Author's Note: This was in response to a prompt from Thrutheyears, who has always been an awesome reader and reviewer, so thank you so much!
I'll be the first to admit that the language and idioms used are pretty American, though I believe many of them were borrowed from other English-speaking countries. The truth is, I'm not sure how well this story will translate culturally, though I am intensely curious to find out. Thanks again for reading!
"What is a kangaroo court?" Sarek asked as they descended to the main hall in the turbolift.
"Huh?" she replied in surprise.
"I was speaking with Admiral Forreston this afternoon about the growing tensions on Ithen and the potential for a coups, and he believes they will establish a 'kangaroo court' to try the current members of government. His was a turn of phrase I found myself unable to logically deduce."
Amanda raised her eyebrows at her husband and smiled patiently. Sarek was the smartest man she knew, and even she couldn't begrudge him the inability to decipher Admiral Forreston's casual speech.
Samuel Forreston hailed from Alabama, a fact that poured out of him with each word he spoke and wild gesture he made. Amanda secretly liked his larger-than-life personality, but could immediately understand how her Vulcan husband found it off-putting.
"A 'kangaroo court' is an informal court, sometimes made up by a mob, just to give the appearance of a fair trial, but it's really just a way to circumvent legitimate courts and try someone for a crime with little or no evidence," she explained.
"I see," Sarek said solemnly. "Well, in that case, I agree with the admiral, if the rebellion should be successful."
She looked at the ground and smiled to herself. Sarek was willing to admit he didn't know everything, but she knew it wounded his pride to continually need to ask for clarification when speaking with others. If Vulcans had pride. Pride was allegedly a human emotion, but she knew better.
The door to the turbolift swung open and two of his staff members, Varen and Metana, met them in the lobby. The four of them proceeded into the formal banquet hall for socializing and an evening meal.
She had met Sarek at a conference very much like this two years earlier. She had once been quite shy and unsure of herself in these situations, but she was becoming a master at conversing with strangers from other cultures. The one thing she found incredibly uncomfortable and tedious was talking politics. Being married to Sarek had also required a crash course in politics and interplanetary government, and it was not unusual for her to be brought into a conversation about some treaty or accord she'd never even heard of.
She could smile and nod only so much before people started thinking she had a few screws loose.
Sarek, on the other hand, was completely at ease in discussing politics, but reviled idle chitchat and pleasantries. She'd tactfully bailed him out of a number of strange social situations in the past, and just last night she'd offered to send a gift rather than attend the wedding of a Betazoid diplomat. She recalled reading once that Betazoid weddings were conducted in the nude, wedding party and guests alike.
"Miss Amanda!" drawled a loud voice from across the room.
She turned to see a tall, portly man with the thinning hair and a pink face waving excitedly and walking in their direction.
"And Ambassador Sarek," the man exclaimed, nodding to her husband as he vigorously shook Amanda's hand.
"Admiral Forreston," Sarek said courteously.
"I was just talkin' 'bout your lovely wife to a colleague of mine, and then speak of the devil, here she is!" Forreston exclaimed.
"The devil?" Sarek queried.
"Oh, it's just an old expression," Forreston laughed. "Anyway, I was hopin' we could finish our discussion from this afternoon, if you have time."
Amanda could sense through their bond that conversing at length with Forreston was not something Sarek was eager to do, but he agreed. They began to walk through the crowded banquet hall toward the drink table, and Amanda fell in next to Varen.
"I tell you what, I don't mean to beat a dead horse, but those Ithenites are barkin' up the wrong tree with this coups. I tell you, the gover'ment is seein' red," Forreston bellowed. "Best to just let sleepin' dogs lie."
Sarek turned to look at Amanda.
"I fail to understand what dead horses and sleeping dogs have to do with the crisis on Ithen," he mused through their bond.
She offered a crooked smile in return and replied telepathically, "He's sorry for repeating himself, but he thinks the Ithenite factions are making a mistake with this coups, one which is dangerously angering the government. The factions should leave well enough alone."
Sarek looked back to Forreston and replied, "The Ithenite factions have valid complaints against their government. The government cannot reasonably expect the situation to resolve itself."
"Well, sure, I get that it's a bitter pill to swallow, but the factions are just gonna have to bite the bullet on this one. Rebellions are a dime a dozen and don't usually work, and there's no sense in gettin' bent out of shape about the things you can't change," Forreston argued. "That's how innocent people get killed. The gover'ment didn't make this mess on their own: as I'm sure you know, it takes two to tango."
"He says he agrees with you, but the Ithenite factions should give up because they're not likely to succeed if they attempt a coups. They should try to make peace with the government, because the factions share at least some responsibility for the current problems on Ithen," Amanda explained telepathically.
"You derived that from what he said?" Sarek replied through their bond.
"Yeah, don't ask. Just go with it."
"I agree that the factions are not entirely innocent in the matter, and the increase in terrorist activity is worrisome, yet I believe the government shares more of the blame and should acknowledge that," Sarek contended. "The factions should be represented in Ithen's halls of government, not excluded from them."
"The gover'ment ain't gonna listen," Forreston said. "Look, I'm not tryin' to pull the wool over your eyes or beat around the bush: the military situation in Ithen is bad. And I didn't hear this through the grapevine, I heard it straight from the horse's mouth: if the factions move against the gover'ment, the salad days are gonna be over on Ithen for a good long while. Won't be nothin' but a world of hurt. "
"The government doesn't want to listen to the factions," Amanda said through their marriage bond. "He heard it from someone trustworthy that if the factions attempt a coups, the government is prepared to use excessive military force against them."
"Ithen has been a member of the Federation for sixty-seven years," Sarek replied. "I am aware the most recent attempts at arbitration failed, but it seems a second attempt would be preferable to bloodshed."
"This is just my opinion, and take it worth a grain of salt, but I wouldn't go puttin' all my eggs in that basket. Arbitration is fine and all, but I think the factions and the gover'ment are past that now. It's gonna come to blows, and when it does, we're gonna have to go in there and save their bacon."
"He appreciates his opinion is just an opinion, but he thinks it's unwise to gamble too heavily on mediating the dispute. He thinks war is inevitable, and the Federation will have to intervene," Amanda explained mentally.
"The Federation cannot intervene in intraplanetary affairs," Sarek told Forreston simply. "It is clearly written in the Federation charter."
"If we do nothin', we'll be diggin' our own graves economically speakin'," Forreston argued. "We could be lookin' at blockades in that sector, maybe even piracy. It would be disaster."
"Nevertheless, it is a matter internal to Ithen, and Federation military intervention would be unlawful," Sarek reiterated.
They spent the next several hours in the admiral's close company. During dinner, Amanda sat between them and tried to keep conversation with Forreston while Sarek spoke with his aides. She feigned delight in looking at photos of his granddaughter, whom he hadn't seen "in a dog's age" and was still only "knee high to a pig's eye."
"She's cute as a button," Amanda replied, grinning at the pictures on his PADD.
"A button?" Sarek mused telepathically, still facing away from her.
She wasn't aware he'd been listening to her conversation with Forreston.
"Yeah, I don't know," Amanda replied. "Just another whacky expression. Don't mind me."
As she looked at the pictures of Forreston's granddaughter, and then of his children when they were small, she felt a peculiar longing. She didn't have to reflect very hard to know what it was: she wanted a baby.
She tried to focus her mind and shut Sarek out. She couldn't explain why, but it was a subject she found difficult to broach with him. They hadn't really discussed it prior to getting married, but she knew that he knew that she wanted children someday. She was already closer to thirty than twenty, and could feel the gears of her biological clock beginning to turn.
They would never be able to conceive a child naturally, but she knew it was possible through reproductive technology. She'd researched it one morning several months ago in nervous curiosity, and had been delighted to discover there had been twenty-three human-Vulcan hybrids born that were known to medical literature. She would have to undergo some rather intensive treatments, but it was at least possible.
Yet for whatever reason, it was still an awkward subject to discuss with her husband. She chewed her lip and continued listening to Forreston as he told her about the time his daughter Lucy had literally "cried over spilled milk."
When dinner was over, one of Forreston's colleagues mercifully pulled him away and Sarek stood to bid the man goodbye.
"It's been a pleasure shootin' the breeze with you and the missus," Forreston said.
"Likewise," Sarek replied carefully. "Live long and prosper, Admiral Forreston."
"Yes, thank you, admiral, for a knee-slapping good time," Amanda added with a grin.
The admiral clapped his hands together cheerfully, motioned to his colleague and said, "I love this little lady! Such a great personality."
They watched Forreston walk away, and she looked at Sarek lovingly.
"I'm sure you'll want to meditate. Perhaps we should go upstairs for the evening?" she suggested.
"Yes," Sarek agreed.
He spoke briefly with his two aides, and soon they were back in the turbolift to return to their room. Sarek's mind was quiet, and it bothered her how drained he seemed, but it was unsurprising. She was mentally exhausted and looking forward to a good night's rest too.
When they arrived at their room, she flopped down on the large bed and smiled to herself. Sarek sat down on the bed's edge and began removing his shoes. She looked at him and perceived a strong and unusual lethargy in him.
"Penny for your thoughts?" she teased, standing up on her knees and wrapping her arms around his chest.
He looked at her; his outward expression was calm, but she could feel his internal weariness.
"It means you should tell me what's on your mind," she said gently, resting her chin on his right shoulder.
"I have just spent the last four hours engaging in conversation with a man whom I could not understand," Sarek explained. "I find I am very often grateful for your companionship."
"It's good that you don't look a gift horse in the mouth," she said in mock seriousness.
"Why do so many human idioms feature references to animals?" he replied.
"You mean like, killing two birds with one stone, curiosity killing a cat, counting ones' chickens before they're hatched, going on a wild goose chase, or getting one's goat?"
Sarek opened his mouth to speak, and then slowly shut it. It was a rare thing indeed to see Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan rendered speechless.
"I don't know," she laughed honestly. "I never honestly thought about how many idioms there really are, and how strange they all sound. I've been trying to think of Vulcan ones, but your language is pretty straightforward and utilitarian. There are expressions that reference poems or history that might be confusing to outsiders, but nothing half so strange as what Terran languages have concocted."
They were quiet for a time, and soon she released her embrace and kissed him on the cheek.
"I'll leave you to meditate," she said, standing to take a long, hot bath.
"I sense there is conflict within you," he said suddenly.
"Hmmm?"
"Tonight at dinner I could not find your consciousness," he explained. "I have noted this has occurred with increasing frequency."
"Oh," she said in nervous surprise. "Um, well- I don't know."
"Your tone implies that you do, but you do not desire to discuss it with me," he replied. "If it is an issue you wish to keep private, I shall respect that. I did not mean to intrude."
"No," she admitted, looking away.
She chewed hard on her lip and felt his eyes on her. She met his gaze, and could feel his patient curiosity.
"Well, there's no sense in dancing around the issue, and I understand if you want to chew on it for a while," she said apprehensively. "But do you want to put a bun in the oven?"