Star Trek - Sarek

by A. C. Crispin

  once so rounded and healthy.

  As she grew aware of his fixed regard, her blue eyes, once so direct,

  refused to meet his own. She busied herself capping her old-fashioned

  pen, then closing her journal and placing it back in the drawer of her

  desk.

  Sarek leaned closer to her, his eyes never leaving her countenance.

  "Amanda," he said quietly, "I noted the other day that you appear to

  have lost weight ... have you been feeling unwell, my wife?"

  The thin shoulders lifted in a small shrug. "I expect I may have picked

  up a cold, Sarek. Please don't worry about me. I will be fine."

  The ambassador shook his head. "I want you to contact T'Mal, and arrange

  for her to conduct a thorough evaluation of your physical condition."

  Amanda glanced at him; then her eyes shifted quickly away. "All I need

  is a few days' rest, Sarek. There is no need to visit my physician."

  "Please allow the Healer to make such a judgment," Sarek said. "Promise

  me that you will arrange to see her as soon as possible, Amanda."

  She took a deep breath, and Sarek sensed through their bond that she was

  struggling to keep some strong emotion from him. "I have a great deal to

  accomplish this week," she demurred. "My editor wants to move up the

  publication date for the new book. She told me today that there is a

  tremendous amount of interest in having the writings of Surak's

  followers translated."

  "Indeed?"

  "Yes," Amanda said, clearly warming to her subject, "and when I told her

  about--"

  "Amanda," Sarek interrupted, raising one hand, "you are changing the

  subject deliberately. Do not think that I did not notice."

  His wife opened her mouth to protest, then closed it abruptly and stared

  fixedly at her hands. Sarek's concern sharpened. Amanda seemed to have

  aged a decade in a matter of a few weeks.

  "I regret that I must leave you, tomorrow morning," Sarek said. "I must

  go to Earth to consult with the Vulcan consulate and arrange to meet

  with the Federation president.

  It will aid me in concentrating on my work if I know that T'Mal will be

  monitoring your health while I must be away."

  "You have to leave?" Amanda repeated, and something darkened her eyes.

  Sarek tried to catch her emotion, but she had been studying Vulcan

  mental disciplines as well as the Vulcan language for decades, and he

  was unsuccessful.

  "How ... how long will you be gone?"

  "A week, possibly two," the ambassador said. "If I could postpone this,

  I would, given your apparent ill health, but I cannot. The situation on

  Earth regarding the KEHL has worsened considerably in the past weeks."

  "I know," Amanda admitted. "It makes me ashamed of my whole planet--the

  Keep Earth Human League used to be just a haven for ineffectual

  crackpots and ignorant fools.

  But today's news said there had been demonstrations in Paris in front of

  the Vulcan consulate! It makes me furious!" For a moment her eyes

  flashed sapphire with indignation, and she almost appeared her old self.

  "Those idiots are trying to convince the entire planet that Vulcan is

  responsible for every disaster from the Probe's devastation to the

  Klingon raids along the Neutral Zone!"

  "The KEHL does appear to be set on fomenting discord between my people

  and yours," Sarek said. "I have not heard any reports of incidents at

  the Andorian or Tellarite consulates."

  "Do you believe that the KEHL's sudden renaissance is due to Valeris's

  involvement with that secret cabal?" Amanda asked.

  "The Terran news agencies certainly highlighted the Vulcan, Klingon, and

  Romulan conspirators far more than they did the activities of Admiral

  Cartwright or Colonel West when Chancellor Gorkon was assassinated and

  the Khitomer Conference disrupted," Sarek conceded. "Which, under the

  circumstances, is unfortunate, but not surprising."

  His wife gazed at him intently. "Sarek ... does this resurgence of the

  Keep Earth Human League have any connection with your current project?"

  Sarek sat back in his seat and glanced out the window at T'Rukh, its

  upper limb now shadowed. The ambassador was silent for nearly a minute

  before he spoke. "I have reached a number of conclusions of late,

  Amanda," he said. "I have a number of suspicions. However, I have no

  evidence to support my theory that is not statistical, circumstantial,

  or purely inferential. I need concrete proof before I can bring my

  findings before the Federation officials and the president."

  "And that's why you are going to Earth? To get some kind of proof?."

  "Yes." After a moment, the ambassador amended, "If possible."

  "I see." Amanda's mouth tightened, but she did not pursue her line of

  questioning--which, almost more than the physical changes he had noted,

  alarmed the ambassador.

  If his wife had been feeling like herself, she would never have given up

  so e asily. She would have kept after him until she'd satisfied her

  curiosity. But now she leaned her head back against her chair, gazing

  out at The Watcher in silence, her eyes half-closed with weariness.

  Sarek's breath caught in his throat as he regarded her, and he

  identified the feeling that had been growing within him ever since he

  had entered the room.

  Fear.

  "Amanda," he said, keeping his voice from betraying any shade of

  emotion, "I insist that you call the Healer and arrange to see her. If

  you will not promise, I will postpone my trip a day and do so myself."

  She gazed at him, and he sensed deep emotion through their bond.

  Sorrow--but not for herself. Amanda's grief was for him. "Very well,

  Sarek," she agreed, at long last.

  "You have my word that I will make an appointment this week."

  "You will call tomorrow?"

  "Yes."

  The ambassador drew a deep breath, somewhat relieved, but still

  disquieted. "Perhaps I should call someone to stay with you while I am

  gone," he said. "One of your friends, perhaps ..." Swiftly, he reviewed

  options, and realized that most of his wife's human contemporaries had

  died within the past several years. "Another possibility is our son.

  Perhaps he could take leave, return home for a visit if I contacted--"

  "No!" Amanda's voice was sharp and final. "I don't want you worrying our

  son. There have been Klingon renegades raiding all along the Neutral

  Zone, and I'm sure the Enterprise is one of the ships patrolling out

  there."

  "If Spock knew that you were feeling unwell--"

  "Absolutely not," she said, in a quieter but even more positive tone. "I

  expect you to respect my wishes in this, my husband," she added,

  sternly.

  Sarek hesitated. Amanda fixed him with a look. "My promise for yours,

  Sarek. Do we have a bargain?"

  The ambassador nodded. "Very well, Amanda. You will contact the Healer,

  and I will not contact our son."

  She nodded at him, her blue eyes softening until they were the color of

  her homeworld's skies. "I wish you a safe journey, Sarek," she said, and

  then added, with a faint, tender smile, "Whatever you're planning ... be

 
; careful.

  Never forget that I love you ... illogically and madly.

  Remember that ... always."

  The Vulcan gazed back at her, his eyes never leaving hers.

  Slowly, formally, he held out two fingers. "I will be careful, my wife."

  In response to his gesture, his wife's fingers brushed, then settled

  against his own. The warmth of their bond enfolded them, eliminating the

  need for spoken words.

  Sarek of Vulcan stood at the window of the Vulcan consulate in San

  Francisco, gazing out with growing disquiet. Today's demonstration by

  the Keep Earth Human League had begun with only a few picketers, some

  carrying homemade placards, others more sophisticated holosigns, but,

  even in the short time he'd been standing there, the crowd had grown

  rapidly.

  Now a full score of shouting humans milled before the gateway. Sarek's

  Vulcan hearing could easily make out what they were chanting "KEEP

  EARTH HU-MAN! KEEP EARTH HU-MAN!" interspersed with occasional, strident

  shouts of "VULCANS GO HOME!"

  "Illogical," murmured a voice from beside him, and the Vulcan ambassador

  glanced sideways to see his young aide, Soran, standing beside him, his

  dark eyes troubled. "Last year, the Keep Earth Human League was

  considered a refuge for weak-minded racists. I examined the records ...

  there were no more than forty or fifty members on this entire planet.

  But now, Federation Security estimates their numbers to be in the

  thousands. Why this sudden growth, Ambassador?"

  Sarek hesitated, on the verge of giving a vague answer, but instead

  shook his head slightly, warningly.

  "Ambassador Sarek?"

  The two Vulcans turned as one of the young diplomatic attaches, Surev,

  approached. A few minutes ago, the young Vulcan had asked the ambassador

  if he could spare a moment to be introduced to a human friend of his,

  and Sarek had graciously agreed. Now, however, Surev's unlined features

  were even more somber than usual. "Ambassador, I believe we must cancel

  the meeting I mentioned."

  "Why?"

  "I just received a communiqu6 from the Federation Security Office," he

  announced. "The security chief, Watkins, asks that we stay inside the

  building until they can dispatch sufficient officers to control the

  crowd. It is not safe to go outside, and they say that under no

  circumstances should you agree to meet with the KEHL leader,

  Ambassador."

  Sarek raised an inquiring eyebrow. "Has such a meeting been requested by

  the leadership?"

  Soran cleared his throat slightly. "As a matter of fact, it has, sir,"

  he said. "A message arrived a few minutes ago from the demonstrators."

  "Why was I not informed?" the ambassador demanded, turning to face

  Soran. His aide was obviously taken aback by the question.

  "Ambassador, I never considered that you might wish to accede to their

  demand for a meeting--that would be most unwise. Possibly dangerous."

  Soran sounded faintly aggrieved, and Sarek could not blame him. But his

  aide, as yet, knew nothing of the ambassador's hidden agenda. He would

  have to take Soran into his confidence today, Sarek decided.

  He would need help when he made his next trip. And the youth was good

  with computers--almost as talented as his own son. Those skills would

  prove useful.

  "Who requested the meeting?" Sarek asked.

  "The planetary leader of the KEHL," Surev said. "His name--or, at least,

  the name he goes by in the organization is Induna. He is from the

  African nation of Kenya."

  Sarek looked out the window again. Surev pointed to a human who stood

  nearly a head above the others. "That is Induna," he said.

  The Vulcan ambassador studied the imposing figure of a dark-skinned

  human, who wore a silk robe brilliantly patterned in black and red. "I

  will speak to him," he said, reaching a sudden decision. He needed more

  information about the KEHL, and firsthand observation would not be

  amiss.

  "Ambassador--you must not! It is not safe, sir!" Soran half-barred the

  doorway, struggling to maintain his composure in the face of what must

  seem extremely anomalous behavior on the part of the senior diplomat.

  Sarek merely looked at him for a long second. Soran hesitated, then

  stepped silently out of the way. Surev half-bowed. "May I at least

  accompany you as far as the gates, sir?"

  Sarek nodded graciously. "Certainly, Surev."

  Leaving the domed building and walking down the ramp, Sarek heard the

  crowd as it caught sight of him, flanked by Surev and Soran. Insults

  were hurled at the Vulcans, many of them personally directed toward the

  ambassador himself.

  The sight of Federation security officers around the fringes of the

  crowd was reassuring.

  The Vulcan approached the demonstrators, seeing that someone had closed

  the gates to the consulate, which had always stood open before this.

  Shouts and epithets filled the air

  "They want to take over Earth! Spawn of the devil!"

  "Dirty aliens, think they're so smart!"

  "Go back to Vulcan!"

  "Vulcans go home!"

  Approaching the gateway, Sarek raised his voice to be heard. "I am

  Ambassador Sarek," he called out. "I understand that Induna wishes to

  speak with me. Which of you is Induna?"

  In response, the crowd (which now numbered forty or fifty people)

  parted, and the KEHL leader stepped forth. "t am Induna," he announced.

  His voice was a deep, bass rumble.

  "Greetings, Induna," Sarek said, raising his hand in the Vulcan salute.

  "I wish you peace and long life."

  "I accept no good wishes from Earth's enemy," Induna said coldly.

  "I assure you that I wish only good relations between our worlds," Sarek

  said. "I invite you to enter the gates, so we may speak together."

  The man drew himself up, clearly antagonistic. "I have nothing to say to

  you, Ambassador, that cannot be said within hearing of those who follow

  me. And I refuse to speak with a being so cowardly that he hides behind

  gates."

  "I am not hiding, nor do I have anything to hide," Sarek corrected him,

  his tones civil but firm. The ambassador heard shouts from the crowd,

  but Induna appeared to be able to control his followers. "Very well,

  then, I will come to you, so we may speak together like civilized

  beings." Before either of his companions could remonstrate with him,

  Sarek reached out and opened the gate. Head high, still flanked by the

  young diplomats, he strode forward into the crowd, straight for Induna.

  The moment he stepped into their midst, brushing against the

  demonstrators, Sarek was nearly sickened by the miasma of hatred that he

  sensed from the humans in the crowd.

  His planet and this world had been allies and friends for over a

  century. How could such a thing be happening now?

  The KEHL leader was clearly taken aback as the ambassador approached

  him, but recovered his aplomb quickly.

  Turning to the crowd, he motioned for quiet--but instead

  the shouting intensified.

  "Vulcans go home!"

  "Sarek sold out Earth to the Klin
gons!"

  Induna gestured again, more peremptorily. "Let me speak to this Vulcan,

  my friends and comrades," he ordered. "If I can make him see that he and

  his kind have no place on our world, then he will leave Earth! We do not

  want war, we want peace--they can keep to their planet, as we shall keep

  to ours!"

  The protesters closest to their leader obeyed, but others, farther back

  in the crowd, continued to hurl abuse.

  "Go back to Vulcan?

  "Vulcans go home! Vulcans go home!"

  The crowd surged wildly, and then someone threw a clod of dirt. Other

  refuse followed. Sarek smelled rotting vegetables.

  "Stop!" Induna shouted, and the missiles halted--but the crowd was

  clearly getting out of control. "Quiet down!" the leader commanded. The

  noise abated slightly.

  "We have no designs on your world," Sarek cried, raising his voice to be

  heard above the demonstrators. "Our species have been allies for

  decades. We--"

  "Go back to Vulcan, damn you!"

  The angry shriek cut through Sarek's voice like a knife.