Star Trek - Sarek

by A. C. Crispin

  ... unofficial discussion, you understand."

  "The human phrase for what you mean is 'off the record," Delegate

  Patrick."

  "I like that term." Pardek smiled faintly, reminiscently.

  "English is such a colorful language ... so descriptive. I enjoyed

  learning it."

  "You were saying there were matters you wished to discuss ... off the

  record?"

  Pardek hesitated, then said, "Your name and your father's but especially

  the name of Sarek--have been on everyone's lips lately. Including the

  praetor's?"

  "For some reason," Spock said, "that does not surprise me. My father has

  a ... friend ... who was setting off on a journey to see the praetor.

  Perhaps you know of him?"

  Pardek's fleshy features were carefully neutral. "Possibly," he

  admitted. "Are we speaking of someone in the military?"

  "Yes. He is rather highly ranked."

  Pardek looked away. "'Was' is a more appropriate term, I fear."

  "Ah," Spock said. "I am ... grieved ... to hear you say that."

  Pardek raised an eyebrow. "But hardly surprised."

  "No."

  "It is regrettable," Pardek said, after a moment. "He was my friend,

  too."

  "Indeed?"

  "Yes, I knew him for many years. And I cannot find it in myself to

  condemn his actions in effecting the release of a number of captives.

  Far better," Pardek said thoughtfully,

  "to allow those who wished to leave to do so."

  "But not all of those in question chose to leave," Spock pointed out.

  "Which concerns me. There was a possibility of ... bloodshed. Reprisal,

  on those who stayed."

  "I am pleased to tell you that no such tragedy has occurred," Pardek

  said earnestly. "The individuals who did not choose to leave have gone

  underground, merging into the general population. No active search for

  them has been mounted, under the circumstances. Most of the ones who

  stayed did so because they had married into Romulan families. The

  praetor understands this. He values public opinion, like any head of

  state."

  "Understandably. These individuals we are speaking of---" Spock began.

  "Off the record, of course. Not in any official capacity ..." Pardek

  reminded him.

  "Of course. These individuals ... they have successfully managed to

  infiltrate, to mingle and become lost amid the rest of your society?"

  "Quite successfully. It was remarkable how quickly they simply ...

  melted away. I suspect most of them have changed their names, and will

  simply keep a low profile as a part of their Romulan families. They will

  raise their children, grow old ... live ordinary lives as respectable

  citizens of the Empire. In time, they will be virtually

  indistinguishable from native-born Romulans."

  "The praetor is not searching for them?"

  "Not at all. As long as none of them surface to cause trouble, I expect

  that policy to continue."

  "Fascinating," Spock murmured. "Who knows how this ... mingling will

  affect your people, in years to come ..."

  "I have been wondering the same thing, Captain," the Romulan said.

  "Perhaps this is not so surprising after all," Spock murmured

  thoughtfully. "In days past, we were, after all, one people."

  "Millennia past," Parrick pointed out. "Still, as recent events have

  shown, there are still ... cultural links."

  "Indeed," Spock agreed, thinking of the challenge and the senapa duel.

  Watching it had brought home to him, as nothing else ever had, that

  Vulcans and Romulans had once been one people. They were still far more

  similar than they were different, at least physically ...

  "Perhaps we might discuss our idea further. During the conference ...

  and afterward."

  "I would like that, Spock," the delegate said, and the Vulcan realized

  they were speaking almost as if they both took some kind of vow to

  explore this concept together.

  "After I return to Romulus ... perhaps we might stay in contact?

  Correspond?"

  "I would be honored," Spock said.

  "Spock?" A third voice reached them, and the Vulcan turned to see Sarek

  approaching through the thinning crowd of diplomats.

  After quickly introducing his father to the Romulan delegate, Spock

  excused himself to leave the chamber with his father. Together, they

  walked out of the conference center and down the massive steps.

  As Sarek and his son walked down the steps leading from the conference

  chamber, he reminded himself not to push the rapprochement between them

  was still very fragile. It was extremely ... satisfactory ... to

  simply walk beside his son again, shoulder to shoulder.

  "For a first day, the negotiations went well," the ambassador observed

  as they strolled across a manicured lawn beneath a vivid blue sky. In

  the east, the sun was setting in a magnificent splash of coral and

  fuchsia.

  "I agree," Spock replied. "It seems possible that Qo'nos the planet may

  indeed be salvageable. Destruction of the ring would be a colossal task

  ... but, given the time frame, it is feasible."

  Sarek nodded; then the curiosity he had been holding back overcame him.

  He searched for an appropriate opening.

  "I was not expecting the Romulans to send a delegate," he began.

  "I must admit I was surprised myself," Spock said.

  Then Spock hesitated, and his father gained the impression that he was

  about to say something, but changed his mind. "It has been nearly three

  weeks since the Enterprise brought the captured Vulcans back to their

  native world," he observed. "Tell me, Father, how are they doing? Are

  the efforts at reeducating them regarding the ethics of mental contact

  succeeding?"

  "Their teachers are optimistic," Sarek said. "Particularly since Savel

  seems to have emerged as a leader for them, and she is committed to

  using her telepathic abilities ethically, to help others. She told me

  the last time I saw her that she intends to train to become a Healer,

  and work as a telepathic therapist. I am encouraged that the newcomers

  will be able to adjust and prosper in our society."

  "I believe they can," Spock said. "I spent considerable time talking

  with Savel on the voyage back to Vulcan. She seems like a young person

  with a great deal of potential. I was impressed by her."

  "Not as impressed as young Soran is," Sarek said dryly.

  Spock raised an eyebrow. "Indeed? And does she return his interest?"

  "My impression is that she does."

  "Soran is unbonded, is he not?"

  "Yes. His parents did not hold with the tradition of bonding as

  children. That trend appears to be growing," Sarek said, thoughtfully.

  "Then Soran is free."

  "For the moment," Sarek said, with a glint of humor in his dark eyes. "I

  do not expect that state of affairs to continue for long, however."

  His son cocked an eyebrow at him, and there was an answering glint in

  his own dark eyes.

  Reaching the edge of the park-like grounds, father and son halted to

  watch the sunset for a few minutes in silence. "On

  the whole," Spock said finally, "I am impressed with Pardek. He stri
kes

  me as an intelligent individual, one who is something of a visionary."

  Sarek glanced up at his son, realizing that Spock was deliberately

  granting him an opening. "Indeed? What makes you say that?"

  "Our discussion at the end of today's session." Sarek raised an eyebrow.

  "Yes? And what were you two discussing, if I may ask? You seemed very

  intent."

  "We wre," Spock admitted. "We began by speaking about the K HL," he

  said, with a faint glimmer of humor.

  "And then we moved on to speaking, off the record, about the young

  Vulcans who elected not to go with the Enterprise ... "Spock went on to

  summarize that portion of the conversation with Pardek.

  "Knowing that the praetor has decided to ignore their existence is good

  news," Sarek said, when his son had finished. "Did Pardek give any hint

  as to Taryn's fate?" Spock nodded, his expression darkening. "Taryn is

  dead, Father," he said. "I regret that I must be the one to tell you."

  Sarek closed his eyes briefly. "I have been expecting to discover that,"

  he said, heavily. "It is hardly a surprise, under the circumstances."

  Finally, Sarek took a deep breath and broke the resulting silence. "Was

  it Taryn's fate that you and Pardek were speaking of so intently, as I

  approached?" His son slanted a sidelong glance at him. "Curious,

  Father?"

  "I must admit that I am." Spock took a deep breath, and began walking

  again, in the general direction of the delegates' living quarters. "Very

  well. Pardek was saying that it was surprising how easily the young

  Vulcans were able to adapt to Romulan society. I observed that, after

  all, we were one people long ago." The officer hesitated, then

  continued, "I wonder if we might ever hope to be one people again."

  Sarek stopped in midstride and stared at the other, barely troubling to

  conceal his consternation. "My son, surely you are not serious."

  "Why not?" Spock's expression held a glint of stubborn resolve that his

  father well remembered. "We are working toward peace with the Klingons.

  Why not peace--and eventual cooperation--with the Romulans?" Sarek

  struggled to repress his dismay. "You are speaking of ... a fusion of

  the two cultures?"

  "Yes, I was ... although I concede that it would be ... difficult."

  The ambassador sighed, shaking his head. "Spock ... my son, do you have

  any idea how unrealistically idealistic you sound? You are speaking of

  Romulans, remember? They have grown so far apart from our ideals that

  there is no longer any common meeting ground, I assure you. Witness

  their actions on Freelan--witness Nanclus's treachery and meddling!"

  "Witness Taryn," Spock pointed out, quietly. "Witness his response to

  your challenge. A challenge so old that both our peoples share it."

  "Taryn," Sarek reminded him curtly, "was a Vulcan."

  "He died a Romulan," Spock countered, with an edge in his voice,

  "upholding his concept of Romulan honor and duty." Sarek sighed. "Spock

  ... Spock ... your dedication to the cause of peace does you credit,

  my son. But the entire notion is ... ridiculous."

  "I do not believe so. I intend to explore the concept with Pardek, but I

  do not choose to discuss the topic further.

  Your mind is dosed, Father." Sarek's eyes flashed, but his features

  never changed. "As you wish," he said, coldly. But then, thinking of how

  Amanda would react if she could hear them at the moment, the ambassador

  modulated his tones, attempting to conciliate, using his best diplomatic

  manner. "Perhaps you are right, Spock ... perhaps there is nothing to

  be gained from discussing a subject on which we will never agree.

  But there are other topics we might discuss ... say, over dinner?" His

  son turned to regard him, his features cold and composed, but then, in

  response to what he saw in his father's eyes, they softened

  fractionally, and he nodded.

  "You are right. There are other topics." Spock's expression lightened.

  "Very well, Father. At dinner, then," he agreed.

  Father and son walked on, together, as the shadows of evening lengthened

  around them.

  Sunrise on Vulcan ...

  Sarek stood alone in Amanda's garden, waiting for the first light of

  dawn. As sunrise approached, the darkness of the sky was untouched,

  stars strewn everywhere--except behind the giant shape of Vulcan's

  sister world. The Watcher was lit only by light reflected from Vulcan,

  and so was nearly invisible, a dark ashen color in its newness. Here in

  the mountains near Gol, dawn came 1.6 hours late, delayed by the

  intervention of The Watcher.

  As the ambassador watched, a glow appeared on the upper limb of The

  Watcher, subtle at first, but growing brighter. The Vulcan had seen many

  sunrises from orbit, and was always struck by the similarity to the way

  Vulcan's sun rose over T'Rukh. The sister planet's tenuous atmosphere,

  carrying enormous amounts of dust and SO from its myriad volcanoes,

  caught Nevasa's ruddy light in a thin layer like high cirrus clouds.

  Sarek turned and picked up a small container that had been resting on

  the bench behind him. It was an ancient jar carved from white stone.

  His eyes fixed on the sky, Sarek ran his fingernail around the jar's

  seal, opening it. Carefully, he worked the stopper loose. Above him, the

  arc of red spread outward; then, suddenly, the star itself appeared. The

  hot glow grew

  brighter, visibly swelling. Vulcan's sky brightened, hiding T'Rukh

  behind rosy curtains of light. Slowly, as Nevasa came out of eclipse, a

  delicate down-curving crescent of light became visible, growing toward

  the horizon. The stars faded, grew dim, disappeared.

  But they will return, Sarek thought. Tonight they will shine

  again. The stars ... outlive us all.

  Dawn. It was time.

  Taking a deep breath, the Vulcan tilted the jar slightly, allowing some

  of the gray powder within it to fall. The morning breeze caught part of

  it, wafting it away, but much fell, to land in the soil below.

  Sarek moved on a few steps, to a new location. This time he tilted the

  jar into his hand, letting the ashy powder fill his palm. This is the

  last time I will touch her, he thought, clenching his fist around the

  ash, grasping it as he would have her hand. By this time Nevasa had

  risen further, separating from the enormous arc that was T'Rukh, bright

  ening the Vulcan sky to its normal, searing color.

  Day had begun.

  A time to gain, a time to lose ... Sarek thought, remembering one of

  Amanda's favorite quotations. Slowly, one by one, he forced his fingers

  to open, letting the ash sift down, between them. Letting go.

  As the dawn breezes began to die, Sarek upended the jar, shaking it, so

  the last trace of the ash within could sift out, to drift and finally

  settle over the stones, the soil, the living plants from so many worlds.

  Farewell, Amanda ... The Vulcan's lips moved, but no sound emerged.

  Carefully, the ambassador replaced the stopper in the now-empty jar.

  Then, his steps slow but steady, he turned and left the silent garden

  behind.

  As I write th
is, it has been ten years since my first novel, Yesterday's

  Son, was published. Since then, I've had an opportunity to meet many of

  the fans and stars who have helped to keep STAR TREK alive. Great fun

  ... and most rewarding. Going to a STAR TREK convention is like

  attending a family reunion.

  In writing Sarek, I've explored the planet Vulcan and its people more

  than I ever did before. I feel privileged ... and content. As though

  I'd finally reached a formerly inaccessi ble spot between my artistic

  shoulder blades and given it a good scratching. Frankly, I've been

  itching to write the scene of what actually happened the day Spock told

  Sarek he didn't want to attend the Vulcan Science Academy ever since I

  watched "Journey to Babel" in 1967. A chance to finally scratch a

  twenty-six-year itch!

  Sarek is the first of my novels to be published after Gene Roddenberry's

  death (although the Great Bird knew that there was the possibility of a

  story about Sarek's life in the works, and was, my editors told me, in

  favor of the idea). All of us who love STAR TREK miss him, but it's

  fitting and comforting that STAR TREK is continuing as a living legacy

  to his vision of the future.

  Every time I write a new STAR TREK novel, I get letters from people