving orbit. Tonight
T'Rukhemai (literally,
"Eye of The Watcher") was visible as a dark reddish sphere almost in the
center of the planet--a pupil in a giant eye.
The little worldlet, slightly larger than Earth's moon, or bited The
Watcher so quickly that its motion was almost perceptible to the naked
eye. Sarek watched The Watcher, and she stared back at him balefully.
It was his habit to stand here and watch The Watcher whenever he faced a
difficult decision. And the one he faced now was proving to be one of
the most difficult choices of his career. Logic chains ran through his
mind, presenting pros and cons relentlessly, over and over. Should he
act? The action he was contemplating went against all the rules of
diplomacy and interstellar law. How could he abandon those rules, he who
had devoted his life to upholding the tenets of civilized society?
But ... if he did not act, did not gain proof of the insidious threat
that faced the Federation, millions of innocent lives could well be
lost. Perhaps billions.
Sarek's mouth tightened. Proving his theory would require that he break
the law. How could he himself flout what he had helped engineer? And yet
... this was definitely a case where the needs of the many must be
considered. Could he risk the impending threat of war?
Sarek stared fixedly at The Watcher as he thought. Somewhere in the
distance, a lanka-gar called. The ambassador turned his head, catching
the wheeling shape of the night flier as it swooped after prey on the
slopes below.
Glancing over his shoulder, Sarek noted absently that the garish colors
of sunse t were muted now. In a few minutes they would be entirely gone,
and T'Rukh, though no longer full, would rule the night.
The breeze touched him again, chill against his cheek. By midnight it
would be cool even by human standards.
Even though the ambassador's aquiline features were composed, as usual,
his mind would not be still.
The logic chains flowed, slowed--and the equation crystallized in his
mind. The decision lay before him. In this case, logic and necessity
must outweigh ethical considerations.
Sarek nodded slightly at T'Rukh, bidding the giant planet farewell,
knowing that his decision would require that he journey off-world. The
Watcher would wax and wane without his presence for many nights. He
would leave as soon as possible.
Turning away from the vista before him, the ambassador headed back
toward the house, his strides quick and sure.
For a moment he envisioned Spock's reaction if he were to discover what
his father was planning, and experienced a flicker of amusement. His son
would be surprised, possibly shocked, if he knew that his sire was
logically and rationally planning to commit a crime. The ambassador had
little doubt that, in his place, Spock would choose the same course. But
his son was half-human--he'd long ago learned to dissemble, to
equivocate ... even to lie. Yes, Spock would condone his
decision--which, in a way, made his father's conscience trouble him even
more.
But there was no help for it--his logic was faultless. His course was
clear. He would not turn back.
Reaching the villa, a low, sprawling structure with thick, protective
walls, Sarek entered. The house was decorated for the most part in
typical Vulcan fashion, austere, with only the most essential
furnishings, but its very bareness lent a feeling of spacious comfort.
In the living room, presence of the villa's human occupant was reflected
in the antique desk with its faded petit-point chair, in the matching
coffee table, and in the handwoven hangings that lent soft touches of
rose, turquoise, and sea green to the walls. A water sculpture made a
faint susurration within the protective field that prevented evaporation
of the precious liquid.
Sarek paused in his office and contacted his young aide, Soran,
instructing him to make arrangements for them to travel off-world. The
Ambassador's office was devoid of ornamentation, except for the painting
of an icy world beneath a swollen red sun.
Next door to his office was the bedroom, and through that lay his wife's
sitting room, with its view of the eastern gardens. Sarek already knew
from the bond they shared that Amanda awaited him there. He hesitated
for a moment before the caryen portal leading into their room.
Knowing that his wife had sensed his presence through their bond, Sarek
opened the door and passed through the bedroom to the sitting room.
Amanda occupied her favorite chair as she sat gazing out at The Watcher
and the rocky spires of her garden.
The light from Vulcan's sister world shone on her face, revealing new
lines that had not been there a month ago.
Her bones seemed more prominent, the lines of cheekbones and nose
showing through flesh. He studied her for a moment, noting that Amanda's
flowing garment now clearly outlined the angles of her shoulders and
collarbone; she had never been a large woman, but during the past month
she had clearly lost weight from her already small frame.
"Sarek," she greeted her husband, her mental and audible voice filled
with warmth and welcome as she held out her hand to him.
"Greetings, my wife," the ambassador said, permitting himself the small
smile that he reserved for her alone.
Extending two fingers, he ceremoniously touched them to hers. The
&n
bsp; gesture, so simple on a physical level, was, between a bonded couple,
capable of nearly infinite shades of meaning--at times merely a casual
acknowledgment, the mental equivalent of a peck on the cheek, at times
nearly as passionate as anything experienced in the throes ofponfarr.
Sarek's touch conveyed a depth of feeling that the ambassador had never
voiced, for speaking of such things in words, aloud, was not the Vulcan
way.
"Is it cool out tonight?" Amanda asked, gazing out at her garden. She
had planted it shortly after Spock's birth, using unusually shaped and
colored stones to complement the native Vulcan cactuslike trees, as well
as desert plants from a dozen Federation worlds.
"The temperature is normal for the season and time of day," Sarek
replied.
"I thought of joining you on the terrace," Amanda said, glancing out at
the garden, "but I must have fallen asleep. I only awoke when I felt
your presence next door."
Sarek sat down next to her, his gaze traveling over her features, noting
with disquiet how drawn and pale she appeared. And she tired so easily
these days ...
Concerned, the Vulcan raised the light level in the room, then studied
his wife's face intently. Even without The Watcher's eerie illumination,
Amanda appeared drawn and pale. No trace of pink remained in her cheeks,