and real as though it were actually happening ...
The three of them were gathered around the table for the evening meal,
and Amanda had prepared many of their favorite dishes herself, not
trusting the selectors to season and spice every dish perfectly. Always
sensitive to his wife's moods, because of their bond, Sarek soon
realized that Amanda was both preoccupied and nervous.. though he could
not think of any reason for her to be uneasy.
Eighteen-year-old Spock sat on his right, and the youth's appetite,
customarily healthy, was noticeably lacking.
Today Sarek had met with the head of the Vulcan Science Academy to
discuss possible curricula for Spock's education, which would begin next
term. Sekla, the ambassador recalled (experiencing a flash of pride he
did not trouble to suppress), had openly expressed his eagerness to
guide and foster young Spock's intellectual and logical development.
His sows intelligence profiles and school records were, in Sekla's word,
"impressive." For a Vulcan, that was quite a compliment.
Sekla, Sarek had noted, had been careful not to say,
"Impressive for one of half blood." No mention had been made of his sows
shared heritage.
Now Sarek glanced inquiringly from his wife to his son.
"My wife, this meal is exemplary. I thank you. Yet I note that neither
of you appears to be hungry. Is something wrong?"
Amanda started, then obviously forced herself to relax as she turned to
face her husband. Her brown hair had recently begun to show a few
streaks of silver, but her soft features were relatively unlined, and
her blue eyes were as sapphire-intense as ever. "Nothing is wrong,
Sarek," she said, but he could tell through their bond that she was
equivocating ... not actually telling an untruth, but coming perilously
close to it. "However, I have determined to finish that translation of
T'Lyra's ancient poetry cycle tonight. My editor messaged me today to
inquire about when it would be completed, and I have only two poems
left. So I will take my leave of you. Spock"--she turned her gaze on her
son, and there was an intensity in her eyes that hadn't been there when
she'd spoken to her husband--"will you help your father clear the table?
That will give you a chance to talk."
"But, Mother--" Spock began, half-protesting, but Amanda merely gave him
a too-bright smile as she collected her own dishes and headed for the
autocleaner in the kitchen. Her son avoided his father's gaze as he
snatched up his dishes and followed his mother into the kitchen.
Sarek hastily rose, gathered his own dishes, and followed him. What is
transpiring here? he wondered, disquieted.
The elder Vulcan was just in time to hear Amanda insist,
"You have to tell him, Spock. You know that." Sarek hesitated,
half-shielded by the doorway, and saw his wife give his son an
encouraging smile. Spock gave her a wan half-smile in return. Sarek
tensed as he saw it. His sows control was virtually perfect in front of
him, but, in the company of humans, it slipped occasionally. Once, on
Earth, the ambassador had actually seen him grin when he'd thought he
was alone, as the youth observed the antics of a pair of his
grandparents' kittens.
I will insist that Spock reside at the Science Academy during his course
of study, Sarek thought. There are no humans there, and that hould
enable him to perfect his control.
Then Amanda left the kitchen, and Sarek stepped in.
Silently, father and son tidied the kitchen and dining area.
When they were finished, the elder Vulcan caught and held his son's
eyes. "What is it that you must tell me, Spock?" he asked bluntly.
His son took a deep breath. "Perhaps we might walk outside, Father? The
Watcher should be just past full phase."
"Certainly," Sarek agreed.
Together, t he two left the villa and walked into Amanda's garden. As
father and son walked slowly, Sarek glanced at his son's face, saw that
Spock's mouth was drawn tight, making him appear older than his eighteen
years. "Tell me what concerns you, Spock," Sarek said, finally, seeing
that the youth was not disposed to break the silence.
Spock drew a deep breath and halted, turning to face his father. His
eyes were level, but for a moment a muscle jumped in the corner of his
jaw ... twitched once, twice, then was forcibly repressed. "Father, I
decided some time ago that I did not wish to attend the Vulcan Science
Academy," he said, carefully enunciating each word. "I applied instead
to Starfleet Academy. I learned today that I have been accepted as a
cadet."
Sarek heard the words, but it took a second for them to register. Ever
since Spock's early childhood, Sarek had watched his eager fascination
with the universe, observed and fostered the development of his logical,
scientific mind.
For years science had been Spock's consuming interest in life. And now
he was talking about giving that up in order to wear a uniform?
The ambassador gazed at his son, searching for words, knowing that he
must make the youth recognize the gravity of this error in judgment.
"Spock," he began, careful to keep his voice low, "it is obvious that
this constitutes an unconsidered decision on your part. That is
understandable ... you are young, after all. But I cannot allow you to
... waste your years of study.
Your thinking processes and logical abilities are eminently suited for a
scientific career."
"I do not intend to give up science, Father," Spock said, a spark of
eagerness animating his features slightly when he realized that his
father was willing to discuss his decision rationally. "Starfleet ...
serving aboard a starship ... will provide an unparalleled opportunity
for scientific exploration, observation, and study. As a science
officer, I will be able to study the universe as I never could
if/remained here on Vulcan."
Spock's control was slipping; his father could hear the passion tingeing
his voice. Sarek stared at the youth stonily.
"Spock ... your control," he chided.
The other's eyes fell ... all animation drained from his features. "I
ask forgiveness," he said, and Sarek caught just a hint of sullenness in
his tone. "At any rate, Father, I have made my decision."
"Spock, what happened just now is an excellent example of why I demand
that you reconsider this decision," Sarek pointed out. "In Starfleet,
you will be among mostly humans.
Your control is precarious enough. In the company of humans, it may be
irrevocably damaged. You could disgrace your people ... your entire
lineage if you do this."
"I will endeavor to perfect my control--" Spock began.
Sarek shook his head and continued, adamantly, "Spock, every time your
control falters, you reflect poorly upon all of Vulcan."
Spock's features hardened. "My control is my own affair," he said,
coldly. "I wonder how my mother would react if she knew you were warning
me against being 'contaminated' by her species."
"Your mother has no part in thi
s," Sarek said curtly, feeling his anger
at his son's stubbornness threatening his own control. "She is not
Vulcan, and this does not concern her."
"Mother is in favor of my decision," Spock said evenly.
"She believes it will be beneficial for me to interact with many
different kinds of beings. And I should point out that gaining
acceptance into Starfleet Academy is far from easy,
Father. Starfleet chooses only the top five percent of applicants." The
youth gave him a sideways glance. "Mother is proud that I have been
accepted." Sarek heard the implied rebuke, but did not acknowledge it.
"Assuming you graduate," he said, "are you aware that you will be
required to take an oath stating that you will do whatever is necessary
to carry out your orders? Including kill? Starfleet vessels carry
formidable weapons, Spock! You would have to be trained in the use of
them, as well as hand weapons. It is eminently possible that you would
be called upon to kill another, in the performance of your duty."
Spock's expression did not alter. "There is talk of commissioning an
all-Vulcan science vessel," he pointed out.
"Perhaps I will be assigned to that ship ..."
"And perhaps you will not," Sarek snapped. His own control was slipping,
but, at the moment, he did not care. He paced up and down the garden
path, his strides quick and jerky. "You will be a puppet, a toy for
Starfleet to order about as they please. You will have no free will.
Starfleet officers are respected by the masses, that is true. But no
Vulcan has ever graduated from the Academy, my son! Our people are not
suited for a life in the service!"
"That is something that remains to be seen, Father," Spock said, with
maddening calm. "I have decided that this is a step I wish to take. Do
not think you can dissuade me.
My mind is made up."
"Your future is bright," Sarek said, changing tactics. "I have little
doubt that you will distinguish yourself as a scientist if you attend
the Vulcan Science Academy. If you pursue this other path, however, you
will have disgraced your family.. your lineage. What would T'Pau say, if
she could hear you planning to bring ruin upon yourself?."
"I have determined that this path is mine, Spock stud. "I cannot allow
family opinion to dissuade me."
"If you do this," Sarek said, holding his son's eyes with his own,
putting every bit of intensity he was experiencing into his formal
words, "you will not be welcome in my lands, your name will not be known
to me. If you persist in disgracing yourself and your lineage, I will
not be able to excuse you, either publicly or privately. You will be
vrekasht to me, Spock, do you understand?" Vrekasht ... the ancient
word meant "exile," or "outcast." Sarek regretted having to say it, but
it was obvious that strong measures were required to make his son see
reason in this.
Spock's features hardened, and his mouth was a grim slash. "Vrekasht?"
he repeated. "Is that not rather ... overstating the gravity of the
situation, Father? I have only chosen my life's path ... not murdered
or mind-violated another."
"If you persist in joining Starfleet, then I have no doubt that you will
be called upon to do both, in the course of time," Sarek said,
inexorably. "I insist that you reconsider this disastrous course." Spock
gazed at him for a long moment; then his shoulders straightened, and he
raised his chin slightly. "No," he said, coldly. "My decision stands. If
you wish to name me vrekasht, then so be it. Farewell, Father." Without
another word, the youth turned and strode away, up the garden path,
toward the villa. Sarek watched him go, fighting with himself. Spock was
correct to name his son vrekasht was extreme ... and unjustified.
Sarek wished he had not done it. The word "Wait!" surged through him,
wanting to burst from his lips ... but the ambassador clenched his
teeth and the word died in his mouth, unspoken.
Spoek's tall figure was at the garden perimeter now ... was still moving
... it was not yet too late ... it was--too late. Over. There was a
last flicker of a Vulcan robe, and then his son vanished into the villa.
Go after him, one part of Sarek's mind insisted, but he could not. He
was correct, and he would not grovel, would not recant. Logic dictated
that he wait for Spock to consider his words. Surely his son would come
to his senses.
Sarek stared blindly at T'Rukh, waiting for Spock to reappear. An hour
passed ... two. Three, and the ambassador still waited, barely
stirring.
Finally he heard a step beside him, and turned, only to find that it was
Amanda who stood there. Traces of weeping still showed around her eyes,
but her features were composed.
"Where is Spock?" Sarek demanded.
snows of her homeworld. "Our son is gone, Sarek." The Vulcan heard her
words, unable to believe that Spock had not reconsidered, had accepted
the sentence his father had imposed on him, and had left to pursue this
illogical, distasteful career choice. "Spock.. is gone?" he asked,
finally.
"That is what I said." Amanda's voice was flat. "He told me that you
declared him vrekasht, my husband. How could you?"
"I was trying to make him come to his senses," Sarek muttered, still
stunned by her pronouncement.
"That was a terrible, unjust thing to do, Sarek," Amanda said. "You have
done the unforgivable. Spock is my son, and I will not support you in
this." She took a deep breath. "I cannot stay with someone who could do
what you have done today. I am leaving you, Sarek."
"You are ... leaving? Amanda," he said, carefully, "I do not wish you
to leave."
"You have no choice, Sarek. I cannot stay with you anymore.. after
this." For the first time, Amanda's voice faltered slightly.
Sarek, noting that?aid, "But you will be back, Amanda.
You will return ... She shook her head. "I don't know, Sarek. Perhaps.
Or perhaps not. I only know that I can't bear the sight of you at the
moment. Farewell." Without giving him a chance to say anything more, she
turned and walked away, just as her son had. Sarek stood in his wife's
garden, bathed in T-Rukh's harsh light, alone.
Alone ... Sarek watched as the door to the observation deck slid shut
behind his son. His fingers tightened on Amanda's journal. Today he
would read of her days without him. She had been gone for nearly a year,
and they had never spoken of that time after she'd returned. What had
she done in all those days?
Today he would find out.
Those days without her had been the worst of his life ... in some ways,
worse even than now.
Why had she come back? Sarek still wasn't sure. His fat her, Solkar, had
died, and she had appeared without warning at the memorial service. At
its conclusion, Amanda had simply walked over to him, taken his arm, and
gone home with him as though she had never been away.
They had never discussed the separation.
Sarek took a deep breath and opened the slim red volume ...
Spock walked along the corridor leading from the observation deck,
almost wishing he had not left. His father had appeared so ... alone.
For a moment, Sarek had appeared actually ... vulnerable.
But then memories of Amanda's last hours surfaced, and the Vulcan's lips
tightened. Vulnerable? His father?
Reaching Kirk's cabin, the Vulcan identified himself and was admitted.
Kirk was still in uniform, though the captain had been off duty for over
an hour.
"We will reach the rendezvous coordinates in one hour point thirty-two
minutes," Spock said, without preamble.
"What are you planning to do, Captain?"
"We're almost a full two days ahead of the deadline, Spock," Kirk said.
"Your father and I discussed this yesterday.
He thinks, and I agree with him, that Kamarag is behind this. I believe
he's holding Peter on Qo'nos."
"And?" Spock prompted, when the officer paused.
"And I'm going in to rescue him," Kirk said. "With luck, I can take a
shuttlecraft in, locate him by sensor, grab him, and get back to the
Enterprise before Kamarag even reaches the rendezvous site." Spock
nodded; he'd been expecting something like this. "I will go with you,
Captain," he said. "You cannot go alone."
"I was planning to," Kirk said. "Invading the Klingon homeworld