used to the new, relaxed regulations on hairstyle. Tomson was regular
navy, and still had palpitations when a crewman's hair touched the
collar. She made a mental note to talk to Nguyen afterwards. For
routine security work,
okay--but for show, pomp and circumstance, the hair should be pinned
up. Nguyen might not like it, of course; if she decided to be bold,
she could point out to Tomson that this was a backwater planet in a
dead sector and the Vulcans they were picking up were scientists, not
diplomats.. .. She could point it out, and find herself transferred.
Tomson was not there to be liked. She was there to see to it that her
people did their job.
Nguyen smiled up uncertainly at her, and Tomson's pale face shifted
into the barest ghost of a smile. It was often an effort for her to be
friendly, especially with overeager types like Nguyen. She'd once
overheard a crewman saying that it must be the altitude--it wasn't the
first such comment she'd heard. A cold, six-and-a-half-foot female
security chief was an easy target for jokes. Tomson told herself she
did not care, as long as it didn't interfere with her job.
"They were staying behind to finish up an archaeological dig, and one
of them was injured," Tomson answered, looking straight ahead and not
at Nguyen. "All of their doctors had already left, and he needed
immediate medical attention. The Enterprise was the closest ship out.
Apparently, his family came with him."
"Extended family," al-Baslama said. He was swarthy, congenial, and
almost as tall as Tomson. Save for his intelligence, he perfectly fit
the stereotype of the beefy security guard.
Nguyen nodded; they had picked up twelve passengers. "Do they always
travel in families like that?"
"It was convenient in this instance," Tomson said. "They'd been out
close to forty years."
"Forty years .. ." Nguyen faltered.
Tomson shrugged. "The wink of an eye, to a Vulcan." She stopped
abruptly as they approached the turbolift and turned to al-Baslama. "I
wonder if I could talk to you for a minute, al-B?"
"Of course, sir."
Nguyen got on the turbolift and shot a glance in alBaslama's direction,
which he studiously ignored. From the looks of things, Nguyen had
already joined the ranks of al-B's ardent admirers; no doubt, she had
hoped to ditch Tomson and consult al-B about his off duty plans. Tomson
watched the doors close over her with a sense of smugness.
Al-Baslama stood politely at attention, and Tomson looked at him
admiringly. Next to Tomson, he held the highest rank of anyone else in
security lieutenant, junior grade. Not, Tomson thought, that he
hadn't earned it. Now that Nguyen was gone, she permitted herself to
smile at him. Al-B relaxed; he had not been able to tell from the
lieutenant's voice whether to expect praise or a reprimand.
Tomson never wasted words. "I've recommended you be put up for
promotion. I want you to know that my evaluation of you was extremely
flattering."
"Sir?" al-Baslama said. He wasn't due for a promotion for another six
months. He was silent for a moment and then seemed to remember that
more of a response was called for, "Thank you, sir. That's very
kind."
Tomson leaned forward conspiratorially and lowered her voice. "I'll
tell you another secret, al-B. I'm almost sure you're going to get
it."
He hesitated. "Sir .. . that would mean a transfer."
"I suppose it would," Tomson said, falsely casual. It was not
something she liked to think about, but someone like al-B deserved any
help he got from his superiors. "You deserve a command of your own.
We both know that."
"But I've enjoyed working with you, sir," al-B protested. "You're the
best."
Tomson lowered her eyes, uncharacteristically embarrassed. "I
appreciate the compliment, Lieutenant, but you've got a career to think
of. You shouldn't let anything get in its way."
"Yes, sir," he said, clearly unconvinced. "Again, thank you, sir."
Tomson stepped into the turbolift, and al-B followed. He stood,
silent, not looking at her, as they moved toward C deck.
When she could no longer stand the silence, she said, slightly
exasperated, "Is there a problem, Lieutenant?"
Al-B squared his shoulders. "Is there any way, sir, that I could get
the promotion and still be assigned to the Enterprise?"
Nguyen, Tomson thought bitterly. She almost stamped her foot. "Dammit,
al-B, I stuck my neck out on this one! What's the matter with you?
There's no one on this ship worth wasting your career for!"
"I had thought..." he said softly, then broke off. "I guess I was
wrong."
Tomson was about to continue her invective until she caught his eye.
She had only seen such looks directed at others, never at herself--and
she became
suddenly conscious of her heart beating faster. "Moh ." she said
gently. "I'm your immediate superior. It wouldn't be proper."
"I know, sir. But a transfer .. ." He looked hard at her. "I guess I
read everything wrong. Is that what you really want?"
"Yes--for your career," Tomson insisted. Then, in a much lower voice,
she said, "Personally? No. You're the best person, male or female,
I've ever had on this team .. . and the nicest."
He smiled sadly. "Maybe it won't go through, Lieutenant."
The doors to the turbolift opened. "Don't be a damn fool," she said
shortly, and walked away too quickly for him to catch up.
Amanda had finished planting and was just watering the last rosebush
when Sarek brought Silek back into the garden. She straightened
suddenly, smiled, and then grimaced.
"Are reunions always painful for you, my wife?" Sarek asked calmly.
"It's nothing," she said, smiling once again. "A thorn. Silek, how
wonderful to see you!" Her impulse was to hold out her hand in the
Vulcan embrace, two fingers extended, but a strange shyness held her
back. "You've hardly changed."
It was true, of course; other than a broad streak of gray in the front
of his hair, Silek looked exactly the same. Being human and aging much
faster, Amanda knew that he could not truthfully say the same for her;
after living with a Vulcan for many years, she did not expect him to.
Curious, though, how much he looked
like Spock.. .. She had never forgotten his face, but had somehow
failed to realize over the years that by some capricious combination of
genes, her son had grown to look more like his uncle than his own
father.
"How long has it been?" she asked.
"Thirty-eight-point-four years, or so your husband tells me." Silek
did not smile, but the effect was the same as if he had. Amanda
wondered how he did it.
Sarek held out his hand to her in the ritual embrace; automatically,
she walked over to the two men and touched her fingertips to her
husband's. Sarek looked down at her hand and permitted himself the
small, exasperated tug at one corner of his mouth that usually appeared
only when he teased her
in private. "Your hands are dirty, my wife. I
see that you have forgotten your gloves again."
"I'm not afraid of a little dirt," Amanda replied, pretending defiance,
but she wiped her hands again on her coveralls. "Ouch!"
"The thorn?" Sarek asked. "Let me see."
Amanda held up her thumb and did not flinch as Sarek removed the thorn
with expert detachment. "So you see," Sarek said under his breath to
Silek, "what marrying an Earther has brought me." A small rill of
blood followed the thorn, and she instinctively pulled her dirty thumb
away from Sarek and put it in her mouth.
"Barbaric." Silek turned to Sarek. "Is it typical to find her
thus--covered with dirt?"
Sarek nodded. "She has always been fond of gardening; indeed, she
knows more now about Vulcan gardening than I. But it has always been
her private sorrow that roses could not survive the climate here.
She tells me now that a genus of rose has been developed which can
withstand life on Vulcan."
"For her sake, I hope it survives," said Silek, remembering that roses
had always been her favorite flower.
Amanda smiled. "This time I am determined. Neither hot Vulcan breezes
nor infernal pests are going to destroy my flowers this time. But
here, let me clean up." She brushed the dark, loamy soil from her
coveralls. "I wasn't expecting you back so soon; this isn't exactly my
hostess gown."
"Finish your gardening," Silek said. "If we were on Earth, I'd say I
am family, not company. And it is quite nice in the garden."
"On Vulcan the best kind of company is family," Amanda retorted.
"Besides, I'm finished. I'll be only a few minutes." She turned and
went into the house.
"I have never seen such black soil," said Silek.
"Earth dirt," Sarek replied. "For Earth flowers. Imported all the way
from Minnesota, knowing my wife."
Silek walked carefully through the fresh mounds of earth and leaned
over the nearest bush to inspect it. There were no buds. "These would
be yellow roses," he said suddenly.
Sarek studied him curiously. "I was unaware you were such a
horticulture expert, Silek. These are a yellow variety known as Desert
Peace."
Silek straightened. "I cannot claim such expertise, Sarek, merely a
simple deduction. I was recalling a conversation when Amanda mentioned
her favorite flower."
"You have an excellent memory, brother." * * *
Thirty-nine years ago, Georgetown. It was Silek's first protracted
stay on Terra, and the weather there had been abominable--freezing cold
in the winter, cool but humid in the summer. It was Amanda who made it
all infinitely more tolerable. As an exchange student in the doctoral
program, he taught linguistics to undergraduates; Amanda, in the same
program, shared the office with him.
There was something of the rebel in Silek. The fact that he was at
Georgetown attested to it he had gone despite his father's savage
protests. It was a matter of personal pride for him; he had explained
patiently to his father that he had no interest in politics and
diplomacy, and that his talents lay elsewhere. But Skon would not hear
of any divergence from the family tradition; Silek would attend the
academy, as his elder brother had, and would follow in the path of his
father, and his father's father.. ..
Silek chose instead to be ktorr skann, without a family. It had not
been an easy decision--the formal cutting of ties, forbidding him ever
to return to the house of his father--but it was the only one he could
have made. It was no small irony to Silek that following his own path
led him to Washington, where his ultra-conformist brother worked at the
embassy. The relationship between the two was not without its strains;
although Silek told himself he was incapable of feelings of jealousy or
competition, he experienced them nonetheless. And anger, perhaps, at
his brother, for always doing the correct thing, for never questioning
the old ways. After the formal declaration of Silek's apostasy from
the family, he doubted whether Sarek would even acknowledge his
presence there
Sarek, pride of his father, pride of the entire family, no doubt soon
to be appointed ambassador to Terra. Silek was quite shocked when
Sarek risked their father's wrath by receiving his younger brother with
his usual reserve. Perhaps Sarek was changing; perhaps he, too, was
learning to question.
Amanda made Silek question himself more than any other being he had
known. Many times he had asked himself what it was about her, what it
could possibly be, that made her so unlike any other female he had
met.
for an English tutor who was willing to teach at the embassy. Because
of Silek's glowing recommendations, Sarek interviewed her himself. And
out of family loyalty, it was Silek who convinced her to marry Sarek,
after he had already realized the extent of her feelings for his
brother and had condemned himself to forget his own.
Thirty-nine years ago, Silek walked into his small, windowless office
and found Amanda sitting, looking at the cascade of roses which covered
her desk. He had asked her the significance of the flowers.
"I wish I knew," she said and looked up at last with her clear blue
eyes. "I wonder if the person who sent them knows."
"Sarek." He stated it flatly, like a fact. "What do you mean, if he
knows?"
Amanda looked down at her desk again and didn't speak for a moment.
Silek went over to the door and closed it softly behind him.
"Red roses signify love," she said, still not looking at him. "I'm
sure that he doesn't realize that. I think he's just following what he
thinks is a polite custom. He knows I'm fond of roses."
"He is, at least, attempting to please you." Silek's desk was
perpendicular to hers; he turned his chair sideways to face her. "Isn't
that significant?"
Amanda didn't seem to hear the question; she looked up at him with a
sudden intensity. "Do you know of any marriages between Vulcans and
humans, Silek?"
The question caught him off guard. "No ... I have not been informed of
any. However, I wouldn't be surprised--"
"Not surprised?" Amanda seemed to be. "Most people would be shocked
at the idea."
"Only those who have not met you, Amanda." Silek leaned back in his
chair, not quite able to believe that he had actually said it.
She was too agitated to understand what he was saying. "I need your
help, Silek. I need to be ... logical about this.. .."
Is it logic you want, Amanda, he thought; but he said, "You are in love
with Sarek?"
Amanda nodded, miserable. "But I mustn't expect anything in return
from him. I know how pathetically emotional I must appear.. .. But if
you could just explain it to me--if you could tell me what his motives
are--I can't understand them."
"Sarek doesn't tell you how he feels," Silek said quietly. Again, it
was a statement of
fact, not a question.
"Yes."
Silek almost smiled, then turned his face away and spoke in a voice
that Amanda found almost inaudible. "How you underestimate yourself,
my lady." He looked back at her. "You are aware, of course, of the
origin of your own name?"
"I hadn't thought about it." Amanda, the linguist, was embarrassed.
"Old Earth Latin. It means 'lovable." Your parents named you well."
Silek watched with interest as Amanda's face flushed red, but she
continued to struggle toward her objective. "Do you think--is it
possible--Sarek loves me?"
"Roses do not symbolize logic, Amanda. And I know my brother is well
versed in any human custom he practices. He is, after all, chief aide
to the Terran ambassador."
Amanda raised a hand to her red cheek and looked at her roses.
Silek continued. "But he cannot be pressed to use the same words and
gestures you use, Amanda. Let his actions express his feelings; we
Vulcans are unaccustomed to the use of words when it comes to such
matters."
"I think he is going to ask me to marry him," she said with great
ef fort. "And I don't know what to say, because I didn't know if he
could care for me."
"At the risk of betraying my race, the Vulcan who says he has no