Library Pass

B y

Pat Foley

Chapter 4

Ev'ry teddy bear who's been good
Is sure of a treat today.

Always before one of the diplomatic receptions she periodically gave, Amanda would be rushing breathlessly around the house, caught up in final preparations. But upon arriving home, Sarek had to search for her and when he finally found her, she was standing on their balcony. She had yet to change from casual clothes to her party gown, watching as some staff hooked up strings of sparkling lights around one of the fountains, looking as if time weighed heavier on her than her elaborate hairstyle.

"You seem…unusually at leisure, my wife," he ventured. "If it were not for the activities of the staff, I would think I had mistaken the date."

"The staff is precisely why I am at leisure," Amanda said ruefully. "She won't let me do anything. It's 'not suitable.'. All I'm allowed to do now is give orders. As if I were you." Amanda waved an arm over the courtyard where a swarm of staff were putting the final touches on the party preparations, 'I say go and they goeth'."

Sarek glanced at her, startled. "Surely you do not wish her to go."

Amanda sighed in exasperation. "It was a biblical allusion. Contrariwise, I say come and they runneth. The earth – at least this part of Vulcan – trembles when I speak. Like I said, as if I were you."

"I am not known to make such dramatic gestures. And she is your household staff. Such is as it should be."

"Except she's in such a state I'm afraid to say much of anything. And heaven help me if I try to actually do anything."

Sarek paused. "Are you concerned about this evening?"

"No of course not. But, Sarek, it really is just a party. Not a Romulan invasion. Attila the Hun would have nothing on T'Rueth."

"I have attended some diplomatic parties, Amanda, where one could think otherwise."

Amanda laughed and turned from her dark study of the earnest staff. "Let's hope tonight's not one of them. No, my husband, with T'Rueth's – and the staff's help – we are going to have a nice, orderly, peaceful party. With the guests inspired by our staffs' Vulcan control. I hope."

"Indeed," Sarek said.

xxx

The guests had arrived and the old Fortress was aswirl with beings from dozens of worlds.

Sent on an errand to pick petals to garnish one of T'Rueth's last minute desserts, T'Jar went to the rose gardens, basket in hand. She was well aware that T'Rueth was waiting for her, but still it was hard to hurry, given there was so much of interest to see. She had never seen the gardens lit up for a party and she was a little dazzled. Fairy lights twinkled everywhere, aliens of every form in party dress added to the make believe atmosphere, music of subtle key and restrained melody whispered among the rustling leaves and vied with the tinkling spray of fountains. She saw a group of heliobeings, entranced by the party lights, or perhaps just the starlight, unfolding their wings and gliding over the rose beds, just under the forcescreens. Some newtmen reclined around one of the pools, and as she passed, a pair of them were tempted to enter the warm water, their leathery skin glistening as they splashed and dove, while the others, deeply engaged in conversation, occasionally forgot their manners enough to snap at some of the ornamental fish. She shuddered in horror as she saw one absentmindedly munching on one, the bright tail flickering briefly on his lips, while the other hissed that the fish were not party favors, but pets, causing the first to hastily swallow the creature. Two Andorians stood huddled in a corner, their antenna entwined. And T'Jar had to step aside abruptly, as Ambassador M'Rawth hissed, spat, and ran past, on all fours. But it appeared she was in high spirits, or perhaps jest. After a brief gambol around the garden, her tail waving like a flag, she returned to the group she'd been conversing with, which included a pair of Vulcans and a Tellurite. It was all too strange and beautiful. T'Jar could almost imagine herself on Earth, or some other planet, rather than on Vulcan. Surely no other employment in the universe could compare to the delights of working here.

So she dawdled, using the excuse she must pick just the right hue and shade of petal, the exact moment of freshness. Nibbling on a few herself as she walked along.

And then came a sight that might have been transported from one of the archaic fiction books she'd been reading. Along a bend in the path, where a statue had been set into a clipped alcove, were a couple in very close embrace. The woman leaned against the statue, looking almost of a pair, except one was a living example of human beauty and the other was stone. And the man was pressed against her. Far too close for Vulcan sensibilities. He murmured something to her that even T'Jar could not hear, so low pitched was his voice. But she caught the persuading tone of it. And then he …kissed her.

He kissed the girl. T'Jar stood in shock, thrilled, a tableau from her romance reading acted out in flesh and blood, a half eaten rosebud forgotten on her lips. It was one thing to read of such things, but here, before her eyes, she was seeing it. She had thought, had half suspected she had seen Sarek kiss Amanda by the gate, but then she had talked herself out of that supposition. Sarek was Vulcan. Surely he would not do so. She had not seen it clearly. But here, before her eyes, were two beings, in the flesh not on dusty pages, actually kissing. She drew a surreptitious step closer, as enthralled as if this were a fictional tableau. The woman made some comment, T'Jar could not exactly hear, and then, while T'Jar waited in anticipation for the kiss to be renewed, drawing in a breath of delight, the woman drew back her hand and…and slapped the man. T'Jar gasped and put a hand to her cheek at the same time the man put his hand to his own. He didn't seem terribly upset at the rejection of his suit, judging by his amused smirk as he turned to watch the girl walk away. Then, as his shoulders swung around, as if he felt her wondering stare, or heard her gasp of dismay, he turned and looked in her direction. She drew back behind the plant she'd been crouching behind, but he saw her, met her eyes and then winked at her. And then, he crooked his finger and gestured her over in a way even she could understand. She gasped, the rosebud still on her lips dropping unheeded to the ground, her basket falling from her arm. It rolled under the bushes into the darkness while the rose petals drifted like confetti over her feet. She didn't bother to retrieve her basket or go back for more petals, but fled back to the safety of the kitchen, hearing his laughter ringing in her ears. She arriving breathless and green-faced to find the cook making final arrangements to the desert dishes.

She stood in the doorway, trying to order her expression and even her respiration, which was strangely agitated.

"Where have you been, T'Jar? I have had to send a guardsman to gather me fresh rose petals. And those he brought me were entirely in appropriate as to the hue I wished." She looked up. "But it was as well I did, for you have brought me none. What have you been doing, girl?"

"I…I got lost."

"You got lost? Going to the rose gardens, to which you've been dozens of times?"

"It all is so strange, decorated for the party."

"Never mind, child, the guests are gathering for dinner, and I have no time for your curious ways."

"T'Rueth," T'Jar sank onto a kitchen stool and watched the cook as she made final preparations to her dishes. "Do you not find this …gathering…not according to our beliefs?"

"What beliefs are those?"

"Why, well," T'Jar floundered, "…in… logic….and…and well, in peace and logic."

T'Rueth continued her inventory as hordes of waiters came in, snatched up fresh platters of appetizers, leaving their empty trays. "In peace and logic?" T'Rueth repeated absently. "In PreReform times it was not unusual for such a gathering to end in a brawl in the Great Hall, or with lirpas drawn. Unless our present guests have begun such," she looked up and tilted her head absently, listening, "and from what I hear they are not so engaged, it seems this gathering is peaceful. As well it should be. Much preparation has gone into making the setting harmonious for all in attendance."

"It is hardly logical."

T'Rueth shrugged. "Logic is neither here nor there with outworlders."

"These outworlders behave…very strangely. I wonder why they must …come here with their illogical behavior. Can they not stay in their offices at the Terran Embassy, or the Federation Center?"

"My girl, I am neither a diplomat nor a politician," T'Rueth said, finally exasperated at this line of questioning "Nor wish to be. Or care to understand their roles. I am a cook. It is for Sarek to decide what is suitable in such affairs—and when to bring them here. But it seems logical to me to meet with those whom one must negotiate."

"But they are not…merely meeting."

"Whether they are dueling lirpas in the Great Hall or eating the tablecloth instead of the entrée is no concern of yours, my girl. Or of mine and I care not. You are not the host or hostess. You have your own duties. Which you have been delinquent in performing."

"Yes, T'Rueth," T'Jar said, chastened.

"Now go and get me those rose petals."

"Surely you have enough," T'Jar protested. "The guests are even now to be served."

"Once the guests are served, we'll sit down to our own dinner. And why should the staff not have petals as fresh as the guests? They are our rose gardens."

"But--" she hesitated at going back into the gardens, where that human might still linger.

"Go. Don't dawdle this time, my girl."

T'Jar grabbed another basket and headed for the gardens, looking uneasily around her for that human. On the way, she encountered Sascek.

When he saw her, he took a step toward her, then stopped. "T'Jar, are you still working?"

She gestured with her basket. "As you can see."

Sascek stiffened. "Then I will not disturb you. Excuse me."

Out of the corner of her eye, T'Jar saw that human still lurking among the roses, and she edged a step closer to Sascek, letting his burly form camouflage her. "No. It is all right." She looked up at him, seeing as if anew the benefits of his imposing presence. Usually all she noticed was how much sand his huge feet tracked inside. But already that human, eyeing the Vulcan guard, was drifting away. "You can accompany me."

Sascek straightened, giving her a startled look. "Truly?"

"Yes. I am only going to pick petals for our dinner." She ducked under a fairy light draped arch to the cutting section of the rose garden and checked to make sure the human really wasn't following them. He wasn't. But that didn't mean there weren't others in the gardens. Perhaps all humans were like such as he. She shivered at that.

They picked petals together in silence for a while, Sascek glancing at her uneasily, before he ventured, "T'Jar, there is a question, I have been …desirous to ask of you."

"Of me?" T'Jar had recovered some of her equilibrium. The gardens were deserted of guests; they must all now be gathered for dinner, and she was feeling rather foolish to have so begged his presence. "Surely Sascek, you think too highly of your own opinion to be interested in mine."

"I asked pardon for my words before, T'Jar. Can you not excuse them?"

T'Jar sighed. "What is it you wish of me?"

"T'Jar. I wished to say…." He drew a breath and gathered his courage. "We are neither of us highly born."

She looked at him, astonished. "This comment is how you seek pardon?"

"Yes, what else?"

"What indeed?"

"In that I mean our parents have had no dynastical requirements to consider in regard to our future," Sascek said, exasperated. "We were not bonded as children, but have leave to make our own way."

"I hardly think my way is any of your concern."

"I could make it my concern," Sascek suggested.

"You concern yourself too much of my doings as it is," T'Jar huffed. "I weary of your lectures. And your rude and insulting comments."

"I am merely saying that neither you nor I are bonded," Sascek tried again.

"Imagine my astonishment that you, with your charming remarks, and your huge feet, and your overbearing ways, are yet unbonded."

"Nor are you," Sascek retorted.

"I have no wish or desire to be bonded at this time," T'Jar said. "Nor have I seen anyone I care to bond with."

Sascek drew himself up. "Perhaps it is time to return. We have picked enough petals."

"Indeed." T'Jar returned.

xxx

Amanda stood, peering down the length of fairy lights strung along one of the garden paths.

"Amanda?" Sarek came up behind her, touching her on the shoulder.

She jumped. "You startled me."

"What are you doing here?" Sarek asked, bemused. "The guests are gathering for dinner. You have been missed."

"Oh, Mariette said that Legate Gordon was playing his usual kissing games here somewhere. She slapped him, rake that he is, but she said as she was left he was going after some other guest, though she didn't see who. I was going to shoo him back to civilization before he causes a real scandal."

"Vulcan offers him few opportunities for such behavior. But you need not be concerned, I just saw him gathering for dinner with the other guests."

"Don't you know that was why he was sent to Vulcan? He got himself in some sort of scandal at his last posting, and was sent here because they thought he'd have less temptations." She shivered a little in the cool breeze. Hot as Vulcan could be in daylight, when the sun went down, it seemed to take all the warmth out of the thin air. "I'm beginning to think either I was right or T'Rueth was right."

"What do you mean?"

"That we've given too many little subdued corners in which people can…tryst. We either should have stuck with my plan of only lighting the formal gardens and courtyard, or we should have gone with T'Rueth's 'bright as day' scenario. This compromise is questionable."

Sarek surveyed the lighting as of for the first time. "I tend to disagree. Few of our guests are like Legate Gordon. And I have never noticed before how …charming…such lighting is. I tend to favor it."

She gave him a look askance. "Well now is not the time to notice it. We do happen to have a couple of hundred guests."

"Indeed," Sarek reached out and teased a curl that had fallen from his wife's upswept hairstyle. "None in the immediate vicinity, however. And you do owe me from this morning."

"Oh, I do. But now is not the time and this is not the place."

"It is my garden."

"Oh? I thought it was mine."

Sarek gave her a look. "Indeed. But as you also belong to me--"

Amanda drew a breath. "Sarek. I think the lights have gone to your head. This kind of talk--"

"Is very pre-Reform."

"You said it."

"Yet, as you well know, Vulcans…are biologically identical today with their pre-Reform counterparts. Five thousand years is but a blink in evolution."

"Tell that to Surak."

"I'm sure he would understand."

"I'm not sure I do. Yet. Or still. How do you live with all the contradictions, Sarek?"

"Vulcan control is not a biological fact, but a hard won discipline. You, of all people, human or Vulcan, know that."

She looked at him. "I do. But now is a good time to considering practicing it. At least until the guests leave."

"It is just one more kiss."

Her eyes widened. "Oh? Is that all it is?"

"To the roses."

"And to us?"

Sarek half smiled. "I have never kissed you under…fairy lights. And who knows when I will have another opportunity?"

"Sarek!" But then she didn't have breath for any more.

xxx

And two rows of roses behind, T'Jar stood, her mouth agape.

"Sascek," she gasped, "Do you see that!"

Sascek looked, clamped a hand over T'Jar's mouth and pulled her further away down the path.

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