Spock's sensitive hearing picked up the swish of the pressure curtain
moving aside, so he was prepared when the door opened, framing McCoy.
The doctor's expression was somber as he walked out into the corridor.
In silence, the two officers went into Sarek's office. When the
ambassador saw them, he rose from his desk and the three walked out to
the living room. McCoy sank down on the couch and glanced around. "You
have a lovely home, Ambassador Sarek."
The elder Vulcan inclined his head. "My wife's doing, for the most
part," he said.
"The view outside is magnificent, too. I never saw anything like the
Forge on any world I've visited."
"It is a relatively unique configuration," Sarek agreed.
Spock, who was sitting beside the medical officer on the couch, shifted
impatiently. "Doctor ... what did your examination indicate?"
McCoy shook his head. "I'm sorry, Spock. The Healers
are correct. The Reyerson's is, for the moment, in remission.
But I'm afraid that when I speak to Dr. T'Mal, I'm going to recommend
that she halt your mother's treatments."
The first officer glanced quickly at his father, then back at the human.
"Why, Doctor?"
"Because they're causing a tremendous strain on your mother's already
frail system. While I was examining her, she suffered a small
stroke--and my findings indicate that wasn't the first one."
"A stroke?" Spock half-rose from the couch.
"It was a good thing I was there. I was able to arrest it, and prevent
any significant damage. My sensor readings indicate that she's had at
least two others within the past week or so.
Minor ones, but they take their toll."
"What is your prognosis, Dr. McCoy?" Sarek spoke for the first time in
minutes.
"Well, I can't really say definitively. These things differ with
individuals ..." the human began, evasively.
Sarek stared levelly at the Starfleet medical officer. "With all due
respect, I must remind you that you are not speaking to a human family,
Doctor. Please do not dissemble."
McCoy took a deep breath. "All right." He stared levelly at the
ambassador. "The Healer was, if anything, optimistic.
I would say it's a matter of a few weeks ... possibly only days."
Spock drew in a soft breath as the doctor's words struck him like a
blow. It wasn't until that moment that the Vulcan realized, bitterly,
that he'd hoped his old friend would be able to work some kind of
miracle. Illogical the Vulcan part of his mind whispered. Illogical if
not irrational ... hope is a human emotion.
All at once he was acutely conscious of the automatic time sense marking
off the hours, minutes, and seconds in his brain. Usually, the Vulcan
never thought about it, unless he needed to, but suddenly, it was as
pervasive as the ticking of some huge, old-fashioned Terran clock.
Time ... Amanda's time was running out. '
Without a word to the others, he rose from his seat and beaded for his
room. Fingers numb, he pulled on rough, outdoor clothing and desert
boots. He was not thinking, he was simply obeying a strong, almost
instinctive need to move, to be outside, to walk the rough soil and
climb the jagged stone of his homeworld.
The heat struck him as he headed into the hills, but Spock ignored it.
He was too conscious of the seconds ticking away inexorably in his head
...
"Ambassador?." Sarek looked up at the sound of Soran's voice. The
ambassador was sitting by Amanda's bedside, her hand in his, so he would
be there when she awakened.
On McCoy's advice, he had engaged a Healer's aide to monitor his wife's
condition, but he and Spock had been taking turns remaining with her
during most of their waking hours, ever since Dr. McCoy's revelation two
days ago.
Now, seeing the concern in his young aide's eyes, the Vulcan hastily
left the bedroom and stepped into the hallway. "What is it, Soran?"
"Ambassador, a priority call just came in for you from President
Ra-ghoratrei," he said. "The president wishes to speak with you. He says
it is urgent."
Sarek nodded a quick acknowledgment as he headed for his office. Moments
later, he was seated before his comm link. A presidential aide
recognized him, nodded briefly; then the image wavered and was replaced
with that of the Deltan Federation president. Ra-ghoratrei nodded a
somber greeting to the Vulcan.
"Ambassador Sarek. Your aide told me of your wife's illness. I regret
having to call upon you at such a time, but I have no choice."
"What is it, Mr. President?"
"A band of Klingon renegades has captured an Orion colony--the planet
Kadur amand they are holding several thousand colonists hostage. The
Klingon leader is threatening to kill the hostages unless the Federation
agrees to negotiate a release and monetary settlement with him." The
president took a deep breath. "Ambassador ... a great
many lives hang in the balance. For this mission we need our best
negotiator--and that is you. The meeting will take place on Deneb Four."
Sarek briefly reviewed what he knew of the conference center on Deneb
IV. It was at least three days' journey at maximum warp. A week to go
there and return, as well as whatever time the negotiations would
require ... he would probably be away from home for at least two weeks,
possibly three ...
The ambassador knew without consulting T'Mal or McCoy that, given her
present condition, Amanda would probably not survive long enough for him
to travel to the neutral site, handle the negotiations, and return. If
he left his wife now, it was unlikely that he would ever see her alive
again.
Nevertheless, there was only one logical course of action.
The Vulcan took a deep breath. It is my duty. I cannot risk so many
lives. The needs of the many ... "I will go, Mr. President," he said,
steadily.
Ra-ghoratrei breathed a sigh of relief. "The Federation thanks you,
Ambassador. The hostages will now have the best chance to keep their
lives and regain their freedom."
"I will need a complete report on the Klingon Commander," Sarek said. "I
will depart this afternoon, provided my pilot can ready my transport.
Send the information about this Klingon via subspace message, if you
will."
"I will direct Admiral Burton, the head of Starfleet Security, to do
so," the president promised.
"Very well. Sarek out."
"Thank you again, Ambassador. Out."
Rising from his seat, Sarek quickly gave Soran instructions to prepare
for the journey. Then, knowing it was for the last time, he went to bid
farewell to his wife.
"Amanda." The voice reached her in the darkness, pulling her back to
light and awareness. The voice was familiar, known, beloved. An
authoritative, precise voice with a faint resonance. Pleasantly deep,
extremely cultured. The voice of her husband.
Amanda opened her eyes. Strong fingers grasped her hand gently but
firmly. Sarek's fingers.
"Sarek," she murmured, g
azing up into the face she had known and loved
for so many years. "Have I been asleep long.*"
"Several hours. My wife, I regret having to wake you, but I must speak
with you ... before I take my leave."
Amanda's eyes opened wider. "Leave?" she asked faintly, too weak to
conceal the dismay his words caused her. "Why?
Where are you going?"
"There is an emergency on the planet Kadura," Sarek said. "I just
finished speaking to President Ra-ghoratrei. He asked me to negotiate
the release of a Federation colony that has been seized by Klingon
renegades. There are thousands of colonists whose lives are in jeopardy.
I must go, Amanda.
It is my duty."
Her heart contracted at his words. "How ... how long will it take?" she
asked, her words scarcely audible above the faint hum of the medical
monitors. "Must you go?"
"Yes. I must take ship for Deneb Four within the hour. It is difficult
to say how long I will be gone. Ten days, at the minimum. If the
negotiations proceed slowly ..." He trailed off and his fingers
tightened slightly on hers.
"I see," Amanda whispered. "Very well, Sarek. I understand."
Her husband regarded her, his dark eyes shadowed with grief. Gently, he
reached out and touched her hair, her cheek. "Amanda ... if I could, I
would stay here with you.
You know that, do you not?"
Silently, she nodded, fighting to hold back tears. His dear, familiar
face began to swim in her vision. No! she thought, blinking fiercely. I
will not cry. I will not let tears steal my last sight of you. I will
not let weeping mar our last farewell.
"Sarek ..." she whispered, turning her fingers so her hand grasped his,
returning the pressure. "I will miss you, my husband. I wish you did not
have to go."
"I will return as soon as possible, Amanda," he promised, his eyes never
leaving hers. "The instant Kadura is free, I will come home."
But you will almost certainly be too late, and we both know it, Amanda
thought, her eyes never leaving his face for a moment. She hated even to
blink. In a few minutes her husband would be gone, and she would never
see him again ... at least, not in this life.
"I want you to remember something," she said, struggling to keep her
voice even.
"What, Amanda?"
"Never forget that I love you, my husband. Always." She gazed at him
intently, holding his eyes with her own. "You will need to remember
that, Sarek, very soon now. Promise me you won't forget."
"My memory is typical for a Vulcan," he said, quietly. "I forget very
little, my wife."
"I know. But remembering my words in your head, and remembering them
here," freeing her hand, she gently laid it on his side, where his heart
lay, "are two different things.
Promise me."
"You have my word, Amanda," he said, his dark eyes filled with profound
sorrow.
I know that you love me, she thought, gazing up at him.
But I will not embarrass you by telling you so ... "Spock will be here
with you," Sarek said. "Do not forget that, my wife."
"His presence will be a great comfort," she said, softly.
Her gaze moved over his face, tracing the angular lines.
Putting her hand up, she touched his cheek, his eyes, his lips, thinking
of the many times she had kissed him there.
"Sarek, hold me. I want to feel your arms around me. Hold me."
Gently, he reached forward, scooped her up, and cradled her against him.
Amanda slid her arms around him and laid her head on his chest with a
long sigh. Briefly, she abandoned herself to the moment ... her soul
was content.
Finally she raised her head. "Sarek, I want you to promise me one more
thing."
He had difficulty meeting her eyes ... Amanda could tell through their
bond that he was profoundly moved. "What is it, Amanda?"
"I want you to read my journals ... afterward. Take the first one with
you now, my husband. Promise me you'll read all of them. Please?"
Sarek nodded; then, with infinite gentleness, he helped settle her back
onto the bed. Going into her sitting room, he returned with a slim,
red-covered volume. On the spine was affed the number 1. "This one?" he
asked, holding it up.
"Yes, that one," Amanda said, regarding him steadily as she lay propped
up on her pillows. "Read it. And when you've finished that one, go on
"I will do so, Amanda."
"I know you will," she said, and holding out her hand, two fingers
extended, she smiled at him. Somewhere deep inside herself, she was
crying, but she refused to let him see.
Let him remember me smiling, she thought.
Her husband held out his hand, brushed two fingers against hers, and
they remained that way for many seconds.
Then, with a last, grave nod, Sarek walked away, pushing through the
pressure curtain without looking back.
Spock saw the pressure curtain move; then his father appeared. The
ambassador's eyes widened slightly as he realized that his son must have
been listening to him as he bade farewell to his wife; then they
narrowed with anger.
Before his father could speak, the first officer signaled curtly for
silence and beckoned the ambassador out into the hall.
Only when the tekla wood door was firmly closed did Spock turn to regard
his father.
"Eavesdropping is discourteous, my son," Sarek said, and Spock could
tell he was irritated, though his voice was carefully neutral.
Spoek ignored the mild rebuke. He held his father's eyes with his own,
and his own voice was cold. "Soran told me that the president called,
and why. He also told me that you have ordered your transport prepared.
You intend to go to Deneb Four?"
"Yes," Sarek said, eyeing his son with a touch of wariness.
"I have just taken my leave of your mother."
"So I heard." Spock's voice cut like a shard of obsidian. "I must admit
that I found it difficult to believe. You actually intend to leave her?
In her present condition?"
"I must," Sarek said, quietly. "The needs of the many outweigh the
needs--"
"To quote an appropriate human phrase, "To hell with that,'" Spock broke
in, his voice rough with anger and grief.
"You cannot leave her like this."
"I recall a time," Sarek said, "when you chose to remain at your post,
when only you could save my life."
Spock paused. "Yes," he said, after a moment, "but I have grown since
then. It is a pity that you have not."
Sarek's eyebrow rose at his son's words and the unconcealed emotion.
"Spock, we all have our duties to consider. The situation at Kadura is
critical."
"So is my mother," the first officer said flatly. "She will not survive
long enough for you to return, and you know it.
Your leaving in itself will very likely hasten her end." He regarded his
father unwaveringly.
The ambassador paused, and Spock knew that the thought of his leaving
actually harming Amanda had not
occurred to him until now. "You will be
here with her," he said, finally. "She will not be alone."
"She needs her family with her," Spock said obdurately.
"You are her bondmate--her husband. Your loyalty should be to her. There
are other diplomats on Vulcan. Senkar has handled situations of this
nature before. Let him negotiate for Kadura's release."
"The president requested that I handle the negotiations personally,"
Sarek said.
"He cannot order you." Spock's gaze never wavered as he held his
father's eyes. "Refuse ... under the circumstances, no one will
question your actions."
Sarek straightened his shoulders. "Spock, I have no more time to discuss
this. I must leave now."
"You mean that you wish to leave," Spock said, his voice cold and flat.
"You do not have the courage to stay and see her through this."
Answering anger sparked in Sarek's eyes. "I will not
remain to hear such acrimonious--and illogical--out-pourings, Spock. I