Hesitation

The Andorian Ambassador to Vulcan had decided to celebrate the anniversary of the first diplomatic mission to Vulcan. The tension both planets had endured for years and years had finally culminated on a symbolic gesture of peace, exchanging traditional gifts in a very well documented ceremony on common ground.

Scott glanced around the egregious room.

The compound was supposed to be a garden, but it was surrounded by a structure of clear floor-to-ceiling windows with a subtle blue tint that offered protection against the extreme sun's heat of Shi'kahr and had a very low temperature. It was like being inside a well decorated crystal clear refrigerator.

That day, Sarek only required one aide and Scott had volunteered to escape the monotony of being seated for hours typing and reading while Varek had stayed at the Galaxy Inn. So he would be free of his annoying and know-it-all attitude for a few hours, which felt liberating. That and the fact that he was always fascinated to witness alien cultures celebrate, it was always a display of a handful of the most characteristic aspects of a group of people. What a culture decided to highlight and continue to pay tribute, revealed a lot about their values as a civilization and involved aspects as customs, traditions and etiquette.

He had entertained himself looking every aspect, from the delicate decorations to the pieces of art elaborated in a traditional style, displayed in the main hall, depicting the entire storyline between Vulcans and Andorians, from the conflict to the peace agreement. He glanced around and stopped in the vision of Ambassador Sarek having a conversation with Ambassador Jharaah.

Ambassador Sarek's behavior was unusual.

Of course, he was never exactly the kind of person that would feel the need to be friends with his boss, but two years were sufficient time to get to know someone. Regardless of how impersonal their interactions were and he had the perception that something was affecting him that was obviously disturbing him to an extent that it was visible for everyone.

Sarek was usually quiet, but was perceptive of the world surrounding him, interjecting only when it was wise to do so. However, lately he resembled uncharacteristically absent-minded and as if as the days elapsed, his attachments with the real world were beginning to weaken and shatter and he were completely unaware of that. Scott recognized small details that were a signal of distraction that he had never seen before in a Vulcan, let alone Ambassador Sarek, as untied shoes, misplaced accessories and that time on the elevator where he seemed to be struggling to remember the floor where their rooms were and he had to correct him for selecting the wrong one.

The event ended around 4:00 PM.

The car had delayed and he had to stand awkwardly in silence next to Sarek, who had an expression of weariness. He looked from the corner of his eye, he was sighing and wearing that micro expression of what he had cataloged as restlessness.

"After you," he said when the car appeared and Sarek locked eyes with him.

Once they were inside the car and ready to come back to the Galaxy Inn, the ambassador looked back at him and leaned against the window, exhausted and dread as if all his vital energy had left his body.

"Ambassador… are you okay?"

No answer.

Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ

"Sarek," Amanda said once she appeared on the screen, waving her hand with enthusiasm.

"Ashayam."

Her beautiful and bright smile made his growing tension relapse for an instant. They hadn't had the opportunity to speak the previous days and hear again the voice of Amanda felt comforting.

"I miss you," she stated. "I've missed you so much. I've been waiting to call you, but I didn't want to bother you because I know how busy you are. How are you? Are you having fun on Vulcan?"

"I have miss you as well," he admitted, "…very much."

Amanda smiled broadly in response to that declaration. That day, he was overly emotional and he felt lonely. The world he had known as his home for his entire life resembled too distant and foreign. Sarek found himself wanting to leave immediately the planet and return to Amanda's side, but he had to fulfill his duties as an ambassador and was not possible to just leave without any logical motive.

"I'm so happy to see you. You have no idea how lonely I've been feeling without you around," Amanda added and her voice switched from the initial enthusiasm to a muffled intonation that he recognized as sadness.

"There is something troubling you," he said matter-of-factly. "Speak your mind."

Amanda lowered her eyes and flashed a smile devoid of all happiness.

"I wonder… I wonder why everything seems to be against us, Sarek," she said. "The concept of 'you and me against the world' it's too romanticized and… I don't know why most of the people out there, my family, your family… everyone disagrees with our relationship. We are not hurting anyone by being together. It's just… I just can't understand it."

"Their opinion should not be a source of distress," Sarek replied, recycling what he had said prior his departure.

Amanda sighed heavily.

"But it is," she whispered. "I wanted to ignore it, but I can't. I'm not that strong."

Sarek observed her gathering courage to continue talking.

"I just realized that those bastards writing about us has real life implications."

"Amanda-"

"It is what it is," she reiterated with a shaky voice, "It doesn't matter if we wanted it or not, they are voicing out loud what people think about us and that's regardless of how we act or what we say. It's all lies and made up stories, but how can people be sure that isn't true? How can they confirm that I'm not a gold digger or you're a sick fetishist?"

"It is unhealthy to pay attention to that," he insisted.

However, she wasn't mistaken. The logic extremists based great part of their arguments on how his illogical actions reflected on them as Vulcans. Ambassador Jharaah had said they disliked being categorized, by the same people who were criticizing Amanda, as the same kind of Vulcan. Which derived on the politest death threats ever written in the embassy mail.

"I know that it's illogical and I'm being silly by paying attention, but how could I not when it's practically everywhere? My colleagues read those articles and I knew they wanted to ask a ton of questions, people whisper wherever I go, my own family can barely repress their need to ask me about our relationship and I'm upset because I had to leave my job," she countered.

Amanda took an instant to recover the composure, realizing that she had raised her voice unintentionally. When she spoke again, her tone was more controlled, but Sarek could still hear that strain of distress.

"I used to believe that if we behaved and stayed silent, they would get bored, but even the silence gets twisted! That bitch is profiting off me. She's making money offering interviews because we were in the same class. What kind of civilized society allows that? Can you believe it? I don't. Those bastards writing their bullshit only fuels the morbid curiosity of the people around us," she concluded. "I'm expected to be the greatest person. My mom told me that I have to be the mature part of the situation and withstand everything, but… I can't stand anyone telling me that I asked for this and should pretend that I don't feel anything."

Sarek looked how Amanda stroked her own hair with evident nervousness, as she did when she was trying to keep her emotions in check. The shine of sadness and her slightly watery eyes didn't go unnoticed.

"I went to visit my sister because I feel lonely and the idiotic prick she married couldn't let pass the opportunity to ask me…things. He wanted to know if we look… the same."

"The same," he repeated, not understanding what she meant.

"You know… down there," she clarified. Amanda's cheeks turned red from a mixture of anger and shame to be questioned about such personal matters.

Sarek blinked in confusion.

Once he got her meaning, a strong feeling of anger hit him. It was unbelievable to hear that someone would even dare to formulate that question out loud. He was truly sorry for what Amanda had to stand shortly after the wedding, their happiness had faded in a sea of disrespectful opinions, negative reactions, speculations and off putting questions motivated by the sick curiosity of familiars and strangers.

"I'm deeply sorry, Amanda," he managed to say.

There were no words he could say to disperse the distress she was feeling. He wished things to be different for both of them, but it was beyond their control how outsiders decided to act. He caught himself feeling violent, frustrated and powerless.

"That doesn't change what I feel for you," she said and her voice softened. "I love you."

Sarek wanted to tell Amanda about the recent attempt of his father to contact him, but it wasn't his intention to upset her further, so he didn't. If something relevant happened during that visit, he would communicate it later, when the time was more appropriate.

"As I do, Ashayam."

"I gotta go. It's late here and I need to sleep."

Amanda's side of the line went silent and he realized how empty the room was, while looking his own reflection on the black screen.

Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ

Varek was far away from the limits of the Galaxy Inn for the rest of the day and out of Scott's sight for his relief. He craved a much-needed break from Ambassador Sarek's number one fan. Even if that meant that he would be trapped alone inside his room working.

Probably, Varek was finally fulfilling his fantasy of having Sarek for himself without him around. Varek had proven that he deeply respected Ambassador Sarek from the very beginning. His constant hovering and that very subtle—but still noticeable—fascination he seemed to feel every single time Ambassador Sarek had poured his full attention to him.

Nonetheless, it wasn't like anything he had ever witnessed before and he couldn't be sure if Sarek was completely oblivious, absorbed by the busy schedule or if it was something common in their culture. Varek was considerably younger than most of the personnel at the embassy, he was twenty-six standard years, but he was pretty much a child since Vulcans matured slower than humans. Perhaps, his behavior was something usual within Vulcan culture, no matter how many years he studied their language and devoured every paper that contained the minimal information about their way of living, as the hermetic people they were, there was always something he wasn't aware of. Unlike humans, who had most of their cultural practices, history and languages open to whoever was interested enough to learn about them. Vulcans valued secretiveness and humans were pretty exhibitionist compared to the Vulcan natural inclination for privacy.

Had Varek been human, he would think that he had some kind of crush. The man was always hovering around Sarek like a puppy and Scott was pretty sure Varek had complimented the Ambassador's choice of robe once. But no, Varek was too Vulcan for that and he was being a silly human by thinking that.

He laughed to imagine Varek cutting and editing a picture of himself over the face of Amanda Grayson on the leaked pictures of her wedding party with Sarek.

Probably, a consequence of his increasing boredom and lack of agreeable social interaction.

He missed T'suk's presence around, but since she left to become a V'tosh Ka'tur, he had never heard of her again.

It was hard to tell if Varek was being blatantly honest and looked rude for Human standards, but was rightful according to the Vulcan social protocols. At the beginning, Ambassador Sarek resembled so scary and his very presence was intimidating. He used to feel unbearably anxious while interacting with him during his first year at the embassy.

Of course, Ambassador Sarek was conscious of his cultural background—and perhaps the fact that he was married to a human, made easier the situation for both— and he simply ignored his blatant display of emotions most of the time. Scott had a mild encounter with a young Vulcan of his age named Sasek, who worked at the embassy as the science attaché, that seemed almost horrified with his human expressions. He had had the impression that the Vulcan was disgusted by his behavior, but turned out he was only curious and appalled by the contrast of their cultures.

They even used to talk frequently after Scott directly asked him if he found his presence as unwanted. But in that situation, Sasek was never hostile. Scott had misunderstood his stares of curiosity as discreet dislike. Later, Sasek confessed to him that he had never been outside of Vulcan before and he had never interacted with a human on his life before. Which was reasonable since he was the only human working at the Vulcan embassy at the time.

Varek was way different in that sense. He was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt by understanding how unusual and shocking should be to a young Vulcan to witness what it was considered a transgression within his culture on a daily basis. He had disclosed to be born on one of the most conservative provinces of Vulcan and Scott wanted to believe that he had better reasons to be unfriendly than just bigotry.

He had spent the last night thinking about the texts that Varek assured were written by him. He wasn't stupid or naïve. Of course, he suspected that Varek was behind the messed up texts, but still, he had a strain of doubt he couldn't ignore. Varek was a logical Vulcan, and deliberately sabotaging the work of a colleague, was not logical at all. It was not acceptable, even for human standards. Messing with someone else's source of income was disloyal and pretty scummy. If that was the case, why he would bother? They had the same position and were granted the same payment. Ambassador Sarek had no such thing as a main assistant and they had to divide the work equally.

He sighed, starting to type on his computer.

Scott initially thought that Varek had messed up the texts after receiving them, but when he opened the original file on his computer, it was the exact same awfully written text.

However, he had no proof, not even a hint that Varek was the one sabotaging his work aside from his increasing dislike towards him as a person and his perceived hostility. But who else could be? Ambassador Sarek? No, it was the only logical option to think it was Varek's doing.

Would he only want him fired? That was highly illogical and irrational. If Varek required his removal from the position in order to get a promotion, then Scott would understand why he would do something like that. Regardless, he could hardly frame Varek typing inside his room, downgrading the quality of his work to look better in front of Ambassador Sarek's eyes. It just didn't seem right or something that a logic-trained Vulcan as Varek would be willing to fall into.

It made no sense at all.

Then what else could be? Was he tired while committing those mistakes? Was the thin atmosphere of the planet affecting his ability to write properly? Did he need a tri-ox injection?

Maybe, Varek was right and he was tired while he committed all of those basic mistakes.

If he needed to get rid of him, he would need irrefutable evidence that wouldn't be collected on its own.

Scott stared at the screen of his computer, noticing the redline underlining a word in the middle of the text he just wrote.

He had written wrong the word 'ambassador'.

Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ

T'Mirek placed the holopicture she had found on Velekh's desk on the shelf, next to his sketchbooks.

Spending her weekend on an empty apartment that it wasn't hers was not exactly what she really wanted to do, but since Velekh disappeared either her or Varith were really into the mood to do anything or go out. They had been waiting for any information without success. Detective Wallace had said they would be receiving news very soon, but was very vague about what exactly he was referring to. She had been tense and worried since she read an article reporting a Vulcan body floating in the bay, found nearby a recreation area by a man walking his dog. The days only made worse her fears and all kinds of horrible scenarios appeared in her mind. T'Mirek had framed Velekh devoid of life resting stiff on a cold autopsy table after the cold water ripped off his life without no one there to save him, fearful and asking for a help that never came.

She had finished cleaning the dust in the living room, so she opened the curtains to allow some sunlight illuminate the apartment. She had been very reluctant to enter Velekh's bedroom for some reason from the very beginning. That seemed like an even greater transgression than to pry on his personal journals.

The light broke through the window, making its way to the small hall connecting the living room and Velekh's bedroom and she took it as a signal to reunite courage to enter.

She twisted the knob and the door opened slowly with a creak. She exhaled deeply while standing rigid on the doorway with the vacuum cleaner in her hand.

The accumulated dust was visible and she concluded that Varith hadn't been there before her. The room was neat and his fluffy black slippers were nearby the bed, waiting for his return as if he was coming back home at the end of the day like it should be.

The loud vacuum functioning distracted her for a while. Forty-seven minutes after, the room was tidy and dust free. She leaned the vacuum against the nightstand and started to remove the bedlinen, carefully folding the brown padded duvet and then she took off the white sheets. Once T'Mirek finished the task and the mattress was exposed, she noticed a clean cut on the right side.

She left the folded dusty bed linen to look closer to the cut, wondering if her friend would need a new mattress. The hole was wide enough to get her hand inside, so she did it out of curiosity and patted on the small padded space until she felt a solid object surrounded for what it felt like some kind of thick plastic.

She pulled it out. It was a phone and definitely, not the one she had helped Velekh to buy short after his arrival to Earth.

T'Mirek observed in silence the device inside the transparent plastic bag. Nobody would keep a phone inside a mattress for another reason that it wasn't hiding something. She hesitated, because she wasn't supposed to be prying on Velekh's personal belongings, let alone keep whatever she found, but the curiosity was powerful.

She decided she would keep it, so she packed it up the dirty bedclothes for the laundry as quickly as she could and left the apartment.

Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ

Officer Thomas Wyatt finished his third coffee of the day.

His boss had decided that he and his partner would be covering everything relating to the unknown Vulcan and he assigned other officers to the task they had been initially assigned at the beginning of the case.

He had been looking at the pictures taken of the attire of the deceased Vulcan for a very long time, as if he was certain he would discover something about his identity by looking at the picture. Coroner Josie Vázquez had theorized that the clothing was a uniform, but he found absurd that assessment. Wearing the exact same model was something not precisely unusual among Terran residents, since following fashion trends was very common.

That morning he had walked nearby a guy wearing the same shoes and tie as the one he was using.

Nonetheless, he had to agree with her. After an extensive search on every information source they had available about Vulcan culture, he had begun to think that Vázquez might be correct to a certain degree. The modern Vulcan clothing wasn't as expensive and convoluted. The average piece of clothing was a simplified version of the ancient models used on daily affairs and were made in a less traditional manner.

He had examined the clothing and noticed a difference. Yes, the lining was made of Og-elakh sai-tukh, but the color of the main pattern was different to the other samples and, according to his investigation, blue pigment was more difficult to make. That should mean something, since Vulcans tended to add purpose to everything they engaged in, so he was convinced that the variation on the design had a motive.

"Those are some really nice shoes," Saavedra said out loud.

She got closer, placing her PADD in front of Officer Wyatt and zoomed in a picture showing, depicting the internal part of the shoe, where the small logo and the name of the brand was written in a black Terran font.

"High fashion once again?" he asked.

"The idiot my sister married thinks he's better than everyone for wearing expensive stuff like this."

Wyatt narrowed his eyes. He had no idea how he was supposed to pronounce that approximation in Terran script of an Andorian word.

"Lah…ee…kan," he read.

"Laikan," she corrected him. "It's an Andorian luxury brand. At least, luxury enough to uplift arrogant pricks."

Another lavish and unnecessarily expensive election of clothing. Perhaps, it was only logical to look as good as possible.

"Why a Vulcan would wear luxurious Andorian shoes? I thought they had a feud against each other," he asked, confused.

"I don't think Vulcans hold humans in high regard either," Saavedra pointed out. "And good stuff, it's good no matter who's the manufacturer."

"It doesn't seem very logical, to be honest."

"Nothing about this case is logical at all."

"So… Vulcan uniforms and Andorian shoes. Noted," Wyatt added and stood up.

He needed more coffee, so he headed towards the lunchroom. It was empty and he felt grateful for not need to awkwardly stand while waiting his turn.

He placed the cup and pressed the button. The coffee machine started to work and his mind rambled about the few details they had about the Vulcan at the bay.

Every single aspect of that case was extremely unusual. The victims were one of the most confusing parts. It was the kind of case an officer would remember long after being retired for its uniqueness and sordid details.

"Wyatt."

The sound of his last name attracted his attention. He turned to face the source of the voice and saw his boss, Captain Richard Denisse, walking towards him.

"Captain," he said lacking of a better response. Probably he wanted to ask about the investigation progress, which wasn't really that much since they were still trying to extract information from the pictures. "Good morning."

"How's your investigation going?"

"We're still working on it, sir," Wyatt replied and averted his eyes. He had been distracted thinking about the Vulcan clothing that the cup he intended to fill with coffee started to spill out and burned his hand. Out of instinct, he retired the cup and the exceeding hot liquid fell into the white tiled floor.

Captain Johnson lifted the corner of his mouth.

"I'm sorry, sir," he apologized, handling napkins to unceremoniously clean the spilled beverage.

His gaze went directly to the droplets on the immaculate tiles of the floor. A wave of shame burned his cheeks when he acknowledged that his coffee had reached Captain Johnson's black shoes. Probably, those shoes cost a week of his salary, compared to his cheap and simplistic shoes from the sales.

"Stop playing around and get back to work, Wyatt."

"Yes, Captain," he answered.

With a fresh cup of coffee, he returned back to his desk. He allowed himself the indulgence of looking around, observing the busy personnel going in and out. The thwack of their shoes hitting against the floor, boots, Oxford shoes, mostly.

An idea popped up in his mind, as if were a revelation.

"Do we have pictures of the Vulcans at the temple?" Wyatt prompted, once he was back on his desk and placed the cup of coffee where it wouldn't get spilled.

"Yes," she replied, starting to click on her computer without rush. Saavedra opened a file where the pictures of the items were carefully classified. The screen displayed over thirty pictures of clothing and footwear.

"I don't think this is relevant at all," she stated and continued to slide between pictures, giving a quick look after the first six. "They weren't using the same shoes."

"Exactly," he said, almost excited.

"I don't get it. I do believe that this guy had some kind of connection with the Vulcans at the temple, but I don't think we'll find out the nature of their relationship by just looking at their shoes," Saavedra said. "Expensive shoes mean that he was wealthy and probably, had a really good job to be able to spend on fancy stuff."

"The design of the internal lining of his robe was different. It's a little more complex and the colors are traditionally more difficult to produce, which made them expensive for sure, but…"

"But what?"

"I don't think it's just about the money. He had a ton lot of it, but the design could mean that he had a superior position."

"No doubt. These shoes cost like over three thousand credits."

"No, I mean he was… Like some sort of boss. I couldn't find out, because my Vulcan, it's nonexistent, but the colors used to tint the fabric of the past—At least, here on Earth—often indicated the position of someone within the social hierarchy."

"That's makes sense," she conceded, her eyes still attached to the screen of the computer.

"Whoever he used to be… he was important."

Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ

Sarek did not stop to think further about his father's motives to extend an invitation for the end meal until he was being driven to the house he had grown in. It would be a lie denying that he was nervous because of the incoming meeting. Sarek had embraced his fate with all the consequences to come and started to consider himself a disowned member of his clan, accepting that he would never be allowed to come back ever again into the familiar ground. He had felt his family blocking their bonds to him and he expected them to be severed shortly after, but they didn't.

"Ambassador," Varek's soft voice forced him back to the present.

"Yes, Varek?"

"Your pin is misplaced," Varek said, almost in a whisper as if he were telling a secret only to Sarek to hear.

Wearing the pin was another illogical decision. It was a desperate way to validate who he supposedly was in the eyes of his parents and the world. Also, as a gift from Amanda, it made him feel like she was around and present, standing by his side in support.

"Would you allow me to assist you?"

He nodded in response. Put it in the first place had been an unusually hard task and he didn't want Varek to see him trying to fix it with a pair of clumsy, shaky hands.

The younger Vulcan pale hands gracefully directed to the golden shiny pin and gently, with care, placed correctly the accessory. Sarek noticed how Varek paused for the most ephemeral of the moments before facing him with a calm expression that almost resembled delight of some kind, but he was not certain.

"Thank you, Varek," Sarek thanked him.

"I come to serve," the young man said and bowed.

"Varek… Stay close."

"As you wish, Ambassador," Varek conceded and got inside the car.

Sarek stared at the façade of the house.

The house that was the background scenery of his formative years and early adulthood. It was lavish and as sophisticated as he remembered. It was exactly as when he left to serve as the ambassador to Earth. Nonetheless, the more he stared at the residency, the more unbelievable was being back. There was a moment of hesitation where he wondered if it was real and if he was really there. As he walked towards the house and heard the hover car left along Varek, he looked around as he had never been there before. Although, Sarek had grown up running around the garden as a very young child and had learned to meditate inside that property, it felt like a looking someone else inside a very vivid memory that he did not recognize as his own.

"Welcome back, Ambassador Sarek."

How could he forget her voice? T'Leia had practically raised him. An overwhelming wave of nostalgia hit Sarek like a ton of brick, bringing his fussy mind back to the immediate present.

"T'Leia," he said and his voice trembled out of emotion.

"Councilman Skon is waiting in the garden," she informed him.

T'Leia extended her arm, gesturing the way to the garden and, before starting to walk to the indicated part of the property, he simply added, "It was a pleasure to see you again."

He observed the familiar portraits on the wall of the main hall, depicting several generations of members of his family. His eyes focused on the picture of his brother, Silek, standing by the side of the woman he had married four years ago.

Sarek felt absolutely out of place to that image and he was certain that he would never be there along Amanda, his bondmate, as every other member of the clan. His eyes stared at the image of his brother and sister-in-law. They seemed that they had affection to one another and Sarek found their marriage as a pleasant event, which made him resent the fact that Silek had not returned the well wishes.

Probably, his family wouldn't even acknowledge the mere existence of any offspring he might produce in the future. That thought was disheartening, but he understood where they were coming from by taking that position.

Whether he wanted it or not, his actions would reflect directly on them as the logic extremists had assured.

There was no other option, and although he could have left, he didn't because that wouldn't be a logical move on his behalf.

He stopped for an instant at the frame of the circular door that led to the garden, building up the Vulcan façade of calmness and held tightly the restrains of his emotions. His heart started to pound against his will and no amount of concentration was effective to make him relapse. So, he pretended that he felt nothing and stepped outside the house, without knowing anything about what to expect.

Thank you so much reading! I know I've been delayed, but I promise I'll finish the story.

Special shout out to StarryEyes2000 and tanseynz for leaving a comment.

I really appreciate the time you take to read this story. Since I'm not a native speaker it takes me a little more to write a chapter than someone, whose mother language it's English, but be sure that I won't abandon the story. Please stay safe and see you really soon! Let me know what you think about today's chapter.