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Vulcan / People / Media and Politics
Opinion
Balev: Nitpicking Vulcan Logic to Protect the Traditional Values
PHOTO. Young Balev at Suk'muzh during his famous speech about The United Federation of Planets.
By Varith
Related article: The Federation Approaches Zhnlu for Peace Negotiations
Vulcan, Suk'muzh— In a progressively closer interstellar scene, at a time like the one we live in, the galaxy is a smaller place than it was a decade ago. All of this, courtesy of the technological advances. We are more prone to learn about what is currently taking place in the outer to a galaxy-wide range. We are only a click away from all sorts of information sources, news outlets and independent journalism works. Which can be used as a tool to spread a message and reach a wider audience than in the past, where the resources were limited and far more restricted.
Logically, the cultural clash that supposes an open and connected web, comes with a fastened progress that lead to the inevitable examination of our own cultural practices. Realizing that there are a spectrum of ways of living life and cope with the same issues out there, supposed the beginning of new intellectual trends. Which, in a plenty of examples, oppose and challenge the traditional values of a community.
Vulcan is no exception to this phenomenon. The traditional Vulcan culture is full of practices, characteristics and guidelines that are becoming obsolete and feel stale for the younger generations. The planet has been going through a phase of inescapable change for the last century, as the relationship with the outer space gets closer. Vulcans are learning about a variety of manners of living that resemble nothing theirs every day that elapses.
When the gates of the progress opened, absolute rejection and disapproval quickly manifested from the most conservative provinces of Vulcan. One of the main opponents and instigators to reject any idea that is contrary or leads to question Surak's approach of emotionality was Balev. Back then, a young follower of the teachings of Surak, who has been a prominent figure within the Vulcan political and social scene for decades.
He is a devoted defender of the ancient ways and a fundamentalist pro-Surakian principles activist, and as such, he has been very vocal about his disagreement with the implemented foreign policies. But in a galaxy where interspecies cooperation is essential for greatest advancements in fields of study as engineering, physics or mathematics, adhere exclusively to our own kind it is not the most logical approach coming from a man whose life is devoted to the 'logic above all' principle. Rather, appears to be a desperate move of a supremacist to avoid facing an uncomfortable reality.
When Sarek woke up he wasn't on his comfortable bed at the Galaxy Inn. Instead, he was seated at the egregious and lavishly decorated table of the Terran Ambassador to Vulcan. He blinked out of confusion and noticed he had a half empty crystal clear glass of Terran alcohol in his right hand. Unusual, because he found human alcoholic beverages, particularly unpalatable.
He touched his pin depicting the word 'Ambassador' and noticed, that once again, it was backwards. A meaningless detail that brought an illogical wave of anxiety to his psyche.
"Would you like another glass, Ambassador?" Ambassador Kaufmann asked, gesturing the wine bottle.
Sarek stared in silence to the bottle, shook his head and muttered a weak, "No, thank you for the offer."
There was a brief moment where he couldn't tell if he was dreaming. He could hear a subtle, but clear sizzling sound coming from the walls of the room that no one seemed to perceive. It was as if he could hear the energy of the electricity moving through the entire room as blood vessels working. He sighed with discretion and tried to focus his energy on ignoring the noise. Once again, he wished to possess less sharp senses.
The cold temperature of the room sank into his bones and made him realize that he indeed was awake. A sensation of nothing and nobody surrounding him was real clouded his mind. He felt like floating and as if the chair he was sitting on was levitating over a void, because he couldn't feel the firm floor under his shoes.
Sarek saw himself standing up with care, concerned that the floor would break and he would be absorbed by the darkness of space. Ambassador Kaufmann stared at him in confusion and he pretended to shake non-existing dust off his lap and returned to the chair, feeling less troubled.
"Are you okay?" Kaufmann asked.
"Yes, Ambassador," he replied dryly.
And he drank the rest of the Terran alcohol at once, wishing that he could get intoxicated from consuming the liquor. The drink burned his throat, but helped him to wake up and redirect his attention to whatever Ambassador Ywsho was talking about in the opposite side of the table.
It was going to be a long night.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Missed call, indicated the screen of his phone.
He was standing in the middle of the lobby waiting for any of the multiple elevators to open. It was the afternoon and he was longing to get some sleep. Using the stairs wasn't an option, he was too tired to move more than required. He saw a group of travelers entering the adjoining elevator, he decided to wait for another one instead of taking it and spending an uncomfortable minute avoiding any physical contact.
Sarek entered the elevator to return to his room when Varek appeared to stop the doors and stepped in. The young Vulcan took a step aside and headed to the other extreme of the small space which constituted the precinct and Sarek wondered if he was shielding correctly his emotions.
"Good afternoon, Ambassador Sarek," Varek greeted in Vulcan. Hearing his name being properly pronounced by Varek provoked some kind of reaction he couldn't categorize. He had a very flagrant accent native form Suk'muzh and Sarek realized he never had heard someone speak like that in real life.
"Varek," Sarek replied, "Good afternoon."
Varek's preference for the use of their native language was notorious. Although most of the personnel at the embassy was of Vulcan origin, it was odd to hear them talk in Vulcan while interacting with him. It was a non-written rule to use Standard when outside of the planet, even among themselves.
"May I have a word with you, Ambassador?"
Sarek nodded.
His eyes looked in silence how Varek pressed a button on the panel and the elevator stopped moving. He let out a sigh, the elevator lights were oddly bright, almost too much to stay.
"I would like to inform you that Mr. Langdon's professional performance has been deficient in my opinion. He has repeatedly written official replies with fundamental mistakes, despite being a native speaker of the English language."
Sarek turned to face Varek, arching an eyebrow.
Sarek was a full Vulcan as Varek was. Although what humans, among other species thought about Vulcans, they could still hold biases that could be easily categorized as illogical. He had hired Scott Langdon two years prior and he had proven to be highly qualified to hold the position he was offered. Thus, hearing a sudden complain about the human's professional display was unexpected. Sarek himself, found the presence of certain colleagues as rather unpleasant, but as logical, controlled Vulcan adult, he would never act upon that sentiment as other would definitely do. He was perceptive and, expeditiously, he noticed that Scott did not find Varek's presence very agreeable from the very beginning, but behaved like a professional should and complied on work related matters. At the elapsed time, it appeared to signal that it was a mutual sentiment. He could be mistaken, but Sarek suspected that Varek thought Scott Langdon was not qualified due to the inherent emotionality of their species.
"In your opinion," Sarek echoed with the gaze fixated on the closed silver doors.
"Yes, Ambassador-"
"Opinions are subjective takes, Varek. Despite what off-worlders may think about Vulcan opinions, these still can be as subjective as theirs," Sarek said, coldly.
Varek seemed to be thinking how to voice what he wanted to say at the very beginning with a better wording.
"Do you have any substantial proof to support this assessment?"
"Yes, I do."
"Send it to me."
A wave of silence surrounded them.
Sarek felt Varek's eyes on him with that almost invisible strain of nervousness. He knew he wanted to add something else and was having a hard time thinking how to voice it out loud.
"Is there anything you would like to add, Varek?" Sarek prompted, inexpressive.
"Yes, Ambassador," Varek replied. His deep, dark eyes looked directly at Sarek. "Mr. Langdon is too emotional for the position. He has reacted illogically when I indicated his mistakes."
"He is human, Varek," Sarek replied.
"His humanity does not excuse unprofessional performance."
"Certainly it does not. However, emotionality is an essential part of the culture that Mr. Langdon comes from. Which differs from our own, that can lead to cultural misunderstandings."
From a Vulcan point of view, even a glance could be overly emotional. Sarek knew very well that the perception of stoicism varied from planet to planet and that was something they had to learn to cope with if they aspired to positions that required frequent interaction with outsiders.
"Emotionality is inappropriate in certain moments, even in human culture," Varek countered, "Mr. Langdon has reacted rather negatively to logical criticism by taking offense when I meant no disrespect in a personal manner to his person."
Sarek looked at Varek.
Both of them had been born and raised in a conservative family of followers of the teachings of Surak and logic training. However, Mr. Langdon had been working at his side for two years and he had never felt that the man was abnormally emotional. The words of his own kind claiming he was becoming too enamored and attached to humans echoed in his mind. Was he too accustomed to humans? Was he the one who had softened and started to slowly become one of them? Emotionality was a valued trait inside many cultures around the galaxy, often considered a sign of authenticity and truthfulness on an individual. The perception within Vulcan society was different from the human one and emotionality was a symptom of lack of discipline and control, a shameful weakness.
"I see."
"Ambassador."
"Yes, Varek?"
"I am qualified to comply with the work with no impediments," Varek stated devoid of emotion.
"That is an assessment that I can only conclude on my own by examining the exercise of your duties."
"I concur, Ambassador."
Sarek extended his arm to click the button, making the elevator move once again. The sudden mechanism of the elevator functioning felt like a brief jolt. He felt Varek's warm hands around his left arm, holding him gently. An action that caught him off guard, Sarek shuddered, feeling weak and small.
"Are you well, Ambassador?"
"Yes," Sarek answered straightening his posture, "Thank you, Varek."
"I come to serve."
Varek tucked his hands behind his back, under Sarek's scrutiny. The silver doors of the elevator opened wide, he hesitated and took the first step to exit the compound.
He got in his room and went to sleep.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Velekh's desk at the work remained like the last time he was there.
T'Mirek had waited the entire day to finally search for any answer about his whereabouts without inquiring eyes judging her. She sat on the soft office chair in front of the cubicle and exhaled.
The desk was an utter mess.
No one had organized that small space since Velekh disappeared.
Her eyes examined the notes attached to the wall. There was nothing actually relevant written, only a few notes of reminders to complete daily affairs of the ordinary Terran life, like paying the rent, doing the laundry or the deadlines for the work he was assigned to.
She began to open the drawers, exploring its content with care. The frustration was taking over her, after opening all the small lateral ones and find nothing aside from sticky notes, pens and office supplies. She opened the main rectangle drawer and rummaged among that unhealthy amount of paper Velekh kept inside. She recognized Velekh's sketchbook on the bottom of the box and grabbed it.
After a moment of hesitation, she opened the sketchbook, leafing through the thick pages. He had drawn every single one of the employees working at the office. Stonn, T'Leia, Sasek, Varith… all of them were here immortalized on the paper. She continued to observe the skillfully made drawings and slowly, the faces became less and less familiar with the occasional appearance of recognized Vulcans in between of the strange faces, like Councilman Skon or Ambassador Sarek.
Her gaze stopped at the holopicture displayed in a transparent frame on the desk. The frame contained a photo of them during Velekh's birthday. Varith was placing a golden cardboard crown on Velekh's head with a subtle smirk on his lips.
"Where are you?" she thought. T'Mirek's heart wrench, realizing how much she missed him.
She grabbed the holopicture and the sketchbook and left.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
After twenty minutes, the waiter finally brought the food. Occasionally, Ambassador Sarek would eat with his aides. It was not a novelty for Scott, but it was for Varek.
Ambassador Sarek resembled so drained. He had the impression that he was generally unfocused for the last week. He had seen him quieter and more taciturn than usual. Of course, he was a busy man with a tight schedule since they arrived to Vulcan, but Scott thought that Sarek looked… depressed. Perhaps he was judging him under Human parameters and jumping to conclusions that were not applicable to a Vulcan.
"Nemaiyo na' ish-veh dvin," Ambassador Sarek said to the young man while serving their meals.
"I come to serve," the young waiter answered in Vulcan before leaving.
It was clear that Varek wasn't his favorite person in the galaxy and that had nothing to do with the fact that he was a Vulcan. He had worked along Vulcans for a very long time, he used to have a cordial relationship with the other employees of the embassy and the last person holding Varek's current position was a Vulcan as well. Thus, he didn't dislike Varek out of a cultural shock or due to a misunderstanding. Varek was an arrogant idiot, full of airs and graces, no doubt. Ambassador Sarek was a Vulcan too, and he was kind… on his own serious and unemotional way.
Varek was underestimating him. His insistence on speaking English with him despite knowing he was well versed on Vulcan, which was a minimal requirement to work at the Vulcan embassy and along Vulcans felt like a very subtle way to belittle his capacities. Varek had taken the posture as if he was an oblivious human incapable of even uttering a single word in Vulcan.
He relaxed his posture and started to eat the food he was served while hearing Varek speaking with Ambassador Sarek. Varek commented something about recent events at the quadrant and Sarek listened to him, moving the transparent broth of his plate. Had he been human, Scott would have thought he was playing with the food. Varek's voice resembled too loud in comparison to the voices of the rest of the clients speaking in the background.
"I concur," he heard Varek say.
"The quadrant's situation is tense," Sarek said Vulcan, giving a gaze to the human, acknowledging his presence.
"The entire galaxy is going through tense times," he answered in Vulcan.
"The Federation's territories are experimenting crucial changes these days. It is no surprise to learn about conflicts every day," Sarek agreed.
"The change always troubles individuals. Hostility is often an immediate response to progress," Scott replied.
Varek tiled his face, as if he were trying to understand his words. That made Scott to be too self-aware of his knowledge of the Vulcan language.
"Excuse me," Ambassador Sarek said all of a sudden, he almost threw the metal spoon on his plate and disappeared among the clients, towards the lavatory. Scott observed him leave and then, his eyes returned back to Varek.
"Change is not always equivalent to progress. Unexpected changes are, quite often, the result of illogical and unnecessary conflict," Varek started to explain, "It is logical to not welcome forceful alterations, especially when this disrupt the collective effort of a population."
Scott was pretty sure Varek was trying to speak as fast and complex as he could, far away from the standard Vulcan on purpose. He had heard him speaking with their boss in the hall using a more common vocabulary and less regional words.
"Conflict can surface as a response to an unwanted situation undergoing among a population, Varek. Not every individual has the same perspective of a situation. A fraction of the population may be holding a privileged position, while a minority or even a great part endures undesirable problems. At times, conflicts it is instigated by preexisting situations that cannot be solved by pacific means. Albeit tried."
"The human perspective often inclines to react with hostility, regardless of the situation. Your history as a race indicates a strong tendency to emotion-driven, purposeless violence and individualist gain. Sometimes, violent responses are motivated by the disruption of the commodity," Varek replied in English. "Even if this means only the benefit of one individual or a small fraction."
"Being a human doesn't mean I agree on evert single thing with the rest of humans out there, Varek," Scott replied. Another occasion where Varek let him know how barbaric and illogical his people were. "It's a logical conclusion. I'm sure that there are some aspects you disagree with your people as well."
"No. Vulcans rarely rely on illogical courses of action. We comply with our duty as it is expected and we do not experiment the need to monopolize. Terrans lack of the sufficient self-control and measure to not search for conflict out of the border of their home world. Starfleet an example of this compulsion for war and imposition."
"Monopolize? You speak as I was the President of Earth." Scott instantly regretted to reply that. It was too childish on his behalf and… too emotional. It was clear he was offended, especially in the eyes of a dutiful Vulcan like Varek. "I don't agree with a lot of stuff that Starfleet does, but the fact they are a human dominated organization doesn't mean that I'm—automatically— part of that."
"You are taking my words as a personal attack," Varek stated dryly, "yet again."
"I am not." Scott forced himself to look collected.
He recognized the ambassador walking back to the table. Varek seemed to understand that and started to eat his vegetable stew in silence, looking absolutely flawless for when their boss got closer. Ambassador Sarek focused his eyes on both of them for a moment and then, poured his attention to the broth in the ceramic bowl in front of him. Varek imitated his gesture and the human felt the imperious need to tell him to—politely—go and fuck himself.
He didn't.
Instead, he took a spoonful of his creamy soup. His cold, creamy soup.
Varek had ruined his mood and the dinner.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
"Denisse said you wanted us to stop by," Thomas Wyatt said once Coroner Josie Vázquez greeted him early in the morning. The officer shuddered because of the low temperature of the place. The medical examiner's department wasn't his favorite place, but his boss had sent him along his partner, Officer Mara Saavedra to speak with the coroner.
The investigation turned out to be more complicated than expected. Big cases were usually relatively easier to close, mainly when the crime was committed as publicly as the attack had been. The perpetrator or perpetrators had committed a criminal act in the middle of the daylight.
"Tom, Mara," the woman said in response. "This way."
"So..."
"What did you want to show us?"
"I don't know if you have come across the news, but someone found a body floating in the bay."
"Sadly, it's still usual here."
"I know. Suicides are still a problem, but you know I wouldn't make you come here without a valid motive. I hate to waste my time as much as you do," she replied, tonelessly.
"Straightforward, I like that," Officer Saavedra said.
"Well, it looks like someone was walking his dog when he found a body floating in the edge of the rocks of Cochrane Recreation Area."
"And...?"
"A Vulcan body," the woman added.
The two officers looked in silence as the coroner opened one of the multiple square-shaped metal doors of the cold storage. A body emerged from the chamber and Thomas noticed the Vulcan features of the deceased person.
Coroner Vázquez transferred the man into the autopsy table. The bright fluorescent lights highlighted the skin paleness of the corpse and the opacity of his black hair. The water had done considerable damage to the body, but not as much as a human one would have sustained under the same environmental conditions.
Mara Saavedra got closer to observe.
Thomas had never seen a deceased Vulcan under that circumstances. He had seen the horrible pictures of the rest of the victims of the temple attack, but the amount of damage caused by the explosive materials used had made hard to recognize and classify who they were.
"Male. Vulcan. Probably he was in his twenties, but I don't know yet. Vulcans often look way younger than they actually are," she announced.
"Did he drown?"
"No, he was thrown into the bay after. He wouldn't be here and I wouldn't have made you drive here for a suicide."
"What's the cause of death?"
"He has a severe skull trauma that might be caused by a heavy object behind his head."
"He was murdered," Thomas noted.
"Yes," she answered, "and I don't think he was thrown into the bay from there. The water carried him all the way down there."
"Are you sure?"
"No, it's only a gut feeling."
Thomas nodded, but said nothing.
"That's so unusual," Mara Saavedra stated, her gaze fixated on the Y section performed in the Vulcan. "I mean, the victim. Vulcans, even the V'tosh Ka'tur one, are pretty well-behaved."
"How many murder cases involving Vulcans have been reported recently?"
"Well, the logic..."
"In San Francisco."
"I've seen all kinds of victims in this place, but I've never seen a deceased Vulcan due to very obvious violent causes and I've been working in this place for twenty years."
Thomas observed the Vulcan and he tried to remember how it looked the missing young man that Drew was looking for.
"Drew told me that a couple of Vulcans reported a missing friend. I believe he had his dental chart or medical record."
The coroner stayed quiet and got closer to the man.
"It's the only way since the water has swollen his face. I don't think a picture will be enough to state his identity," he added, as if were his duty to persuade her.
"I agree."
Vázquez gloved hand grabbed the chin of the Vulcan and pulled it down, revealing swollen gums with no teeth left.
"Whoa!"
"He didn't suffer. It was performed post mortem. I think it was done without any premeditation, the work was done very poorly and without the appropriate supplies. It's the work of an unskilled individual, because there are remains of broken teeth. Whoever who did this left the dental roof of tooth 15 inside."
"I would say it was to prevent the body to be identified."
"Perhaps."
Once again, an odd target. Vulcan followers of Surak were not very prone to partake in illogical behavior and crime could be categorized as that. Logical Vulcans attacked and then, a Vulcan man murdered using violence, whose teeth had been taken off, which was a barbaric act even for human standards.
"Also, he has no defensive signals," Vázquez added.
"So he knew his murderer."
"That's very likely, but I couldn't find any DNA on the body. He was for about three days under the water before being found. That certainly makes my job a lot more difficult and if the murderer planned the crime, which is very probable since whoever who did this used only the necessary amount of violence to achieve their goal, yours will be hard too."
"It's very probably it was made out of necessity. No defensive signal and no excessive violence. Impulsive and unplanned crimes often indicate strong feelings against the victim," Saavedra speculated in a cold voice.
"Do you know who's this man? Has he been identified?" Thomas interjected.
Vázquez shook her head and he sighed, defeated.
"Not yet. They brought him a week ago and he had no ID, phone or anything that could help us to state his identity."
"So we have nothing."
The silence filled the compound until Thomas Wyatt spoke again, "How's this man related to our case?"
"The fabric of the clothing he was wearing isn't native from Earth."
Mara Saavedra arched an eyebrow. The information didn't seem very concrete and she suspected that the only reason that Coroner Vázquez had to think the decease of the man was related to the case, it was his ancestry.
The coroner clicked a button and a small opaque dome appeared to cover the body. The pair of officers followed the woman close behind as she walked towards a screen placed in the wall, which instantly turned on once she commanded.
"Vulcan fabric?" Saavedra read from the screen, clearly confused.
"Og-elakh sai-tukh. Literally means 'thread fabric'. It's a fabric made of silk and cotton like material, usually colorful with intricate designs and, according to the information I found, it's a traditional fabric that it goes back to the pre-reform Vulcan couture," Vazquez started to explain, "It's not precisely cheap and seems like it's an extravagant luxury nowadays."
Mara and Thomas exchanged glances.
"So he was probably wealthy enough to wear Vulcan silk."
"Yes. But wait, there is more."
The image in the screen changed. More images of fabric samples took over and Thomas recognized one of the pictures of the few calcined Vulcans whose bodies had—surprisingly—not blown to unidentifiable pieces.
"It's similar," Saavedra said in a whisper.
The female officer's eyes concentrated on the bright orange-colored fabric on the screen. She was astonished how detailed it looked what she deduced that it was a script. The design was too beautifully made that it was senseless to hide it as a lining inside a somber black robe.
"No, it's exactly the same composition and design. I compared all the samples we have available of the victims of the temple and this man."
"I discovered that the exterior part of the robe is made of sha'amii wool."
"Well, a lot of Vulcans hold a really good position outside of Vulcan. It doesn't surprise me that they can afford high fashion stuff like this."
"I know, but don't you think it's so unlikely that they decided to wear exactly the same attire? This clothing is clearly a piece of Vulcan haute couture. It was made with the same uncommon lining of a very expensive and exclusive material that it's hard to find on Earth. For me, it looks like a uniform."
"Uniforms," Thomas echoed in disbelief.
Vulcans wearing expensive uniforms... why?
Well, that was a start.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Scott had successfully avoided Varek. Partially because he was kind of ashamed to get so easily offended by his Vulcan honesty and he would rather spend his time proofreading every single writing a thousand times so Varek couldn't have the opportunity to make him feel incompetent.
He had read the poorly written response he supposedly had sent to Varek and there was no way he could have sent that awful attempt of text. It was a vicious insult to the English language and he needed to find out what it was happening to his work. If that awfully performed work fall into the hands of Ambassador Sarek, his position would be in jeopardy. Probably, Varek had already notified the Ambassador about it, he was certain since he didn't seem the kind of person who could concede him the indulgence of imperfection.
He sighed.
The human stepped inside the elevator with irritation forming on his chest. Surely Varek would be in the lobby waiting like the perfect and flawless Vulcan assistant, he was, gracefully hovering around Ambassador Sarek. Perhaps, he was projecting his feelings to others and Varek was acting rightfully according to different cultural parameters.
He owed him an apology, anyway.
The elevator doors opened and an Andorian man stepped in. Scott couldn't hold himself to look at him. The man was wearing the most extravagant and colorful outfit he had ever seen in his short life.
"Hello, stranger," the man greeted with a half smirk on his face.
"Sorry," Scott said, "I not a creepy stalker."
The man was that famous fashion designer all over the tabloids. Possibly, the one to blame for all the cameras and paparazzi nearby the Galaxy Inn. He had seen them take a few photos of his boss that later appeared on very mean spirited articles that used Amanda Grayson's absence as some sort of proof of an imminent divorce file.
"Are you a paparazzi?"
"Do I look like one?"
"No, I guess you don't."
"A fan?"
"I'm not really into fashion. But you already know that, since I'm wearing a three credits plain and boring blue tie," the human joked.
"I see."
"You're the reason of all those guys out there, right?"
"I love cameras and they love back. They just can't get enough of me and I don't blame them."
So humble, he thought. He was still more charming and kind than Varek, despite his astonishingly high self-esteem.
"I look like it," The human said and when the elevator doors slide open, a flashing camera blinded his vision for a few seconds.
He waited in the lobby for a minute for Varek and then walked to search some food, ready for a peaceful morning breakfast without no one judging him.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
The next time Sarek's phone rang it wasn't the call of an unsettling stranger. It was Councilman Skon, his father. He felt unable to answer the first time he recognized his number on the bright screen. Instead, he let the device vibrate on his pocket while he was focusing his attention on forcing the food down his throat to maintain the bare minimum of his nutritional needs. He had almost fainted in the morning and after realizing he had eaten portions no even sufficient to sustain a Vulcan infant, he committed himself to at least consume one full meal per day.
His head ached and pounded once again.
Perhaps, as a result of the irregular diet he had acquired when he arrived on the planet. After a few minutes, the vibration made him uncomfortable and he desisted trying to feed himself to attend the call. That oppressive sensation in the pit of his stomach to the prospect of being in contact with his father stole his breath. The last time Sarek ever felt in that way because of Skon, was during his childhood, when he wanted to comply with absolutely everything his father wanted him to be without any flaws.
He clicked and put the phone to his ear, expectant and more nervous than he would like to.
"Sa-mekh."
The word felt foreign in his lips. Was Skon still his father? After all that had happened between them previous to his bonding ceremony, he could not be sure. Sarek was almost certain he had been disowned after silence Skon's and the furor of the public. His choices certainly had attracted negative spotlights for every individual surrounding Amanda and himself.
"Sarek," Skon said with a perfect intonation of every syllable that composed his name. There was a brief silence and then, the man added, "I am not calling you in my official capacity."
Sarek knew it. Had Skon been calling only with official purposes, he would have proceeded as when he requested Sarek to travel to Vulcan and made the arrangements through his aides to maintain the distance. He was aware how impersonal his family could act when they wished to avoid an interaction.
The truth, it was that Sarek had nothing to comment or say to his father. Thus, he stayed quiet on the line. They had not spoken since he announced he would be marrying Amanda. Skon had not been vocal about his disappointment as his mother and brother had, but it was implicit that he agreed with their view by not interjecting on his behalf. At least, that was how Sarek understood his silence upon the final ultimatum.
"What is the purpose of this call?"
"Extend an invitation."
Invitation? Why? He asked himself. Surely, it wouldn't be a purposeless one. Vulcan rarely engaged on the indulgence of gathering by the sake of social interaction and after all that had befallen the year prior, it was logical to believe he had a purpose to extend him an invitation of any kind.
"My current schedule would be an impediment the time being," he managed to say tonelessly.
Skon was undecipherable, as he had always been. Analyzing his voice tone to deduct what his motivations were, was useless, his speech was like a calculated wave that did not fluctuated not even a bit.
"I can make the required arrangements to amend that situation," Skon said. "Do you consent this?"
"I do," Sarek replied, mindlessly.
"Very well."
"I shall send you the details," the older Vulcan stated. "Live long and prosper."
"Peace and long life."
Once the line went silent, Sarek stayed frozen, holding the phone. His PADD beeped and the screen turned on and he didn't need to check to know that his father had sent the information. His mind started to race.
Sarek stared at the cold soup and felt unable to force himself to consume it. Perhaps, in the morning he would feel less tired, less weak, less… emotional.
Sorry for the delayed update! I finally finished my other stories, so I'm free. I may be delayed, but I'll continue to update this story since it's the only one I'm writing and I have so much fun writing it. Also, I was re-reading the story. I realized that I used the word 'work' instead of 'job'. Silly me! I'm happy to be able to notice my mistakes and fix them.
I forgot to clarify that this kind of a slow build story.
Special thanks to StarryEyes2000, tanseynz and Whowantsout for leaving a comment :)
StarryEyes2000: Thank you for commenting! I'm glad to read your insights :)
Tanseynz: Certainly, I believe that some things never change. Amanda and Sarek facing backlash for living their lives is sadly based on how the media in my native language treat women and celebrities. Sarek's stress levels will increase from now on. Thank a lot for commenting!
Whowantsout: Thank you so much for commenting :)
Thanks for reading and stay safe!