Holography 1: The Catalyst
by
Pat Foley
Chapter 7
When she woke, hours later, the room was dark and silent, and she was alone. She flung off the sheet Sarek had drawn over her, and rose stiffly, aching in every muscle. She forgotten what a workout a good cry could be. She scrubbed at the residue of dried tears on her face, and after a moment, stepped into the fresher. A few moments sonic shower got rid of the traces of the last few hours of tears and semen from her skin and took care of the worst of her aches as well. She pulled on house clothes, shorts and a short-sleeved tunic, and braided her hair carelessly in a long tail down her back. Slipping her feet into sandals, she went looking for her husband. She still felt tired and worn, as if something had broken within her. But she had to know what was happening.
His study was a deserted battlefield, dark and empty, starlight streaming through the long windows, his desk precise and neat as a pin. Though she could imagine she heard the echos of the recent confrontation between Sarek and their son. But if her husband wasn't here, that left only one strong possibility, his favorite spot for meditation, particularly when he was struggling with issues of control and the nature of Vulcans, in himself, and in Spock. She went to the top of the house, through the long galleries to the outside parapets. Her husband's ancestral home was a former fortress, snuggled into the rock walls of the Llangon foothills, with the sheer cliffs behind for defense. And like the original nature of the Fortress overlaid Sarek's otherwise graceful ancestral home, the Pre-Reform warrior was only buried as deeply in any modern Vulcan as his control of the disciplines.
Sarek was where she had expected, standing at one of the main sentry ports. Before him stretched the length of desert, with the city of Shikahr spread out like glowing jackstraws beneath his feet, and the spaceport to the left. Directly opposite, across the city, the navigation warning beam at the highest point of T'Pau's palace glowed like a dull red eye. Above them the stars stretched from horizon to horizon, marred only by the hulking curve of the Llangons foothills that ringed the city from the west, rising like the spikes of a dragon's back. Amanda had always liked the orientation of the city, seeing the sun rise in ruby mist from the eastern deserts only to sink like a glowing fireball into the jagged mountains at sunset.
Amanda sank down on one of the ancient stone copings and watched her husband, waiting patiently for him to rouse himself from his thoughts. It was impossible to sneak up on a Vulcan. With his keen hearing, he certainly knew she was there, probably had heard her before she'd seen him. She wrapped her arms around her, shivering a little in the pre-dawn chill, and watched the city lights twinkle beneath the glowing stars, both bright in the clear desert air. She'd often thought Sarek's favorite mediation point had its special dangers, wholly apart from the height. It was too easy to feel omnipotent with a view like this at your command. But tonight it was only an illusion. Sarek was certainly not feeling omnipotent now.
He moved fractionally, his shoulders shifting, enough to let her know he had heard her, that he was not deep in trance, though he did not turn. Waiting for her to speak.
"It won't be forever, you know," she heard herself saying in response to that cue. "He will come back."
Sarek looked back to where she sat in the shadows, the city gleaming behind him. "He will not need to come back," he said. "He is not leaving."
She sat up straighter. "How do you plan to stop him? Are you planning to send him to his room for the rest of his life?"
Sarek said nothing, turning to face the city's sprawl again, his back stiff and brooding.
Amanda tried again. "Even if you could, what can you realistically do beyond that? You can accept the post at the Science Academy for him. You can pull strings and get him withdrawn from Starfleet. But you can't put him before a class and make him teach every day. You can't keep him here by force until he agrees to do as you bid."
Sarek gave her a look. "Don't be ridiculous."
Amanda sank back, "Oh, Sarek. Let's speak plainly. If he wants to go, if he refuses to stay, which he has done, and you coerce him to remain, by whatever means, how is it any different? Let's not play with words. And what will the Council say of your actions, if they get wind of them? Spock is technically responsible for his own choices, you know, however immature you regard him. Would they want an heir who had to be made to do his duty by coercion?"
"What they want is immaterial," Sarek said, dismissing 5000 years of Vulcan tradition with a curt gesture.
Amanda sighed at this sign that Sarek was truly in his most haughty mode. Being born a hereditary ruler had its disadvantages. But on the other hand, he'd long ago gained enough control of the Council that he probably didn't consider that much of a hindrance. And until this evening, he'd had similar influence with Spock. Or thought he had. She tried again. "You might control the Council, but Spock is another matter. He's not going to come to heel easily. Not this time. Don't you see that? Wouldn't it be better just to let him go?"
Sarek turned again, peering at her. "You are suggesting that I allow this to happen? Let the child pursue a course of action which he will almost certainly come to regret?"
"He is no longer a child," Amanda argued. "I understand how hard it must be for you to accept that, seeing how you've supervised his education from an infant to now, but he has grown up. He has two advanced degrees. He's done all you asked, up till now. And now he wants to do something purely for himself. Isn't it time to let him? Hasn't he earned that? After all, you can't always make all his choices for him."
"I can, when his actions tonight prove he still is so obviously incapable of making them for himself, " Sarek said, his voice little more than a low growl coming across on the night air, "And I shall."
She shivered again at that dark intent. "Sometimes we have to choose our own regrets," she replied, speaking not entirely of Spock. She felt the reverberation in the bond as he reacted to that. Perhaps it was a cruel thing for her to say to her husband at this time, but at the moment she wasn't in a charitable mood.
And he reacted in kind. Sarek turned his head back to her, his glance cold, fully taking her meaning and not forgiving her for that wound. His anger, clear to her, offered a tacit promise of retribution later. But still aching from her previous emotional storm, the fallout from their argument, she would not apologize.
"How would you have felt if T'Pau had said the same to you?" She questioned instead, striving to get them back on some less emotional tone.
Sarek turned around completely this time, as if in astonishment, to see her fully in spite of the darkness. "How did you come by her argument?"
Amanda shrugged, wondering how Sarek couldn't see something so obvious, but now reluctant to get caught up too far in that dynamic between mother and son. "The situations are not that dissimilar. In fact, considering everything, what you did was far worse than what Spock wants to do. You must see that."
"The difference is, that I knew what I was doing," Sarek said coolly, finally coming over to her. "Spock has no comprehension."
Amanda shook her head slowly, in disbelief. "Did you really? Twenty years ago, did you foresee this?" She left the question in the air a moment. And he had no answer for her. "And what do you know of what Spock comprehends? Did you discuss his decision with him? Or just forbid it outright?"
"It would be impossible to have a serious discussion on such folly as this. Only a child would even propose such an action."
"So you didn't discuss it with him," Amanda shook her head. "Sarek, that is unworthy of you. Would you treat anyone else that way?"
"I will not discuss the merits of Starfleet, or lack of them, with Spock. My son will have nothing to do with that barbaric institution. it is the last thing I could ever countenance, that he would align himself there. He should be well aware of that."
"But children grow up. You can't control Spock any more than T'Pau could control you. It's time to let him go, even if he wants to do something you dislike."
"There is no similarity between myself and Spock. I was an adult."
"Vulcans have a long adolescence," Amanda conceded. "But he was made responsible for his life choices at Kahs Wan. That's adulthood, at least in that respect. Isn't it a little late to rescind that responsibility fifteen years later? I don't see how you can do it."
"If this is an example of his choices, then I concede the responsibility was given prematurely. And I am fully prepared to take back what was improperly bestowed. I will not have this, Amanda. Do not try to dissuade me." Sarek turned again to contemplate the distant city.
Amanda sighed and dropped her forehead to her knees, massaging her temples with one hand. "But he'll leave anyway. Don't you see that? He wants to try this."
"What he wants is immaterial."
"Not to him, Sarek," she warned. "He is past being dictated by you. He's made up his mind."
Sarek raised an ironic brow. "So have I. I have dealt with Spock's lack of discipline before."
"But this is different; don't you see that? He won't give in this time."
"That remains to be seen."
"You may not have noticed this, but he can be just as stubborn as you. He won't give in this time. You'd have to use some sort of force to stop him. And I can't see you doing that. Can't you just let him go? Let him try? If you are right, if he does find it a poor choice, if it is so untenable, then he'll be home soon enough, acknowledging that you were right. Weeks, months. And then you'll have won."
"If he defies me, if he leaves, this will never be his home again."
Amanda stared at him, her mouth opened in shock. "You have got to be kidding."
He gave a Vulcan negative, a minute jerk of his head to the left. "I assure you, I have never been more serious. I will disown him, irrevocably."
Amanda flared at that, rising to her feet. "Oh, no you won't," she warned. "I am not giving up my son for you. Not this time."
"Amanda, it will not come to that."
"Yes, it will. He's going to leave Sarek. And right now, I don't blame him for it, not one bit. And if he's not welcome here, neither will I stay. You don't speak for me in this regard. If you disown him, Sarek, you speak only for yourself. My son will always be welcome in my home. Or I will be living elsewhere. And I have never been more serious."
Sarek turned, his face grim and shadowed against the starlight streaming behind him. The darkness, the setting, made him appear larger than life, and utterly menacing. But Amanda faced him unyieldingly, long past being cowed by Sarek in his darker moods.
"I expect you will support me in this," Sarek said coldly.
"Think again." Amanda challenged. "It's not going to happen."
"You are my wife." Sarek said flatly. "He is my child."
Amanda drew a frustrated breath and rubbed her forehead. That relationship obviously meant something different, something both more and less than what Amanda considered it to be. Vulcan males didn't outright own their wives and children as they must have done millennium ago, but old customs die hard, particularly in Vulcans. Intellectually, Sarek regarded her as a complete individual in her own right. Personally and instinctively though, she'd come to realize that at times, always at the worst of times, Sarek regarded both her and his son as extensions of himself, as incapable of independent action as if his hand began refusing the commands of his brain. When this tenet came up, it was always on the really big issues, when their family was in crisis.
"Spock is my son, too." she countered.
Sarek shook his head, not in denial, as a human would, but as if he was trying to clear it. They had just hit one of those huge cultural walls that separated Vulcan and human. It was hard for him to understand how she felt. Apparently Vulcan women just didn't feel the same kind of fierce compulsive love for their children. Or if they did, it was secondary to their acceptance of their husband's primary role. When it came to discussions regarding Spock, Sarek always expected her to yield, and inevitably seemed impatient that she even thought to question. It invariably took him a moment to realize his human wife balked at accepting what every other Vulcan woman would have taken as given.
"All the more reason you should support me in this," Sarek said. "Spock must understand this is an irrevocable choice. I know that you agree with me. You cannot want him in Starfleet either."
"No." She held her hands out, warding Sarek away when he would have approached. "Don't try to persuade me. Don't try to out-logic or debate with me. I don't agree with you. I may not be happy that he chose Starfleet, but I do support his decision to go. And I will not add to the ammunition you use against him with my disapproval, Sarek. Not this time. I won't go along with you in this. Nor ever again. Spock has grown up. He has earned the right to his own life. And he is my son, irrevocably. Whether he goes or stays, whether you accept his decision or not, he will always be my son."
"You have previously objected to those characterizations," Sarek said, looking at her. "Do you not remember--"
"How could I forget? Maybe this is all my fault. Maybe if I had made sure he was more my son when he was growing up, he wouldn't have to leave to find that part of himself now. Don't think I don't blame myself for that. But there's nothing we can do now about our past mistakes, except not add to them. And so I will support him now. He'll be welcome in any home I live in. If you expect me to stay here with you, then that had better be true. Now and forever." She drew a breath. "Or I will be leaving with him. I'll leave you, Sarek."
She'd drawn a new battleline, she could see the effect of that in her husband's face, in the echoes of shock in his body language. Their uneasy truce of ten years ago broke open, and once again they stood on each side of a precipace of disaster. Dissolving their marriage might mean life or death for Sarek, but this time she had come to the belated realization that it was her son's life as well. She had no choice. Sarek was deadly serious about handing out the never darken my door routine with his only child. Would deny him the chance of returning to his home if he disobeyed him now. She could never allow that. She could never live with Sarek after he had done that. She had her limits too.
Part of her was furious with her husband for expecting her to agree with him. Part understood his resorting to near desperate straits in the face of what must seem like utterly incomprehensible rebellion from a son who'd bowed his head to his father's lightest whim for the last ten years. And part understood that this was a logical tactic. Sarek had judged that of all things, this might frighten Spock into submission. Spock had never been off Vulcan without his parents, and he had not been off Vulcan at all in years. His interest in Starfleet, or in his humanity was real, but at heart he was Vulcan. To threaten to bar the door to his home, to threaten to disown him irrevocably, throw him out into the universe and close the door behind him would give Spock pause, no matter how determined her son was. Even with T'Pau's tacit support behind him, Sarek must believe that Spock would relent at such an uncompromising fate. T'Pau would not live forever, and with her death, Sarek's authority would be even greater than it was now. Spock had so little practical experience of being on his own in the universe. A Vulcan child lived in something of a cocoon of discipline and duty that for Spock to break free -- even with Vulcan behind him as a resource to come home to -- had to be very daunting. To take Vulcan away from her son, who had striven his whole life to be worthy of it, might just possibly shatter his resolve. But she refused to let Sarek do that to their son, regardless that it would rob her husband of one of his most effective deterrents to Spock's leaving. She herself didn't think it would have stopped Spock, – he seemed to have thought five steps ahead of Sarek on every point and probably would have anticipated this from his father and steeled himself for the prospect -- but Sarek could not be sure of that. She only knew if she let Sarek do this, she might never see her child again. She wouldn't be worthy to see her child again. She owed him that much loyalty. With that threat, Sarek had forced her hand. She had no choice, now, but to stand with Spock.
She watched her husband wrestle with her unwelcome news and this rebellion from a new source.
"You are my wife," he repeated slowly.
"No." She shook her head. "Not if you do this. I will leave you."
He looked at her as if he had never seen her before. "You can not be serious." His eyes narrowed. "I know you lo --" He stopped short of the forbidden word.
"I don't care."
"I don't believe you will do it." He looked at her cooly. "You didn't before," he added, referring to their rift of ten years ago, when she'd first threatened to leave him.
"Maybe that was my second mistake," she said coldly, watching him raise his brow as he deduced she meant her first was marrying him at all. " But they say the third's the charm. I may have one more chance to get it right. So just try this, Sarek and watch how fast I can pack." When Sarek didn't move, stared at her as if, like Spock, she had changed into something else, she pushed that advantage. "Oh, Sarek, let's not do this to eachother. You know I don't want to. Please. Just...let him go. Let him try it. And leave the door open for his return. Give him your permission."
"Never." Sarek said darkly. "I will never do that."
She drew back at that, shivered, well aware of her husbands indomitable will. "If you won't do it for Spock, then do it for me. Do it for us. I do love you. And so does Spock, if you would give him half a chance. Please."
"I will not."
She drew a sharp breath. "If he isn't welcome in your home, Sarek, do you think, if he wished to return, that T'Pau would refuse him hers home just because you've denied him yours? Nor will I deny him mine. I warn you, Sarek. If you refuse to let Spock come home, then I will leave you and go to Earth. T'Pau will still take Spock back if he decides to come back to Vulcan. You will have lost everything and for nothing. You will have lost, Sarek. Vulcan as you are, can you even understand that? For once in your life, this one time, you can't win. You have to give in."
Even as she spoke the words, she knew it was too much, too soon pitting all of Sarek's family in league against him, forcing a choice on him that he couldn't countenance, in a situation that this morning, he had no idea existed. In one short day, her husband's life had turned upside down. Everything he had worked for was disappearing as if it had never been.
Even Vulcans have their limits. With her betrayal added to that of Spock and T'Pau, it was too much even for Sarek to deal with. His shoulders stiffened and his eyes closed, fighting for some sort of control.
"Sarek," she pled, but he didn't look at her or respond. Without a word, he brushed past her, leaving her cold and aching, with only the fading stars for company.
As a new day began to dawn, she was facing the ruin of her life even as Sarek faced his: alone.
And soon Spock would wake, and the final confrontation would have to be faced, the final decisions made.
She only hoped she had the strength and resolve to somehow get her family through this conflict with at least the potential to one day come together again. She walked over to Sarek's meditation point, looked out over the parapet to the starfield, hoping for the same strength and peace it gave her husband and son. But instead, at that moment, the red bulk of Eridani began to rise, huge and ominous, creeping over the horizon, washing out the stars.
She turned away to face the new day, steeling herself for whatever it would bring.
To be continued...
