Bond
"We share a bond," Sarek declared solemnly, refusing to look his family in the eye.
His mother exhaled almost quietly, but he could hear her disappointment loud and clear as if she had screamed even though she remained stoic.
Sarek was aware of the implications.
He had put himself in a gruesome situation, bonding with Amanda despite being aware that it was against all logic or common sense. He had done it encouraged by impulse and raw emotion. He had allowed his feelings to cloud his judgment, which was unacceptable and a serious transgression within his culture.
Silek was observing his movements and he knew, that his brother could notice he was unwilling to left Amanda.
"You will regret such decision," Silek stated, as if he were able to hear his thoughts from the other side of the table.
"It may seem that we are troubled by the absence of logic in your decision making, but that is not the case. The reasons why our people do not usually remain in lasting relationships with non-Vulcans are clear, Sarek," T'kin said.
"It is not a matter of prejudice or presumption." Skon stared at Sarek and kept talking, "Surak—in his teachings—, emphasizes the importance of respecting diversity and tolerate the differences of others. However, you must understand that this type of uncertain union implies danger for your physical integrity, as well as hers."
Sarek looked down at the empty bowl of Plomeek soup next to him, as he heard and reflected on his parents' words.
"If uncertainty is dangerous—even among us—, can you imagine what uncertainty can bring to you and to an innocent woman who does not understand what she has become involved in?"
There was a pause, as if they expected him to say something or show some sign of agreement.
All he did was exhale quietly.
"It can be undone," Skon said, breaking the silence.
Such suggestion horrified him and he felt threatened. Severing a marital bond was one of the most traumatic experience a Vulcan could endure and Sarek did not wish to live that horror himself.
"What is your choice?"
He looked at the three of them, hoping they would give up all that. The determination of his family radiating through the bond of mind they shared felt like a scorching burn in the back of his mind.
His stomach twisted.
Accepting the invitation had been a mistake, although refusing it would surely have been a loss as well. In either case, he lost out.
"Long life and prosper," he said back, holding the ta'al in farewell.
Although he showed no emotion, he did feel his shared bond being torn apart. Everyone present had felt it, but none of them let it be seen.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
The car he traveled a few kilometers before Sarek could finally wake up from his lethargic state.
The sensation of unreality had completely faded away, leaving behind utter confusion and incredulity. At the beginning, he thought he would break in front of his family and would prove them right. Nonetheless, in an unexpected turn of events, he had held himself decently enough to coldly make his election hear.
He had left and now, he was disowned.
"Ambassador," Varek's quiet voice broke his concentration.
"Yes, Varek?"
"You are trembling," he voiced out loud with a stiff expression, and then added, "Are you ill? Do you require medical assistance?"
Sarek clenched his fists, trying to contain the tremor in his hands, but it wasn't working. He soon realized that he was shivering because he was feeling overwhelmed by the recent exchange.
A wave of shame hit him.
That kind of reaction was common... in Vulcan children who had yet to learn to regulate their emotions. He was not supposed to react that way, and the fact that his aide could notice it made him feel exposed and humiliated.
"No," he answered.
There was a moment of silence, where Sarek remained still while Varek observed him as if he was trying to figure out what it was actually happening to him.
"Emotionality is part of our nature, Ambassador," Varek said, turning to look at the window.
Was he trying to comfort him? Sarek wondered while he blinked, confused.
"Indeed," he agreed.
It was, but they weren't supposed to show it freely.
That's how things were and would continue to be.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
T'Mirek had been observing the device on the counter of the kitchen since she had arrived to her apartment.
It wasn't late to put it back where she had found it.
Still, she felt the need to take a look. Mostly, because she was curious what it was important enough to hide it inside a mattress.
No matter what, she had already crossed a line by taking the phone to someone to unlock it. Perhaps, taking a look at the content of the phone wouldn't do any harm.
The main door of the apartment opened and she assumed was Varith arriving.
"Varith."
She looked up for a moment to acknowledge Varith's presence and when back to watch the phone lying on the counter, unable to decide.
"Are you well, T'Mirek?"
"Yeah, I am."
"What are we supposed to observe?" he asked, confused.
T'Mirek was absorbed by the device, deeply concentrated on thinking what she should do next.
"I found this phone in Velekh's apartment," she said in a quiet voice.
"This device doesn't belong to him."
"I know."
Varith took a seat next to her.
"What do you want to do?"
"I have no idea," She said in a quiet voice. "It is prying into personal belongings ever justified?"
"Under certain circumstances it is understandable."
It wasn't.
"I feel like…I don't know. I've become too emotional, when I used to be the most logical of us. You were the one who wanted to leave and I know that without you, I would've endured a life of misery in Vulcan for the sake of tradition."
Varith took the phone and examined it.
"You still are," he answered. "You were correct about the way I was approaching Velekh's disappearance."
"I'm not sure anymore."
"I do not understand why finding this device troubles you to this extent."
"It was hidden in his mattress and locked. I went to his neighbor's place and he helped me out with that."
"Pardon?"
"What is so important to keep it hidden like that?"
Varith reflected on this while observing the device.
T'Mirek felt conflicted about the situation, but curiosity made her want to take a look.
Varith had tried to get rid of that feeling that it was his duty to find his friend and relegate that task to the authorities as T'Mirek wanted. The appearance of that phone rekindled his thirst for answers about Velekh's sudden disappearance.
"There is only one way to determine it," he said, without taking his eyes off the cell phone.
"I don't know if I want to know."
He stayed silent.
"But you do want, don't you?"
She looked at him, knowing how much he longed to see the content.
"I do," he admitted in a quiet voice.
"So, you look and tell me what's in there."
Without waiting another second, he picked up the phone and searched.
"What do you see?"
"Phone numbers."
"Anything else?"
"In the gallery there is a photo of a landscape of our planet and another one of a baby sehlat. Just that."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, the rest of the cell phone is empty," he said, still holding the phone in his hands, scrolling through the numbers. "The contacts don't even have names of people, just a number in Vulcan. One, two, three..."
T'Mirek noticed the disappointment in his eyes and was puzzled by it.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Amanda scraped the remains of sardine from the can with eagerness.
She was hungry and canned sardines had never tasted that good. Especially with a steamy cup of recently brewed coffee.
She looked up once there was nothing left and placed the empty can on the counter.
Her mother, Tabitha, was visiting for the first time in months. On the regular, Amanda was the one who would drive all the way to her house to visit. Whenever she had invited her mom to visit her at her house, something had emerged or she was suddenly preoccupied.
Amanda suspected that Tabitha was there only because Sarek was off-world.
Her mother, as almost every member of her family, wanted to interact as little as possible with Sarek. Despite they had never voiced out loud that position, their actions were enough to deduce it.
"There's no food in this house," Tabitha stated in disbelief, closing the refrigeration unit at once. "When was the last time you bought groceries, Amanda?"
"I don't know. A week and a half ago," muttered Amanda.
Lately, she wasn't in the mood to go out and get groceries. The simple task of putting on something to go outside seemed exhausting and not worthy at all. Everything she wanted to do was to hide until the world was quieter and friendlier.
"You need to eat better food than canned, processed stuff," she said, scandalized eyeing the empty can of replicated sardines in tomato sauce.
"It's not that bad, mom."
Tabitha turned to face Amanda, who had been watching her hovering around the kitchen. She was evidently annoyed by something Amanda was not aware of.
"What?"
Tabitha gestured the entire place with her arm. Amanda realized that the living room was an utter mess and she hadn't bothered to take care of the place since the cleaning employees had been there.
"Amanda… Are you okay?" she asked her as he held her by the shoulders, as if the slightest touch would break Amanda to pieces.
"Of course I'm okay," she replied. "Everyone has lazy days, mom."
"You've changed a lot since you got married… Your sister and I are worried about you."
"I'm the same person, mom. My current life is not that different," Amanda replied with a smile. "Actually, isn't different at all."
"You left your job," Tabitha pointed out.
Amanda closed her eyes for a moment, deducing where Tabitha wanted to lead the conversation.
"Mom, we've talked about this," Amanda replied, slightly annoyed. "I explained to you why I took that decision. I had to quit because it was no longer possible for me to stay there after all of this went public."
Tabitha puckered her lips and Amanda sighed audibly once she noticed her mom was looking at a picture of her wedding on the wall. The fact it was her favorite picture only increased her annoyance towards the conversation.
"Mom, that decision had nothing to do with Sarek," she insisted, despite being fully aware that her words would make no difference in Tabitha's perspective.
"Are you sure?" Tabitha said, arching an eyebrow.
"Of course I am. It was my decision."
Tabitha crossed her arm in her chest and leaned in the counted, facing Amanda and shaking her head with disapproval.
"Well, I'm not saying he forced you, but-"
"But…?"
"You don't know if he used his… Vulcan magic on you."
"Vulcan magic? You gotta be kidding me."
"I heard that they… the Vulcans, have this mind control powers and when they touch you, they can control you."
Amanda laughed loudly, but her smile quickly faded away.
Tabitha was serious about whatever she had heard about Vulcans and that was discouraging. It was saddening to realize that her family was unwilling to accept the fact that she had married Sarek because she loved him.
"Sarek doesn't control me, mom."
"I brought something for you, Amanda," she announced, and started to dig in her black purse with eagerness while Amanda watched.
Amanda let out a sigh, defeated.
"I printed it for you," she said, offering the paper to Amanda, who took it with reluctance.
Amanda held the piece of paper, exchanging a glance with her mother. She unfolded the sheet and read the head title in bold black letters.
"'I'm in love and in danger. Ten signs of an abusive relationship'. Mom, I don't need any of this," Amanda said, holding the paper. "Sarek's not abusive."
"Amanda, dear… Just… read it," Tabitha pushed with a soft condescending voice.
"Mom, you're misunderstanding everything. He's not anything like this paper says."
Tabitha walked towards Amanda and held her shoulders, looking at her as if she were completely in denial.
"You quitted your job, Amanda. You were very passionate about it! You used to be hovering around the neighborhood pretending to be a teacher when you were a kid. I remember that you said you wouldn't quit after getting married because you are your own person and then, this… he appears and you, out of the blue, left everything behind to be at his service."
"I'm not at his service."
That statement unnerved Amanda.
The press was determined to portray her as either a petty gold digger or a poor woman incapable of taking decisions on her own, sometimes a combination of both. However, her own mother believing that was unbelievable and rather offensive.
"It looks like it. You quitted your job, you barely visit your family, you stopped seeing your friends and when you appear in public, it's always standing by his side as if you weren't allowed to take a single step without his approval," Tabitha countered. "He's taking over you… alienating you from everyone."
Amanda fathomed a smile of frustration.
She had decided she wouldn't be going out to avoid the harassment and protect her mental stability. Now, that was being used by her own mother against her, which felt like a slap across the face.
"It's not like that in the slightest and you know it."
"Any of this reflects well on him, Mandy," she said. "You're here, isolated in this house and where's he? Out there, living his best life and keeping you inside his very well decorated cage with those pointy-eared jailers to watch you."
"Do you want to really know what I'm no longer doing any of that?" Amanda queried, evidently upset.
Tabitha stayed quiet, wearing an expression of pure worry.
"Because people can't be respectful in any way towards me. I went to Elizabeth's place and do you wanna hear what the idiotic prick she married asked me?" Amanda continued with a much more moderated voice tone, to appear less defensive than at the beginning. "He wanted to know if Sarek looks like a human… down there."
Tabitha gasped in horror.
"How can I expect decency from strangers when my own family and colleagues can't hold themselves?"
Amanda took a deep breath, feeling drained and emotionally exhausted. They had had that conversation before with small variations, but the outcome was always the same.
She was tired of hearing the unsolicited questioning and the speculations about her marriage. Amanda often wondered how many years needed to transpire in order to be able to live a common life as a married woman, without rumors of any kind.
"You would rather believe he might be abusing me than accept that you don't want him in the family because he's not your choice of son-in-law."
"We don't have a problem with him, Amanda," Tabitha replied with a tense smile, as if that gesture would make her forget how much the entire family had opposed to her decision to marry Sarek in the first place.
"Oh, really?"
"He's not in his best disposition to be part of this family either."
"I don't want to have this conversation. I'm tired."
"Do you even know what is he doing on Vulcan? Because seems very fishy to me," the woman countered. "He's the Ambassador to Earth, doesn't he? Why is he off-world?
"He's working."
"Hum."
"That's what ambassadors do."
"The Terran Ambassador to Vulcan resides in Vulcan. His job is to stay there as a representative of our planet and people-"
"Earth isn't the center of the universe nor the standard," Amanda interrupted her.
"Did he—at least— ask you to go with him?"
Amanda said nothing.
"Have you stopped to think why, Amanda?"
"No."
"Perhaps, you should ask him."
Ten minutes later, Amanda was alone again.
Her mother had left, but had given her something to think about. She was definitely going to ask Sarek the next time they talked on video chat.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
"…I'd say that Vulcan, it's a planet in conflict. It's hard to accept it, because we look at them as the example of absolutely rightfulness, but the truth is that they aren't as perfect as we thought they were."
"Definitely, yes. Vulcans are humanity's older space sibling. As in life, the older you get, you learn to recognize the flaws of everyone around you."
"They're going through that inevitable phase of cultural change, where a part of the population is openly challenging their own traditional practices. Humanity has surpassed that phase—to a certain degree— and despite, we as a race, are really far away from perfectness… I'd say that we've learned a lot more to tolerate opposition and contrary ways living."
"There was a time where humans vanished everything and everyone that was different. We have the witch hunts, The Inquisition trials, all kinds of persecution practices."
"Just look at the V'tosh Ka'tur Vulcans. They can't stay on Vulcan the time being! It's unbelievable that a planet that it's part of The United Federation of Planets, let alone one of the founding members, allows persecution nowadays."
"I've had the opportunity to interview a few members of the Thon-tor ozhika organization and their stories are terrifying. It's like the Vulcan version of The Inquisition!"
"That assessment is illogical."
"Uh, what?" Scott stopped to mindlessly eat his small plate of French fries and turned to meet Varek's eyes. "Did you say something?"
Regardless how much Scott believed Varek disliked him, he still was always around when he intended to eat.
"It is illogical what your human fellow has said," Varek repeated, calmly. "Vulcan it is not a planet in conflict as they assure."
"Oh."
V'tosh Ka'tur were a controversial topic in Vulcan.
He found Varek's point of view as dismissing and tone-deaf since the hostility towards non-Surak followers was well-known.
Otherwise, Earth wouldn't be full of disowned Vulcans.
"There is no persecution. Suggesting that Vulcan mirrors human illogical doings, it is misguided and hyperbolic," Varek stated in a cold voice. "It is pure projection."
Although they were not expelled, the reality was that they could not reside in peace on the planet. Eventually, leaving Vulcan was the optimal choice, if they aspired to decent lives where their mere existence was not a constant reminder of what Vulcans disliked about their own very nature.
"Perhaps we are not that different, Varek," he teased him feigning an innocent tone.
"I disagree," he replied in a serious tone, taking a sip of his glass of water.
"Well, people are entitled to their opinions," Scott replied, adding more ketchup to his already soggy fries.
Varek glanced down to his election of food and he almost could tell how disgusting the Vulcan found the fact he was eating using his hand.
He immediately grabbed a fork after cleaning his hand with a napkin.
"Free speech exists. You can think whatever you want, no matter how stupid others think it is for others," he added casually.
Varek stopped to observe him trying to catch a French fry with the fork.
"Only because a small group of Vulcans assures they have faced persecution, does not make it true. Also, anecdotal experiences tend to focus on personal perceptions and emotional conclusions."
He bit his tongue.
His need to point out the lack of logic in denialism was powerful, but arguing wasn't appealing to him.
At that moment, he wondered why would Varek take a job where he was forced to be outside of the bubble he was born into. Specially, since he seemed defensive and dismissive of everything that wasn't part of the Vulcan Way.
"The universe forbid diversity of opinion."
Varek remained quiet, directly looking into Scott's eyes.
Perhaps, he had gone a little overboard with that remark. It was apparent that he was being labeled as intolerant and prejudiced.
"Anyway, it's none of my business," he said almost in a whisper.
"Precisely," Varek concurred, "'None of your business'."
Scott slowly nodded and laughed as if he was supposed to find such reply as humorous, only to receive an arched eyebrow from Varek.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Coroner Josie Vázquez had sent the autopsy details to Officer Mara Saavedra the day after their visit to Laikan. Turned out that the deceased Vulcan and the missing one were not the same person. Which wasn't as surprising for Wyatt as it was for Saavedra.
Wyatt had seen a few pictures that the friends had attached of the guy and they were different from groups. He would categorize them as somewhat hostile towards each other, because they were located on opposite extremes of the spectrum of Vulcans. A Vulcan like the victim wouldn't be around a bunch of V'tosh Ka'tur embracing Terran customs and disregarding traditional Vulcan values on the daily.
Also, he had asked Drew for a little bit of help after realizing they had almost no information about the victim.
Fortunately, someone had reported a Vulcan man with the same characteristics.
"Good morning."
"Look at this," Wyatt said with his PADD on his hand and an enthusiastic expression once he saw Saavedra arriving with a steamy cup of coffee. "The clerk was right. His name's Vorik."
Saavedra's eyes widened and put the coffee on her desk.
"Vorik…st'sss… I can't pronounce that."
"Me neither. Vulcan last names are difficult to pronounce for off-worlders," he explained.
Saavedra sipped her coffee.
"I wanna hear everything you've got."
Officer Wyatt took a seat and started to read the information in his hands, "He lives in an apartment in Nod Hill in a building called Interstellar."
"Where did you find this? A few days ago we had nothing aside from a picture in bad quality and a common Vulcan name," she queried with a smile.
"Drew found it when I told him about our case."
"We're so lucky that your husband works on the missing person's department."
"Yeah. He saved us that week and a half of them not wanting to cooperate and us insisting until they gave us the information."
Saavedra's PADD chimed and she took it, to open the file with eagerness.
The file displayed three pictures, two headshots with a very professional-looking as if were taken in a studio and full-body one. She zoomed in in the full-body one, where he seemed to be in some sort of social gathering, surrounded by a group of people.
"Who reported it?"
"His co-worker, Nila Halkyone. She reported him as missing three days ago," Wyatt said, reading the information from her PADD and pointing out a middle aged woman in the one of the pictures.
"It looks like she's important. She's the only human there," she said. "Where did he work?"
"Lake Hotels & Restaurants Group."
"I can't imagine a Vulcan working in that kind of industry," she said. "I know that customer service can be overwhelming. So it's probably a little less pleasant for such calm people. Customers can be jerks just because they think paying gives them a pass to be one."
"You make it sound like he was the waiter at some restaurant where spoiled rich guys hang out. But he wasn't," Wyatt replied. "This place where he was living is not cheap. And according to the Andorian guy in the store, the victim spent his money like it was Black Friday every day.
"Where it's located?"
"In the Financial District," Wyatt answered. "It's a company dedicated to hotels, spa's, resorts, among other kinds of customer services. According to what I found on the internet, it's all over The Federation."
"It makes sense. Union Square is to the south and the Financial District is on the east of Nod Hill."
"What do you wanna do first?"
"Let's get an order for the apartment and you speak with the co-worker first."
"Sounds great."
"I'll do the paperwork."
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
"Mrs. Halkyone will talk to you in a minute, Officer," the young receptionist said and Wyatt bit his tongue, repressing his need to reminder her that he had been waiting 'a minute' for over twenty minutes.
That waiting room alone was a lot more expensive than everything he owned.
His eyes examined the place in an attempt to lessen his increasing boredom.
The decoration was minimalistic and simple. Except for the intricate design of the background of the company's logo in a font he found strange. Perhaps, that detail was just a novel decorator trying to be original and pretentious by using a non-Terran font as an aesthetic.
"Are you here for the interview as well?" The man by his side asked.
Wyatt exchange a confused look with him, until he finally understood the question, "Uh, no."
The stranger exhaled relieved.
"Oh. I thought you were here to take a job. I'm glad I don't have to compete with you. I can't believe I'm here," the man continued talking, more for himself than to Wyatt. "I'm sorry. I'm just a nervous wreck. I tend to speak a lot when I nervous… I'm very nervous right now."
"Are they hiring?"
"Yeah. There are plenty of vacancies now," the man explained. "From sous chef to top positions like-"
"…the one you're applying to."
"Yes."
"Mr. Renard," the receptionist called in a monotone behind the counter.
The stranger almost jumped to stand up, adjusting his tie with excessive force.
"Oh, that's me."
"Good luck, buddy."
"Thanks."
Wyatt sighed once the man was out of sight.
He was frustrated.
The case wasn't exactly going anywhere and he suspected it would end up being another unresolved case with unsettling details. One of those disturbing mysteries he would regret not figure it out later in life, like many officers.
He had spent his night reading the file and watching the victim's pictures. Which would normally say a thing or two about who they used to be, but he couldn't tell anything about the Vulcan.
Those photographs only indicated that he had once been alive and nothing else.
"Officer, Mrs. Halkyone is waiting for you in her office."
"Thank you."
The hallway that connected the waiting room with the woman's office was long and as far as he could see, there were a few empty offices.
He stopped in front of an opaque glass office and softly knocked on the door.
A middle-aged woman opened the door, wearing a subtle smile. She was the same person who was standing by Vorik's side on the group picture attached to the file.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Halkyone."
"Officer Wyatt, welcome. Please take a seat," She said, gesturing the chair in front of her desk. "I apologize for the waiting."
"It is no matter."
She forced a smile and stayed silent.
"I've got a few questions," Wyatt stated awkwardly.
For some reason, the silence inside the office and the clinical appearance of the place was unsettling.
"He's dead, right?
Wyatt stopped to look up.
"Uh..."
"That's why you're here, don't you?"
"How do you…?"
"You are not from the missing person's department.," She pointed out.
"He was found in the bay," he admitted with a solemn tone.
The same one he used every single time he had to communicate such news, to the people who had known the victim.
The announcement didn't seem to impact her in any way. As if he were talking about the weather and not about someone she had interacted with on a daily basis.
"Hum."
"Why have you decided to report it now?"
"Protocol," she answered calmly. "I assumed he had a valid motive to not show up at work. When you're in the top—like me or like him—you can do pretty much whatever you want and nobody's ever gonna question you if you get the job done on time."
Perhaps, the fact that the victim was Vulcan was also the reason that nobody had questioned his absence. Vulcans were perceived as rightful beings devoted to their duties.
"How was your relationship with Vorik?" he prompted.
She leaned in her chair and her eyes focused on the view.
"To be honest, I don't know pretty much anything about him. Vorik was very Vulcan in that regard," she started to explain, letting out a deep exhalation as if making memory was difficult. "He never engaged in any of the social protocol nonsense. No small talk on the elevator, no polite questioning about personal life matters he didn't care about or that nonsensical friendly bullshit everyone here on Earth wants to pull out to appear polite. That's why I liked him as a co-worker… I cared about his personal life as much as he cared about mine."
"Did you notice anything before his disappearance? Did he say something unusual or act strange?"
"Hum, I would say no. He was always… consistent in his demeanor. He was the kind of man who didn't seem to be easily moved by anything or anyone."
"Was he close to anyone here?"
"Maybe his assistant, but I don't think it was personal in the least."
Wyatt wrote it in his PADD while the woman observed the stylus pen moving in his hand.
"May I speak with his assistant?"
"He hasn't shown up for work since before Vorik's disappearance," she explained. "We did not hire another one at his request. He said it wouldn't be necessary the time being and that he would then take care of hiring someone, but I guess he didn't get around to it or didn't want to."
Why would she know that information if they were not close? It sounded like the kind of thing someone would complain about with a colleague in the elevator or in the hallway.
"Did he mention any reason why this assistant left so precipitously?"
"No, he didn't say anything and I don't think he knew much more than I did," she replied. "I heard one girl complain that Vorik had granted Storik a few days when she had been denied a paid leave to vacation in Florida. I asked Vorik about it, but he told me that Storik had returned to Vulcan without saying anything."
That was unusual.
A job abandonment was something that didn't happen without a good reason behind it. A Vulcan abandoning a job and duty without reason was hard to believe. However, judging by what she said, it didn't seem that she or Vorik really knew why the assistant had left.
"When was the last time you saw him?"
"At work, like a month ago. I'm not sure. He was here and we exchanged a few words, but I didn't actually pay attention. It was a like every other morning for me. I didn't think that would be the last time we would see him alive."
It made sense, though.
He didn't seem like the kind of person who would be the victim of a crime of passion. Perhaps, he was not related to the temple incident. The only reason they believed there was a connection was that extravagant robe that was a product of the traditional intricate couture of another planet.
Still, the theory about the uniforms bothered him more than he would like to admit.
"There's any dress code here? Like a uniform or something of the sort?"
The woman seemed to find that inquiry strange, but amusing because she half laughed.
"Of course not. We are to wear formally, but the company is very vague about it since plenty of people from different cultures and planets work in our establishments. The dress code directly depends on which planet you are."
The sound of someone knocking on the door attracted Nila's attention.
It was the receptionist standing at the doorway, holding a folder in her arms.
"Come in," she indicated, making a hand gesture to emphasize her request.
"Mrs. Halkyone, the applications you requested."
"Thank you, Lila."
The phone in the desk started to ring quite loudly. She smiled and got up, taking the device, and walking towards the door.
"Oh, excuse me. I really need to take this call, Officer."
The assistant placed the printed applications on the desk. Wyatt stayed quiet in the chair, observing the woman speak trough the phone.
The young woman had left the application close enough to pry from his place.
The small rectangle in the corner or the first application was the picture of a very young Vulcan male.
Tavek
Wyatt settled back into his seat, unlocking his PADD once he heard Mrs. Halkyone's high heels in the hallway, walking back to the office.
"I apologize, Officer," she said, entering the place.
"No problem."
She smiled at him and arranged the papers before placing them in a drawer in her desk.
"Vorik and I had this in common, Officer. We both found something special in the old fashioned paper."
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Sarek knew someone had been inside his room.
Every item in his room was not in the exact position it was before he left. However, his belongings weren't placed on a completely different location either, just a few centimeters away from the original place.
Roughly, five centimeters to the left.
His eyes ran through the room.
He opened the closed, noticing the same phenomenon. All his robes were slightly moved with precision, which annoyed him.
He sighed audibly and started to return his clothing to the original position.
The irritable sound of the high-pitched phone on the wall attracted his attention.
"What is your choice?"
"Pardon?"
"What is your choice?"
"Father?" he asked, holding the phone firmly.
The line went silent and he carefully hung up, while taking a seat on the edge of the bed.
He didn't sleep that night either.
In the morning, everything was back in place because he had spent the night rearranging every object or item in the room. After a brief moment of observing the room, he was disturbed by how much that event brought him inward reassurance after realizing that he had wasted valuable hours of sleep on something lacking in logic.
Ⱄ Ⱄ Ⱄ
Scott had waited and waited, but the file only changed once since he noticed that someone had edited it in his name.
The Vulcan punctuation symbol disappeared not so long after he noticed that it was there. Despite he was certain that the text would be modified as soon as he shared it with Varek, it didn't.
Ambassador Sarek still hadn't mentioned anything about it, but he was sure that Varek had accused him a while ago. He could only speculate about what the Ambassador would think about it. He wanted to drop the topic, but the reality was that Varek seemed to be there to get him fired.
The last night, after Varek and Sarek came back from whenever they had spent most of the day, he had heard the generic Terran rooster sound he had as a ringtone. Later, his mother scolded him through video chat for not answering her calls.
He was certain he had heard his phone ringing in the hall at least twice, but he wasn't sure.
Actually, he wasn't sure about what exactly was happening around him and that was the issue. Perhaps, he was starting to make stupid conclusions based on nothing, because he felt unsettling how everything seemed to have gone to hell since they arrived to Vulcan.
He had already bought a new phone, but he wanted his old one back. He had stored there plenty of personal pictures he didn't transfer to any other device and the sole prospect of Varek scrolling through his private memories was embarrassing at best.
Varek was taking breakfast with Ambassador Sarek, and Scott was completely sure he wouldn't be back with a considerable amount of time. Of course, Varek wouldn't lose the opportunity to breath the same air that Sarek.
He had excused himself and walked back to the floor where their rooms were located.
He leaned in the corner of the elevator far away from the doors.
A very stupid idea had started to take over his mind the last couple of days, after he remembered the existence of a few photos he had been taken in a prominent state of inebriation, at a time when public self-humiliation seemed like a great idea— and mildly reasonable—if fun was the reward for it.
He wanted to break into Varek's room and search for his phone.
The elevator doors opened wide.
From there, he could observe the lonely main corridor of the floor. At the end, the Ambassador's room was located, and on either side of it, were Varek's room and his room as if they were guarding it.
He started to walk and stopped in front of the door of Varek's room, observing the electronic doorknob, wondering how he would break into it.
"Good morning," the voice of a Vulcan man with a flawless Standard greeted him.
He was standing on the opposite side of the corridor, despite how clear he had heard his voice.
"Good morning," Scott replied.
The man didn't answer and turn on the vacuum cleaner in his hand. He was a part of the cleaning staff, according to the uniform he was wearing.
He was about to go into his room and spend the next five hours in front of the computer, putting aside his desire to break into his co-worker's room when he heard it again.
That annoying generic sound he had designated as his ringtone.
He sharpened his ear and could hear it again, muffled by the door. He was not sure exactly where it was coming from, but it must have been Varek's room, as the others were empty and sealed off. No one was supposed to be there for safety.
Scott looked at the doorknob and then his eyes went back to the Vulcan man who had returned to cleaning the orange carpet covering the floor.
"Excuse me, sir."
"Do you require any assistance?"
"Hum… I forgot my access card inside my room. Could you open the door for me, please?" he asked in Vulcan.
The man nodded. He saw him turning off the vacuum cleaner and reaching a small card access he had in his pocket, while walking towards the human.
Scott gestured the room and stepped aside.
The employee examined the door and locked eyes with the him for a long minute. He tried to look as innocent as he could, as if he weren't attempting to break into a co-worker's room.
The Vulcan shook his head slowly and he added in a quiet voice, "Not your room."
He observed how the employee unlocked his actual room.
"This one is your room."
"They look all very similar, don't they?" he added with a tense smile. "Thank you."
"I come to serve."
"Your service is appreciated."
He went into his room and reproached himself for the rest of the day.
An apology for the delay.
There were many unforeseen events, but I am happy to return with a slightly longer update than usual!
I've never been to the States, let alone San Francisco. I'd like to say since I'm foreign, some details about the actual city where this story takes place may be inaccurate.
I wish happy holidays to those of you who are celebrating. Best wishes and stay safe.
See you next year! Thanks for reading and being here, I really appreciate it.
Special shout out to StarryEyes200! Thank you very much for commenting!
I appreciate you following the story and commenting. I appreciate it very much. Thank you for being so kind :)