Chapter 26 – Interpretations
Sarek returned home and it seemed, at least for the time being, that their lives resumed relatively calmly. Absorbed as she was in her new position at the VSA and still acclimating to her new planet, Amanda only gradually noticed in passing that a few faces on the fortress' staff had changed.
At first she attributed it simply to normal turnover in a large organization. After she discovered a few more, it surprised her that there was this much random change, especially when she learned that many of the positions at D'H'Riset were hereditary. She wondered briefly, but did not take the time to analyze it any further. But when the head chef, Sodon, was suddenly replaced with someone new, a woman named T'Sirra, Amanda finally asked Sarek.
"Sarek, what happened to Sodon?"
Sarek's brow furrowed slightly. "'What happened to Sodon?' Your query is imprecise, my wife."
"Why is Sodon no longer working in the kitchen? T'Sirra introduced herself to me this morning as the new chef."
"Sodon has been reassigned."
"By you, my husband? Why?"
Sarek flicked his eyes away for a moment before returning them to hers. "Sodon's understanding of kol'ut'shan was deficient."
What about Sodon's interpretation of IDIC could garner Sarek's disapproval? Amanda wondered. "Where did you reassign him?" she then asked, curious about how such a deficiency would logically be addressed.
"There was an opening on the culinary staff at the Embassy on Andoria."
"Sarek!"
From what Amanda had heard, the Andorian posting was extremely unpopular, even if no member of the Vulcan Diplomatic Corps would openly admit to such an opinion. The climate there was frigid, and bilateral relations between the two peoples had been less than cordial in the past.
Sarek regarded her unperturbed and as if he had done nothing untoward, and she was puzzled. Then her eyes narrowed. "Sarek, this doesn't have anything to do with me, does it?"
He straightened, realizing that he would have to be candid. "Sodon was less than adequately receptive to your arrival. Therefore, I reassigned him."
Amanda's eyes widened, and Sarek braced himself for a wave of injured emotion from his bondmate, precisely the scenario he was attempting to avoid by removing the problematic staff. He would not see her hurt in any situation he could address.
She was speaking again. "Is that where the others who aren't here anymore have gone, too?" she asked quietly.
"Not all, no," he answered, his voice equally quiet.
Conflicting thoughts and emotions warred in Amanda's head. At first she was surprised; she hadn't sensed any negativity from anyone she'd met at the fortress. Don't be naïve, she chastised herself, if you've encountered it at the VSA and on the Vulcan High Council, you can run into it anywhere. Even so, it was disconcerting to learn that people who worked in her own home harbored such attitudes.
But she couldn't rely on her husband to simply remove anyone who didn't welcome her presence, either. Even though, at the moment, the idea of being protected thusly from an unpredictably unwelcoming population didn't seem all that bad… She took a deep breath. Toughen up, Grayson.
She stepped closer to her Vulcan spouse. As they were alone, she gently stroked his cheek. "My husband," she murmured, slowly shaking her head.
Sarek returned her gaze, his own eyes revealing confusion at her unexpected reaction.
"I'm touched that you want to protect me, but how can I learn to get along with those who disapprove of me here if I don't interact with them?"
"It is not your issue, my wife," Sarek returned stubbornly. "It is theirs."
Now she smiled at his openly protective stance. "Sarek, the situation is not going to improve if word gets around that you'll banish anyone who isn't nice to me."
Sarek's jaw tightened, obdurate, but the peacemaker within him had to acknowledge her point.
"Very well, my wife. I shall consider your suggestion. However," he insisted, "safeguarding your well-being remains of paramount importance."
Amanda, not wanting to have to think about it any more – at least for a little while – just laid her head against his chest.
ooo
It was evening, and the staff had departed. Amanda was bored, waiting for Sarek to return from a late meeting in Shi'Kahr, and had begun to explore some of the little-used areas in the hallway behind the kitchen.
Having procured herself a cup of tea, she poked her head out the rear entrance to the kitchen, down the hallway that led to where supplies were kept. She hadn't really ventured in this direction before, knowing only that many of the chambers here had been dug deep underground in ancient times to facilitate storage of perishables. Curious, she decided to have a look.
When she investigated behind a few doorways, she was disappointed to find that many of the aged rooms had been upgraded into quite modern facilities. Logical, but not very intriguing, she thought. Then a tall, old doorway near the end of the hall captured her attention. Amanda's curiosity demanded she investigate further.
She could not know that she had found a very old, but still functional, shelter from sand and other storms of the desert. The massive door opened surprisingly easily when she worked the outside mechanism. It startled her when it swung shut behind her.
Oh!
Amanda stood at the top of a long set of downward steps, shrouded in darkness. She shoved back against the door to return the way she came. It refused to budge. She tried again, with the same result.
What have I done? She wondered.
Next she ran her fingers around the edges of the door, as high as she could reach, searching for a release. Nothing. She did the same all over the door's surface and the walls next to it. Still nothing. What the heck?
She pounded on it, but all she did was hurt her hands. The door was too thick for her blows to register on the other side. Besides, there was no one else home to hear them, and I'Chaya was usually out prowling in the garden at this time.
Frustrated and becoming worried, Amanda tried to think of a way to alert Sarek of her whereabouts. Who knows when he'll be home, and when he does return this is the last place he'll look for me. Why can't I figure out this darned door? I warned myself that something like would happen if I wasn't careful!
Then an idea occurred to her. The healer T'Jinn said our bond was strong, she thought, recalling the incident with the sat on the step and concentrated as hard as she could on the bond with her husband.
/Sarek, I am here…/
She had no idea whether she was reaching him or simply sending thoughts to herself.
Kilometers away, Sarek was heading back toward the fortress when something caught his attention. He thought of Amanda – this was not unusual – but the thought was accompanied by an unfamiliar flurry of emotions. He did not typically experience these emotions in such a way. Frustration, worry, hope and fear all fluttered rapidly within him, and the sensation was odd enough to cause him to pause and focus on it. These emotions had not originated with him.
/Amanda?/
At the top of the basement stairs, Amanda sat up. Did I sense something from Sarek? She wasn't sure. Why can't I tell? Frustration swelled. I probably just imagined it. I'm no telepath.
Sarek felt no answer, but more worry and frustration coursed through him.
Something is amiss with my wife.
Without another second's pause, he accelerated toward the fortress.
Amanda was growing tired. Tired of concentrating, tired of being stuck in the dark, just tired. Tired and, she reflected, angry. Angry at herself for getting into this stupid situation, and angry in general at the many Vulcan obstacles thrown up against her making a home here. In that moment, the stubborn door represented more than just a physical barrier; it was a symbol of the many cultural challenges and intolerances that had tripped her up since her arrival.
She curled up on the step, allowing a tiny current of self-pity to trickle in. It became a torrent, and for a moment she couldn't stop the frustrated tears.
Get a grip, Grayson! she growled to herself. I'm not going to let myself become a sniveling mess, even if I am locked in the basement.
Having just arrived back at the fortress, Sarek was struck by another wave of emotion from his aduna. She was clearly distressed – and self-critical? What could have led to this situation? Outwardly impassive, he hurried inside, concentrating on their bond.
It led him to the back of the ancient structure, to the storage areas. Puzzled, he nonetheless began to search.
"Aduna!" /Aduna!/
Amanda heard his booming baritone just as she felt the brush of his presence through the bond. He heard me!
"Sarek!" She cried, concentrating as hard as she could on their bond and pounding on the great door.
A moment later, it opened to reveal her husband, his concerned eyes belying his otherwise stoic visage. She rushed into his arms.
Amanda just clung to him, trembling silently, and Sarek perceived that she was reacting to more than just her temporary imprisonment. Sending her a sense of calm through their bond, he realized again the tremendous sacrifice his Human wife had made in coming to Vulcan.
She was the alien here, in itself an often difficult situation, as he well knew. But it was his duty to periodically take on the role of alien, and one in which he was well experienced. For his young wife, this was all new, and all the more difficult. In addition, she shouldered the burden of being considered an outcast by some, and had to navigate many unforeseen challenges to her daily life that weren't issues at all on Earth, such as what had just occurred. And while he did not express it, he was tremendously relieved that this mishap had been as harmless as it was. He chastised himself thoroughly for overlooking this particular hazard.
"Thank you," she breathed into his chest, and a wave of embarrassment washed over him from their bond. "I'm sorry for this. I couldn't sense you again. I thought I had learned how to do that."
He pulled back slightly to gaze gravely down at her. "I believe you were attempting to do more than that, Aduna. You were trying to communicate with me via thought through our bond. That is an advanced telepathic skill."
"Oh. I guess that's beyond my ability, then. Just like opening this door!" Her frustration was palpable.
Sarek brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. "On the contrary, my wife. You must give yourself more credit. The release mechanism for this door is quite ancient and unusual. I estimate 92.64% of modern Vulcans would require similar assistance in this situation. Further, I did detect your distress and was able to locate you through our bond, due to your projections. That is no small accomplishment on your part."
"But why couldn't I sense you in return?"
Now his mouth upturned ever so slightly. "The presence of emotion, such as Humans occasionally experience, can at times interfere with one's ability to sense changes in a bond. I could show you techniques to address this, if you would like."
"I would!" she answered firmly, her usual determined optimism returning as if it had never wavered.
Sarek considered her for a moment.
"You honor me, Aduna."
Her brows knit in confusion. "Whatever for, Sarek? I just locked myself in the basement – hardly honorable!"
"You are here."
"Where else would I be, Adun?" She asked, her eyes wide.
That confusing array of inexpressible emotions arose again in Sarek's mind. Fortunately, they were alone in the fortress.
/Amanda,/ he projected to her as he first took her hand in his, Vulcan-style, and then enfolded her in his arms to kiss her soundly, Human-style. It is my duty to protect her from all types of distress, he thought, vowing to renew his efforts to ensure her comfort and safety on his world.
Later that evening, as he held her again, he lost himself in her soothing presence. Although it was he who offered her equanimity through their bond more often than not, it was in fact she who was his bedrock of calm. Her acceptance of him, her devotion to him, soothed the savage edges of his being that his control could hide but not eradicate. She is mine.
ooo
Diplomatic receptions occurred on Vulcan essentially as they did elsewhere. The first one arrived for the couple not long after their relocation. Having not attended one in a while, Amanda smiled as she slipped on the blue silk gown. It was quintessentially Human, and she was looking forward to wearing it for a few hours after weeks of assiduously adhering to the VSA's de facto dress code of Vulcan teaching robes. She appreciated the practical but bland – and, on her small form, rather shapeless – robes for what they were, but tonight she was eagerly anticipating the opportunity to look and feel decidedly Human and female.
It was time to depart. Sarek, impeccably dressed in the robes of his office, went in search of Amanda. And found himself discomfited. Once again, he confronted the twin reactions he often experienced when Amanda wore Human attire: gratification at observing his aduna's pleasing form, and concern over how obvious that pleasing form would be to everyone else. The gown's fitted bodice and long, elegantly draped skirt accentuated her figure, and its color highlighted her eyes. He wished that for once she would see the logic of wearing Vulcan-style clothing to a diplomatic event.
He cleared his throat, catching her attention.
"Sarek." She smiled warmly at him before twirling in her dress. "Isn't it pretty?"
No more so than its wearer, he thought.
Before he could answer, she said, "It's a nice change to be wearing something other than those matronly teaching robes."
Seeing a possible opening, he sought to exploit it. "But the robes are appropriate, are they not, as you are both a teacher and a married female?"
Amanda made a face. "Sarek, I'm married, but not old or staid yet, please!"
"I would not imply those traits," he replied, guileless.
She eyed him, suspicious. "But you wouldn't mind me looking matronly, would you?" He raised his brows in apparent incomprehension, and she snorted. "Honestly, Sarek. It's a commerce and trade promotion event. I don't think anyone is going to make a pass at me there."
I have my doubts, he thought. His wife was always alluring, no matter what the circumstance, and there would be other males in attendance. His conclusion was obvious and logical.
Nonetheless, he could sense that her desire to wear the gown was genuine, even if it was a Human inclination he did not understand. He did not wish to displease her by insisting she do otherwise. As in times before, he would have to remain vigilant for any inappropriate behavior toward his bondmate. By now rather experienced at it, he was confident he was up to the task.
ooo
Timor Gregoravich was a man of few words and straightforward action. Mining was his business, plumbing the depths of distant worlds and asteroids for their deposits of rhodinium, trititanium, dilithium, or any of the many other minerals and compounds of use to the interstellar community. Now, standing awkwardly amidst the multi-species crowd at an event sponsored by the Vulcan government's Secretariat for Interstellar Affairs, he was deeply resenting the "broadening assignment" his superiors had deemed he undertake in order to open markets for his company's products on this unfamiliar world.
He had no idea where to begin. He hadn't spent much time around Vulcans, and from what little he knew, he didn't think their two cultures had that much in common. Not knowing which Vulcan to approach anyway, he hung back, wishing he had a real drink to nurse instead of the plain water that had been served, for some reason, with great ceremony. He was about to give up for the evening and return to his hotel when he spied his salvation.
A pretty blonde woman, hair upswept and wearing a blue gown, was carrying on a conversation with one of the Vulcan diplomats in attendance. He recognized the Vulcan from the newsfeeds as the head of the Secretariat, Vulcan's Ambassador to the Federation. She must work for the Secretariat, he thought. Thank goodness, a Human to talk to, and one in touch with the higher-ups here.
Another Vulcan approached the pair and began talking to the ambassador, and the woman moved away.
He approached her.
"Excuse me, Miss…" Timor began.
Amanda took in the somewhat uncomfortable-looking Human and welcomed him with a smile. "Amanda Grayson," she said. "What can I do for you?"
"Timor Gregoravich," he replied, relieved and charmed by her familiar mannerisms. "I'm here on a business mission, and I don't really know where to begin."
"Well that's what this event is all about, so you're in the right place. What do you do, Mr. Gregoravich?"
Gregoravich explained his reasons for being on Vulcan, his company and its products, and Amanda helpfully provided him with several contacts within the Secretariat. She also suggested he check out a few Vulcan firms whose technologies could potentially improve aspects of his company's operations.
Thinking of the amount of time he was going to spend on Vulcan and the attractive woman in front of him, the businessman hazarded a hopeful question. "Amanda, I appreciate how helpful you've been. Would it be inappropriate for me to take an employee of the Secretariat out to dinner as a way of saying thank you to her?" He gave her his most charming smile.
You have no idea, Amanda thought before she gracefully declined. "Thank you for the offer, Mr. Gregoravich, but it wouldn't be appropriate. I'm not an employee of the Secretariat."
He was trying to puzzle that through when a shadow fell across them both.
"Sarlah, Aduna."
Amanda looked toward the shadow. "Ha, Adun."
Timor's eyes widened in surprise as his new acquaintance reached to touch the outstretched fingers of the Vulcan ambassador.
"Best of luck with your business, Mr. Gregoravich. Live long and prosper," she said before turning away with her obviously personal companion.
I guess Vulcans and Humans have more in common than I thought, he mused in wonder.
Amanda glanced up as they walked away, and was surprised to see, instead of her husband's face, his sharp profile as he aimed a pointed stare toward the man with whom she had just been conversing.
"Sarek, what are you doing?"
He returned his gaze to her, his expression innocently impassive. "My wife?"
"You gave that man the stink eye!"
"I did no such thing."
"You don't even know what I'm talking about, do you?"
Now curious enough to concede ignorance, he asked, "What, precisely, is a 'stink eye'?"
"An evil eye, a dirty look… You were giving him one of your intimidating glares."
"All of those terms unnecessarily imply emotion, Aduna. I was merely making myself clear. I deemed it appropriate, given the circumstances."
Amanda rolled her eyes. They'd been over this territory, and now hopefully they had a better understanding of one another. "You're such a male," she complained.
"And who better to ascertain the motives of other males?" he rejoined, his logic triumphant. Then he continued, for they were still touching, /I assume that is one attribute of mine you do not wish to change./
She smiled sweetly up at him. /Believe it or not, I love you anyway./
ooo
He breathed deeply, his feet hitting the ground beneath him with satisfying certainty, drawn down firmly by the gravity of his birth planet. Sarek ran daily, each day farther across the sand and rock of his family's lands, as he worked steadily to regain muscle mass lost after living decades away from Vulcan. This, added to his daily practice in any of several traditional martial arts, provided a vigorous conditioning program. Having followed the regimen recommended for off-planet members of the diplomatic corps in his years away, he was in excellent condition, relatively speaking, but there was always adjustment required once he returned home. He addressed that gap now in earnest, for he wanted to be fully fit in all respects as soon as possible. It was logical.
Sarek normally exercised in the very early morning, just as Alam'ak's rays were peeking over the horizon and before Amanda awakened. Today, however, his schedule was altered and he took his daily run in the fading afternoon light instead. The early evening vistas were striking and held his attention even as the temperature began to drop. There was much beauty that he had appreciated elsewhere in the galaxy, but the distinctive color palette of Vulcan always resonated especially strongly with him. Its reds, oranges and ochres were now fading into purples, umbers and browns, the growing darkness of the shadows waging a temporarily victorious skirmish with the reluctantly dying flames of Alam'ak. The battle would be renewed again at sunrise.
It wasn't until he heard the le-matya scream that he focused on his exact location. Chastising himself for his reverie and regaining his bearings, he ascertained that he had traveled an even farther distance than he had expected, and that he would now need to move with yet greater speed if he was to return to the fortress before darkness fell completely. Well before then he would need to take extra care to avoid the now-stirring nocturnal predators heralded by the cat's hunting cry. Unlike so many of the more benign worlds he had visited in his duties, even brief inattention or lack of preparation on Vulcan could result in one's demise from a wide variety of causes.
No matter, he told himself. I am home now, and it is well that I reacquaint myself with the skills that it demands. Newly alert and attentive, he picked up his pace and headed for the fortress.
ooo
Returning to D'H'Riset without incident, he was surprised to find his aduna at work by herself in the large af'tum, evidently preparing some sort of repast. The kitchen staff were nowhere in evidence, and it was nearing time for end-meal.
His soft voice greeted her, "Have you dismissed T'Sirra, Aduna?"
"Sarek!" Amanda jumped and exclaimed, startled.
He raised a bemused brow. "You were expecting a different Vulcan diplomat?"
"You snuck up on me! I wasn't expecting you so early. And I haven't dismissed T'Sirra. I asked her to show me how to prepare some traditional dishes, and now I'm cooking you dinner. It's Valentine's Day on Earth," she added as an explanation, standing on tiptoe to give him a peck on the cheek.
Unable to allow such a fusillade of illogical statements to go unremarked, Sarek responded. "There is no logical reason for me to approach you in a furtive manner, my wife. Just as there is no logic in you preparing end-meal for me on the occasion of an emotionally based Terran holiday. Especially when we have eminently qualified kitchen staff on hand to prepare sustenance for both of us, as well as several replicators."
Amanda was not surprised by his reasoning, but was not about to let him completely disregard her romantic gesture, especially not on this occasion. "A more appropriate response, my husband," she began drily, "would be 'Thank you,' or 'How nice of you,' or even 'I love you, too, darling.' I would have thought you would be aware of such niceties, with all of your experience among Humans."
He pointedly surveyed the counter tops around her, cluttered with used dishes and utensils, partially prepared foodstuffs and soiled pi'thek-sailar . "To encourage such inefficient behavior with emotional remarks would represent even greater illogic."
"Hey!" Amanda bristled, now a little piqued. "Don't you dare criticize my efforts when you can't cook at all!" she exclaimed, irritably twirling a kitchen towel at her side.
"I, at least, am aware of those circumstances where it is logical to delegate," Sarek said. He turned, satisfied that in this debate, his logic had prevailed. Innocent of time-honored Terran methods of kitchen warfare, he was utterly unprepared for what happened next.
Thwack!
Amanda's expertly aimed towel struck the heir to the clan of Surak squarely on his firm posterior. He froze. After the briefest of moments to smooth the surprise off his face, he straightened and turned back to her, his eyes reflecting a peculiar mixture of amusement and aggression.
"My wife?" he asked, one eyebrow raised in challenge. This was not Vulcan behavior. It was yet another action borne of the particularly Human, emotional impulses of his mate – unexpected yet demanding a response, even though he lacked clear guidelines for doing so. Such gestures of hers were grounded not just in one emotion but, in fact, multiple emotions, eliciting the peculiar push and pull between them that never failed to both mystify and fascinate him.
Amanda stood her ground, chin raised, towel at the ready. "That's what you deserve, Mister, for being so obnoxious!" She secretly hoped she hadn't crossed some behavioral line of which she was unaware. But instead of a lecture, her husband gave her a long-suffering look.
"Such violent tendencies," he began. "I see that I was insufficiently warned regarding the perils of bonding with a Human. Fortunately," he continued, his eyes subtly roving across the nearby surfaces, "as a diplomat I have learned that sometimes the only way to communicate effectively in such difficult circumstances is to…
"…contain the aggressor." Swiftly seizing another towel, Sarek brandished it as he had seen Amanda do, although he had no intention of responding in kind. It was not the Vulcan way. Nevertheless, he advanced on his assailant, the longer reach of his arms and his faster reflexes giving him a decisive advantage.
Amanda squealed, undecided whether to stand and fight or flee.
About to capture his opponent and quite effectively put an end to the skirmish, Sarek found unexpected pleasure responding to his bondmate's obviously facetious aggression. Illogical, but nonetheless stimulating.
Then they both quite clearly heard the sound of a throat clearing from just outside the kitchen. The pair straightened at once and lowered their towels just as T'Sirra appeared in the kitchen doorway.
"Greetings, S'haile, T'Sai," the elderly chef said smoothly before addressing Amanda. "Do let me know, T'Sai, if you encounter anything in the af'tum that is not performing as it should." With that, she glided toward the other door, a snow-white brow arched meaningfully at Sarek as she did so.
Amanda smirked. Sarek straightened still further, favoring both females with a stern, utterly humorless expression perfectly worthy of the heir of Surak.
ooo
End-meal was served later than expected. Amanda had thought, Vegetables are vegetables; how hard can they be to cook? While she was partially correct on that score, it was the subtle chemistry of one of the Vulcan flavorings, a deceptively delicate coulis, that caught her up, suddenly boiling and taking on a completely unexpected consistency – all over the cooking unit. She frantically worked to clean up the mess and complete the klitanta s'mun t'forati, hoping T'Sirra would forgive her for anything she left behind.
Now sitting across from her husband, Amanda watched with interest as he took his first bite of the dish.
He looked up. "It is quite agreeable, Aduna. Nonetheless, I do not wish to create the erroneous impression that I believe you should be preparing meals. As I have stated, it is illogical."
Okay, I get that, she thought. But I am going to tease you for ignoring my Human holiday.
Amanda favored her stoic husband with a sly look. "Well, maybe I was just hoping that by serving you a meal, I'd get lucky tonight. That's a Terran 'tradition,' of sorts, even older than Valentine's Day," she said, waggling her brows suggestively.
"I do not understand."
"That's too bad. I guess you won't consider me entitled to take advantage of you later, then," she drily informed him. At his perplexed look, Amanda laughed. "I'm joking. Not that long ago on Earth, men often felt entitled to take a woman to bed if they took her out to dinner."
Sarek drew up, but his comment about the barbarous nature of Human males died on his lips as a sudden realization hit. His control forestalled any outward expression of it, but he was unsuccessful at smothering a rising sense of mortification. She was my guest at eighty-seven dinners before we bonded. Could my actions have been construed as something so improper? Somehow, she had agreed to become his wife in spite of what was potentially a substantial, and repeated, faux pas in his courting of her.
"Amanda," he began, carefully setting down his utensil, "did you perceive… that I…?" He halted momentarily, recollecting. "Surely my research could not have been so in error," he murmured.
Now it was Amanda's turn to be perplexed. "What is it, Sarek?" She had no idea why he suddenly looked so somber.
Regardless of how the error had been made, there was only one logical response: make the necessary amends. "I regret that my actions may have erroneously indicated less-than-honorable intentions toward you, Aduna. I beg forgiveness," he informed her solemnly.
"Sarek, what are you talking about?"
The couple stared at one another over their meal, each uncomprehending of the other. Sarek tried again, in his most formal diplomatic tones, "I regret that you may have had cause to interpret some of my invitations to dine as improper attempts to engage in intimate activity. It was not my intention. I am, however, gratified that you apparently chose to overlook-"
Amanda's eyes widened in shock. "What? Oh, for Pete's sake, no, Sarek!" she exclaimed, unable to refrain from interrupting him. "I was only joking about an outmoded attitude harbored by some people on Earth a few centuries ago. I never perceived anything like that from you! Of course not," she said, now embarrassed herself at his misunderstanding of her teasing.
Sarek raised an eyebrow as he sat back, his heretofore-unflappable demeanor restored. "Indeed. That is, as you say, good news. It would have been unprecedented for my conduct to have been so inappropriate."
She reached across the table to offer him her two fingers. "My poor adun," she murmured.
Now Sarek's other brow climbed upward even as he joined his fingers to hers. "There is no need for excessive emotion, my wife," he said offhandedly, returning to his meal.
Amanda just shook her head.
ooo
They had finished end meal in contented silence before Sarek drew his wife's attention again.
"Aduna."
Amanda looked up.
"I would like to rectify a matter that has been overlooked recently."
"What is that, my husband?" she asked, hoping it wasn't yet another cultural misinterpretation for them to hash their way through.
"Eight point four seven months ago, I proposed that, when you were ready to do so, we would consult with a team of hybridologists at the Academy to discuss the matter of a child. While we have had other concerns of late, I now wish to inquire if you would be agreeable."
Sarek was as impassive as ever, but Amanda's breath caught. "Oh Sarek," she breathed, "Are you saying you want us to try for a baby?"
"I believe that is the question I am asking you."
"Oh yes, my husband," she whispered, blinking back tears. "I want to, and I'd like to learn what it will take. I very much want to," she repeated, holding his gaze and again reaching for his fingers. She had resolved her earlier fears about genetic engineering – another misconception – and she wanted him to know.
Sarek blinked slowly as he felt her thoughts and emotions rush through their bond, and he released a wave of warmth and satisfaction back to her.
"Excellent," he murmured. "I shall arrange a meeting."
ooo
Before that meeting could occur, however, Sarek was summoned to another.
"Sarek, thou must explain thy behavior."
He found himself standing once again before T'Pau over yet another infraction, this time one of which he was unaware. At times, being the heir to the clan of Surak had its disadvantages.
"Specify," he responded.
"Thy healer at the Terran embassy reports that thee are utilizing bio-chemicals to prevent the conception of offspring by thy bondmate. Explain."
Sarek blinked slowly, several times, in an effort not to react further. Such an invasion of privacy was most unprecedented, and he knew full well that none of his embassy staff – in this case, T'Alen – would voluntarily disclose such personal information… except when the Matriarch demanded it. It was a given that if T'Pau required some knowledge, there was a logical reason for it.
He took a breath. "The healer recommended doing so, and I concurred."
"Why is this?" T'Pau asked sharply.
"T'Sai Amanda… lost a pregnancy early in its term. Hakausu T'Alen hypothesizes that genetic intervention will be necessary for her to successfully carry a hybrid child. Until the specifics of such intervention can be agreed upon and I am satisfied that attempting such a pregnancy will not endanger my bondmate, this is prudent and logical."
"The cycle of self-aborting conceptions has repeated itself."
"Yes." Sarek's reply was clipped. T'Pau had evidently reviewed T'Alen's full report.
T'Pau leaned forward, and her voice was quiet but unmistakably firm. "I grieve with thee. However, I need not remind thee of thy duty to thy clan. To Vulcan."
Her son straightened further, meeting her eyes with an implacable stare. "I am aware of my duty, pid-kom."
It was his duty as heir to produce the next heir. Procreation was a high priority to all Vulcans, given their chronically low birthrates, and it was especially a priority for the clan of Surak, the traditional ruling clan of Vulcan since that great leader's time. He did hope to produce offspring with Amanda, so as long as an interspecies pregnancy did not pose risks to her. Sarek therefore anticipated that he would fulfill his duty. However, if there were, in fact, risks that could not be circumvented by science, this was one duty he would pass on to his younger brother. It was a logical contingency plan.
That is, he thought it was until T'Pau spoke again. "You were aware there were risks in bonding with a Human. Precautions must be taken."
"I will consult the healers to ensure that she can be safe during a pregnancy," Sarek asserted. But he had misinterpreted T'Pau's concern.
"Hear me, Sarek," T'Pau demanded. "You do not recall the reality of the Fires. You may find yourself in need of another bondmate when there is no time to select one.
"If you cannot produce an heir with your Human bondmate, you must have an alternative. I require your input," she continued, looking at him expectantly. "I am preparing a list of suitable females to serve as surrogates or replacements should the Human prove unable, or fail to survive - "
"No!" Sarek remained still, but his eyes blazed at the unexpected threat to his wife and his marriage bond. "She is mine, my bonded mate," he hissed, clenching his fists at his side. "I will not take another!"
"Kroykah!" T'Pau exclaimed at his outburst. "Thee will do thy duty," she commanded coldly, "and thee will remain in control."
Sarek regained his composure, but stared stonily at his pid-kom, unrepentant. "There is no logic in what you contemplate."
T'Pau's return volley was swift and hard. "There is no logic in allowing you to die, heirless, due to a flawed, emotional choice."
"My choice was logical," he replied, eyes flashing again. Then he challenged, using the same formal Vulcan tongue as his mother. "Has thee already judged my bondmate and found her unworthy, even though thou has said thee would withhold such judgment for a time?"
The matriarch stared back at her angry son, unfazed. "This is no judgment - yet. It is my duty, to prepare logically for such contingencies as may arise."
"And what of Silek? He is capable of providing an heir," Sarek contended, continuing to argue.
"Silek is Silek," T'Pau replied, unmoved, "but you are the heir to the S'chn T'Gai. It remains your duty. It is not logical to abandon the primary so swiftly."
Sarek's dark eyes met hers meaningfully. "Indeed, it is not logical to abandon with so little consideration the one who has been chosen. Amanda is mine."
"Do not forget thyself, Sarek," T'Pau's stern voice warned.
"I never have," he replied, unyielding as ever.
After stiffly excusing himself, Sarek departed still wrestling with the concern and primitive agitation the confrontation had generated. As shocking as T'Pau's words were, inwardly Sarek knew that she was simply doing what was required of a matriarch to ensure the continuance of the clan leadership. It also occurred to him that she was attempting to protect his life, but he dismissed that concern as unnecessary and therefore illogical.
He understood his duty to his clan equally well; yet he was unwilling to risk Amanda - or their marriage - by attempting to fulfill it under any circumstance. As the direct descendant of Surak, he had duties that logically he should fulfill, for the sake of his people. Yet even this deeply ingrained sense of responsibility balked at the idea of putting his bondmate at risk. And setting her aside for another was simply out of the question. She was his. Somehow, I must keep her safe, for that, too, is not only logical, but necessary.
Notes:
af'tum – kitchen
"Ha, Adun." – "Yes, my husband."
klitanta s'mun t'forati – a Vulcan main dish, kleetanta with foranti sauce
"Kroykah" – "Halt! Stop!" Imperative demanding that one stop whatever one is doing. Ancient, conditioned command designed to elicit compliance evn from males in pon farr.
le-matya – wild, panther-like predator; poisonous
pi'thek-sailar - kitchen towels. Literally: "small clothes to catch spills"
"Sarlah, Aduna." - "My wife, attend."