Chapter 5

Salur-tor vokaya k'svi arev*

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(epigraph)

I am returning, the echo of a point in time.

Distant faces shine,

A thousand warriors I have known.

And laughing as the spirits appear.

All your life…

Shadows of another day…

And if you hear me talking on the wind,

You've got to understand

We must remain

Perfect Strangers.*

(Deep Purple, "Perfect Strangers")

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In the pre-dawn silence, the Llangon ridge slumbers in the dusk under large radiant stars and a dim setting T'Khut. The night fog gathers in deep ravines and crawls to the old fortress guarding the mountain pass. The fortress is still watchful, even if now it is surrounded with peaceful-looking gardens and its inhabitants enjoy peaceful times. As the red dawn draws nearer, a light wind rises in the desert beyond the Llangon ridge and starts blowing over the mountains.

Salur-tor vokaya k'svi arev, as the clan elders used to say…

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Two small boys on the sand, fighting. Lizards stare at them in astonishment from under bushes and stones, and a giant vulture circling high above starts to circle lower.

"Get away, you ugly savage! This is my water!"

"It's just water! Whoever takes it, it's theirs!"

"I found it! So it's mine!"

"And I tracked you to this place!"

"So what?!"

"I am… a better… scout! You didn't even… see me!"

"I wish… I had never… seen you… in my life!"

"Coward!"

"Bully!"

Adults would merely raise one dismissive eyebrow at this undignified childish commotion – before pulling the warring parties aside by their collars and giving them a thorough lecturing on the difference between the civilized behavior and the savage one. But for the two little Vulcans on their sixth day of Kahs-wan it is a fight to the death. It is a desperate fight for resources, the sacred war for the water-well – ankhan t'vik. The time-honored ancestral memory, surfacing so easily in this wilderness. Something their subconscious and their very genes push them to act upon.

The genes whisper: water is the greatest treasure, water is life – never give your life to any tvi'okh (1). The genes whisper: when you are in the desert, nobody stands between you and water – take it by force if you must. The genes whisper: water is life, you take life or you lose yours.

Vulcan boys at the age of seven are by no means helpless or weak. They learn a lot of survival skills by the time of their Kahs-wan rites. And even without weapons – weapons are not allowed in Kahs-wan, or even working tools – and even having had no food or water for days, they can still fight an animal their size. Or another boy, if they happen to meet him amid the desert, at the only meager water-source for miles around.

One boy is big and bulky and seemingly clumsy like a sehlat, but with a sehlat's strength and a loud roar. Another boy is slender and lithe like a le-matya and seems weaker, but has fast movements and unpredictable tactics. Even being jumped at from behind by the bigger boy, he manages to wriggle from the tight hold and then to shower his attacker with punches and kicks. He doubles his efforts when he recognizes who this is. But the bigger boy is stronger and grabs him tight again, and they roll on the ground, shouting insults at each other, kicking up sand.

The lizards decide to evacuate from the grounds of war conflict, but the boys don't even notice. Nobody is around, and they can let out their inner hatred for each other freely.

Suddenly they hear someone shout at them, then both are quickly kicked several times by a tiny but sharp heel – a third person's heel - and this makes them fall apart and sit up, panting and looking around.

"Idiots!" says the little girl in small dainty shoes and an elegant tunic. "Stupid, stupid idiots. No logic and never has been".

She points at the place where there used to be a small dimple in the moist sand under the pollu bush's shadow, at its roots. That dimple could yield some subsoil water if carefully dug deeper. Well, not any more. The moist dimple in the ground that the smaller boy started to work on before the bigger boy jumped at him – it is gone, strewn and choked with heaps of dry sand kicked up in the fight.

The boys gape ashamedly for a few seconds, and then both rush forward to scoop the sand heap away with their hands, bumping into each other and elbowing each other away.

"Wait, T'Rea(1), I'll get it for you…"

"No, I'll get it!"

The little girl – her pony-tail as neat as if just brushed, her silky beige tunic spotless and not a thread sticking out - watches the two dirty figures in torn clothes messing around in the sand, and then lifts her eyes up in exasperation:

"Are all men so stupid?" she asks the vulture circling in the red evening sky. "Or did my parents deliberately find such stupid future bondmates for me as a challenge?"

They dig and dig, and the now knee-deep hole in the sand starts to fill with water – slowly but surely. The bigger boy pushes the smaller one vigorously far aside and scoops the water with his hands. He promptly gets up and triumphantly turns, showing his treasure:

"Look, T'Rea, I…"

But she is gone. Only a neat chain of small footprints remains. The hands of the bigger boy fall to his sides, the water splashes onto the sand and sinks in.

"Nirak om'toi!" (3) the smaller boy half-growls half-hisses, just like a le-matya. He too is taken aback by the way the girl deserted them, and he knows who to blame for that.

The other boy ignores him and sit heavily down, grabbing his head and staring blankly at the sand near his feet.

The smaller boy shrugs, turns to the water-hole and drinks a handful, then another and another. Then he looks back at his distraught enemy with a long contemplating gaze… and something changes in his already - despite his young age - well-controlled face.

"Hey, Varen… Water truce?" he says softly. And when the other doesn't answer or even move, Sarek calls out louder:

"I say: water truce!"

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Or two more years earlier…

"T'Rea rides with me!" A piercing scream that echoes all over the large courtyard.

The little boy with that extremely loud voice jumps off his sehlat's back and balls his fists menacingly. He is no more than five, but quite big for his age and quite ugly too. He is glaring at another boy, smaller in size and with fine features, who replies with a demonstrative calmness:

"And why is that? She is my future bondmate, not yours. She is with me, and she will be with me".

"We will see! Nothing is settled yet. They can choose me. I am better than you! And I can prove it right now!"

"Really? How is "big and stupid" better?" The other little boy gives a sarcastic tilt of his head and a scornful squint that, decades later, will never fail to either intimidate or infuriate his opponents. This opponent right now seems more infuriated than intimidated though. So the smaller boy cunningly continues sitting on his own sehlat's ragged back, holding tight to the beast's scruff. His sehlat will never let anyone with such face and balled fists come close to his young master. Knowing that he is having the upper hand right now, the smaller boy calls up to the big mansion's windows:

"T'Rea! Come out! It will be a pleasant ride! I will take you to the mountains".

But the angry boy doesn't give up:

"Go away, coward, she wants to ride with me! Because I am better! And my father is better that your father! "

"Riyeht. Absolutely wrong", says the smaller boy. "My whole family is better than yours, and our lineage is nobler. Why, even my sehlat is a higher breed than your sehlat, and looks better". With that, the smaller boy pulls hard at the beast's scruff, making the sehlat bare his teeth and growl.

"What do you know about breeds, little lizard!" exclaims the bigger boy, but steps back to his own pet beast, realizing that he has made a mistake to dismount. He climbs up on the sehlat's back and calls up in his turn:

"T'Rea! I know you are there! You want to be a princess, fine! We will fight for you then, like warriors in tales. The winner gets your hand – and the ride".

A curtain indeed stirs in one of the windows. But that's all.

"Stop it, she can choose for herself!" the smaller boy loses his calm for the first time. "I know that she is not stupid. That is why she will logically choose me, deal with the fact".

The bigger boy only huffs with disdain.

So the smaller boy calls up again:

"Is that what you really want, T'Rea? To be made a prize in a fight? A trophy? You really can't choose for yourself who to play with?"

Interestingly, this little speech has more effect than the previous one. The window opens and a well-dressed Vulcan girl – very small but very proud-looking, as arrogant as it is possible for a child of five – leans out over the window-sill. Her shrill voice rings over the courtyard:

"You can both go and jump into a lava-pit!"

And the window slams shut.

Silence follows. The boys and even their sehlats stare at each other in bewilderment. Then the smaller boy, always quicker with his words, shrugs his little eyebrows and drawls disappointedly:

"You heard her, Varen…"

With that he pulls the scruff of the sehlat's neck and the beast slowly walks out of the yard with its little rider. At the gate the boy stops his beast, looks back at the mansion and whispers:

"She doesn't understand… She is still so small… But her parents will choose me".

The other boy watches him go, and then glances stubbornly up again. No little girl up there. Meeting instead the strict gaze of the girl's mother, he then turns away and leaves too. He says nothing, brooding in silence, his fits clenching the sehlat's rough fur tightly.

.

Or another two years earlier…

"Don't be so obstinate, Skon. You can still atone for your father's mistakes. It is not too late".

A remotely familiar voice, but the face does not come to mind easily… Little Sarek tiptoes closer to the door with stealth surprising in a toddler. His curiosity is not surprising; although his relatives often point out that it is above average even for his age. Especially when he gets bored by the midday rest that is mandatory for little children and decides to roam the house instead. The door is locked from the inside – but his hearing is excellent. Besides, the boy senses mental tension coming from behind the door, from his father that puzzles him. If Father is so uncomfortable around that stranger – then why did he invite him into his study and lock the door?

His father's voice is heard, after a lengthy silence, pronouncing the words slowly and distinctly:

"My father is a great man. And a foresight was upon him when he did what he did. What you call "mistakes", Torin, were the actions of a visionary. Of a true heir of Surak". (4)

"Your father brought the outworlders upon us! Just because he couldn't restrain his curiosity! Duhsu yonalik!(5) "

"Riyeht, on the contrary, he always mastered his temper well, and taught me the same. I see that your father failed to do so".

"My father did a much better thing for me, my future and the future of my children. He brought to fruition what his own father had only tentatively hypothesized about. And my father's greatness is still underrated – but times may change".

"Surak forbid that… T'Khasi has had hard times not so long ago already. We deserve some true peace and prosperity now," Father Skon's voice sounds really uncomfortable…

"With change comes progress, and no progress without change. Isn't that what your forefather Surak used to say?"

"Not about that kind of change. The false renditions and false interpretations of Surak's teachings have brought enough grief to the people of T'Khasi already. So don't try and use them against me, I will not be manipulated that way".

A chair scratches the stony floor and the sound of heavy feet pacing is heard. Then, very loudly:

"Skon! Listen to me! With all our differences, we were never enemies – but times may change, and then we will become enemies! I would prefer you to be my ally! I want our families to be allies!"

A frustrated sigh, and then again, quieter now:

"Listen to me, Skon…"

"I am listening to you, Torin. I have been listening to you for the past v'hral (6), and I listened to you many times before. But I do not agree with you. And the more you talk about those things – the less I agree with you".

"You are a scientist – and you can't understand? I highly doubt it! It must be the rigid conditioning of your clan that holds you back from seeing the reality!"

"I know what reality is. And it is not what you think it is, Torin son of Avarin. It is far from your self-indulgent fantasies. And I will never go against my clan. Or against my father, whether he be here or far away now. And I am too young to decide for my clan anyway".

"Skon, you are hopeless… "

"A very human expression, Torin, don't you think?"

"Are you trying to insult me?!" more sounds of pacing. "Listen, Skon, I have an idea… If you don't want to work with me – let your son do it! I heard he has good telepathic abilities? Give him to me for fostering. He will grow up with my son, and I will introduce him to everything! I will change him! It's not too late yet for him…"

Another chair is drawn across the stony floor with a rattle, and Skon's voice is even, but the cold rage in it seems to freeze the air:

"Stay away from my son, Torin! And never again make such offers to me. Or to him. On mature reflection – stay away from my house from now on. I insist that you leave immediately".

A frustrated sigh from another man:

"Duhsu, just like Solkar…" and after a small pause, "Even worse – you are duhsu pthak-bosh (7). He at least has fire inside him… If he is still alive out there, of course".

"Go away now, Torin son of Avarin! This is my house – don't make me remind you of it forcibly".

"No, Skon son of Solkar, of course not here and now. Maybe later. I shall be most pleased to test if you have learned anything new in all these years... Until then – live long and prosper".

Heavy footsteps head for the door and little Sarek darts aside for the next doorframe in the corridor. The walls are thick enough to shield a small boy. He presses himself into the deep doorway as the door of his father's study opens.

But the strange man still sees him because he walks past Sarek. And he is not really a stranger - the little boy now recognizes that giant figure stopping and looming over him. He saw that bulky frame and close-set black eyes before, when this big man sometimes came to kindergarten to pick up his son – that ugly overgrown bully who always pestered other kids and picked up fights. Sarek saw this man several times, but he didn't know that this man and his own father were… old acquaintances? Friends? Enemies? It was hard to deduce who exactly they were from their cryptic grown-up talk…

Little Sarek and the creepy man stare at each other in silence.

"And this man asked Father to give me to him for fostering? To grow up with his stupid bully son?! Why is he looking at me now? Is he planning to kidnap me?!"

Little Sarek was brought up to avoid any foolish undignified screaming ever since he learned to talk. But at this moment he gets a strong impression that screaming will not be entirely inappropriate right now. Especially if this creepy man decides to grab him and carry him away…

But the man stands still for a few more seconds, burrowing the little boy with his piercing coal-black eyes – and then turns and walks down the corridor towards the front door. "Maybe he didn't have any kidnapping plans… or at least he is well aware that Skon is close by…"

For a week after that Sarek watches his father warily: what if he really decides to give Sarek away into fostering? Or what if Grandmother decides to do it and convinces Father? Fostering each other's children for either a year or a longer period of time is a normal thing between distant relatives and some allied families on T'Khasi. Solkar's household (ruled by his wife in his absence) has distant cousins of various ages coming now and then from other cities to spend months or even years in fostering and learning. And even though there in the study Skon sounded like he was against it… Little Sarek has his doubts.

But Skon, never affectionate and always demanding, begins to spend more time with his little son and even to teach him the basics of self-defense…

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"So long ago, I didn't know so much then… And now… "

Sarek startled and opened his eyes.

Not dreams – memories. Pictures, sounds and sensations played back from his eidetic memory just as precisely as from a digital recording device. Much more precisely, actually – digital recording devices are insensitive. But Vulcans are not, they simply learn to control their sensitivity well. And they can fool outworlders with outward indifference – but not themselves.

Memories require mental control too, especially childhood memories when the rational mind was still undeveloped and subconscious impulses and emotions dominated your thoughts and your judgment… Childhood memories may lie buried deep for years – but are always ready to spring up fresh and to unfold, provided a right word or event or mental association trigger them into life. And with the memory capacity such as Sarek's, as spacious and highly organized as a high-end computer's, recording all other things besides the objective visual, audible and tactile data – and then giving those things back bright and strong…

There were times when Sarek doubted whether his exceptional eidetic memory, surpassing that of most of his peers (even given the extensive memory training that was part of Vulcan school education), was a gift or a curse… A highly instrumental asset in his previous IT career and in his current diplomatic career, his extremely sharp and vivid memory showed its disturbing shadow side time and again, especially in the lonely moments like this, in the darkest hour before the dawn. He forgot nothing and never – neither positive things nor negative, regardless of whether he really consciously understood those things or not. He also never forgot the sensations those things aroused in him. He could control them to some extent, by storing the negative things and negative sensations – or any disturbingly strong sensations actually – back into the furthest recesses of his mind, labeling them "classified", not unlike some compromising political intel in computer files...

But Sarek was not a computer. Far from it, in fact, as his human wife would happily testify if he only let her. Well, to be fair, she herself was intelligent, cultured and receptive to Vulcan tradition enough to refrain from gossiping with her human relatives and friends about her private life with Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan. Not that she could refrain from using "humor" on him any time she "felt like it", even in official situations and even if it was embarrassing… He remembered all these moments too. But they were mostly tolerable even if often annoying – she never meant harm, she was simply irrational and subject to mood changes like most humans. Sarek realized that, even though his relationship with Amanda was not always – and could not objectively always be - ideal and smooth, he had never had any really bad memories of her.

Some of his other memories and his reactions to those events were not exactly good though… The memories that resurfaced during this night were still disturbing even after all those séances of meditation he used to take to empty those memories of negative emotions and attachments. And it was still only a few scenes from his early childhood that his mind showed him in half-trance this night, without unfolding further into his youth. Scenes directly connected with several particular persons whose lives seemed to be inescapably intertwined with his. He never asked for that, but kaiidth… (8) He was an adult now and advanced enough in Surak's teachings to accept the reality as it was and to not hate any of these persons or events.

Still Sarek was grateful, lying awake in the dusk beside his restlessly sleeping human wife and keeping his body motionless to not wake her accidentally, that during this night of semi-conscious flashbacks his powerful vivid memory didn't show him some of those particular scenes from his past that he actually dreaded to remember. Or was ashamed to remember? His spiritual practices helped to cope with negative emotions very effectively, but didn't always help to define them. Coping was more important anyway, the exact definition of emotions could be forgone.

Sarek wondered if Spock, his half-alien son, had inherited his eidetic memory gift. With his impulsiveness and so-very-human recklessness, making mistakes all the time – how must it be for him to remember all his mistakes vividly and in detail?

"Spock! This is who I must be thinking of right now, not myself or people from my childhood. He is my son, my heir and I am responsible for his well-being, no matter what he does. Less than in a v'hral the sun will rise – and I shall march forth to search for him in the Forge, leading people who will come to aid me. This is the most important thing right now! So how come I got so carried away into the past?"

And Sarek's memory, his only conversation companion right now in the thinning dusk, promptly reminded him of yesterday's unexpected visit (was it really that much unexpected though?). Naturally, that visit served as a trigger for his nightly reminiscences. And Sarek's analytical processes presented him with conclusions about the other recent events: they were probably quite inevitable, considering the past events and how history tended to repeat itself within bloodlines and even within individual lifelines…

His mind, always reasonable and fair, also reminded him that he had not been totally irresponsible - he had actually attempted one thing yesterday in between all those calls and messages and before that ghost from his past suddenly appeared on his threshold.

And then the memory wind rises again…

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Ten years ago in the Llangon Mountains…

"This is what you must do, my son, when you are in the mountains and a le-matya is close. Or a wild nor-sehlat. You must climb the rocks where the predators cannot reach you. But you must make effort – they can leap up high".

The little boy with a serious face and tea-coloured slanting eyes – seemingly the only feature he inherited from Sarek except the ears – looks up at him and nods his little head earnestly several times. He wants his father to be sure he understands. He is obviously in awe of his father's strength too.

Sarek finds pleasure in the little boy's admiration, but doesn't smile back at the toddler from his high point. Still, he forgoes the rest of the descending process and leaps down from a 4 ker (9) height, to impress his son even more. The forward roll on his landing is almost perfect – but on coming up on his feet Sarek sways a little and loses balance for a split second. The boy probably doesn't even notice, but Sarek frowns almost imperceptibly, "Am I tired or have I had too little practice lately?"

Ambassador Sarek of Vulcan has to be perfect in all he says and does – especially in front of his son. The boy needs a good example and a lot of tutoring to become a real heir of the most famous lineage on Vulcan…

Aloud Sarek says:

"Now, Spock, show me how high can you climb. Or are you too tired?"

They have been in the desert earlier today, and they roamed around the mountains for hours. Sarek suddenly realizes that if he himself has now got a little slow in his movements – then the boy must be totally exhausted. He is only three after all…

But little Spock bravely shakes his head and looks eagerly at him:

"No, Father, I can climb that rock".

"Good, my son. But don't try to repeat my downward jump – you are too small for that".

Sarek watches the little figure slowly ascending the rock wall – little fingers gripping tight at any hold they can find, little feet following unfalteringly… almost. Spock's hood flaps on his slim shoulders in the evening wind, and Sarek instinctively moves closer to safeguard Spock and catch him if he falls. Sarek sees the little hands ("No, his hands look like my hands too… they just have to grow…") tremble more with each upward move, but the boy stubbornly moves forward. Even though he mostly avoids looking down.

Sarek can't help but nod appreciatively. Not bad for a half-human three-year-old… Even though the boy's motivation now is obviously stronger than his body. Spock is getting closer to the place Sarek jumped from. Sarek sees him starting to stumble.

He calls up to his son:

"That will be enough, Spock, come down now. Trace your steps back carefully".

Spock begins to climb down using the same footholds he used already. He is audibly panting now, but looking proud. Stopping half a ker above Sarek, he asks:

"May I jump down, Father? I can do it!"

Suddenly Sarek can't refuse him.

"Yes, my son, but only if I catch you. Aim your jump at me: one, two, three".

Spock does so, and lets out a happy laugh when his father's strong reliable hands catch him and press him to his chest.

Sarek puts his brave boy on the ground – but the touch tells him that Spock is really exhausted to the lowest point. Sarek notices that Spock trembles all over, too.

So Sarek changes his mind and lifts Spock up again, placing him on his shoulders. A happy and surprised gasp comes from the child:

"Father, what are you doing?"

"The logical thing, my son. Hold on, we shall be home soon".

And Sarek walks towards the shortcut secret pass, surrounded by his son's sparking aura of love, admiration and gratitude. Sarek finds himself unconsciously straightening up and quickening his pace…

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Suddenly – not a memory now, but a real-time sensation – a throbbing mental impulse comes through, faint but unmistakably familiar, the mental signature only one person in the whole Universe can possess… A slightly more mature mind than the one in Sarek's flashback reverie – but still too immature to understand a lot of things… Not consciously looking for Sarek's mind, but still – he must have remembered him too at this exact moment. Or seen him in a dream – Spock had night dreams, Sarek knew that.

Yesterday Sarek failed to sense his son's mental signature in the planet's ether when he performed a searching meditation in between all those calls and negotiations. No results – probably because they still hadn't had a proper deep mind meld, Sarek was still waiting for his wayward son to grow up… But now, at dawn, the sensation suddenly came through faint but clear, brought here by the desert wind.

Sarek shut his eyes tightly and exhaled loudly, now indeed thinking of Spock and Spock only, nothing else in the whole Universe:

"He is alive!"

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The morning of the start of the search expedition turned out to be full of unexpected delays.

The weather was tolerable, the rising wind was temperate and didn't promise any heavy sandstorms today, maybe only an electrical storm later, judging by the color of the rising sun and the clouds on the horizon. The weather forecast confirmed Sarek' observations. Nothing to be surprised of, living on the verge of the desert. Especially on the verge of Vulcan desert under the red giant sun that was prone to frequent solar flares.

But it took surprisingly long for all the members of Sarek's search party to arrive to his house – even for the hovercraft pilot. Sarek didn't expect such unprofessional behavior from a certified Desert Patrol member. The pilot explained it by strange malfunctions in the navigation systems that took time to set right. Could be solar flares, of course…

But then, one of Sarek's cousins suddenly called and said he felt ill and incapacitated (solar flares too?) and Sarek had to urgently call the Desert Patrol and ask them to send in someone who had a shift today anyway… At least he arrived fast enough.

As for others… the public transportation in Shi'Kahr seemed to still suffer the aftereffects of the grand sandstorm. Even though by now the city had been for ages protected from sand by strong and large-scale force field. Well, possible breaches in the force field were not Sarek's business. He simply wanted to march forward already. But today's morning was testing his patience…

Then Amanda became worried (or rather, even more worried than she already had been) and came running out of the house with quite an armload of extra provisions – and proceeded to argue with the pilot who claimed the hovercraft was already overloaded. Unimpressed by the pilot's arguments, Amanda repeated the process twice before Sarek saw it and gently but firmly led her by her arm inside the house. There he found her an occupation: checking weather forecasts and calling the remaining party members still stuck in public transport jams. Sarek was already quite tired of making calls himself.

Then Varen called on Sarek's personal communicator – Varen, with whom Sarek was not particularly willing to talk to even at the best of times… Varen obviously shared the attitude (no surprise), and it turned out to be not Varen himself but his lieutenant from Space Patrol on the communicator. Sarek knew the man, Varen's "right hand", and wasn't even surprised that he was on shore leave at the same time as Varen. Unsurprisingly enough, the lieutenant announced that Varen's party was long ready and inquired where Sarek's hovercraft was. Hadn't they agreed that they would all set out from Varen's house?

Sarek turned away from the communicator to secretly let out an irritated sigh and to take a second to think – and then spoke into the communicator, telling Varen's party to set out now if they wanted. He and his party would catch up with them as soon as they solved all the technical problems.

Thankfully Varen's lieutenant had much better self-control than his heavy-tempered commander and Sarek heard no grunts of anger or huffs of disdain from him (but sounds resembling them still reached Sarek's sharp ears from a distance). The lieutenant simply said "Acknowledged" and, after briefly consulting someone near him (Commander Varen, obviously) offered Sarek the coordinates of the rendezvous point in the desert, one day-march away. Sarek agreed in his turn, and Varen's party was out.

Even Sarek's own body seemed to go against his plans. It had gone into survival mode the morning before, and not on his will. It simply did so under stress when Amanda burst into the kitchen sobbing that Spock was gone, out of a locked room and without a note. Something sank inside Sarek then, and something stirred. And as he held his crying wife protectively, trying at the same time to shield his mind from her outburst and to send her a calming and reassuring flow of mental energy, his instincts mobilized the resources of his body into survival mode. He was not sure his wife noticed, and he was not going to tell her anyway.

This meant no eating and little to no sleeping. This also meant focusing your mind on tasks concerning the survival of yourself and your close kin and leaving out all the rest. Leaving out all theoretical matters, speculation and reflection too. But it also meant heightened senses and heightened decisiveness. He decided to pass the night hours near his wife, even if he couldn't sleep. And was now content enough that he had done so before (as she would undoubtedly say in her manner of speech) "all hell broke lose".

.

Among all this stir and rush Sarek almost forgot to tell his wife the one thing that was vitally important to tell her before leaving.

But he never really forgot anything, so he found the right moment after all.

Walking with her towards the gate behind which his search party was now finally assembled in the large expedition hovercraft, ready and waiting only for him to finally command start, Sarek stopped and turned to Amanda. Then he took her hand, gently pressed her palm to his own and said:

"My wife, Spock is alive and well. I sensed his mental signal in meditation at dawn".

Then he turned away without any more words and went out of the gate to board the waiting hovercraft. It promptly rose up high against the morning wind and carried Sarek and his search party over the Llangon ridge in the direction of the Forge.

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.

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*Salur-tor vokaya k'svi arev – "Memory blows within the desert wind", a Vulcan saying.

*Although this song (quoted for the second time now) is definitely "Varen's Theme" in the imagined soundtrack to this story – in this chapter it also applies to Sarek. For him this expedition turns out to be quite a trip down the memory lane… And an important detail: in his adult years Sarek was so occupied with his work, especially after enrolling in the embassy on Earth, that he had significantly fewer trips to the Vulcan desert than Varen. And so, for them the thought "I am returning to the desert" really had very different meanings. And they prepared for the expedition differently too.

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(1) Tvi'okh – "another", "not a close one", "not of my clan", "unfriendly neighbor". A concept ancient Vulcans applied to pretty much anyone who was not of their family/tribe – tvi'okh are outsiders who are not to be trusted.

(2) T'Rea – Sarek's first wife with whom he was telepathically bonded according to tradition at age 7 (after passing the Kahs-wan rites) and wedded when he came of age. Called "Vulcan princess" by Spock in "The Final Frontier", she was the mother of Sybok. From what little known of her in canon, we can understand that she came from a very renowned family, was extremely proud, and also most likely didn't really love Sarek.

(3) Nirak om'toi! - "Clumsy idiot!" in Vulcan. Nirak was originally a proper name. In a legend, a soldier named Nirak made a fatal misjudgment, and so his name went down into history to define a person deficient in understanding and acting unwisely.

(4) A true heir of Surak. – Solkar, Sarek's paternal grandfather, was famous not only for his lineage. He actually was the Vulcan stepping out of the shuttle in "TNG: The First Contact" and greeting Ephraim Cochrane, the inventor of the first Earth warp-drive. Skon was not "just a relative" too – it was he who translated the full texts of Surak's writings found in Kir'Shara into Federation English, thus bringing Surak's teachings to human race.

(5) Duhsu yonalik! - "Easily excited fool!" in Vulcan. The adjective yonalik comes from yon ("fire") and literally means "having a fiery temper".

(6) V'hral - Vulcan astronomical hour; equal to 1.409 Earth hours.

(7) Duhsu pthak-bosh – "Cowardly fool!" in Vulcan (pthak-bosh literally means "filled with dread").

(8) Kaiidth – one of the fundamental concepts of Vulcan philosophy dealing with being in the moment and accepting the truth for what it is without falling into illusions. A short translation is: "What is, is". Very close to the philosophy of Zen, actually.

(9)Ker – Vulcan length measure, about one yard.