Star Trek - Sarek

by A. C. Crispin

telepathy, which is traditionally accomp lished by touch, could be used

  for such a purpose." He paused for a second, then continued in a lower

  tone,

  "However, recent events have convinced me otherwise."

  Spock nodded, a shadow in his eyes mirroring the sadness in his

  father's. "Sybok," he said. "I saw him influence minds from a

  considerable distance. His mental powers were ... unusual, however. But

  the ability to influence minds more subtly ... I possess that capacity

  myself."

  This time it was the ambassador's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Really? I

  did not know that."

  "I have done so several times," Spock admitted. "Though never to effect

  any lasting mental impression or change in the subject's mind. But I did

  it on Eminiar Seven, and again on Omega Four." He paused. "And I am only

  half-Vulcan.

  Thus I find the possibility of Vulcan offspring who possess the mental

  abilities, without the ethical constraints we are taught, entirely

  plausible. And ... disquieting."

  Spock was silent for a moment; then he asked, "Did you ever discuss with

  Darov what happened that day you went into pon farr? You said that you

  were friends ... "

  "I might have," the ambassador said. "Except for the fact that I never

  saw Darov again. I never discovered what had become of him. I suspect he

  was executed for helping me that day. Darov was replaced by Taryn. My

  impression of him is that he is considerably younger than Darov ...

  though I cannot be certain, of course, since I never knew Darov's age.

  He is a far different individual. Much colder ... and possessing, I

  believe, a formidable intellect.

  We have never discussed politics, but I am certain that Taryn is far

  from the moderate Darov was." Sarek paused, thinking. "I have gained the

  impression, over the decades, that the liaison is ... patriotic.

  Possibly a zealot."

  Spock raised an eyebrow as he considered the ambassador's words. "If he

  is indeed a wing commander, that would not be surprising. Many

  high-ranking Romulan officers favor all-out war with the Federation."

  The Starfleet officer rose from the bench to pace beside his father

  along the garden paths. "My final question is, why?

  Obviously, all of this ... the Freelan base, the captured Vulcans, the

  KEHL--this entire plan took years ... decades ... to set into motion.

  What do the Romulans hope to gain?"

  Sarek did not answer directly. Instead he asked, "What are the goals of

  the KEHL?"

  "As I understand them ... to remove all nonterrestrials from Earth

  itself. Especially Vulcans."

  "Not just from Earth," Sarek said. "From the Federation

  itself. I have researched the KEHL, also. The organization is adamantly

  opposed to the continued presence of Vulcan as a member of the

  Federation." Spock nodded slowly. "That does not surprise me." His

  features tightened. "If the Romulans are successful in driving a wedge

  between Earth and Vulcan, to the point where Vulcan either secedes or is

  expelled from the Federation, then Earth will have lost its most

  powerful ally."

  "Yes," Sarek said. "A Federation without Vulcan would be weakened in

  many ways. Also consider What is the current situation with the

  Klingons?"

  "Extremely unstable. When I left the Enterprise, we were orbiting a

  planet whose colony had been devastated by a Klingon attack. Chancellor

  Azetbur assured us that the raiders were renegades, and that she was

  attempting to capture them and bring them to justice. I believe her, but

  many others will not. The entire Federation/Klingon situation is

  unstable. James Kirk referred to it last week as 'a powder keg waiting

  for a spark.'"

  "An essentially correct, if somewhat dramatic way of putting it," Sarek

  said, dryly.

  "Instability in the Federation could well provide such a spark," Sarek

  continued. "Azetbur's government is struggling to stay in power. She has

  popular support, but many of the older, high-ranking families object to

  having a woman as chancellor. A number of high-ranking officers have

  turned renegade, deserting the fleet and using their vessels to commit

  acts of piracy."

  "Actions which only fuel the xenophobia the KEHL is fostering."

  "Precisely." Bathed in T'Rukh's garish light, Spock's features were

  drawn so tightly they appeared fleshless, skull-like. "It is also

  possible that the Freelans are using their trained Vulcans to influence

  high-ranking Kling-Ohs ... fomenting dissent, inciting the Empire into

  civil upheaval, and then war with the Federation. The humans have an

  ancient phrase for such strategy"Divide and conquer.'"

  "Indeed," Sarek agreed. He sighed wearily, feeling himself relax for the

  first time in ... how long? He could not tell ... "My son, it is a ...

  relief ... to speak of this all, after holding silent so long," the

  ambassador said, sinking down onto another bench. "I have discussed my

  conspiracy theory with only two people before you--Soran, just recently,

  and your mother. It is difficult to know who to trust. Any high-ranking

  official could now be under Freelan influence." Spock shook his head

  slightly as he considered that. "A situation that might justifiably

  induce paranoia," he concurred.

  "Last year, when I first began to suspect that the Freelans were using

  telepathy to influence people, I advised all members of Vulcan's

  diplomatic corps to work on strengthening their mental disciplines, so

  they could not only detect, but shield against, any attempt at mental

  influence. I traveled to Gol nearly every day for months, training with

  one of the high-ranking Acolytes."

  "I learned similar techniques while I was at Gol," Spock was quick to

  assure his father. "My shielding is better than average."

  "Good." Sarek gazed around him at the garden in T'Rukh's waning light.

  "All indications are that the Romulan plan is reaching fruition. I

  hypothesize that we may have only months ... perhaps less ... to act

  to stop them."

  "What is your recommendation?"

  "First, we must gain concrete proof of the Freelans' true identity and

  purpose in order to expose them. Your skills with computers equal my

  own. It is my hope that, working together, we can break into the Freelan

  system more successfully than I was able to that first time. Then we can

  download their memory banks."

  "That would constitute indisputable proof," Spock agreed. "We must

  present that proof in open session of the Federation Security Council."

  "I agree."

  "We do have time," Spock said. "The KEHL is still a long way from

  influencing Earth to expel Vulcan from the Federation."

  "Do not be too sure. Elections will be held in two months, and the KEHL

  is sponsoring many candidates ... some openly, others with secret

  affiliations. Some of these candidates are vying for offices at very

  high levels in Earth's government."

  Sarek rubbed his forehead as fatigue washed over him so strongly it

  seemed to gnaw at his bones; he felt every one of his 128 years.

  "Someth
ing else to consider, Spock If the KEHL keeps growing, Vulcan

  will not struggle to remain a member of the Federation. Our people do

  not react well to being ... insulted."

  Spock nodded grimly. "I suggest that we discuss the matter with James

  Kirk and ask his help in gaining positive proof, and in bringing all of

  this before the Federation Security Council and the president."

  "I agree," Sarek said.

  It was full night now, and the temperature was dropping rapidly. The

  younger Vulcan glanced around him at the eerily lit garden and repressed

  a shiver. "It is late. We should go in."

  "Yes. Your mother will be waking soon."

  "So, you're Jim Kirk's nephew!" Commander Gordon Twelvetrees exclaimed,

  holding out his hand.

  Standing stiffly at attention, Peter accepted the warm handshake from

  the tall, stately Lakota Indian who was Admiral Idota's aide. The

  admiral was one of Uncle Jim's friends, and while Peter hadn't really

  expected to find anyone in at such a late hour, he'd hoped to leave a

  message for Idota with the desk clerk. He was pleasantly surprised to

  find the admiral's aide still at work.

  "Oh, at ease, son," the commander said, waving him to the couch in his

  office. He poured a cup of fresh, fragrant coffee into the fine

  Starfleet china that every admiral's office had, and handed it to the

  cadet.

  Peter nodded his thanks, and took a sip. It wasn't anything like the

  brew at the cadet's commissary. This was a hearty, robust

  blend--Jamaican, probably. He relished the taste.

  "You got lucky finding me here tonight," the commander said. "Usually I

  keep the same bankers' hours as the admiral."

  The young Kirk smiled thankfully at his superior. "I'm glad you could

  see me. Why the late hours?"

  "I was here waiting for a communiqu6 from the Neutral Zone. Something

  the admiral's been expecting. When they told me Jim Kirk's nephew had a

  problem ..."

  For once Peter didn't flinch at the reference to his relative.

  At times like this, being Uncle Jim's nephew came in handy.

  "Thank you, sir. I'm most grateful for your time." He tugged his cadet's

  uniform into place, glad he'd taken the time to change and freshen up.

  He hesitated, trying to find the right place to begin, then finally

  started from the top, telling Twelvetrees about trying to meet Sarek for

  lunch, the demonstration, the riot and his involvement, and how he found

  himself at the local KEHL headquarters.

  The story didn't take very long, and Twelvetrees never interrupted,

  listening to every word with complete attention.

  As he neared the end of his tale, Peter withdrew the three tapes with

  the pilfered information and showed them to the commander.

  "I know it was probably a foolish thing for me to do, sir, to pretend to

  be a member of KEHL, but I felt it was a unique opportunity I couldn't

  pass up, in spite of the risks.

  And I think it's paid off. These tapes hold the entire files of their

  membership rolls, their agenda, and the stolen information they obt ained

  from the Vulcan consulate. I think they're enough to discredit this

  organization for once and all. They're really getting dangerous, sir,

  and they're no longer willing to work within the law. Their violation of

  Vulcan communications alone is proof of that."

  Commander Twelvetrees took the computer tapes almost reverently, staring

  at the innocuous bits of flat plastic as he

  turned them around in his big hands. "You certainly are a Kirk, son.

  That's the same thing Jim would've done in that very circumstance. He

  must be proud of you."

  Peter was about to say that his Uncle Jim didn't know anything about

  this, when a troubling realization began gnawing at his gut. Despite the

  commander's words, he realized that the aide wasn't taking him

  seriously. Not at all.

  Twelvetrees sat back against the couch, and pocketed the cassettes. "I

  want to thank you for the effort you took to obtain this information,

  Peter. Most people--working to complete their finals, cramming day and

  nightmwould only have their own personal problems in mind, and would've

  turned their back on this. You've got the kind of heart, the kind of

  backbone Starfleet needs to bring us successfully into the future. I

  won't forget what you've tried to do here.

  However ..."

  Peter felt as if ice crystals were forming in his stomach.

  " ... I have to tell you that Starfleet has had the KEHL under

  surveillance for quite some time. We've even had several people

  infiltrate the ranks. I can understand your alarm, but the truth is the

  KEHL is just a fringe-element, disorganized group. They've been gaining

  popularity due to the media exposure, and, unfortunately, we were

  under-staffed at the consulate the day of the demonstration. But the

  KEHL is no threat to anyone, Peter."

  "But ... those tapes ..." Kirk protested.

  "Oh, don't worry, Peter ... I'll take a look at these before I hand

  them over to Starfleet Security--just in case there's something in there

  we can use. They'll probably decide to warn the Vulcans about the breach

  in their security. But don't forget, none of the KEHL's plans have ever

  come to anything. And we both know there's no such thing as a Vulcan

  conspiracy." He stood, indicating the interview was at an end. "You have

  your navigational final tomorrow morning, don't you?"

  "Yes, sir," Peter responded desultorily, as the commander walked him to

  the office door.

  "You focus on that, son. I barely made it through that one myself. Don't

  you worry about these tapes, the KEHL, or

  anything but your exam. I'll make sure this information gets the

  attention it deserves, and if we find anything of any importance, I'll

  let you know." The commander extended his hand again as his doors

  whooshecl open, practically demanding Peter's exit.

  The young Kirk took the hand offered him. "Thank you, sir. And believe

  me, if you really look at that information, I think you'll be surprised

  ... and concerned."

  "Don't you worry, Peter," the commander assured him, his deep voice

  calming and sincere. "Starfleet Security has the situation well in hand.

  Thanks again for your concern."

  Peter watched the doors slide closed behind him and slumped against the

  wall, despondently. He hadn't been born yesterday; he knew a kiss-off

  when he saw one. Despite the commander's promise, Peter couldn't shake

  the feeling that the officer was probably going to toss his tapes in the

  nearest recycler.

  The cadet shrugged.

  He could still get in a few good hours of studying if he hurried. The

  commander was right about one thing. If he was going to ace the

  navigational final, he'd need to be sharp, focused. Peter straightened

  up and squared his shoulders.

  He'd get focused, all right. As soon as he tended to one more thing.

  Minutes later, young Kirk strode briskly up to the communications center

  that sat in the center of the massive Starfleet Security headquarters.

  "Can I help you, sir?" the young man manning the
desk asked.

  "Yes. I want to send a message to a Federation starship." Peter realized

  that he had no idea where his uncle was right now.

  "And what ship is that, sir?" the operator asked casually.

  "The Enterprise. I want to send a message to Captain James T. Kirk."

  The communications clerk glanced up, faintly surprised.

  "Well ... that ship is currently on assignment. A message could take a

  long time to ..."

  "Send it Priority One. I am Captain Kirk's nephew. It's regarding a

  family emergency."

  "Of course, sir," the operator agreed, all business. He handed Peter a

  message pad and stylus. "If you'll encode your message here it will be

  sent on the private-messages channel, Priority One."

  Peter picked up the pad, and, stylus poised, stood pondering just

  exactly what to say.

  Spock stood waiting outside the door of his parents' room, forcing

  himself to remain still, hands clasped behind his back, his expression

  controlled, remote. Inwardly, however, the Vulcan wanted nothing more

  than to pace restlessly.

  Movement would have aided him in dispelling some of his disquiet.

  This morning, the Enterprise had entered the Vulcan spacedock, and, in

  response to Spock's request that he evaluate Amanda's condition, Leonard

  McCoy had beamed down to the villa.

  The doctor was currently in Amanda's room, examining his mother.