Author's Note: For my "Prince" followers, please read the A/N at the end of the , corrections made in Paragraph 1 and 3rd from bottom. Thanks for the notes, folks! One more thing...Please enable your feedback functions. When you guys ask questions, I like to respond. But I can't when your PM'S are disabled. Thank you!
Alekhine's Gun
Chapter 9
Silek looked around at the group he had gathered. On the upper floor of the Embassy, in an oblong conference room, seated at a rectangular table of Vulcan nesh-kur lapan was Dr. Grayson, Sarek, Sakketh, and Sa'taan. It was quiet; he could tell they were curious about why they had been summoned, but were simply waiting for him to begin.
He too was waiting. Soon the conference room doors opened and he rose to greet his guest.
"My wife, attend."
Silek ignored the look of surprise that flitted across the Doctor's face as he watched his wife enter the room. It had been months since he'd seen her last, and he was grateful for her expedient arrival.
T'Nerual was almost as tall as he was, her skin sun-kissed and glowing. Her black hair hung in a thick braid down her back, and her deep green dress was an elegant, long-sleeved, high-necked creation that both fitted and skimmed her body, yet revealed nothing at the same time. He breathed deeply, taking in a scent unique to only her.
They joined fingers as she sat next to him, her presence soothing him, though she said nothing.
Now, he changed his focus once again to address the group assembled before him.
"Doctor Grayson, this is T'Nerual, my wife."
"Greetings Doctor Grayson. Silek has told me much about you. I look forward to a discourse on your touch-theory. It is most fascinating."
"Oh, thank-thank you, Ms…Silek?"
"T'Nerual will suffice. You could not pronounce my formal name. How have you found your time at the Embassy thus far?"
"Your husband requested the cooperation of the staff in my studies and they have been of enormous help ..."
Silek watched the back-and-forth with interest as the two females chatted quietly between themselves. He could feel the burning curiosity of his brother probing in the back of his mind, and nudged him back. Finally, he interrupted them.
"I have brought you all together to discuss our situation and to present an idea. In order to establish more amity between our two worlds, I wish to sponsor an assembly, or a "party," as you would call it, Dr. Grayson."
She nodded as Silek continued.
"Sakketh, please record this meeting. Sa'taan, take note of what we may need. It is my belief that if the Embassy hosts this event, it could lead to greater cultural and diplomatic unity. I wish to know each of your thoughts on the matter."
He waited as five people quietly mulled over his words.
Dr. Grayson spoke first.
"Silek, what you propose is essentially an 'ice-breaker.' However, I was not aware of any conflict between Earth and Vulcan."
He looked to Sarek, searching for approval on what he could, and could not say.
Sarek spoke up.
"Dr. Grayson, we have been in negotiations with your government for several months on the state of Earth's fiscal affairs. Our negotiations are stalled and this matter requires urgent, if not immediate resolution. That is all I can tell you. We have attempted direct talks, and those have failed. Therefore we are attempting a … new strategy."
The words were stated plainly and without malice. Just fact. She could accept that.
"Then, I do agree. If you cannot solve the problem through direct means, indirect is your next best option. Or, as the former United States President Theodore Roosevelt once said, "speak softly, and carry a big stick."
She looked around the room and realized all eyes were on her, all showing various degrees of puzzlement.
She chuckled.
"I see I may need to explain the often-misquoted metaphor."
.
.
"My wife, attend." Silek drank in her most pleasing outline, now bare before him as she came forward slowly. It was midday, yet the shades of his suite were drawn, casting the room into almost complete darkness. Even in the dimmed light, he could still see her clearly, every peak, every crest…He closed his eyes as she reached for him and he allowed her to push his robes from his shoulders, and down onto the floor. It had been so long…so long…
T'Nerual's body molded to his, and he felt her twin peaks against his chest, and soon her touch and her presence were like a tidal wave, washing him, cleansing, him, purging him, and fulfilling a need dormant for way too long…
He was speaking and they could not hear him. He laughed and they did not understand him. He screamed, and they ignored him. He paced his cell like a caged Lematya…scratching….and pulling…his shirt torn and dirty…
Animal.
He could see them. Didn't they know this? Surely they knew he meant them no harm…maybe…maybe if he just reached out…Laughter...in a strangely familiar voice…rang out once again in the dark chamber of his cell. And then the tears, as he fell against the floor and curled up in the fetal position…speaking aloud in words he did not know.
"He suffers the kwai-lakht. He is lost to you, T'Pau. He will die. Focus on the living. Forget about the dead."
Footsteps…and then…the wretched howl of a closing door. Leaving him alone in his madness…
"Silek. Silek…adun…"
He unfurled himself just to look.
His eyes met soft, green ones….and…he laughed aloud again…letting the madness take him away...
"We are telsu," her voice persisted. "Never and always touching…"
He awoke with a start, blinking away his confusion. Vulcans rarely dreamt, and it was not so much a dream… as a time in his past he preferred not to think, or even dream, about. Silek adjusted himself so that he could look upon his wife's face. He had called, and she had come, interrupting her own medical practice to make the 16-hour journey from Vulcan to Earth.
Right now, she was sound asleep, curled into his shoulder. He watched her breasts heave as she rested, and not wanting to interrupt her slumber, he slowly disengaged his body from hers. He dressed quietly, to resume his duties, but before he left, he walked back to the bed, and ran his finger gently down her temple.
"Aduna. "
II
It had taken exactly fifteen days of planning, and sending out the requisite invitations. Sa'taan had been busily crafting a vegetarian menu, and, despite the embassy's large organic gardens, he had had to make numerous shopping trips in order to feed the 200-plus guests attending. Sakketh had been busily confirming invitations and Dr. Grayson had also assisted with the logistics. The great hall had been transformed; many of the artifacts scattered throughout the embassy had been brought to this central location.
Dr. Grayson had been especially taken with the twin warrior statues in Sarek's office, as well as the lirpas. Now, they had a place of prominence—standing sentinel just inside the door.
The hall was illuminated by torchlight, casting long shadows up to the high ceiling. Sarek had to admit, it felt a bit like his personal estate on Vulcan.
A Vulcan quartet played traditional music softly in the background, and the various delegations mingled with one another. A low murmur of conversation, with occasional laughter from the humans permeated the room.
He had been pleased to see the looks of pure astonishment on the faces of the Earth delegation at the sight of the warrior statues. He had responded in the affirmative when asked whether the lirpas they held were real.
"All Vulcan males are trained in the lirpa as they enter adolescence," he'd said, as he'd walked in and out of various groups.
However, as the night drew on, his own interest began to wane. He observed Silek and his wife engaged in conversation with a mixed group of Humans and Andorians.
Dr. Grayson was in a similar arrangement that also included Rigilians.
His mind was now focused on when would be an appropriate time for him to make his own exit. Social diplomatic functions had never impressed him nor held his interest and he often grew exasperated by the arrogance and sense of entitlement of those around him.
He suffered through them silently, however, for they were a part of the job he had agreed to do. But such events were certainly at the bottom of his list of preferable activities and were not mentally stimulating.
Sarek stood off to the side of the room currently engaged in a conversation with the Rigilian Ambassador.
The exchange of words was nothing but a veiled attempt at negotiation and everyone tended to play games of semantics.
There were times when a part of him enjoyed the verbal sparring and delicate plays on words, but those times were few and far between.
He was…agitated.
It seemed that lately his mental state had teetered between annoyance and agitation. And the sound of the Rigilian's voice grated on his nerves.
There was too much pent-up energy. Too much… emotion (though he was loath to even think the word). Sarek counted down the amount of time it would take to make an appropriate exit.
If he left too early, it would be considered rude, but he did not want to leave too late lest he be cornered.
In the five years he had been Vulcan's ambassador to Earth, he had learned many different customs on etiquette and diplomacy. It was all a game.
He nodded to the ambassador and began to move about the hall, weaving in and out of the different circles of ambassadors and the like-nodding in acknowledgment as he continued his rounds.
He had almost made it to the back of the room when a movement near one of the large, floor-to-ceiling windows caught his eye.
The heavy drapery billowed softly and as he looked a set of wide dark eyes met his own. Just as quickly, the drapes moved again and she disappeared.
He followed.
Moving steadily through the crowd he did not vary his pace but slipped through until he was standing by the wall.
"Latana."
A tall, lithe figure slipped out from behind the drapes and once again those same wide eyes met his.
"Sarek."
The way she said his name told him her intentions and he allowed his eyes to skim over her form…
The dress she wore was fitted, and virtually sheer. In the custom of her people it was made of Argellian silk virtually the same shade as her skin, a silky nude that consisted of nothing more than a few strategically placed pieces of fabric to keep her from being virtually naked.
She was an…old acquaintance.
Sarek watched her turn her back on him and begin to move towards the exit. Right before walking through the heavy doors, she threw him a final look before heading out. He watched the sway of her hips as she left.
He cast a quick glance around the room and slowly began moving to the exit.
As he walked by the bar he passed a small circle of humans currently engaged in conversation with another Vulcan.
Sarek's eyes moved to the circle and met…Silek's.
His brother watched him silently, his light brown eyes darkening as they bore into his own. Silek was currently engaged with the humans and simply looked at him. Sarek did not need his telepathy to know that his brother did not approve.
No matter. His business was his own.
And right now, there was a pressing matter to tend to.
He continued on his path to the door.
.
.
Amanda looked up from where she had been engaged with a group of dignitaries, a mix of both Earth representatives and other federation members. She was currently explaining her touch-development theories and enjoying the back-and-forth, thrilled that those with whom she was speaking were familiar with her work. She had just finished answering a particularly difficult question from an Andorian when she turned her head slightly and caught a fluid movement out of the corner of her eye.
A woman.
A tall, beautiful woman who wasn't quite human. Amanda looked on as the slim figure draped in something that really didn't resemble much wound through the crowd and exited the doors. A minute later, as Amanda continued to talk, a second figure, taller, and definitely male, walked in the same direction. He turned his head slightly, and Amanda caught sight of his face. Her voice trailed off as she watched him disappear through the same door as the woman.
"Dr. Grayson? You were saying?" Her attention snapped back to her guest and she made an apology, temporarily flustered by what she had just seen, and the unexpected tightening in her chest. She was neither blind, nor stupid.
.
.
T'Nerual and Sa'taan observed the crowd from their positions in the corner. They watched the interactions with studious eyes. The event was proving successful. The humans were clearly enjoying themselves, as were the various other diplomats in attendance. There was a low murmur of amicable conversation against the soft haunting traditional music of Vulcan.
Suddenly, T'Nerual's focus was diverted to the movement against a far window, where the heavy drapes moved back suddenly. She watched as two figures emerged, one male, one female.
Sa'taan followed the movement of her eyes, and upon seeing what T'Nerual had seen, began to search for both Silek and Amanda. He found them, presently engaged in conversations with small crowds. And, as he watched, he saw Silek make eye contact with Sarek.
He saw the disapproval in Silek's eyes, as Sarek moved past, and he then focused on Dr. Grayson.
She was also watching Sarek.
He cast a sideways glance to T'Nerual. She was still watching intently.
As Sarek moved out of the door, they both saw an unnamed expression flit across Amanda's face.
"Fascinating," T'Nerual murmured, beginning to move away from her position next to Sa'taan to re-join her mate.
"Indeed." Sa'taan remarked quietly to himself, as he began preparing a fresh dish to serve to the guests milling about the great hall.
The night had just become that much more interesting.
.
.
His internal alarm clock chimed. And he rose, removing the sheets haphazardly strewn across his naked body.
The sun had not quite yet broken over the horizon and Sarek looked out the glass windows at the soft purples and reds strewn across the sky.
Sunrise and sunset - his two favorite moments in an Earth day.
Moving towards the chair adjacent to the bed he began to dress.
He was almost done when the bed stirred again, and he heard a silken voice call his name.
"Sarek. Why so early?"
Latana.
He turned towards her nude form on the bed, and allowed himself a moment of indulgence to let his eyes roam over her nude form. She pointed to him, beckoning him back to her bed.
He continued dressing, and turned away from her.
Latana sat up and frowned at him.
"Sarek."
This time he answered her.
"Latana."
"Again with the one-word answers, lover? Really…one would think by now…"
Slowly she rose and slunk towards him, her hips swiveling invitingly. Soft arms wrapped around his waist, and he could feel her press close to him.
He moved to begin unwinding her hands, and continue dressing.
"Latana. We have done this before. It is not new nor should it be surprising."
She frowned.
"So, you are simply going to walk out?"
He faced her.
"You know my place. You know my position. You want what I cannot and will not give you."
"And yet you come back, to my bed - between my legs."
"You made your offer. I accepted. I was not informed there were conditions on it."
She looked into his face, and seeing nothing there, backed down.
"It is well. You are what you are. However…" her voice trailed off as her eyes skimmed along his chest and still lower.
"Until we meet again, Sarek."
He did not answer her, as he carefully buttoned his shirt and then put on his robe.
Latana moved to the bathroom as he exited the room.
The door swooshed closed and he made his way down the hall of the hotel.
He chose the stairs rather than the lift and soon he found himself outside.
The embassy was less than a mile away and he chose to walk.
As he walked, his mind reviewed the previous night's events.
Latana.
She had fulfilled him many times. Her body was…magnificent. She… sated his physical urges.
However…she did not stimulate him in any other way.
And for the first time in years, he found her sexual wiles had not even tempered his desires. He was left wanting.
There was something missing. But he did not know what that something was.
As he walked up the steps of the embassy and moved to access the door he jolted out of his musing as it opened automatically.
He stopped.
There facing him, was Silek.
"I take it last night proved…educational for you." Though his brother's voice never changed tempo or timbre, Sarek could feel the tension between them as he moved past.
"It was a classic experiment in reproductive compatibility," he replied tersely as he began walking down the long hallway.
It was his brother's voice in his head that stopped him short.
"Yet still you want and don't know why. What you need you cannot see."
Sarek turned quickly, his rising anger coming through in the form of a deep, growl.
"Do you presume to tell me how I should spend my nights, and with whom, Silek?"
"I presume to tell you that the office of Vulcan Ambassador deserves more decorous behavior."
"And I should take this suggestion from one who walked the deserts insane from his own personal failings. Perhaps I should call T'Nerual to help you. Your logic has fled from you again." Sarek switched to Vulcan. "Telatlar sos'eh lah'so to-dakh, k'V'tosh Ka'tur."
Silek's eyes narrowed.
"Is that a challenge, brother?"
.
.
Amanda awoke from the stream of sunlight directly in her face, coming in from the partially draped window. She blinked twice as she slowly came out of her sleep-induced haze. As her vision slowly cleared she almost didn't recognize where she was. She sat up, and looked around.
The room was cool, but warming, a testament to Vulcan engineering. Her bed was large-as she draped her feet over the side, they dangled several inches off the floor. It was an elevated platform made of a dark wood. The covers were done in a dark, reddish hue.
As she slid off the bed and stretched she knew she was still in the embassy, but inside the living quarters.
Her suite consisted of a bedroom, a small kitchenette and a bath room. A set of fresh towels and a simple set of long pants and a silken tunic had been laid out for her.
Vulcan foresight is such a good thing, she thought, looking at her formal dress draped neatly across the chair. She would have wound up going home in the same clothes she'd worn to the embassy the night before.
She had been given the room following the end of the reception. It had been late, and Silek had insisted she stay for the evening.
"Your fatigue is evident. It would not be safe for you to attempt to go home. We have spare quarters available," he'd said.
She hadn't argued with his logic, and he'd escorted her to the back of the embassy and through another set of doors, into the living suites. She had been too tired then to explore this part of the embassy.
Now though, she was here. And she did want to look around. After a shower of course.
.
.
Amanda made her way down the halls, her confusion growing ever more present. One hall blended into another, and they all looked the same.
Of course, Vulcans had extraordinary memories. They did not need "markers."
As she rounded her fifth (sixth?) corner she heard a loud crash, followed by a series of hard bangs as the floor under her shook with the force.
What the heck? She wondered, walking cautiously down the hall.
The stone wall finally gave way, revealing what looked to be a workout room, filled with weapons and equipment she had only seen in museums. But her eyes were not particularly drawn to the tools themselves, but to the two males each currently wielding one she had seen up close—in Sarek's office and in the hands of the warrior statues on display last night. Her mouth fell open and her eyes widened as she took in the sight of two impressively toned, extremely tall, and half-naked Vulcans who looked as if they were trying to kill each other.
.
.
Amanda did not know how long she'd been rooted to the spot, her eyes glued to the twosome as they moved in tandem, attacking and repelling, their movements lightning-fast and deadly accurate.
She grimaced as a lirpa blade came down hard and Sarek jumped back, the glinting metal just grazing his upper arm as a trail of green appeared.
He seemed oblivious to the hit and began to advance again. Through a series of rapid turns, kicks and punches, he advanced close enough to Silek in order to drop down suddenly and lash out with his leg, causing his opponent to hit the floor.
The impact made the floor rumble slightly and she watched, enthralled, as Silek rolled away, barely missing the blunt end of the lirpa aimed at his face.
With a sinking heart, she realized quickly this was NOT a sparring match-but a fight.
She had never seen anything like this. And it both frightened her and exhilarated her at the same time.
Her attention was so captivated with the rapidly degenerating scene in front of her that she did not hear the movement behind her until a warm hand reached out to touch her shoulder. She whirled around, gasping aloud.
Sa'taan.
"I see you have found the fitness facility," he said in his usual calm voice, paying no attention to the Vulcans inside.
She looked back rapidly and again to Sa'taan, her face flushing under the heat of his gaze.
"Um, I got lost…"
"Indeed. The halls can seem endless for those unacquainted with this complex."
Suddenly, a very loud growl emanated from the room, sending a chill through Amanda's body.
"Sa'taan-"
His name had barely escaped her mouth when he moved quickly past her and into the gym, his voice cutting through the now- almost frightful sounds of the fight.
"Kroykah!"
Amanda didn't dare look as she was frozen in place, outside the entryway, against the wall. Her eyes were tightly shut.
After a seemingly endless silence, Sa'taan once again called her name and she opened her eyes.
"Come, Dr. Grayson. I will prepare a morning meal for you."
She nodded mutely, and followed his white-clad frame down the hall. As they turned into another corridor, she cast a peek behind her-and caught sight of Sarek.
His dark eyes seemed to burn into her retreating back. She felt herself flush hotly and quickly looked away.
Upon arriving here six weeks ago (had it really been that short a time?) she had had many expectations, seeing this as an invitation to learn more about Vulcan culture.
However, what she'd just seen had shaken her beyond measure. And the fact she was undeniably turned on by it frightened her ... even more.
.
.
Author's Notes:
Kwai-lakht: "wild rage"— This is the first example of the "Vrie" of "The Prince" story arc. Here we see that Silek suffered from the same affliction that would later plague both Sarek and eventually Spock. (I am currently re-working all references made to "Plak Vrie" to change to "kwai-lakht" for internal consistency. Silek is NOT in Pon Farr)
"Telatlar sos'eh lah'so to- dakh, k'V'tosh Ka'tur": Perhaps the elders should have cast you out with the V'tosh Ka'tur
nesh-kur: black
Lapan: wood