One day earlier
The details of what had happened to him were hazy, but the first conscious thought Sarek could remember thinking was that his brain felt too large for his skull. His head throbbed but so did everything else. He blinked but there was only darkness and the feel of scratchy fabric draped over his face.
He was sitting upright and his arms were wrenched behind his back. As he shifted his body to bring his arms forward, restraints bit into the flesh of his wrists and the memories of the past hours flooded back. It took enormous effort to ignore his wretched physical state and focus on the present. He exhaled slowly and inhaled the stale, recycled air beneath the hood covering his head.
As far as he could discern, his surroundings were the same as they'd been prior to his period of unconsciousness. The room still smelled of damp and chemicals and the pattering of a lazy drip came at regular intervals, punctuated by slow, labored breathing behind him.
Mara. He considered a second attempt to communicate with her but dismissed it almost immediately.
He had no talent for coping with human hysterics and though he was concerned about her condition, he was unable to do anything to help her. He wasn't a physician and he was tied to a chair and barely able to feel his hands through the tight grip of the restraints. Under the circumstances, the kindest and most logical course of action was to leave her undisturbed. She would experience less pain and fear while unconscious.
Despite decades of learning to master his biological processes through controlled hardship and meditation, he found himself unable to keep his discomfort at bay. His stiff neck propped up a throbbing head. His chin itched underneath what felt like dried blood and it was difficult to breathe through the hood. The paresthesia in his hands approached discomfort that bordered on maddening. He was choked with thirst and his empty stomach cried in protest.
The memory of the casserole left to bake in the oven struck him. His stomach grumbled at the mere thought of food. He had no concept of how long it had been but he knew it had been many hours and perhaps even days since his abduction. Was the dish still in the oven or had she removed it?
He knew it wasn't wise, but he allowed his thoughts to segue to Amanda. Was she safe? Had she waited for him outside the university, as had become their custom? How long did she wait? When he'd failed to appear, where had she gone? Amanda didn't share his residence in any formal capacity and still maintained a room in her dormitory. Would his captors find her there?
He clenched his teeth at the thought of them treating her the same way they'd treated Mara. He didn't care that his jaw ached from his earlier assault. It was difficult enough to helplessly endure Mara's abuse; he knew he would be unable to tolerate Amanda's. He took a few slow breaths to center himself.
He wasn't certain how he knew, but he knew Amanda was safe. Beyond instinct, logic suggested she probably was as well. He supposed they were holding Mara in an effort to coerce Vedek into complying with their demands, but they hadn't asked Sarek for anything. Perhaps their only objective in keeping Sarek was to extort a ransom. He recalled waking up in this room to people retrieving samples of his blood and hair, as well as a retinal scan. Had they been collecting proof of life, perhaps?
He wanted to continue musing over the motives behind his kidnapping but his mind was stuck on her. She was safe. She had to be safe. But how could he know?
A hopeful thought took root. He could communicate with Amanda telepathically. Maybe. They'd done it before during their frequent bouts of mind melding and yet…before the thought could fully form in his mind, he knew it would be futile. Most Vulcans were capable of psychometric telepathy, though a talented minority could manage to link their mind to another person without physical contact, particularly when they were in close proximity.
Then his thoughts took a sharp deviation. Silek. As boys, they'd often held entire conversations in the space between their minds. It had been a useful skill in certain situations, particularly tense family dinners when verbal exchanges weren't entirely prudent. They'd been born seven years apart but the fraternal bond between them was strong, largely due to lack of many other companions during their formative years. Their father's diplomatic missions and the family's vast and remote estate made sustained friendships with their peers difficult.
There was a twinge of sadness and longing but he refused to allow himself the space to dwell on his recent estrangement from his brother. He also ignored the fact that he'd never attempted this across a distance greater than a few kilometers away from Silek, preferring to focus on the knowledge that brother was due to return to Earth very soon and hopefully close enough to hear him. Sarek spent the next twenty minutes throwing everything he had into projecting his consciousness out into the universe.
The aches, pains, hunger, and thirst slowly evaporated as he internally chanted the mantra, "My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…"
He was so deep within the sphere of his own mind that when the vaguest hint of the sound of his own name whispered in his ears, it startled him. "Sarek?"
"Silek?" he dared himself to ask.
"Brother?" echoed Silek's voice, stronger than before.
"It's me, Silek," Sarek confirmed. He struggled to keep his mind focused and his body calm.
"We haven't spoken this way in many years," Silek replied. "Why do you speak this way now, or even speak to me at all?"
"I can only ask that you forgive me but there is no time for that," Sarek explained through their link. He was already feeling exhausted from the burden of this strained connection.
"Where are you?" echoed the whispers of his brother's voice in his thoughts.
"I am being held hostage. I don't know where I am."
"Father and I are en route to Earth from Vulcan. We will enter the planet's orbit in four minutes," Silek replied. "Are you still on Earth?"
"I believe so." The strain of communicating with his brother across such an enormous distance was taxing Sarek to the point of delirium and he sensed the same was true for Silek.
"Who is holding you?"
"Ask'era Ozhikersa, I believe. They took me. Outside my home. There is a human woman with me. My colleague. Vedek. He is involved. I don't know how."
"I will contact the local authorities," Silek said. "I will—"
"Amanda," Sarek interrupted. "Please find her."
"I will but—"
Sarek blinked, waiting for Silek to continue, but there was a creeping sense of nothingness seeping into the crevices of his mind.
"Silek?" he murmured, uttering his brother's name aloud.
He was so tired he could barely comprehend his brother was no longer present in their conversation. He'd simply disappeared midsentence. Sarek pushed hard against the void and tried to resume their connection but Silek was irretrievably gone. Sarek took a slow breath and tried to gather his thoughts but a peculiar feeling of dread and emptiness was spreading downward into his gut.
Something was wrong. His eyes slipped closed as anxiety, confusion, and weariness collided and sent him spiraling into a semi-conscious euphoria as he drifted in the space between his thoughts and emotions. His chin rolled against his chest and all traces of coherent thought disappeared.
Sarek awoke sometime later, feeling like only minutes had passed but suspecting whole hours were missing from his life. He was too engrossed in trying to make sense of what had transpired to notice the sound of insistent footfall directly in front of him. Rough hands jerked his head upright and ripped the hood away. Sarek winced and squinted at the sudden assault of light on his dark-adjusted eyes, but when he managed to open them, he discovered the shorter man from the park. Rage bubbled in him and he made no effort to conceal it.
The man's face was cool but exuded undertones of smug triumph. Neither man said anything as his captor pulled a PADD from his breast pocket and held it up to Sarek's field of vision.
The Vulcan news stream showed imagery of a vessel. The aesthetics of the ship were Vulcan and a mere second later, the neutral voice of a female newscaster identified it as a diplomatic transport carrying his father and brother to Earth to finally ratify a hard-fought trade agreement with the Orion Free Traders. Sarek didn't have time to wonder why this man would show him such a thing before the ship exploded and the feed cut to a reporter explaining that the cause of the blast was still under investigation but appeared to be the result of a torpedo fired from a private shuttle belonging to a Terran cartography company and everyone aboard the VDS Vankar was believed dead.
The blood pulsing through his ears made it difficult to hear. Time seemed to dilate and Sarek wasn't sure his heart was beating. He felt weak, cold, and nauseated. He could feel the man's eyes on him as he failed to cope with the knowledge of this tremendous and unexpected loss. Sarek was unaware fury could be so intense. He leaned forward against his restraints and the man took a step back, turning the PADD to watch footage of the explosion from a different angle.
When he noticed Sarek beginning to struggle to free himself from the chair, he cocked his head and said, "You shouldn't bother trying to escape. You'll only injure yourself. And even if you did manage it, where would you go? You're currently wanted for questioning in relation to the unfortunate bombing of the VDS Vankar. I suspect in time you'll be brought on charges ranging from conspiracy to use a weapon of mass destruction, resulting in death, to malicious destruction of property, resulting in death. Twenty-two people in total I believe, including your father and brother."
Sarek half glared, half gawped at him.
"I can see that you don't understand," the man added. The man turned the PADD toward Sarek again, revealing a human newscaster reporting from outside the Federation Council building in downtown San Francisco. Above her left shoulder appeared a graphic featuring Sarek and Vedek's passport images.
The newscaster droned, "These individuals should be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Federation authorities urge members of the community to report all sightings of these fugitives to their local police and caution the public to not approach them for any reason. Again, these men—"
His kidnapper turned the PADD off and returned it to his breast pocket. "It is logical to remain here. This is Earth, after all. If you are seen in public, they might, to use a Terran euphemism, shoot first and ask questions later."
"You framed me for the murder of my own father and brother," Sarek said, uttering the words more as a mantra than as a question.
"Very shrewd deductive reasoning," the man mocked.
"The blood and hair you obtained from me—"
"Were very useful to that end," the man interrupted.
"Why?" Sarek breathed, feeling his body relax. It disturbed him that he was suddenly very calm and collected. Perhaps there was a pure, transcendental clarity to supreme hatred that he could never have appreciated until he experienced it.
"Logic must prevail," the man replied simply. "Your father's increasing grip on power was a danger to everything Vulcan stands for. This agreement with the Orions was but one of many transgressions against Surak."
Of all the thoughts he could have had in that moment, the only one that occurred to him with enough detail to grasp was that he would kill this man. He seemed to detect Sarek's inner monologue because he straightened himself and said, "I know what you're thinking, but revenge is illogical."
"Is it more or less illogical than killing twenty-two innocent people?"
"Murder is a regrettable," the man conceded. "But sometimes necessary."
"I agree," Sarek intoned.
The man's lips pursed slightly at the implication Sarek wanted to kill him. "I am sorry for the loss of your father and brother."
"What purpose could you have for telling me any of this? Why keep me alive, if I have already served my purpose?"
"I tell you this because you could serve a much greater purpose if you would only yield to logic and understand this is part of something greater than any one person. My goal is to save you, S'chn T'gai Sarek."
"Vedek?" murmured a high-pitched voice from behind him. "Is that you?"
Mara was awake. The man's eyes flicked in her direction. He turned on his heel and before slamming the door and bathing them in darkness again said, "You should re-consider your position."
"Sarek?" Mara cried. "What's happening?"
He wanted to reply to her pleas for acknowledgment, but stoicism quickly gave way to crushing sorrow. His father and brother were gone. Amends could never be made. How he could he bear such a thing?
Physical manifestations of his grief began to blossom, first as a shudder, then as choking sobs. His ribs seemed to be folding in on themselves, making breathing close to impossible. He wondered if anguish could be fatal. He hoped it was. All he wanted was to die. No one knew where he was but everyone believed he'd murdered his father, brother, and twenty other innocent people.
Little did Sarek know that at that very moment on the other side of the city, Amanda was in the midst of telling Garrett Fischer that Sarek was missing and she was very worried, explaining that she'd filed a police report after he'd failed to collect her from class and left a casserole to burn in the oven when the agony of his heartbreak reached its full momentum and began to spill over into her, causing her to clutch her chest, cry out in pain, and collapse without explanation.
Present day
"We're here," T'Pol announced, flinging open the car door. They were in an alley in Vulcan Village parked behind a non-descript gray stucco building.
"Where is 'here?'" Amanda asked.
"The home of an old friend," T'Pol explained.
"Your friend, or mine?" Amanda retorted.
"Mine. But he is not your enemy. I understand your hesitation. I find it logical, even," T'Pol responded coolly. "But for now all I can ask is you take a leap of faith, to use a human expression."
"You sure you don't want to point the phaser at me again, just to be really sure?" Amanda asked, glaring at Petra.
"Oh quit whining and get inside before anyone sees us," Petra grumbled, her glossy hair rippling in the street lights. "If we wanted you dead we'd have zapped you and dumped your body on the side of the road by now."
Amanda glowered but felt compelled to comply. It had been easy to be brave in the car with her adrenaline pumping, but her courage was waning fast and the memory of Petra pointing a weapon at her was still very fresh in her mind. Amanda slid out of the car onto the pavement on shaking legs, taking stock of her surroundings. The alley was narrow and flanked on one side by a high brick wall and a row of three-story buildings on the other.
"You're not going to make trouble, are you?" Petra asked Vedek. "Because I'm really not in the mood."
"Just help me find her," Vedek muttered, shuffling in his seat to exit the vehicle.
Sensing this might be her only chance to run, Amanda took several cautious steps backward to test the limits of how far away she could get before someone said something.
"You should watch where you step," muttered a raspy voice directly behind her.
Amanda yelped, whipped around, and found herself face-to-face with the oldest man she'd ever seen. He was Vulcan, tall and frail and dressed in a gray robe.
"You might also try to be quiet," he grumbled. "I have neighbors who work. I also understand people are looking for you."
"Thank you for allowing us into your home, Ambassador," T'Pol said, gesturing toward a set of narrow metal stairs attached to the side of the building. "This is Amanda Grayson. Miss Grayson, this is Ambassador Soval."
"I haven't been an ambassador in many years," the man replied, narrowing his eyes to study Amanda before stealing a glance at Vedek. "And did you have to bring him here? The girl I understand, but the fugitive?"
"There was nowhere else we could go," T'Pol insisted. "And you owe me many favors."
"Yes, but I'd hoped to be dead before you came to collect on them. I'm an old man, T'Pol. I have no stomach for intrigue."
"Yes, but you did always have a talent for it," the Vulcan woman quipped.
"Flattery will accomplish nothing."
"Neither will complaining and yet here we are. Can we come in or not?"
The elderly Vulcan man muttered a syllable that sounded vaguely like consent and led them up the stairs to a second-floor apartment above what appeared to be a jewelry store. Based on the neighborhood, Amanda expected to find a dingy, drab single room efficiency space outfitted with only the bare necessities but instead was surprised to find an elegant home furnished with ornate, well-made furniture and exquisite art peppering the walls.
"Has T'Rama arrived?" T'Pol asked.
Soval scowled and scanned the room. "Do you see her?"
T'Pol and Petra exchanged nervous glances. Amanda dared a look at Vedek but he didn't seem interested in acknowledging her.
"Perhaps it is time to give Miss Grayson a proper explanation for recent events," T'Pol announced. She turned to the man called Soval and asked, "If you would be so kind as to lend us the use of your kitchen table, Ambassador?"
"Stop calling me that," Soval sighed. "What is the purpose of standing on such ceremony now?"
"I swear you two are like an old married couple," said Petra.
"T'Pol married a human," Soval corrected.
"And I'm not that old," T'Pol added. "Not as old as he is, anyway."
Amanda wandered with the others toward a small breakfast nook with a round table near the kitchen. Petra steered Vedek toward a wooden chair in the corner and began securing him to it.
"I'm not going to fight back," Vedek argued. "And I'm probably one of the most wanted people on the planet right now so where am I going to go even if I do escape?"
"It's not that I don't believe you," Petra replied. "It's that I don't care. Two dozen people are dead because of you."
"And he is right about being among the most wanted people on the planet," Soval purred. "And you brought him here. To my shop. Where the police might find him."
"I don't think they've actually issued a warrant for my arrest," Vedek retorted. "I'm wanted for questioning. Holding me like this is basically kidnapping."
Petra shrugged. "Fair point. Maybe we can be cellmates when you spend the rest of your life in prison on terrorism and murder charges."
Amanda stared at Vedek. "You killed those people on the Vulcan shuttle? Sarek's dad and brother?" She started toward him, fully intending to wrap her hands around his throat.
Soval held out a hand to stop her. "Further violence will accomplish nothing here."
"I didn't kill them," Vedek said, looking in her direction but unable to make eye contact.
"Is that going to be your defense at your trial?" Petra spat. "You didn't actually push the button so it's not your fault? Like you didn't give them the shuttle and the Terran defense codes? You aided those fundy terrorists and that's still going to get you prison time no matter how you try to rationalize it to yourself."
"We're not here to deliberate Vedek's degree of guilt," T'Pol interrupted. "We're here to regroup, share information, and find Skon's son."
Sensing there wouldn't be a better moment to be heard, Amanda asked no one in particular, "Do you know where Sarek is? Or who took him?"
Everyone turned to look at her, except for Petra, who stared at Vedek. Vedek glared right back at Petra and said, "If he's still alive, they're probably holding him wherever they're holding Mara and if I knew that, don't you think I'd tell you?"
"Please sit down, Petra," T'Pol said, glancing toward one of the chairs. "There is no logic in provoking him further."
Amanda, Petra, T'Pol, and Soval took seats around the table. She sat directly across from their host, who seemed to be looking at her closely.
"How much do you know, Miss Grayson?" T'Pol finally asked.
Amanda hung her head in her hands and admitted, "I don't even know what I don't know. All I know is on Friday night, I got to my boyfriend's apartment when he didn't show up at the university and found a casserole in the oven. That was the last I saw of him. I went to the police, they didn't seem to care, I went to Garrett's house, he said Sarek quit, and then I had some kind of fainting fit, wound up in the hospital, and woke up to feds interrogating me and telling me Sarek blew up a diplomatic shuttle with his dad and brother on board. I don't know where he is but I know he didn't do this and if you're asking my help to hunt him down to arrest him or hurt him, I won't help you."
By the time she finished her speech, she was nearly shouting and tears threatened to fall down her cheeks. Petra put a reassuring hand on Amanda's shoulder. "Everyone at this table is on Sarek's side. And your side."
That tiny bit of reassurance was all it took to send Amanda over the edge. She erupted into a fit of sobs. She was dimly aware of T'Pol suggesting Soval could make some tea to comfort his guest and Soval grumbling about the fickle nature of human emotions. Petra handed Amanda a tissue and a minute later, T'Pol ventured to ask Amanda about the nature of her relationship with Sarek.
"He's my boyfriend," she sniffed, trying to catch her breath.
"You can't have known each other long," T'Pol pressed.
"We met at a bar about a month ago. We struck up a conversation about physics, about how I'm bad at it and he's good at it, he offered to tutor me, then we just grew closer." She turned to Petra. "I'm also curious how you fit into all of this. I thought you worked with him."
"I do," Petra agreed. "Sort of. Sarek started working at Cary Cartographic about a month ago. I started six months before that. But the cartography sector isn't my primary job, exactly. I'm currently working undercover for the Federation Bureau of Investigation."
She reached into her pocket, retrieved an item, and set it on the table before Amanda. The glossy image of the woman beamed back at her confidently.
"If you're a Federation agent, why didn't you just say so?" Amanda snapped. "Rather than hold me at gunpoint in my own room?"
"Because I'm a little beyond the scope of my assignment right now," Petra admitted. "I didn't have a warrant to be in your room and if you asked to see one and I couldn't produce it, I didn't want you calling the local police or running off to the agents who talked to you at the hospital. And time was of the essence."
"But what difference does it make if I talked to them? If you all work for the Federation?"
"We do all work for the Federation but we have some conflicting interests and allegiances." Petra made eye contact with T'Pol. "Speaking of which, what did you tell Investigator Stevek?"
"Who?" Amanda asked.
"At the hospital," Petra clarified. "Detective Gold and Investigator Stevek interviewed you. Gold's a good guy. I've worked with him. But Stevek is definitely in bed with Ask'era Ozhikersa."
Amanda blinked incredulously. "Wait, what?"
"One of the investigators you talked to," Petra said impatiently. "He's working with the people who may have taken Sarek and killed his father and brother."
"I- I told them that Sarek went missing. They asked a lot of questions, they—"
"Did they ask you to identify anyone in a photo array?"
Amanda gulped. "Yeah."
"And did you identify anyone?" Petra pressed.
"There was a guy from the park," Amanda stammered. "I told them I recognized this man I saw in the park about a week ago."
"And now you understand why he was sneaking into your dorm half an hour ago," Petra explained. "You demonstrated to him that you could identify members of his organization. You're now what's known as a loose end."
"You're saying he was coming to kill me?"
"I'm saying that you running around town yelling to anyone who would listen about how Sarek just up and left a casserole in the oven is an inconvenient alternative narrative to the one Ask'era Ozhikersa would prefer."
"I don't understand any of this. A detective wants to kill me? Because he's a terrorist," Amanda scoffed. "But he didn't, because another Federation agent, you, who also pretends to work at a space mapping company saved me because…why?"
"I realize this is a lot of information to process," T'Pol said. "Perhaps it would save time and frustration if you would allow me to summarize the facts as I understand them."
"Please," Amanda said, rubbing her temples.
"Prior to retiring several years ago, I worked in internal affairs for the Vulcan Ministry of Justice as part of a task force investigating Ask'era Ozhikersa. Are you familiar with this group?"
Amanda blinked. "They're logic extremists. Whatever that means."
"That's a crude way of putting it, but yes," T'Pol nodded. "They are willing to do whatever they deem necessary, including committing acts of violence, to achieve Vulcan secession from the Federation and create a centralized government centered purely on logic. For decades they've been dismissed as a small faction of radicals with no real power. Their numbers still represent an insignificant minority, but they've infiltrated some of the highest levels of Federation and Vulcan government, as well as having occupied corners of key civilian enterprises throughout the Federation."
"Like Investigator Stevek. And Vedek over there," Petra said, bobbing her head in his direction.
"You're is a logic extremist?" Amanda blurted, staring at Vedek and then studying the faces of Petra and T'Pol. "Vedek is a logic extremist? Vedek, the guy who's dating my disorganized and chaotic human roommate? The guy with the tattoo that says live long and die young?"
"I'm not a logic extremist," Vedek stammered.
Petra's lips stretched into a sly smile. She twisted in her seat, gripped Vedek's forearm, and turned it slightly to present it to Amanda. Vedek sighed and bit his lip. "What's the point of this charade?" he snapped. "I'm not that person anymore."
"Maybe you don't want to be," Petra growled, waving her PADD over the tattoo to bathe his arm in a pale blue light. The script appeared to shift into different loops of text. "My Vulkhansu's not very good. Maybe T'Pol can translate what that says."
Without even looking back at the tattoo to confirm, T'Pol said, "When viewed under ultraviolet light, the tattoo says 'Ask'era Ozhikersa is rising.' Whatever he claims he is now, Vedek was very much a member of Ask'era Ozhikersa at some point. All their members get some form of this tattoo on their bodies to identify themselves to each other. I suppose Vedek got the traditional script placed over it recently to try and conceal the otherwise invisible tattoo, but as you can see, it didn't work."
Amanda stared at the man but he seemed more interested in examining his shoes. "Look at me," she demanded. He raised his chin, but failed to meet her eye. "How could you do this? To Sarek? To Mara? Where is Mara?"
He stole a glance at Petra and shook his head.
"We think they have Mara too," Petra sighed. "And I wouldn't expect him to say much. And that is his right. He has a right to speak with a lawyer and a right not to incriminate himself. Perhaps you might be able to convince him that cooperating with me might get him some leniency in his sentencing. He certainly won't listen to me."
"If I knew anything, I would tell you," Vedek breathed. "I love Mara and they took her because of me. Fine, I was dumb kid who bought into the whole Vulcan supremacy thing. But I'm not that person anymore. I haven't been for years. I don't even follow logic anymore!"
"Then why does it sound like you've continued to help these terrorists?" Amanda asked tearfully. "Why not just leave?"
"I tried," he insisted. "We tried, me and Mara. But they invested too much in getting me a job at Cary. And I knew too much."
"Did Mara know any of this?" Amanda asked.
"Not really," Vedek muttered. "But she started to understand things weren't quite right. She was always talking about meeting my friends."
"That's why you were running away to Kessik IV," Amanda mused. "To get away from these people?"
"Well that and…other reasons," he said, his voice beginning to crack. "But they were never going to let me walk away. I was stupid to think so."
"Oh boo hoo," Petra said, rolling her eyes. "They're holding your girlfriend hostage, they may have even killed her, and you're the victim because the terrorists wouldn't understand why you were ready to start a new chapter in your life?"
"They know where my family lives," Vedek spat. "The first time I tried to come up with an excuse for why I couldn't give them the intel they wanted, they sent me a picture of my niece back in Shi'Kahr standing out in front of her school. How would you have interpreted that, Petra? And they knew about Mara almost from the moment I met her."
Amanda felt sick. "You really think they hurt Mara?"
"As I said before, debating Vedek's complicity in recent events or whether Mara is still alive will accomplish nothing," T'Pol said. "Agent Asfour, or Petra, as you know her, was tasked by the Federation Bureau of Investigation to infiltrate Cary Cartographic when it became clear there was sensitive information about the Federation leaking into the hands of logic extremists."
"But why would a space mapping company have that kind of information?" Amanda asked, doing her best to follow along but struggling.
"Cary Cartographic and several other private firms work closely with Starfleet to map distant sectors," Petra explained. "All the classified stuff at Starfleet is locked down so tight that they actually hold annual competitions for hobbyist hackers to try and break their encryption. They offer big prizes. No one's ever collected."
"However, private firms who do contract work for Starfleet and the Federation don't use the same encryption systems," T'Pol added. "That's not to say they don't have any security, but they represent a real vulnerability by comparison. And that makes them prime targets for people like Vedek, especially if they can simply pass a background check and obtain employment. The most secure networks in the Federation still haven't managed to keep out those who have valid access and malicious intent."
"But what kind of info would they even have that these extremists would care about?" Amanda asked.
"Plenty," T'Pol replied. "They have access to certain secure Federation communications channels, occasional temporary access codes to planetary defense systems so they can move their ships in and out of orbit, powerful telemetry systems that can track the movement of ships and communications in other sectors. The list goes on. Anyone who infiltrated Cary Cartographic might not have access to the highest levels of classified materials, but they'd have enough access to enough information for it to still be worthwhile, especially for Ask'era Ozhikersa's needs."
"Exactly," Petra agreed. "As far as I can tell, Vedek's job seemed to be keeping the activities of Ask'era Ozhikersa off the radar so they could secretly move ships around the quadrant without drawing too much attention. And if he happened to hear anything interesting when eavesdropping on secure communications channels, he was supposed to pass that along too."
"So you only worked there to investigate Vedek then?" Amanda asked.
"Not Vedek specifically, but it was pretty obvious from the minute I started working there that something was off about him. It took forever to get any evidence because he was really good—"
"And I hadn't actually given them anything of value," Vedek interrupted.
"Seems to me you gave them access to Io Station's systems last week so they could get ship manifests coming into the Terran system," Petra retorted. "That's how they knew when and where the Vulcan ambassadors would be arriving."
"Wait, all the weird glitches that happened on Io Station—was you?" Amanda asked, glaring at Vedek.
"Oh yeah," Petra said. "Then there's that matter of Vedek handing over his access codes so his friends could pilot one of Cary Cartographic's shuttles right up to the Vankar so they could launch a torpedo at it, but you know."
"It's not—" Vedek began, before Petra cut him off by finishing his sentence for him with a distinct tone of mocking, "It's not like that. Yes, you've said that a few times now. Anyway, I watched Vedek for a long time and until recently, he'd covered his tracks immaculately. Maybe his new girlfriend had him distracted enough to start making mistakes. But I wasn't only there to babysit Vedek. To be honest, when Sarek started working there, I watched him even closer than I watched Vedek."
"You thought Sarek was a logic terrorist?" Amanda scoffed.
"He fits a certain profile," Petra shrugged.
"How so?"
"How much do you know of Vulcan politics?" T'Pol asked.
"Practically nothing," Amanda admitted.
"Sarek comes from a very old, very progressive political dynasty that dates back to before Surak. He was recently estranged from his family in a very public way," T'Pol explained. "His father Skon is a renowned diplomat rumored to be seeking a post as Vulcan's next First Minister and his brother Silek is Vulcan's current ambassador to Earth. Most importantly, Skon negotiated a deal between the Orion Free Traders and the Federation. In fact, he was supposed to attend the ceremonial signing of that deal today."
"However, this trade agreement was a subject of intense debate on Vulcan because it would have allowed the Orions, Nausicaans, and Xindi to freely move through the Vulcan system," Soval added, entering the room with tea tray. He set the offering on the table and began pouring tea into delicate cups. "Ask'era Ozhikersa obviously opposed this agreement because they favor Vulcan isolationism, but the deal was unpopular with other Vulcan factions as well. Many conservatives view the Orions and Nausicaans as unsavories who will only contribute to an increase in crimes such as piracy and trafficking in the sector."
"Thank you for your astute analysis, Ambassador," T'Pol said.
Soval narrowed his eyes and took a seat. "How many times must I ask you to stop calling me that?"
"But circling back, you can see how Sarek's family aren't exactly the kind of people who are going to be best friends with logic extremists," Petra continued. "So I took a hard look at him because as you can imagine, if Sarek had a recent falling out with his dad, it wasn't that crazy to think Ask'era Ozhikersa might have recruited him."
"So what made you decide he wasn't a terrorist?" Amanda asked, accepting a cup of tea from Soval with a nod of thanks.
"While the circumstances of Sarek moving to Earth and getting a job at Cary were certainly suspicious, nothing about him screamed fundamentalist extremist."
"I would have thought the same thing about Vedek," Amanda argued. "Now he's tied to a chair."
Petra shook her head. "Vedek almost tries too hard to fit in. Sarek is just…Vulcan. Nerdy, a little arrogant but generally polite, unintentionally funny and sarcastic. A bit like T'Pol."
T'Pol shot Petra a neutral-yet-smug look while Soval nodded his agreement. Petra smiled nervously and added, "Bottom line is, he started dating you and when I saw you two together, I realized he fit the profile of an accidental immigrant making the best of his new home a lot more than a terrorist sleeper agent. Still, I worried about him. The son of a prominent figure who regularly spouts off about the merits of diversity and the benefits of Federation membership suddenly joining a logic cult? It would be the perfect way to discredit everything Skon had worked toward his entire life."
"Sarek would never join those people," Amanda declared. "And you said yourself that you don't think he would either."
"Yes, which brings us to our current predicament. It doesn't matter whether he actually joined them, I think all that matters is the perception that he would. What I suspect is Ask'era Ozhikersa tried to recruit him with the intent to get him to kill his father in a very public and dramatic fashion. I'm pretty sure Vedek was supposed to be the one rolling out the red carpet and try to befriend him."
"Seriously?" Amanda gawked at Vedek.
Vedek sighed and shook his head. "I told them from the get-go that Sarek wasn't going to bite."
"And you were right," Petra retorted. "Then they realized it didn't matter whether or not he really did it if they could just kidnap him and frame him for it anyway."
"But how would they even do that? And why would they need to kidnap him to do it?"
"Have you seen the footage of the attack on the Vankar?" Petra asked.
Amanda shook her head.
Petra grimaced and reached for T'Pol's PADD. She toggled between several screens before she evidently found what she was looking for, then turned the device so Amanda could see. The angle and focus weren't great, but they were good enough to see the image of Sarek through the portal of a shuttle bearing the words "Cary Cartographic" on the side. The shuttle turned slightly so Sarek was no longer in view and then seconds later, a bright flash of light sped away from the shuttle, collided with the Vulcan ship, and splintered into a vivid display of carnage.
Amanda clutched her hand over her mouth. Her brain refused to accept what her eyes were telling her. "He was actually there?"
"It appears so," Petra began.
"But maybe not," T'Pol added. "In fact, almost certainly not."
"That was definitely him," Amanda said, gripping the teacup so hard it was a miracle it didn't shatter in her hands.
"It was definitely someone who looks a lot like him," Petra agreed.
"Does he have a twin?" Amanda snapped.
"Have you ever heard of mimicking?" T'Pol asked.
"Huh?"
"Techniques in aesthetic surgery have advanced to such a degree that it's possible to alter someone's appearance to make them appear to be someone else, provided you have a sufficient quantity of fresh DNA for a template."
"Wait, you're saying you could take my DNA and make yourself look like me?" Amanda asked, gesticulating between herself and T'Pol.
"Not quite. Technology hasn't advanced sufficiently for interspecies mimicry, but it would be possible to take your DNA and make another human convincingly look like you. Agent Asfour, for example. Similarly, if someone had Sarek's DNA, they could use it to make another Vulcan look like Sarek."
"That sounds like something out of science fiction," Amanda replied.
"I'm sure if you were to ask a human of the twentieth century what they thought about interstellar travel or transporters, they would have said the same thing. Before becoming reality, all scientific achievements must seem like the stuff of science fiction."
"But how can it be legal? To make yourself look like another living person without their consent?"
"It isn't," T'Pol explained. "When researchers at the Vulcan Science Academy announced seven years ago that they had developed the capability, the Federation Ethics Committee almost immediately prohibited mimicry all instances, recognizing the vast potential for abuse. Considering the current situation, I daresay they weren't wrong."
"So you think they kidnapped Sarek to take his DNA and make someone else look like him so it would look like he torpedoed the ship his dad was on? That sounds like a lot of unnecessary effort. If all they need is his DNA, why not just break into his house and steal his toothbrush or some hairs off his pillow?"
"They would need multiple types of samples. Hair, blood, other scans."
"Okay, but why actually abduct him? Why not just sedate him while he's sleeping and take what they need without him knowing?"
"And risk the real Sarek walking around on Earth and buying himself an alibi while their fake Sarek is blowing up a ship? It's a pretty decent legal defense, to remind a jury that people can't be in two places at once," Petra said.
Amanda swallowed. "Then why not just kill him and take what they needed? How do you know they kept him alive after they got his DNA?"
T'Pol took a sip of her tea. "They needed someone who looked like Sarek to launch a torpedo at the Vankar. According to all credible reports, whoever was impersonating Sarek managed to transport off of it milliseconds before a Starfleet vessel destroyed it. It's why they believe Sarek is still alive and at large. However, I suspect Ask'era Ozhikersa kept Sarek alive as insurance in case they weren't able to retrieve their person from the shuttle."
"But what does it really matter?" Amanda asked. "If they just wanted to frame Sarek for the attack, why would they care if he or the imposter died? In fact, wouldn't it be easier for them if he did? A martyr for their cause and no possibility of the real Sarek showing up with wild stories about how he was framed?"
Petra sighed. "I really can't go into much detail, but I have a good reason to think the destruction of the Vankar was just the opening salvo in a series of planned attacks. Whether or not Skon is present at the signing of the trade agreement tomorrow, the agreement will be still be signed one way or another. There are a lot of people who do not want that. I think murdering Skon was a tidy way to kill two birds with one stone—it got Skon out of the way and provided a convenient distraction. Now that everyone carrying any kind of badge within a twenty-lightyear radius is looking for Sarek and Vedek, it leaves Ask'era Ozhikersa more freedom to coordinate more attacks."
"But you just said they got the imposter from the shuttle back," Amanda pointed out. "What reason do they have to keep the real Sarek alive now?"
"Whatever anyone may say about Ask'era Ozhikersa, they are exceptional propagandists and have a very forward-thinking strategy," Soval answered. "The surgical process of mimicry requires large amounts of fresh DNA. If they keep the real Sarek alive, they can harvest DNA as needed and make as many copies of him as they want for years to come, assuming they can maintain sufficient numbers of radicalized Vulcan zealots who will volunteer to undergo surgical transformation to look like him. They can have Sarek impersonators committing all kinds of terrorist acts all over the quadrant. What's the human term for such a figure?"
"A legend?" Petra offered.
"I think the word I want is a boogeyman," Soval replied.
No one said anything for several moments. Then T'Pol's PADD dinged. It wasn't loud, but it was unexpected and Amanda was on the edge of her seat trying to absorb such an extraordinary volume of information that she jumped in surprise.
"She's ready to transport here," T'Pol announced, glancing at Soval. "Can I give her the coordinates?"
Soval scowled. "Space in this apartment is quite limited. T'Rama is most welcome, but perhaps we should stop there, before I have an entire circus squatting in my home."
"You always did have a flair for drama," T'Pol replied, excusing herself.
"And you always had a rare talent for understatement," Soval called after her.
T'Pol opened the front door to reveal a soft matter stream forming on the stoop and moments later, a figure clad in a light blue cloak appeared. Amanda was stunned. She knew transporters existed and had been in use for a while, but it still surprised her to see a person appear literally out of thin air.
"Welcome, T'Rama," Soval said, standing and forming his right hand in the shape of a V as he walked toward the door. Petra stood too and joined T'Pol and Soval in the adjoining room. Sensing it would be awkward to be the only one to remain sitting in the breakfast nook, Amanda followed, leaving Vedek sitting alone tied to the chair.
The new arrival stepped over the threshold, shut the door behind her, and lowered her hood to reveal a matronly but very elegant Vulcan woman. She looked vaguely familiar. The woman studied each of the room's occupants in turn, first Soval, then T'Pol, then Petra. Amanda was in the middle of wondering if it would be appropriate to introduce herself when the woman turned her attention to her.
"Are you Amanda Grayson?" she asked.
She swallowed hard and offered the very best Vulcan salute she could manage. "I am. Live long and prosper."
The woman gave the faintest hint of a pained smile, nodded, and returned the gesture. "It is an honor to meet you, Amanda Grayson." She turned to Soval and added, "Thank you for welcoming me into your home, Ambassador Soval. And thank you, T'Pol, for seeing to Miss Grayson's safety."
Soval dropped his curmudgeonly demeanor in exchange for deference and made no effort to chastise the woman for referring to him by his formal title as he had done with T'Pol. "We grieve with you, T'Rama. Your loss is felt by everyone in this room."
"Miss Grayson," T'Pol announced. "Allow me to introduce T'Rama, wife of the late Ambassador Skon and—"
"Sarek's mother?" Amanda finished in a whisper, finally aware of why the woman looked so familiar. She had the same long face and gray eyes.
T'Rama nodded. "My son Silek spoke of you."
"Oh," Amanda mumbled, wondering if Sarek ever had.
"He told me Sarek is very fond of you." Her eyes came to rest at thee vokaya pendant at Amanda's throat.
Amanda fought back anxious tears. In all the ways she ever imagined meeting Sarek's mother, offering condolences for the deaths of half her immediate family hadn't been included as part of the introductions. Her voice shook as she said, "I'm so sorry for- well, for—"
T'Rama held up a hand to interrupt. "There will be time enough for mourning later but for now, there is no logic in grieving for what is already lost when I can dedicate myself to preserving what still remains. My only goal now is to ensure my surviving son returns safely to me and does not spend the rest of his life in prison, falsely accused of murdering his father and brother."
"I owe Skon my life," T'Pol said. "I regret I can never repay that debt to him. The only thing I can offer now is to return the favor to his son on his behalf."
T'Rama nodded. "Thank you."
"I also owe much to your family," Soval added. "I will help in any way I can."
"And I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am," Petra said. "I'm Agent Petra Asfour. I never knew your husband or your son Silek. And I didn't know Sarek very well, but I swore an oath to defend the Federation against its enemies and to always pursue justice. Your son is innocent and I'm going to do everything I can to prove it."
"Thank you, Agent Asfour, but first we must find him," T'Rama said. "Are you certain he's still alive?"
"We were explaining the situation to Miss Grayson and were just coming to that point when you arrived," T'Pol explained.
Everyone turned to look at Amanda. Amanda shifted her gaze, feeling awkward at suddenly becoming the center of attention.
"Silek told me you were Sarek's asha'kan," T'Rama said.
"I- I don't know what that word means," Amanda admitted. "Not really. Sarek tried to explain it but said it doesn't translate well."
"Are you and Sarek very close?"
Amanda's mouth was suddenly dry as sand. In addition to hating the fact that she was meeting Sarek's mother under these sad circumstances, she was also hating the fact that the conversation was rapidly careening toward what felt like an inevitable exploration of son's private life. "I- uh, we—"
"I am aware it is uncomfortable to discuss such an intimate matter with people you've only just met," T'Rama added. "I don't require any of the details. I only want to know if you've ever bonded with my son."
Amanda closed her eyes in an effort to avoid the risk that she might make eye contact with anyone and die of mortification. "Bonded like…mind melding?"
"Yes."
Amanda opened her eyes to see T'Pol and Soval suddenly seemed acutely interested in the pattern of the carpeting while Petra looked just as confused as Amanda felt. Amanda cleared her throat. "Then, uh…yes?"
"You've communicated with Sarek telepathically? Recently?"
Amanda nodded, blushed, and swallowed a twinge of sadness. Her relationship with Sarek was very new, but she suspected there wasn't any part of her mind or body that Sarek hadn't carefully explored. And it pained her to think the last real conversation she'd had with him involved an awkward argument where she accidentally learned he wanted to marry her and she panicked.
"Do you think it's possible?" T'Rama asked T'Pol.
"Forgive me, but I see no logic in this fanciful pursuit," Soval said. "She's human."
"You needn't state such a plain fact as though it were an accusation," T'Pol retorted. "Out of everyone present, I'm the best authority on the human brain's capacity for telepathy. I was married to a human, as you have already reminded me once today. I speak from my own anecdotal experience when I say that successfully executing T'Rama's plan will be very difficult, but not impossible."
"What plan?" Petra asked. "What are we talking about?"
T'Pol turned to look at Amanda. Amanda felt the color draining from her face under the Vulcan woman's careful stare.
"I think there may be a way to find Sarek," T'Pol said. "With Miss Grayson's help."