Chapter 28 - Incident, Part 4

Sten initiated the automated docking request sequence and pulled his hands back from the console. Sarek stood behind him, considering the vessel on the screen. It was a simple disk with a single engine pod. Not built to be fast, but efficient of fuel and interior space.

"Hold station at this distance," Sarek said.

They waited. Sarek had made a request for communication to Y'Rishick Jlowisam through the embassy, not personally. He had calculated that would be more likely to be accepted. The resulting back and forth of where and when to rendezvous would normally have frustrated him for the posturing it implied. He'd left Sgroud entirely in charge of it. All the concessions had been on the embassy's side, but the contact request had been accepted.

Sarek stepped through the airlock alone. He had only brought Sten along to avoid anyone younger and stronger arguing with him over that.

The ship's corridors were low. Sarek dipped his head at each bulkhead strut. It reminded him of an old earth story of a king who made the doorway to the throne room exceptionally short to ensure that everyone bowed low to him upon entering.

Two Andorians, apparently unarmed, escorted Sarek to a cabin door leading to the center of the craft. They spoke their native tongue to the comm unit and after another posturing delay of great length, ushered him inside and remained on either side of him.

Y'Rishick Jlowisam was a small Andorian with the usual silver hair and pearl eyes of his race. His ordinary appearance was offset by well cut and expensive clothing, a long layered tunic that nearly classified as a robe.

"The Ambassador himself." Y'Rishick spoke with clear derision.

Sarek bowed. "May we speak alone?"

Y'Rishick glared for a time. He switched to Andorii and the escorting Andorians as well as two others at consoles in the cabin looked to each other, then departed with many glances back.

"Your business, Vulcan?" Y'Rishick said when the door had sealed out the others.

"Are you aware of what transpired at Starfleet Academy fifty one earth hours ago? Involving your daughter and my son."

A long pause. Y'Rishick reached out to shift a display on a tilted virtual screen beside him. "Yes. And that is why you are here?"

"Yes. I-"

"What purpose could interfering in my business possibly serve with regard to something involving my daughter? Do you know how it looks to have you here?"

This mission had nothing to do with himself, and Sarek found an easy composure. Which did bother him, in that it implied he may be at other times taking things personally.

"I apologize if I have negatively impacted your business with my visit. That was not my intent."

Y'Rishick's small face wrinkled around his eyes and brows. "Is this a trick?"

"I am here to provide whatever you need to not pull your daughter from Starfleet Academy over this incident."

Y'Rishick's antenna arched back, straightened. "My P'Losiwst insists there is nothing between her and your son, so therefore this is not your concern. Or have I been lied to?"

"If by that you mean some kind of relationship related to mating, you are correct. There isn't one."

Y'Rishick stared. It was hard at this distance to determine where he was focusing. "Why are you here then, Vulcan? Where is the precious logic in this action?"

"I have my reasons."

"Your reasons are the only thing I'm interested in. Share that or depart."

Sarek bowed again. He tried to make his voice level, but it came out quieter. "My son requested it of me."

Pearlescent eyes went wider. "You. Always do as he says?"

"No. This is possibly the first time."

Y'Rishick's shoulders shifted back, his tunics were too stiff to move with them. "Go on. That, so far, is a non-explanation, albeit an interesting one."

"My son was critically injured during the incident and is under professional care. He made this request of me."

Andorian antenna aimed forward. "And you are here instead of there?"

"Spock was agitated by the issue and that was limiting his healing. I could not get you to accept a less formal mode of communication closer to earth."

Y'Rishick scratched his powder blue cheek. "Perhaps if your assistant had explained-" He stepped aside, turned, looked down at a display in stand-by mode. He cocked his head. "Never mind, Vulcan."

He tossed both hands and they fluttered and settled again at his sides. "My daughter's place at the Academy is under no threat from me. She has been led to believe it is because I know if she is defying me that makes her work harder." He slumped within his clothing. "I do not know what got into her, but I did what I always do and resisted what seemed like yet another dilettante game, but she never gave it up. I still play my role within it."

"I see."

Y'Rishick shook his head. "I do not know where this long-term passion came from. There is no precedent for it." He lifted his arm to gesture at the screens. "She can have this business. It is by no means an empire, but she can have it. Why is that not enough challenge?"

"If I may. I think you are looking for logic in youth, where it is seldom found."

Y'Rishick waved a blue hand with pearly nails. "Yes. Children do things to just to deny us. They intentionally see the galaxy from another angle we cannot perceive a coherent whole from."

"Indeed." Sarek settled into his pose of clasped hands, relaxed shoulders. "And you can prepare the path for them all you want, they act as if the path is not there."

"Or worse. They act insulted. They have no idea the energy expended on their behalf."

"Too much tradition or too little," Sarek said. "I do sometimes wonder which."

"I've been thinking lately too much." Y'Rishick straightened in surprise. Glared. "I do not wish to come to a meeting of minds with you like this, Vulcan. And I'm sure you do not either."

Sarek bowed. "I am a diplomat. It is my role to obtain a meeting of minds, or at least a successful conveyance of understandings and ideas."

"Oh." He waved a hand again. "I would no sooner pull my daughter from that Academy then I would marry her off to one of my business rivals. And, really, this incident is nothing compared to what her old cohort would do each other. The children of my partners. The children of our worlds' leaders. The things they would do to her."

He was staring off elsewhere. "And she would still call them friends."

Sarek held still. "I see."

Y'Rishick's eyes lost the little focus they seemed to have. "I taught my daughter to look for the smartest around her, to provide what they cannot for themselves, to make their success her own. She is doing that, although I sense she does not remember that was my lesson. Which is just as well. She owns her actions more believing she invented the idea." He faced Sarek full on. "She has made your son, whom she insists is the most intelligent in the class, a regular partner. She is doing what I would wish her to do, but I pretend she is not. I misinterpret. I complain. It makes her stronger. Even given the uncomfortable details of what happened, as long as she does not call these attackers 'friends,' I am unperturbed by what happened."

He stood up straighter, filling in his stiff clothes. "Enemies as enemies. Friends as friends. I am sanguine about that, Vulcan. And you? I assume you are not interfering. Else you should certainly not be here."

Sarek shifted his clasped hands. "My son chose this. He is of two worlds. I have learned over time that it is illogical to force him into one."

"Lucky. My daughter is of no world. The product of too much money used too effectively to buy freedom to be wherever her whimsy put her."

Silence fell and the two of them stared at the deck between them.

"Well, Vulcan," Y'Rishick said. "If it's all the same to you, perhaps we can pretend to part with enmity?"

Sarek bowed. "I have completed my mission. And if apparent dislike assists you with potential repercussions . . ."

Y'Rishick's eyes narrowed. "I have not considered this, honestly. If we suddenly appeared friendly, my business rivals might panic and do something highly and amusingly unwise, like attempt to copy me."

Sarek raised his palms outward. "If I may. I find that uncomfortable similarities create the most enmity between cultures."

"Yes. Well." Y'Rishick slouched his body again, left his clothes behind. "Will you assure me, with all the force of you adherence to the truth, your son has no interest in my daughter?"

"I will firmly assure you of that."

"My P'Losiwst insists your son has an unwavering boyfriend. One she describes to me in terms that would worry me in other circumstances, since I would not see her with a human either, although that would be slightly preferable."

"My son does have this."

"Well. Excellent." Y'Rishick stood with his hands at his sides and stared. "Vulcan, please leave. Relieve me of the parental guilt of having forced you here by acting as I have been taught to in negotiations with the enemy."

Sarek bowed, stepped back. "If you ever have need of communication . . ."

"If you have need of cultural translation . . ."

"I likely will take you up on that. It does come up regularly with your people."

Y'Rishick bowed awkwardly, and Sarek stepped back again which made the door slide open.


"James wishes to know when you are well enough to message him." Amanda lowered the dainty padd she held.

"I did not wish to concern him, Mother. He has duties from which a distraction is unwise."

The two of them were alone at the moment. McCoy was down the hall, napping. Sarek was at the embassy. Spock did not wish his father to make so much of his injury that he canceled embassy business. Sarek had relented for a few hours after assurances from McCoy.

"James has a right to know what happened," Amanda said.

Spock looked down at his hands. His left hand was normal now. He swallowed hard.

"Were you intending to never tell him?"

"I have failed somehow," Spock said.

"Why do you say that, Spock?"

Beyond the curtain footsteps approached and receded, equipment rolled by, rapid speech rose and fell, orders were given in urgent voices. The sound was irregular, yet never ceasing, like a river.

"In Starfleet one has to belong. It is a team organization, knit together by emotion."

Her hand came to rest on the blanket-covered part of his arm. "It is too early to decide if you have failed to join the Starfleet Academy team, Spock. On the other hand, Team Spock is concerned about you, right now, and rightly so."

Spock looked away. "That is rather twee, mother."

She put the padd into the crook of his arm. "James is very nearly family, Spock. You have responsibilities in light of that."

Spock took up the padd. He could be reporting that he'd failed a class for the weight of resistance to this action. "What have you told him?"

"Very little. Only the barest outline of what happened."

Spock tapped out: "James. I did not wish to disturb you, but my mother insists. I am doing well. They insist upon keeping me under high scrutiny another two days out of an excess of caution. My primary difficulty at this time is not my injury, it is not being allowed my studies. I do not wish to burden you with the details of what happened. I perhaps failed to sufficiently take your advice into account regarding my behavior and fitting in. I intend to understand the cause, if possible, and rectify it. Please keep safe. Spock."

Spock handed the padd back, knitted his fingers to meditate. He could practice some of his new techniques now that the slipperiness has faded.

The scent of dinner wafted through the hospital corridor.

McCoy said, "Chow time, my boy."

"Your turns of phrase are not logical."

The bed tilted up. A tray slid over closer.

"Tough noogies."

Amanda's lips curled. She bent farther than necessary over her bead work.

McCoy lifted the tray lid with a flourish, sniffed. "Vulcanoid-normal nutritionally complete synthesized vege cubes. Again. You want something more interesting?"

"I am still lacking in appetite. It is no matter."

"I'd be lacking in appetite too, if they brought me this."

"I will eat it."

"Your choice."

A figure parted the heavy silver curtain. "Is there room for a visitor?" It was Overlander.

Amanda sat up and brightened in welcome. Overlander considered her at length. "You could use a rest, Spock's Mother. How about I stay with Spock until I need to fetch Zienn from the meditation room on the top floor."

Amanda began to protest.

"Mother."

Amanda's eyes had grown red rimmed. She put a hand on the bed beside Spock. "You will be all right?"

"Yes, quite. I grow concerned for you."

She stood, moved her hand to his blanketed arm. "That we don't want. All right then. I'll return later with your father."

Overlander hopped onto the vacated chair, bent her much taller body over to get more personal. "You're looking pretty good today."

"I am considerably improved. I hope to be released ahead of schedule."

"Another ungrateful customer," McCoy muttered.

"What ship are you with, doc?" Overlander asked.

"I'm not. Thank you very much."

"You're in a deployment uniform."

"Don't remind me."

Overlander laughed through her nose. She turned to Spock. "You talk to Kirk?"

"My mother forced me to message him."

She grew quiet. "Believe me, I know what's it's like to lay here and try and make things different by acting like everything is normal."

"It is not that. I cannot bear to be a distraction to him."

McCoy looked Overlander over with professional grade consideration, turned back to entering orders.

"I'd hope he can manage. He knows his limits," Overlander said.

"James's reply was succinct, which justifies my concern."

"Spock." Her face took on the same softness Amanda's did. "Trust James. Okay? My only advice for you."

Spock looked away.

Overlander softly said, "You're really worried about him."

Spock held his gaze away. He noticed McCoy using the hand scanner, but aimed over him.

"Is that considered gentlemenly where you come from, Doctor?" Spock said.

McCoy closed his hand around the Feinberger and looked down at Spock. "Most certainly not." He flushed. "Lot of metalworks on you, Commander."

"Oh. Yeah."

"Not my area, I confess. Working out for you?"

"I don't have any choice but to make them work."

McCoy twisted his mouth. "Join the club of humanity. Making it work out."

McCoy tested Spock's reflexes and visual tracking by hand, as he did four times a day. He put the blanket back down over Spock's feet, tucked it in. Overlander watched all this with an amused gleam.

"I like you, doc. You want a ship?"

"You giving one away?"

"Sort of."

"No. Leave me alone."

Overlander laughed gleefully. "Imagine back when it was drafted bodies. Half the crew would be just like this."

"I'd take that. At least y'all wouldn't be so damn insufferable." McCoy pulled a monitor screen away from the wall, made adjustments on it. "You look like you're recovering, son, but your Vulcanness is lurking there in the shadows. And I don't trust it." He squinted at the screen. "Machines I don't ken. Hybrids, I do."

Overlander raised her chin. McCoy pushed the monitor away, crossed his arms.

"Do you?" Overlander asked with thoughtful slowness.

"Well, I certainly get called down for every single one unfortunate enough to come through here."

"Hm." She continued thoughtfully. "You take private patients?"

"Why d'you ask?" He seemed to think again. Glanced at Spock. "Right." He huffed. "I suppose I could borrow an office from a friend."

"I think I'd appreciate a consult, Doc."

"I don't do machines. Remember."

"I know."

Spock stared at the ceiling.

"We're embarrassing him," Overlander said.

"There is no logical reason for your roundabout method of communication."

"You sure?" Overlander asked.

Spock turned to McCoy. "She is hoping to have a child with High Priest Zienn."

McCoy became statue still. "You're shitting me."

Overlander was grinning. "Now I'm glad you saved me from breaking him into the idea."

Mccoy straightened, flushed. "None of my business really."

"I'm trying to make it your business, though."

"I mean your reasons are none of my business, lady."

"Commander. Or sir. You've skipped your collar pips on that short sleeve number but if you just signed up with your professional credentials in Med they'd have made you lieutenant commander, and I have seniority on you."

McCoy sighed and held up his hands, palms out. "I give. Let's call it even. I'll let you know when I find an office I can use. I certainly don't have one of those AI secretaries for you to call. Dratted things."

Overlander looked to Spock. "I don't see how they don't get along better."

"They started out, as humans say, on the wrong foot." Spock waited a beat. "Then they became territorial over me."

McCoy snorted. "I'll admit. He's been helpful in speeding up your recovery."

"I notice you're admitting that when he is not here," Overlander said.

McCoy bounced on his toes. "Of course."

Sarek returned and Overlander let herself out with a wink at McCoy, said she'd be back with Zienn. Sarek came beside the bed, hands clasped.

"Father."

"Anything you require?" He cut Spock off as he opened his mouth. "Other than your other studies."

Spock closed his mouth. "No." Spock lowered his gaze. "I will continue to slip in the class rankings, Father."

"I will adjust my expectations. If you can regain your previous spot at the half term, that will be acceptable."

"That is achievable. I hope."

They fell silent. Zienn appeared at the heavy curtain, came inside with his usual silent movements and joined Sarek.

Sleep was not a welcome idea for Spock. "I feel quite alert. I feel ready to depart."

Sarek looked over the monitors above the head of the bed. "Doctor McCoy is leaving no chance for error. I believe."

"The stim is still active, but less so." McCoy drummed his fingers on the bed rail. "If he were full Vulcan there'd be no question of continuing treatment and monitoring. We could release him tomorrow with a biomonitor and rely on emergency response if he gets into trouble."

"Otherwise . . . the day after?"

"I'll feel a lot better about having him away from immediate care in another forty hours. Once the mind fails on a Vulcan there's not much time. I've read a few cases where there is only three minutes of documented loss of pulse and the patient never regains lucidity. Those cases make me paranoid levels of careful."

"Spock knows to Remain in this realm," Zienn said. "Even in distress."

"Remain in this realm, eh? Are we back into the Mumbo Jumbo?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, but three minutes?" McCoy said. "That's not even dead, really."

Zienn remained calm and easy as he spoke. "Time becomes difficult to perceive when one can suddenly slip across to the other realm and is not familiar with those circumstances. It is one of the reasons it is not our way to allow one to go alone."

McCoy leaned back, slowly crossed his arms. "You telling me . . . Vulcans don't die alone? Because I don't think I can believe that."

"They don't if it can be helped."

McCoy raised a brow, made a face. "I guess since I've never lost a Vulcan patient I haven't had a chance to learn this the hard way."

"In that case, Doctor," Sarek said. "We will abide by your recommended timeline."