Alekhine's Gun: A chess move in which a queen backs up two rooks on the same file. This can lead to massive damage to the opponent, and is usually a prelude to the final assault.

For now, updates will be once a week on Mondays. I've only gotten six chapters completed. If you like it, let me know. If you hate it, do the same.

Alekhine's Gun

Chapter 1

The Recent Past

"Drew, I'm still working! Do you have anything better to do other than annoy me?" Amanda Grayson said with a smile as she looked upon the young man in front of her.

Drew Perrymore was her graduate assistant- a role she knew he cherished. It wasn't every day one was able to get close to the famous Amanda Grayson- the most controversial historian this side of the galaxy. Ever since she'd published her seminal thesis, "The Misunderstood Vulcan," last year, she'd had calls and invitations from different federation and civilian councils throughout the quadrant. Apparently, she'd also managed to ruffle some Vulcan logic too when she presented her work at the Interspacial Association of Linguists and Cultural Anthropologists last year.

Has it really been only a year? She mused silently to herself as she once again faced her desk and continued scribbling on her Padd. In such a short amount of time, she'd gone from being just one of many Assistant professors at Berkeley, to having her name and likeness splattered across the galaxy.

She sighed heavily as she signed off on yet another request to be interviewed and politely began working on a rejection of another.

She had students now. Classes to teach. Her thesis had helped her upgrade to a full professorship and tenure. Both came with the added bonus of grad students. And a very generous bonus and travel allowance. She was now busier than she'd ever been.

But unlike most professors who tended to delegate their teaching responsibilities to their graduate students to work on their next publications, she was a hands-on person.

Amanda genuinely enjoyed teaching. She loved spreading knowledge and challenging common-held beliefs. She was anti-status quo.

Which is why she was now here. In her office. In front of her cluttered desk. Sifting through what was quite literally a mound of formal invitations and an even larger amount of requests via phone and PADD. Drew was great in that he helped keep everything straight.

There was a pile of rejections, a pile of tentative acceptances, and another stack of confirmed requests- all ready to be sent back out. And that was not even including the amount of student PADDs waiting to be graded and critiqued.

She swore mentally.

Sure, she'd planned this. Even as a child it had always been her goal to become a teacher- to seek out new knowledge and spread it to the cosmos; to educate and enlighten a younger generation. To search for meaning in things and places that others simply took for granted.

Yet in all that dreaming, she'd never in a million years believed herself to be here. Stuck behind a damn desk.

At 25 she'd achieved far more than she had ever set out to do.

Amanda looked up at her assistant. Drew Perry more was young, handsome and playful. He was a sweet man with a generous spirit, and incredibly intelligent. And even though he was her age, different life experiences and occupational goals made a non-existent age variable expand into something insurmountable.

Suddenly, looking up at his smiling face, Amanda felt…old.

"C'Mon, Mandy. Come to lunch. You can finish those requests later. You need to eat and as your loyal assistant I offer to treat. Feed the boss, so the boss can continue to feed me," he laughed.

And she smiled once again- sharp eyes glancing over at the clock on the wall.

It too was old- no, correction. It was a precious 19th century artifact. The brass hands holding time as easily now as it did 400 years ago.

The second hand gave a tick- as if granting silent approval of Drew's request for food. Her stomach rumbled, effectively silencing any protests she may have wanted to drum up.

"Very well," she replied, turning her attention back to the PADD in front of her.

Her sharp eyes quickly skimmed the contents in front of her. Her mouth curved into a small frown of concentration and a single eye brow rose in incredulity as she read the message.

It was quick and to the point, only a couple of lines:

Dr. Grayson:

The Vulcan Embassy requests your presence at 0900 hours on Stardate 2230.4. Please verify if you will be able to attend, or another date will be scheduled for you.

Sakketh

Aide to Ambassador S'chn T'Gai Sarek

Vulcan Representative to Earth

Drew had already thrown on his jacket and was now holding the office door open.

"Dr. Grayson? Are you coming?" he called from the hallway. Quickly she shut down her terminal. She rose from her station and accepted the jacket Drew offered her.

Her stomach rumbled again- this time much louder and Drew laughed. She smiled as they began walking down the stairs to exit the building.

She must have really been hungry. And as soon as the crisp spring air hit her face, she gathered her jacket closer- the temptation of a hot soup and sandwich suddenly jumping into the forefront of her mind.

Food now. The letter could wait for further examination later.

II

Vulcan Embassy

San Francisco, Earth

Sarek sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. This was not going as he had planned. It should have been a simple task, but dealing with illogical humans was seldom simple- and more often than not, tedious.

As he gazed at the numbers on his screen, he wondered to himself how such a species had not managed to drive itself to extinction.

As Vulcan Ambassador to both Earth and now the Federation, he had access to Earth's financial data- and the numbers were simply astounding.

The planet's spending was astronomical. They spent much more than what they had available and in less than- he did the calculations in his mind- twenty five of their years, the planet would be bankrupt. That placed him in an even more precarious position, because Earth's banker-Vulcan- held the majority of their debt.

This would be dangerous political ground to walk, he knew. But it was his position to alert the humans to the situation, though he had no doubt in his mind that Earth's leaders were well informed as to their financial position.

Still, he had his orders.

Just as he had access to Earth's financial statements, the Vulcan high council did too. His people had invested much into the planet in the 150 years since first contact, to help the Humans along. But they had left Earth to the Humans, not wanting to interfere.

But now that time was now over. The planet's finances were in such a state of disarray that it threatened to cause irreparable harm to Vulcan. The Council- and its high leader, T'Pau- would not stand for this.

There was talk of withdrawing all resources from Earth, which would cripple the planet both economically and politically. It would also weaken the Federation.

Such a thing was both logical and illogical at the same time, and the issue was beginning to split the high council into those in favor of withdrawal, and those who were for reconciliation.

But it seemed, in the old human phrase, "show not tell," that the humans needed to be shown the direness of their situation. After years of warnings, his people's patience for the Terrans to get their financial "house" in order had gone unheeded.

And it had placed Sarek in the middle of what was quickly becoming a very tenuous situation.

His ears picked up the sound of approaching footsteps and he opened his eyes in time to see his top aide, Sakketh, enter his office.

"Osu." Sakketh bowed before him and he gave a small nod of acknowledgment for him to begin speaking.

"The last of the invitations have been sent out as you have requested. We are currently awaiting a response to the queries."

"Very well. Your work is commendable. Please notify me as the responses come in."

The young vulcan turned and exited the office, closing the tall, solid oak doors behind him.

Sarek turned his attention back to his desk and, after keying in a few commands on his PADD, refocused his attention on a different, though still important, topic.

The annual Federation Conference of Scientists was approaching, and it was Vulcan's year to plan and organize.

Though his logical mind could not fathom the idea of favoritism, it was a thing that appealed to his scientific mind. The conference highlighted the various fields of study in which new discoveries and theories had been made and postulated.

A young human female had been especially provocative this year. He had read her file, and at the age of 24- young even for a human- she had achieved far more than several of her contemporaries. And her dissertation on Vulcan culture- while having several inaccuracies- was a far more accurate treatise on the Vulcan way of life than had ever been presented before.

It had managed to shake up the both the Vulcan high council and his mother.

His people had remained silent on its merit. And they would continue to do so. But they could not ignore the interest it had garnered. It would be illogical to ignore the human's work, as it had earned a great deal of interest, both scientific and political, from across the galaxy.

Scrolling down, he began to examine the invitations one by one. There were certainly numerous topics of interest.

It was to take place at the end of the month, and he was sure that all those invited would attend. It was considered a great honor to be able to present at such an event, and an even greater one when it was Vulcan- renown throughout the quadrant for their dedication to the sciences- that was hosting.

Surely no one would turn down such an opportunity.