Star Trek - Sarek
Page 43
gambit.
A Vulcan gambit. I took it for a tacit invitation to call upon you." The
ambassador smiled faintly. "A Vulcan gambit, Taryn ... how appropriate,
under the circumstances."
Taryn bolted up out of his seat, and for a moment Sarek knew that his
life hung in the balance. The commander's hand dropped to the grip of
the hand disrupter he wore.
Then he took a deep breath ... another. Forced a faint, wry smile.
"Perhaps I was too clever, Sarek. I did not think you would recognize
the coordinates as being the same pattern as the moves in our chess
game."
"How could I not recognize them, Taryn?" Sarek asked simply. "That was
one of the few that you won. Naturally, I would remember." Exultation
surged inside him. Taryn had responded to Sarek's use of his name, and
he'd made reference to their games on Freelan--which were chronicled in
Sarek's diplomatic records of his negotiations with the Freelans. At
last, he had the proof he had risked his life to achieve.
Leave, Kirk, the Vulcan urged, silently. Take your starship and transmit
the message ...
"Why have you come here, Sarek?" Taryn asked, almost pleasantly. "You
know that I cannot permit either of you to return."
"I came to negotiate for the release of the Vulcans who reside on
Freelan," the ambassador replied. "The Federation has been warned. The
war you attempted to instigate will not come to pass. Starfleet will be
standing ready, should your forces attempt to initiate hostilities. We
both. know that the Romulan Empire is not prepared to take on a
battle-ready Federation ... a strong Federation that is still allied
with the Vulcans." Sarek took a deep breath and glanced slowly around
the bridge, at all the faces of the officers.
"And, finally," he concluded, "there will be no war with
the Klingons." He spoke decisively, not allowing any of his inner doubts
to show. There could still be war, and he knew it--but Taryn and his
officers must not.
"Why not?" Sayel blurted. Taryn glared at her, and she subsided
immediately, but not before Sarek glimpsed relief in her eyes.
"Because Captain Kirk managed to safely rescue his nephew," Spock said,
speaking for the first time since their beam-over. "And, even if
Kamarag's fleet manages to destroy the Enterprise, Starfleet has been
warned. The renegade ambassador will not get far into Federation space
before he is stopped. Azetbur has proved she will not support the
renegades ... your plan has failed."
"Enough of this!" the commander snapped, his temper obviously fraying.
"Why are you here, Sarek? Surely you know your life is forfeit, should I
give the word. What did you hope to gain?"
"The lives of the Vulcans on Freelan," Sarek said steadily.
"As I told you before. You are the wing commander for the Freelan
operation. Only the praetor can countermand your orders. If you give the
word, the Vulcans will be permitted to leave--those that choose to do
so. The Enterprise will take them away from Freelan before bloodshed can
occur."
"Bloodshed?" Savel glanced at the wing commander, and this time his
quelling glance only made her stiffen her spine and repeat her question.
"What do you mean, Ambassador?"
"Consider, Savel ..." Spock said. "What will the praetor do with Freelan
once the Federation president and Security Council know the truth about
your world?"
"If he follows precedent," Sarek pointed out, "he will, as the humans
put it, 'cut his losses." Possibly abandon the colony. And certainly
destroy all evidence of the plot. And the most tangible evidence of what
Romulus planned are the individuals such as yourself."
"In a way, miss," Spock added, "the Vulcans on Freelan can be considered
prisoners of war. The fact that you were born and grew up on that world
does not change the fact that you reside there due to acts of terrorism
and piracy commit ted by the Romulan military. Have you studied
history?" She nodded slowly.
"Then perhaps you can tell me ... how often are prisoners of war
actually returned to their native soil after such a long passage of
time?"
"I cannot think of a single instance," Sarek said, in answer to his
son's rhetorical question. The Vulcan ambassador gazed around him at the
closed, hard young faces of the bridge officers. "It is far safer--and
politically sounder to kill them or allow them to die."
Savel turned to the wing commander, her dark eyes full of distress.
"Would they do that, Vadi?" she demanded.
"Would you allow that?"
"If he does nothing, that is very likely what will happen," Spock said.
"Taryn," Sarek said, his voice deepening, "if we do not take your people
off Freelan, the chances are excellent that they will be considered a
failed experiment--or prisoners of war--and eliminated. Will you risk a
pogrom, Taryn? Will you allow your own people to be slaughtered?"
"My own people ..." the commander repeated toneless-ly.
His face was expressionless, but Sarek did not miss the tension in his
jaw muscles. "I do not understand what you mean."
"Certainly you do," Sarek said, holding the commandefts eyes with his
own. "You are as Vulcan as I ... and as Vulcan as they are," he said,
his eyes flicking from one to another of the bridge officers. He pointed
to Savel. "As Vulcan as she is."
Silence fell on the bridge. Sarek glimpsed the surprise in Spock's eyes,
quickly masked. One by one, the young bridge officers turned to regard
their commander. Only Savel did not betray any amazement. She knew,
Sarek thought.
Taryn shook his head, unable to summon words. The commander was pale
beneath the weathering of his features.
"No," he said, forcing the word out. "No!"
"Come now," Sarek said, gently. "It is illogical to deny
the truth. Will you continue to deny your heritage, knowing that you
risk death for the other Vulcans on Freelan?"
The young officers were recovering from the shock of Sarek's revelation.
They stirred and murmured among themselves.
"Even if what you say is true, what could possibly induce me to
relinquish the Vulcans on Freelan?" Taryn demanded, his expression
darkening. "If I did that, I would be committing treason!"
"If you do not, you will be committing murder," Spock said quietly.
"And, in a manner of speaking, genocide. Is that what you wish for them?
Imprisonment and eventual death?" He indicated the officers.
"And for her?" Sarek nodded at Savel. The ambassador was impressed at
how well Spock was handling his part in this--obviously, he had
underestimated his sows abilities in the field of diplomacy.
"No!" Taryn cried, in what was almost a howl of pain. He smashed a fist
down on the arm of his command seat, bending it visibly. "I will not
betray my adopted people. I am Romulan, NOT Vulcan. I have dedicated my
life to the service of the praetor! My Vulcan blood is nothing but an
accident of birth--it means nothing to me!"
"Does Savel mean nothing to you?" Sarek asked, quiet
ly.
He was thinking quickly, wondering what other inducement he could offer.
There was one possibility Taryn, he knew, would not allow himself to
lose face before his crew. "We have known each other for a long time,"
he said. "I know you, Taryn. I am willin to offer you what you want
most, in exchange for the lives of the Vulcans."
"What--what do you mean?" Taryn demanded. Whatever the commander had
expected, it obviously wasn't this.
"The chance to defeat me. Does that tempt you? You have wanted to win in
a contest between us for decades, Taryn."
The ambassador knew he was treading a very delicate line. "One final
contest, Taryn. One last chance to beat me." Sarek fixed the commander
with an intent gaze. "I will wager with you for their lives. A ame,
Taryn. If I win, you allow them to go free, you aree to help me in any
way
necessary to free the Vulcan captives. If I lose ..." The ambassador
drew a deep breath. "If I lose, you will get the battle you desire. I
suspect your fleet is on the way. Time, at the moment, is my enemy ...
but it is your friend. A game will take several hours. Will you gamble
that your fleet will reach here before endgame?"
"A game?" Taryn actually laughed. "A game, Vulcan? Are you insane? We
play for far higher stakes than simply a mere game! We play for lives
here. Are you willing to play the game as it should be played?"
Sarek suddenly realized what Taryn was talking about, even as Spock did.
His son gave him a warning glance. But the ambassador squared his
shoulders. "I am willing to do whatever is necessary to gain the lives
and the freedom of your captives, Taryn. I have the courage to do what I
must." He paused for a long, significant second. "Do you?"
Taryn was clearly taken aback. The officer glanced around at the faces
of his officers, seeing their waiting expressions.
"Old man, you surprise me," Taryn said, and then he smiled ... a
predatory, dangerous smile. "No one has ever before dared to question my
courage."
Slowly, the wing commander got to his feet. Standing, he was taller and
heavier-built than Sarek--and probably at least thirty years younger.
"Very well, then, Ambassador. I challenge you!" His voice rang out so
loudly that Savel jumped.
"I challenge you by the ancient laws and rite of the Toriatal.
T'kevaidors a sketitus dunt'ryala aikriian paselitan ... Toriatal," he
intoned solemnly. Sarek recognized the language as Old High Vulcan.
Taryn faced him, head high. "So ... you want their lives, Sarek--then
fight for them! Win their lives, or your life--and that of your
son's--are forfeit!"
Sarek recognized the words. This was a challenge so old that it was
still common to both the Vulcan and Romulan cultures. The Toriatal dated
back to the days before Surak had brought his message of logic and peace
to their mutual homeworld.
In the ancient days of the Toriatal, two warring Vulcan
nations would, in a land already devastated by conflict, choose
champions to represent them in battle, and agree to victory or defeat on
the basis of that single-combat-to-the-death outcome. At least now the
Enterprise would be safe from any Romulan ship in Taryn's fleet, Sarek
thought.
Under the terms of the Toriatal, a truce remained in effect until the
champions had completed their fight. No Romulan vessel would initiate
hostilities once he agreed to the Toriatal--until the battle was
concluded, and either he or Taryn lay dead.
"State the terms of the challenge," Sarek said, buying time while he
thought. Was this the only way? In any kind of physical contest, Taryn
would be the undisputed favorite.
He was a full-blooded Vulcan, younger, stronger than the ambassador--and
a soldier, in fighting condition. The odds were not good.
"Very well. If you win, Ambassador, I agree that I will release any of
the Vulcans residing on Fredan should they wish to go. I will help you
in whatever way is necessary to allow you to offer them that choice. I
will break off the planned attack, and not initiate hostilities with the
Enterprise. Acceptable?" Sarek nodded. "I understand."
"And, if I win, Ambassador, you agree that your life--in the unlikely
event you survive the challenge itself--and the life of your son are
mine to do with as I please. The ship you call Enterprise and its crew
will be fair game for my fleet, when it arrives." The ambassador turned
to look at Spock. "I am willing to wager my own life in this challenge,"
he said. "But I cannot ethically stake the life of my son."
"What I am staking is far greater than what you are willing to wager, as
it is, Ambassador," Taryn pointed out, truthfully. "A challenge is a
challenge. Do you accept, or not?" The Romulan exuded confidence as he
stood there.
Sarek drew a deep breath. The needs of the many ... he thought, but he
could not do it. Not with the life of his son at stake. Slowly, he shook
his head, and opened his mouth-- "Do it," Spock said in an undertone,
without turning his head. "Accept his terms. If you do not, our lives
are forfeit in any case." Sarek glanced at the first officer, then
straightened his shoulders. "Very well, Commander. I accept your
challenge.
I will fight you in the Toriatal."
"As challenger, the choice of type of combat is mine," Taryn said, a
gleam of anticipation in his eyes.
"Yes." All around him he heard murmurs of anticipation from the young
officers. Only Savel seemed distressed by what was happening. Out of the
corner of his eye Sarek saw her shaking her head as she whispered, "No,
Vadi!" Sarek wondered what kind of duel Taryn would choose.
He hoped Taryn's arrogance would lead him to choose unarmed combat. The
ambassador was an expert at several Vulcan martial arts, including
tal-shaya. In unarmed hand-to-hand, he might stand a chance. Although
Sarek had trained with traditional Vulcan weapons in his youth, and had
become proficient with them, he had not done any sparring with weapons
for years.
Also ... if they fought without weapons, there was a good chance that
neither of them would die. Sarek did not want to die--nor did he want to
kill Taryn.
"I choose weapons, Ambassador," Taryn said, and paused for a beat.
"Specifically, the senapa." The commander sat back with a faint, cold
triumphant smile.
Sarek took a deep breath. The senapa ... the deadliest, most painful of
weapons in the ancient Vulcan arsenal. A combatant could survive one
cut, or perhaps two--if he was strong and received an immediate blood
filtering and transfusion--but three was almost always a death sentence.
"I will prepare myself," the ambassador said.
"You will need a second," Spock said. "I offer myself, Ambassador."
Sarek turned to look at his son, and, finally nodded. "I accept."
Turning back to face Taryn, Sarek gave him the ancient, ceremonial
salute. "As soon as you are ready, Commander."
Taryn nodded. "Fifteen minutes, Ambassador. Savel will guide you to the
/> gymnasium."
In one corner of Shardarr's gymnasium, Spock quickly prepared Sarek for
the coming combat. Swiftly, efficiently, he stripped off the heavy,
formal robe and hung it on the wall, carefully arranging the folds so
the jeweled borders faced the combat square Poldar and Tonik were
marking off.
When his son leaned close to unfasten the ambassador's undertunic, Sarek
whispered quietly, "How long will it take Kirk to send the message and
return?"
"Approximately an hour, from the time we left," Spock reported, sotto
voce. Then he added, "You are not in any condition to attempt this."
"I am well aware of my limitations," Sarek agreed, bleakly. "If I can
hold out long enough, perhaps Kirk will return. If I am only wounded,
the estimable Dr. McCoy might be able to save me?"
"The closest supply of senapa poison antidote is on Vulcan," Spock
whispered grimly. "It is hardly standard provisioning for starships. I
do not like this. A duel with senapas ... Taryn will have a definite
advantage. He is younger, taller, and doubtless far quicker than you."
"Do not think that knowledge has escaped me," Sarek admitted, with a
flare of mordant humor. "But, as the challenger, it was his right to
choose the contest and the weapon to be used."
"When was the last time you trained?"