by Diane Duane
“Yes,” Jim said, as the main Rec room doors hissed open.
Darkness walked in: Sarek, in his usual diplomatic dress. He was not alone. He was holding out two paired fingers, and touching them with her own as she stepped through the door was Sarek’s wife, Spock’s mother, Amanda. She had always been a handsome woman, from the first time Jim had met her, years back: now she was gorgeous. She was smaller and lighter than she had been once, but the effect this produced was to make her look like one in whom time had burned away nonessentials, leaving pure essence: and her hair was so perfect a shade of silver that it was enough to make one want to run out and see a professional hair colorist, or a ghost. She wore a Vulcan lady’s standard traveling clothes—long overtunic, soft breeches, and soft boots—all quite logical, but when done in the heavy silks of Earth, luxurious and exotic-looking as well.
Jim bowed over her free hand. “It’s been too long,” he said.
“It’s good to be back,” Amanda said. “And in the middle of a party as well.” She looked a little wry. “A little entertainment will be pleasant before the deluge.”
Sarek’s eyes flicked to Kirk, a considering look. “My wife speaks figuratively,” he said, “in the tradition of her people. Deluges are not common on Vulcan.”
“My husband speaks circumspectly,” Amanda said, just as drily, “in the tradition of his.”
Sarek bowed his head just a fraction in acknowledgment, then said to Jim, “Captain, my son met us immediately upon our transport over fromCoromandel. I would welcome a chance to discuss matters with you before we reach Vulcan.”
“Choose your time, Ambassador,” Jim said. “I will be delighted to accommodate you.”
“I believe your people have a saying,” Sarek said; “ ‘there is no time like the present’?”
“My quarters are perhaps a little confining,” Jim said. “The officers’ lounge?”
“As you wish.”
“And if I may, I would like Dr. McCoy to attend.”
“The doctor met me in the transporter room as well,” Sarek said, “ ‘to check his handiwork,’ as he put it. I had already taken the liberty of asking him.”
“Then let’s go.”
“I had thought we weren’t going to see you until Vulcan,” Jim said, when they were all settled in the lounge. McCoy was off by the wet bar, making a great show of mixing himself a mint julep while he listened.
Sarek allowed himself a slight smile. Jim was at first surprised to see it, but then realized that what he was seeing was another diplomatic tool, as consciously used a tool as the diplomatic uniform Sarek wore, or the studied elegance of the way he spoke English. Somewhere along the line there had been a decision when on Earth, use the tools that will make you effective there…but remain Vulcan.
“I had planned to take the usual commercial carriers,” Sarek said, “but someone at Starfleet got the idea that it might be wiser for me to see certain personnel here before setting foot on Vulcan.” His eyes were amused, even though the smile had faded. “My suspicion is that various persons highly placed in the Federation were concerned that there should be no obvious evidence of collusion among us.”
“But you’re here,” McCoy said, sitting down beside Spock, “and some people are going to notice that we all arrive together, and suspect collusion anyway.”
“True enough,” Sarek said. “But at least here our meetings take place under our own eyes, no one else’s: and this is much to be desired. It may in some small way assist the Federation’s case if you are seen to arrive at Vulcan without needing coaching in the proprieties of the coming debates. The fact will impress those of our people who believe that Terrans cannot act like civilized people without extensive coaching.”
“We’re going to need that coaching, though,” Jim said. “Spock has told us about the format of the debates in a general sort of way. I was pretty effective on the debating team at Academy, some time back. But debating Terrans is one thing. Debating Vulcans—” Jim flicked an amused glance at Spock. “I have occasionally lost.”
“Half-Vulcans,” Sarek said, without any tone of reproach. “Forgive me, Captain, but I must be certain that you understand the distinction. My son—” He paused here, looking just slightly embarrassed, even for so “pure” a Vulcan as Jim felt sure he was about to claim to be. “My son, though a most excellent officer, and innovative and flexible in his use of logic, is a child of two worlds, two environments, and though he understands how it must be to be of only one of them, he has no direct experience of it. The ‘pure’ Vulcan heritage is less flexible than you might think from Spock’s example; far less willing to give up what it perceives as its own prerogatives and rights; far less willing to give up any of its perceptions at all. I am afraid that the Vulcan ‘cultural image’ of Terrans, and of the Federation, is quite set in some areas—and the vast majority of Vulcans have never taken the opportunity to go out among the people of the Federation, or among Earth-humans, to acquire data and experiences that would change their minds.”
“It’s rather shocking, Captain—” Amanda said.
“Jim, please.”
Amanda smiled. “Jim, of course. It really is shocking, though. Earth people have this picture of Vulcans as being a great force in space, because of the influence they wield in the Federation’s counsels. But at the same time, judging them against other planetary populations, a smaller percentage of Vulcans go to space for holiday or business than go off-planet in any other species. Something like less than five percent, where on other planets as many as thirty or forty percent have been off the planet at least once in their lives.”
Jim nodded. “I had heard that,” he said, “and it sounded so odd that I wasn’t sure that I trusted the figures.”
“Nonetheless they are accurate,” Sarek said. “Captain, I submit to you that, as open-minded as you have proved yourself, you have difficulty believing such a fact when it is presented to you. Imagine how much less likely Vulcans are to have their minds changed by data about humans…especially when so few of them have direct experience of them. We have a great reputation for intelligence among the humanities, but I fear that our major weak point in that regard is our rigidity.”
“Stubbornness,” McCoy said, sipping his drink.
“A word with unfortunate emotional connotations,” Sarek said, “but possibly accurate. Doctor, this may come as a shock to you, but not all Vulcans are free of emotion.”
McCoy lifted one eyebrow in an extremely Vulcan mannerism, and said nothing.
“It’s actually a linguistic problem, at its root,” Amanda said. “There are Vulcan concepts that the universal translator system has been mishandling for many years.‘Arie’mnu’ in particular.” She blushed for some reason, but went on smoothly enough. “The concept keeps getting translated as ‘lack of emotion,’ or ‘suppression of emotion,’ which is a little better…but not much. A more accurate translation would be ‘passion’s mastery.’ The word itself acknowledges that Vulcans dotoo have emotions, but are managing them rather than being managed by them.”
“You’d think a mistranslation like that would be easy enough to correct,” McCoy said. “There’s a Federation committee that handles this kind of thing, isn’t there? Approves the changes, and updates the computer programs regularly?”
Amanda sighed. “Doctor,” she said, “I used to beon that committee. The problem is, now I’m resident on Vulcan—and the committee suspects that my viewpoint is no longer unbiased. Not that they shouldn’t have suspected as much when I still lived on Earth. What human beingisn’t unbiased about some things? The illogic of it!” She threw her hands in the air, disgusted.
Sarek looked at her with an expression that Kirk suspected was very restrained affection. “So the problem perpetuates itself,” he said, “and resists solutions. Well, it is our business to impose a solution on it, of one sort or another.”
Jim nodded. “Sir,” he said, “I need to ask this, and if I offend, I’m sorry. Spock tell
s me that T’Pau is attempting to prevail upon you to take the position that Vulcanshould secede. Are you in fact going to do that? And if so, am I correct in believing now that you are trying to assist our side of the argument nonetheless?”
Sarek was silent for a moment. “T’Pau does not make attempts,” he said at last. “What she sets out to do, that she does, by one means or another. Captain, you understand, I think, that T’Pau could easily have me dismissed as ambassador to Earth if I defied her.”
“Yes,” Jim said.
“Not that that fact by itself would necessarily stop me from doing my own will,” Sarek said. “I accepted my embassage to Earth as much for ethical reasons as for any others, and though it is my business to voice my government’s views, if they became intolerable to me, or I felt improper pressure was being put upon me, I would immediately resign.”
“But you haven’t done so.”
“One must not act with unnecessary haste,” Sarek said. “I have not yet had a chance to talk with T’Pau, for one thing: I have only a rather brief written communication from her, stating what she desires me to do. Until I have more data, I cannot make final decisions. This I will say to you, Captain: I find being forced to speak against the planet of my embassage immensely distasteful, for reasons that have nothing to do with my history there, my marriage, or my relationships with my son and Starfleet. My whole business for many years has been to understand your peoples and to come closer to them; to understand their diversities. Now I find that business being turned on its ear, and all the knowledge and experience I have amassed being called on to drive away that other diversity, to isolate my people from it. It is almost a perversion of what my career has stood for.”
“But if you feel you have to do it,” McCoy said, “you’ll do it anyway.”
“Of course I will, Doctor. Here, as at many other times, the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. What if, as the next few days progress, I become certain that my own people would be more damaged by remaining within the Federation than by leaving it? Must I not then preserve the species of which I am part? But the important thing is that this matter be managed with logic.” He blinked then, and spoke again, so that a word came out that did not translate. “No.Cthia. I must not be misunderstood.Cthia must rule this, or we are all lost.”
Jim looked puzzled. “I think I need a translation. It’s obviously a Vulcan word, but I’m not familiar with it.”
Amanda looked sad. “That is possibly the worst aspect of this whole mess,” she said. “It’s the modern Vulcan word which we translate as ‘logic.’ But what it more correctly means is ‘reality-truth.’ The truth about the universe, the way things reallyare, rather than the way we would like them to be. It embraces the physical and the inner realities both at once, in all their changes. The concept says that if we do not tell the universe the truth about itself, if we don’t treat it and the people in it as what they are—real, and precious—it will turn against us, and none of our affairs will prosper.” She sighed. “That’s a child’s explanation of the word, I’m afraid. Whole books have been written attempting to define it completely. What Sarek is saying is that if we don’t handle this matter with the utmost respect for the truth, for what is really needed by everyone involved, it will end in disaster.”
“And the problem,” McCoy said softly, “is that the truth about what’s needed looks different to everybody who faces this situation…. ”
Sarek nodded once, a grave gesture. “If I find that I must defend the planet of my birth by turning against my many years on Earth, then I will do so. Alternately,” he said, “if I find I can in good conscience defend the Federation in my testimony, I will do that. But what matters is thatcthia be observed, without fail, without flaw. Otherwise all this is useless.”
“And if you find you have to take the case against us,” Jim said, “and it means you can never see your son again, or your wife—or that you have to go into exile with them—”
Now an expression appeared, just for a flicker of a moment: anguish. Jim was instantly sorry he had seen it. McCoy had already turned his head away. “Then that is what will be,” Sarek said, his voice calm and cool, though his face had betrayed it. “You must understand, Captain, that from acts such as will happen over the next couple of weeks, ripples spread. They spread fromall acts, but especially from such as these, when people knowingly take their worlds’ fate in their hands. The short-term effects of a withdrawal from the Federation—our little personal loss and pain, the small matter of exile or estrangement—do not weigh significantly against the loss of the diversity, the well-being, theselfness, of a whole species. Ours, or yours. Here, at least as far as I am concerned, the needs of the manydo indeed outweigh mine. My son and my wife will make their own decisions, and make them well, I am sure.” Sarek looked from Amanda to Spock with almost palpable pride. “But for myself, I dare not count the cost. I have served my world for longer than you have been alive; I swore such oaths to serve it as Vulcans do not normally discuss with outsiders. I will serve it still, and serve it as well as I can choose how, regardless of the consequences.”
Then Sarek took a deep breath. “But I do not have to like it.”
“Liking is an emotion,” McCoy said quietly.
“Yes,” Sarek said, looking him in the eye; “it is. It would be a relief if you could declare me incompetent to testify on such grounds. Unfortunately, I doubt the Vulcan Medical Association would admit your diagnosis as valid.”
McCoy shrugged, resigned. “It was worth a try…. ” He shifted a bit in his seat, folded his arms. “Why werewe asked to testify, Sarek? Jim and myself, I mean.”
“It is a fair question,” Sarek said. “Most of the choices have been made by the High Council, or by delegates they selected, to represent a fair cross-section of the arenas and types of interactions which Vulcan and the Federation have shared over our association. There are logicians, historians, scientists of various types—you will have noticed K’s’t’lk: she has done more work with our people, for longer, than almost any other scientist in the Federation, and is known for the results she produces…if not necessarily for any brand of logicwe use. But results are as valuable to our people as theory.—And there are a few representatives of Starfleet: but I would imagine your testimony will carry more weight than theirs will. T’Pau, being on the High Council for many years now, has the right to make choices that no one would dare gainsay: and the fact that she choseyou will have been noticed.”
“That’s what I’m having trouble with,” Bones said, “because frankly, Sarek, the last time we came visiting, we didn’t exactly obey the rules. By Vulcan standards, of course. When we beamed down for Spock’s bonding, and found out that what’s-her-name, T’Pring, didn’t want him—”
“It is widely acknowledged,” Sarek said, “when Vulcans discuss it at all, that T’Pring’s behavior in selecting your Captain to enter mortal combat with Spock was improper in the extreme. Nothing in the briefing Spock gave you could have prepared you for the rather distasteful sequelae.”
“Distasteful is the word,” Jim said, rubbing his throat reflectively. “Being strangled with anahn woon can ruin your day.”
“My point,” McCoy said, looking embarrassed, “is that if I hadn’t slipped Jim a mickey while ‘treating’ him, he’d be dead…but by so doing, I violated the letter, if not the intent, of the whole Marriage-and-Challenge ceremony.—Dammit, Sarek, Icheated!”
Sarek nodded gravely. “I find myself wondering,” he said, “whether that might not be exactly why T’Pau chose you…. ”
McCoy looked astonished. “Your Captain conducted himself with the utmost propriety for his part,” Sarek said, glancing approvingly at Jim, “and for your part, you obeyed your oaths to Starfleet and to the Other, and preserved life, as best you knew how. No Vulcan is going to blame you much, or long, for that…. If, of course, we stoop to such an ugly emotion as blame in the first place.”
“Uh, yes, well,” McCoy
said, and trailed off.
“I estimate one point six days to Vulcan once theEnterprise returns to warp, assuming she maintains her earlier speed,” Sarek said. “Captain, Spock is already familiar with the format and style of the debates and questioning that will take place. If you have some time early in the ship’s day tomorrow, I will go through some library material with you and give you some pointers. The Doctor will doubtless want to look on.”
“Certainly, Ambassador. Around point three five, if you like.”
“Excellent. I will then retire. My wife will attend me.” Sarek stood up: all the rest rose as Amanda did. “Good night, Captain. My son.”
They left, and the door closed behind them. “Your mother gets more special as time goes on,” McCoy said to Spock.
Spock nodded.
“She blushes pretty well, too,” McCoy said. “Was that something you can explain?”
Spock quirked an eyebrow, thought about it for a moment. “Before she went into teaching, Mother worked on the early versions of the universal translator, as you will have surmised,” he said. “One of her contributions to the original Translation Committee was the mistranslation of‘arie’mnu’ which she mentioned. It occurred some time after she met my father, while she was still mastering the language. I am afraid he teases her about it somewhat.”
McCoy smiled a little. “I wondered if it was something like that. Well, to err is human.”
“That is precisely what the Vulcans will say,” said Spock. “Captain, Doctor, good night.”
“’Night, Spock,” Jim said. The door closed after Spock, leaving Jim with McCoy and the end of the mint julep. “Well, Bones?”
He was shaking his head. “Sarek,” he said. “Who was it said, ‘The only thing worse than a scoundrel is a man of principle’?”
“Sounds like Twain, or Averith.”
“Mmf.” McCoy put his glass down. “Vulcans…. ”
Jim looked at him. “For so strong a species,” McCoy said, with pity in his voice, “they sure are afraid. I wonder what of…. ”