"Ambassador, you honor me but I am not sure I am qualified. For the past 6.34 months it has been regarded among the staff that you would take on this position." Was Tiv'ak's response. He sat uncomfortably in Sarek's office dressed in a basketball jersey, Earth Embassy Terrors stamped on the back, with mesh shorts. A dark green bruise kept his left eye shut.
"Do you doubt my judgment? Do you think Kal is unsuited to assist you on Excalibia? Or," Sarek raised his brow "do you wish to pursue a career in basketball?" Tiv'ak did not answer as one was not truly expected; Sarek's comment was meant to point out his inappropriate clothes. Though Sarek was left unsatisfied that Tiv'ak didn't give an explanation anyways.
Tiv'ak studied Sarek for a while, turning his eyes towards a few Federation medals hanging on the bottom of the wall behind a Vulcan Orchid. A trickle of blood peaked out of his left nostril as the bruise continued to spread, though so slowly only another Vulcan could note any visible changes.
"I thank thee Ambassador Sarek." Tiv'ak accepted the offer. Both spoke no further and Tiv'ak left after standing aside to allow Kavik past. The other Vulcan sat in the vacated seat at Sarek's desk. Sarek looked across the hall to Kavik's own private office at his estate; he noted a degree of order most would not see in the piles of PADDs, data chips, and—for more traditional species—scrolls about the room.
"Tiv'ak and Kal will be assigned to handle Excalibia?"asked Kavik
"Yes." replied Sarek. Kavik sighed. Sarek responded with a questioning glance.
"Then we are down two staff members though that is one less assignment for you to handle personally. The Algean affair, negotiations with the Legarians, amendments to the Khitomer Accords, redrafting the Apollo Colony charter to comply with Romulan demands, petition to retire Tau Ceti Deep Space Station—" Sarek held up a hand.
"Do you believe me forgetful, Kavik?"
"No Ambassador; but I have observed an increasing degree of irrelevant work being assigned to you directly for the past 2.04 years." Sarek did not challenge his statement.
Kavik slid a PADD across to him. Sarek glanced down to see the profiles of several young humans, starting with an especially arrogant looking man named Ki Mendrossen.
"An earlier request from the federation. Drake Millard is also listed and when we spoke yesterday he seemed pleased at the prospect of working with you again after being fired. As did your other former human aides." stated Kavik.
Sarek considered his words though he did not acknowledge them as Kavik left to continue sorting through the clogs of diplomacy. He felt a heaviness, his logic escaping him slightly as it did often at this time of day for most Vulcans when the sun beat down hottest, like the heat of Pon Farr. He would meditate.
His quarters were bare, his bed the center focal point, conjoined with the dark marble encasing the room. Slipping around, Sarek came to a hidden door and pressed his hand on a keypad cut into the stone. The concealed space served as a closet, the clothes ranging from many uses to many colors. He had worked with several species over his life and was prepared to receive any kind of being into his home no matter their specific customs.
Sarek hung up his current outfit in a row of particularly conservative robes; doing so left him only wearing long undershorts. A small electric candle that had flicked to life when Sarek walked into the room was enough to see the lines in his thinning skin, to see the green veins poking through at his joints. Yet his age still managed to hide mostly behind stiff muscle and a sharp mind. His movements remained fluid even without the guise of his clothes as he went to a shelf occupied by a figurine of Surak and also a lavender tunic and gauzelike pants. He observed the statue with deep breaths before pulling down the clothes to put on.
Perrin watched one of her guards go over to help the man.
"Why did you think he was distressed? The human exhibited no emotional responses that would indicate that." Perrin smiled at this as she kept an eye on the street and thought about the question. It was due to noticing first that man wore a yellow Starfleet uniform, and seeing how he had managed to walk even stiffer than its unyielding fabric. She'd called over her guards staying in the apartment across from hers to help him when he collapsed.
"I think that because he is Starfleet." Perrin rolled her words as though the conclusion was obvious but without arrogance. "And he is rather pale don't you think? Look at me." The Vulcan turned and studied her face. His eyes widened slightly when he spotted the difference.
"His skin looks gray—yours is much pinker. But why would he not signal his distress because of Starfleet? They provide medical care." Perrin smiled even more. The honesty of Vulcan is refreshing, she thought. Surprisingly, to her, it was much harder to hide her emotions around Vulcans. They were the only truthful ones there, she remembered with guilt.
"Humans sometimes feel that they have to prove themselves; that they can handle challenges, so they don't tell anyone when they are in pain. Especially people like him. His position demands something of—" she looked at the antique needlework hanging from the walls as she thought of what her mother had said to her often when teaching her to play violin as a child, "maîtrise de soi."
Her guard did not respond but went back to the small bench in front of the apartment Sarek's distant niece allowed them to use. She was staying at the Vulcan Science Academy. He closed his eyes as though meditating and the officer disappeared in a beam of particles from the street. Perrin hoped they transported him to a Federation hospital.
Though Perrin tried where she could to keep a hold on the world, she still felt disconnected and caged. She disliked it, but Sarek had yet to report back to her guards when she could be allowed outside. He had reassured her that her being allowed to leave was being considered seriously. He had not promised it, however. The thought was accompanied by worry she acknowledged but replaced with more productive emotions.
She went over to her pile of clothes and started folding them up again. She did not want to reorganize the house since the things in it seemed to have their own specific order. So, Perrin folded or hung, and re-folded or took down her clothes to reclaim a sense of control.
Sarek had made it clear, as well as his staff and her guards, they would not comment on an ongoing investigation. But she knew at least who had attacked her; the ensign from the morning of the attack had asked about Algeans when he'd barged in. It could not be coincidence—she held onto that idea.
Perrin had been rushing through whether she knew anything of their species since then but no information on them was in the Federation's public files. The Algeans seemed impossible to trace though it could have just been slang for that species. An appropriate name, she thought wryly. She would have to do a reference check based on physical characteristics, which would require access to a terminal that would support that type of input. Grey skin, pronounced jaws, and a yellow slime that poured off their faces, such features would be easy to narrow down. As long as, she thought, she narrowed her search to exclude mythical demonic creatures. But that would have to wait until she was clear to leave her apartment, which had been stripped of everything technological but a comm and an old food synthesizer.
Perrin finished up her folding and walked to the synthesizer to make the only food that she could pronounce. Also the only thing she'd been eating since arriving, the plomeek soup was now depressing to see with its dull aroma breezing through the apartment.
Outside the guards strolling the streets changed their positions to every 23.4 minutes to alleviate suspicion.
When her guards started to move again, which Perrin noticed as she put back the small earthenware bowl into the kitchen, she saw them all approach her apartment. They were closing around two men, one who she realized was Tim Valor.
Her feeling of paranoia while in the President's Executive Offices paled to the overwhelming amount of it now from seeing him under these circumstances. She searched for some way to escape his approach as Valor and his friend crossed a stone patio to the apartment's entrance.
Running to the guest bedroom to grab her violin allowed her to realize there was another door towards the back of the apartment. It was inside a room with a candle fixture supported by a metal figurine of a Vulcan man holding a chunky candle in each outreaching palm. Two small mats were laid out in front of it. Perrin nearly slipped on one, forgetting to be careful as she swung the door open and stepped out into the shared courtyard.
The space was empty and shielded from the sunlight by a high-up anchored sheet that was stretched between the five buildings meeting around the courtyard.
Another tenant, a young Vulcan man who she hadn't seen—Perrin only knew of an elderly Vulcan lady from two floors above—stared at her as she slammed the door shut. He lingered between a screen off room and the courtyard, finally moving close to Perrin when she looked him over while catching her breath. Fear was still pressing down on her, but she fought it back in front of the stranger.
"Forgive me, are you experiencing distress?"
"I—" she caught her breath and forced a smile, an old coping technique she couldn't help, "I'm fine, thank you." The man didn't press and pointed down to her case.
"What instrument is that? It does not look familiar to me."
"Oh, it's a violin, a stringed instrument." She tried to be polite. "Would you like to hear something?" She tried to make out his expression but his face was angled away and covered by shadow.
The man circled her before replying, studying the instrument.
"I am due at the embassy. If you are fine I will continue there." He lingered for a moment.
"I am Sakkath. Since starting work at the linguistics department in the Federation Embassy, I've found communicating with humans difficult. Will you allow me to study you?" Perrin felt conflicted in how to respond. She couldn't go down there now. She couldn't let on that she couldn't go either.
Sakkath elaborated as Perrin searched for a response. "The next time we are both here, if that is preferred."
"I would very much like that, yes." Perrin replied. Sakkath nodded and left, leaving her with a slight sense of ease and a feeling that her temporary neighbor was very undemanding. Soon though, another Vulcan came into the courtyard from the opposite building, one of her guard dressed in a loose tunic and pants as though he had just been sitting around playing games. There was even a slight green stain on the collar that Perrin couldn't decide was intentional or not.
"Valor has arrived with a message; should I send him back to deliver it personally, Ms. Perrin?"
"No; I'm afraid I'm getting tired." Perrin yawned for effect. "Would you mind telling me what it was about?"
"I believe he desired to deliver the message personally." He responded.
"And I'm falling asleep and sure he as better things to do. Please, just tell me—it would be the most logical thing to do." That convinced him.
"You will be allowed escorted movements around the city with notice and approval to and from the Ambassador's chief of staff or he himself."
Knowing she wouldn't have to speak to Valor, her paranoia fled and was replaced with real tiredness; from fear, from boredom, from the stress of a situation out of her control. She could keep those emotions on a backburner but she could not push them out all the way as normally she could; not when Sarek and her situation were both a reminder of a block of memory she could only avoid remembering to keep from being drowning in it.
Perrin kept a wary eye out for Valor as she headed back in, not entirely trusting him to leave her alone, not when he saw a chance to get something from her. Like when she was young, she thought.
