Author's Note: Much thanks to Aphrodite420, Spockchick and SpockLikesCats and TeaOli for the help with my writer's block. We kicked its ass (and cranked out another chapter too)! Also, I am having problems with this site . It is rejecting my formatting, which is causing really big problems with all of my stories. For readers who want to go back and view previous works, please let me know when you see "Strange formats" so that I can go back and start fixing it. I am currently working on a new way to write my stories that won't be rejected by the site. I apologize in advance for any errors. Thank you.

Alekhine's Gun

Chapter 8

Amanda awoke the next morning on a mission. After highly engaging interviews with Sakketh and Sa'taan, she wanted to tackle the "big fish" himself-the ambassador.

She knew this would take some haggling. Since her arrival at the embassy, they had barely exchanged more than a "Good day" or, in his case, "Live long and prosper." And that had only been in passing. Amanda's office was located on the main floor near the 's was on the top floor with the Embassy Director's office suite, above all the other business offices.

They had settled into a routine of civility.

But she was willing to let it go, if only to learn more. One of his criticisms towards her at the conference was that her research was not based on observable fact. Since he thought that was the case, then her request for an interview was one he could not logically deny.

Still, he just might. If there was one thing she'd learned thus far…logic was a very fluid term. It could be bent and molded to fit one's own agenda. She was certainly using it as a means to an end. The most he could do was refuse her request.

He had requested not to be disturbed. But the steady beep of the communicator screen on his desk showed a stubborn willingness to disobey his order.

"Sarek here."

"Voice only," Sarek commanded. The system beeped as the person on the other end began to speak. But instead of Silek, who would be the individual most likely to ignore his request- or even a member of his staff- a throaty, female voice responded.

"Ambassador, this is Dr. Grayson. After careful consideration and input from my peers I have decided to incorporate more direct sources for my research. You are, no doubt, familiar with my work, considering your previous dissection of my thesis. When are you available for consultation?"

It was not a request. That much was clear. Alone in his office, Sarek quirked an eyebrow up at her boldness.

The human female is crafty indeed.

There had been little interaction between himself and the female doctor since her arrival at the embassy. Their only dialogue had come in passing, though he had sensed she did not like him. He tolerated her for the sake of his brother's diplomatic strategy. Through the embassy grapevine he'd become aware she was conducting interviews with members of the staff for her "research." Though he did not personally favor her work, to decline her request could be seen as an insult and a show of bias. Very well. He would indulge her. But he would not answer questions he deemed invasive. He had an obligation to his people, above all.

"1400 hours will be suitable."

After a bit of silence, her voice responded.

"I will be there. Thank you for your time, Mr. Ambassador."

With that, the office once again fell into silence, and Sarek resumed his work.

.

.

Precisely at 1400 his intercom beeped, disrupting the silence in which he had been immersed.

"Sarek here."

"Ambassador," It was Sakketh. "Dr. Amanda Grayson is here to see you."

He noted her punctuality. Most humans did not run on time, even those in Earth's government had problems with punctuality, tending to arrive between one-point-five to seven minutes late. Sarek had learned during his time on the planet, that over ninety-two point eight percent of businesses and corporations used a "grace period" for their employees. Those arriving between one to seven minutes late were still counted as being "on time." It was a system that confused him greatly. It was no small feat the race had not descended into a state of complete chaos. They could not even keep track of something as simple as "time." Well, at least there was one who could.

"Enter."

He clicked the communicator off and placed the stack of PADDs he had been reading aside. As he was doing so, the doors to his office opened and Sakketh entered, followed by the doctor. He rose from behind the desk as Sakketh lowered his head. He returned the gesture and the young Vulcan left, leaving Sarek and Dr. Grayson alone in the office, face-to-face, for what was essentially the first time.

He strode forward, hands behind his back as she looked around, taking in the severity of her surroundings.

"Ambassador."

He noted the stiffness both in her voice and in her body as he looked down at her. She met his eyes evenly and a tense silence fell between them.

"Dr. Grayson."

Large brown eyes looked up at him, and he noted that she only came to the top of his shoulders.

Human females, unlike Vulcan ones, tended to be much shorter than the males.

Finally, he broke it.

"You may sit."

He took his seat behind his desk. He watched her as she sat stiffly, back straight, eyes focused on him. He leaned back in his own chair, and steepled his fingers in front of him.

"You have requested an audience with me. What is your request?"

.

.

"What is your request?"

She looked at the ambassador closely. Now that they were in his office, doors closed without outside interference, she had an opportunity to observe him up close.

Like other Vulcans, he was impressively tall, and upon greeting her, he seemed to want to remind her of that. Standing so close she couldn't help but look up at him, it was almost a silent display of superiority—something that didn't set well with her at all.

Hubris. He seemed to be guilty of that.

Still, now that he was seated, his face revealed nothing. It was as if carved in stone, but his eyes…they bore into hers, and she stared back. If he thought she was intimidated, he thought wrong!

She squared her shoulders and decided to ask her questions.

"Ambassador, I would like to discuss your earlier assessment of my work on touch and its importance in Vulcan development. You were quite vocal in your dissention on my means of forming hypothesis, yet you did not oppose my theory. I have been observing the embassy staff and I am curious to know your thoughts on a few things. Mainly, how do you view the concept of logic?"

He did not move from his position or give any indication that her question had offended him. And yet, Amanda felt the room around her grow somewhat…heavier. Instead of answering her question, he turned it back on her.

"What are your perceptions of it?"

She was temporarily stumped and blinked a moment in confusion. The tenor of his voice was smooth, and he sat absolutely still, waiting on her response. She pulled herself together, and issued her own retort:

"When it comes to logic, there are essentially three camps. The deonteologist believes an action is morally good because of the action itself, not necessarily the outcome. The teleologist believes the ends justify the means. And the Utilitarian believes there is no "good" or "bad" and that logic in its purist form, is absolute. Which one, Mr. Ambassador, do you ascribe to?"

As she finished her response she watched as he slowly sat up in his chair, and leaned forward toward his desk, once again steepling his hands. He did not as much as blink. Nor did his tone change as he addressed her. However, she felt a chill shoot through her body as those steely eyes, matched an even steelier voice that was neither raised, nor lowered, but made the hairs on her arms stand on end.

"Humans tend to categorize what they do not fully understand. Tell me, Dr. Grayson. Are you attempting to glean more knowledge or, are you looking to support an opinion you have already formed? If it is the latter, then I say it would be both pointless and illogical to attempt to explain something which you are not receptive to receiving, and, which may run contrary to your pre-conceived notions of the subject. Therefore, I am not inclined to discuss this topic with you."

There was an emphasis on the "you" that was both velvety and dark, as his voice dropped an octave on the last syllable. His body relaxed against the back of his chair, and Amanda found herself sitting ram-rod straight, her adrenaline was up, her mind was buzzing, her body, tingling and there was a steady pulsating in conspicuous places she patently chose to ignore.

If he wanted a fight, he'd get one for sure.

"I have noticed for a species that relies heavily on literal interpretations of Earth-vernacular, you seem to enjoy and be quite astute in the practice of artifice. It would seem such actions are contradictory and therefore illogical in their very practice, Mr. Ambassador."

Her brown eyes once again met his onyx ones, and she found herself so pulled in she could see her reflection in their depths. The arid room suddenly felt very, very small.

He stared at her, attempting to divine her thoughts. Her body language suggested stimulation- her dilated pupils, the hitch in her body temperature. Her stance was defensive- her form, rigid and tight…and yet her mind…sharp and acute in its assessments.

He could see his reflection in her wide eyes. In the stillness and silence of the room he looked upon her face, noting the defiant tilt of her chin, the angle of her jaw against the curve of her neck- the muscle straining, and he found himself inhaling, long, and deep - a heady scent he couldn't quite place- familiar…yet different from anything he'd ever known.

"Indeed."

The word was a deep, almost-growl; a statement to the silence, a response to her assessment; An answer to that question yet defined and unspoken.

He watched, as her skin flushed and he could tell she was somewhat flustered.

"I don't think there is anything left to discuss. Thank you for your time, Mr. Ambassador."

He noted the formality of her tone, in accordance with her posture as she rose to leave and he too stood and moved from around the desk to escort her out.

She nodded stiffly at his gesture and he tilted his head in return as he opened the door and she moved past him.

The scent of her filled him as she stopped and turned to face him.

"Your opinion of humans is incredibly low. It is obvious to me you are working under false assumptions. It is not only humans that tend to assume ambassador. We have an expression about that here on Earth. Perhaps you should look it up. Cooperation goes both ways."

With that, she turned and moved into his outer-chamber and towards the doors. They opened with a swoosh, and then, she was gone.

Sarek cast a glance about the room, meeting eyes which instantly looked away under his heated gaze. He turned and closed the doors to his office.

Moving to his desk, he tapped out a command.

"Sakketh—I require solitude. There will be no interruptions for the rest of day."

"Yes, osu."

He removed the suit jacket he wore and folded it neatly across the back of the chair before activating the door-lock and sound proofing commands. Once satisfied, he walked to a small corner of his office and lit the small fire pot, nestled inconspicuously in the corner. He sank down before it and closed his eyes, focusing his mind… and worked to squelch the unnamed sensation radiating through his body.

II

Amanda stormed down the hall, the loose pants she wore billowing about her legs as she walked. Her heels tapped angrily on the stairs, the sound bouncing off stone walls.

She nodded tersely at the staff workers as she moved into the foyer then a sharp right turn to head down a secondary hall, straight toward her office.

.

At his desk, Sakketh waited until the Ambassador's doors were closed and he heard the privacy locks click in keyed in a separate communication code and quickly typed a message, knowing the director had already sensed a problem. Familial bonds tended to work like that.

.

Silek's office comm. unit chimed. He skimmed the contents of the message and frowned. Sitting back in his chair and sighing deeply, he closed his eyes and exhaled. Then he rose, and made his way down the hall.

.

Amanda was somewhere between mortification and fury. For the moment, she deferred to the later.

That arrogant, son-of-a –

The sound of her door chime interrupted her pacing and inner rant, and she stopped walking in her tracks, forcing herself to calm down. She was not a five-year-old child, and throwing a tantrum, even in the privacy of her office, was not becoming of a woman of her position and stature. After she dealt with her visitor, she would leave for the day. Yes…that would be very beneficial to her.

She straightened her shirt and smoothed out the invisible wrinkles on her pants before accepting the entry.

In walked Silek. Instead of the robes he usually wore at the Embassy, he donned a dark, scoop-neck tunic with wide sleeves and loose pants. The material was a dark brown, and slightly iridescent. The tunic was embroidered around the sleeves, collar, and bottom hem.

He looked very…Zen, Amanda thought.

"Greetings, Dr. Grayson. I have come to inquire how your work is progressing. Are you in need of assistance?

He looked at her, and despite all her effort to stay angry, the emotion dissipated. After all, it wasn't him she was mad at.

She moved to her desk and sat down.

"Mostly everything is going well, Silek. I've done a few interviews, and I would like to tell you I am very grateful for this opportunity. I have learned a great deal just from being here these past few weeks."

He listened carefully to her words, hearing the things she said, as well as what she did not say.

"And yet, you said 'mostly.' Have you had any adverse experiences?"

She looked at him with an expression on her face that he couldn't quite read. Her silence confirmed what he already knew.

"I have been told that you met with the ambassador today. I have also been informed that it was not an amicable parting."

"I see news travels quickly throughout the embassy. The ambassador and I have different views on the value of cooperation. The intelligent exchange of ideas should not be a complicated and combative process. I have noticed everyone seems to jump whenever he says anything. Well, I don't, nor will I. I respect his position, but really Silek, he's just so…rude!"

Silek raised an eyebrow at her exclamation but said nothing as she continued.

"I simply wanted to talk with him. I thought he would be receptive to opening a discourse with me. After all, this is the same person who criticized me before. But no. An argument ensued! And over what? He assumed I had ill intentions! He made a presumption about me that was neither accurate nor fair!"

"And did you do the same to him, Dr. Grayson?"

"What?"

She blinked and opened her mouth to speak, when Silek cut her off.

"Perhaps you are both guilty of the same flaw."

"What? How can you say that? You were there at the conference. And I am sure you heard about today's meeting. You have seen his way with humans like me. If I have learned anything so far from being here, it is that the ambassador is a cold, calculating, egotistical-"

Silek raised one hand to interrupt her.

"He is also my brother."

III

Later that afternoon Amanda returned home. She slowly removed her suit jacket and unbuttoned her blouse as she moved across the carpeted living room and into the kitchen. She laid the shirt on the back of her dining room chair and went to the stasis unit, slipping a hand in to pull out a bottle of her favorite wine. Popping the cork, she decided to forgo a glass and took a swig straight from the bottle. This was her home. There were no pretenses here.

The liquid slid down her throat and warmed her body, and, after the first initial rush, she began to relax, as she opened a cabinet and removed a glass. After she had poured more of the dark, red liquid, she moved back to the living room and sat on the couch. In the silence of her home, she began to think about the afternoon.

She sighed deeply, disappointed with herself.

Once again, her mouth had spoken before her brain had thought. It had been embarrassing, and, she had to admit, quite disrespectful of her to unleash upon Silek her frustrations with the ambassador. It had been a VERY humbling moment when he'd told her that the individual who she personally disliked was a family member of his. And, in the end, she was now forced to really think about this situation—and who was at fault for it.

It was one thing to express gratitude for a position which, if she were truthful, was only through the good will of Silek. And she had almost ruined that today by not being able to control her response to Silek's question. She didn't regret her words…but, she could have chosen them better.

One of the things Silek had said to her, and which had essentially played over and over in her mind:

"Perhaps you are both guilty of the same flaw."

It was a simple statement, but the longer she thought on it, taking small sips of wine…the more she realized that it might be accurate.

She had gone into the situation expecting confrontation. She had gone into the meeting with an opinion of an individual she barely knew, already formed based on one previous, short, albeit hostile interaction. She had come away from that original dispute feeling her scholarship had been attacked, her dedication to seeking truth. And while she might not like the ambassador…she also had to admit…today she had provided to him the instruments he needed to refuse her- quite logically.

BUT, she thought, that did not mean that HE was entirely correct either.

Her original question had been open. It had been he who had turned it on her, and boxed her in. It was the Ambassador who had taken her words and twisted them to suit his own pre-conceived notions of her intent and by extent, her race. This was the same person who had, on one hand, criticized her strongly for her lack of resources, and yet, when presented with the opportunity to be an active contributor, rejected it.

Still, two wrongs did not equal a right. And she knew, if she wanted to continue working at the embassy, she and Sarek would have to call a truce. She would have to separate her personal opinions from her professional ones.

Somehow, the Ambassador had gotten under skin. It was high time to get him out.

Yet, if she were to look a little deeper within herself, she would be forced to admit that although he had angered her, she had liked it. There had been something suspended between them ... a connection of some kind...

Amanda flicked her tongue around the wine glass unconsciously as she shifted on the couch, clenching her thighs together as she moved.

Strange, she thought, and then shook herself out of it, staring at the now-empty wine glass with a frown. Apparently, she was a bit too relaxed. Setting the glass down on her side table, she got up and stretched, heading into her room.

It had been a while since she'd been swimming. It was still early enough. She'd hit the pool.

.

.

That night, in the back of the embassy, in the private residency suites, Silek moved down the hall to speak with his brother. The two shared a large wing that was constructed separately from the regular staff rooms.

He entered a command code and the doors swooshed open. The room was dark and hazy with the fragrant smoke of incense. Its occupant had obviously been meditating for a while. He moved into the chamber and, as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room, he made out a figure seated in a corner of the formal living room, among the soft pillows and ornate furniture which adorned it.

"Sarek."

The figure moved, slowly rising. His brother walked towards him.

"I have heard that you had the opportunity to speak individually with Dr. Grayson today."

"Yes."

Silek ignored the one-word answer.

"And I have also been informed that this meeting ended once again in conflict."

There was no response, and so, he continued.

"Brother, need I remind you that the point of this is to foster cooperation. Your distaste for humans is hindering your judgment, and the doctor's distaste for you is hindering hers. I do not know why you have such an intensive dislike of her;Regardless, you will need to cooperate, if this diplomatic effort is to be successful. I cannot force you. But it is in Vulcan's best interest to make the attempt. Perhaps it would be possible for you to put aside your personal bias for the sake of intellectual diplomacy."

With that, Silek walked out, leaving Sarek alone in his room.

.

.

Prior to his brother's unannounced visit, Sarek had already reached his own conclusion on the situation. Unbeknownst to Silek, he had already decided that his behavior toward the human female had been unwarranted, and based upon a pre-existing bias on his part. Her original question was something he should have easily answered. It was innocuous enough, and open ended. She had made no assumptions there. However, it had been his impulse to challenge her. In truth, he had been testing her tensile strength, to find the point at which she would break.

He had not succeeded with that. Indeed, in turn, she had challenged him to a debate of intellect-a thing which was rare among the humans he tended to deal with. He had underestimated the doctor-he would not do so again.

If he were entirely honest with himself, she had stimulated him intellectually. And maybe…no. Indeed not, and such a train of thought was illogical. He still did not favor the doctor, but her performance and ability had made an impression on him. Such a conflict would not need to occur again. Cooperation through scholarly diplomacy was a worthy goal. He would not volunteer information, but if she made a request of him, he would be willing to answer her questions—within a reasonable measure, of course.

.

.

Back in his own quarters, seated behind his desk, Silek began formulating an idea. Cooperation. It was essential. But so was learning how to navigate cultural misunderstandings. Perhaps…

Turning to his comm. screen he quickly keyed in a message and hit "enter." The device whirred and beeped, and a message marked "sent" appeared on his screen.

This would either work well, or it would implode. He found himself curious about both outcomes.

After a moment of pause, he then turned and sent a secondary message, addressed to Vulcan.