Chapter Text
“Sahr-ek.”
Like a dowager queen, the regal and ancient T’Pau held court, flanked by Vulcan elders representing the six ancient clans united since Surak.
A phalanx of assistants, servants, and intermediaries stood like statues behind that intimidating and august line, as with an unsteadiness wrought by her advanced years, T’Pau, an inflexible, infallible presence, came slowly to her feet, a withered hand clutching the head of an ancient carved walking stick.
With all the power and grace of his formidable personality, the ambassador to Earth bowed low from the waist before the imposing row of High Council members who eyed him sternly from behind a Vulcan curtain of dispassion and remote regard.
“Thy son has come to our attention,” T’Pau pronounced.
With keen deliberation, Sarek folded his hands before him. He had heard the implication: Again. He did not speak. In fact, he waited with supreme and diplomatic patience. He could see T’Pau labor to find the breath to continue, but when she did, as it had always been in the past, it was as if he were being lectured to by God herself.
“I could forgive him once at de kal-if-fee, Sahr-ek, as it was de human influence that delivered him.” She glowered at the memory. “But that was five shen-taz ago. Soon it is his Time again and still . . . he ties himself to dis human Keerk. Spohk mocks us, defies our logic with this deviant behavior. I say that he vill return to Vulkai to take a vife.” To ensure that all around her heard her statement, she paused, her black eyes like coals that burned with threat. “Or he vill invoke the ancient warrior customs. One vay or de other, he will mate with all his body, with all his blood in de Vulcan vay.”
Sarek said nothing, but turned his piercing, hawklike eyes for a moment first to Sten, the elder to T’Pau’s left, then to pass his gaze along the length of the entire group. Would the others speak out now, to concur, or would any dare to give an opposing view?
Finally the philosopher Sten rose, his dark robes rustling as he stood.
“Spock represents our house,” Sten concurred with the matriarch, “our civilization, our very thoughts.”
As Sarek knew there would be, even in concurrence there was descent. Saying nothing, he let them each continue.
“He is a representative of Starfleet,” the elegant T’Pel added as though perfectly willing to muddy the waters, “and the Federation.”
“Vulcan is a founding member of the Federation and of its principles,” the venerable Sultshon offered. “Starfleet is child to those principles. If Spock is Starfleet, he is—"
Vulcan historian T’Leatha leaned forward, chains of keys to the ancient vaults clinking around her waist.
“Sarek’s son claims Vulcan heritage yet subjugates himself to human direction.”
“This human has made him forget his place.”
“This human does not know his.”
“Spock has chosen his place among humans.”
“Spock is our bridge with the humans.”
“Spock courts disaster.”
“He calls Kirk friend—”
“Kroy-kah!”
It was T’Pau who held up her hand, cutting off all discussion at the distasteful word ‘friend’. The group fell immediately, obediently silent. She spoke directly to the man before her.
“Your son cannot be All.” Her eyes were black with disapproval.
Sarek finally spoke.
“My son is the child of two worlds, and he lives in a third. My son cannot not be All.” He paused, allowing no more movement than the controlled release of breath. “However, if you wish it, T’Pau, I shall speak to him.”
With his formidable dignity entirely intact, Ambassador Sarek bowed again, took two steps backwards and withdrew quickly from the vast Vulcan Council chambers, his own displeasure with his son apparent in his heavy stride.
*****
Spock nodded benignly at the distinguished older man wearing the traditional robes of diplomatic office. The younger man had been summoned to planet Vulcan to the diplomat’s private office in the Terran Embassy and found himself—hands solidly locked behind the back of his blue science uniform as was his habit since childhood—standing at attention before the one ambassador from all of Vulcan to all of Earth.
“Father,” he acknowledged in his native tongue.
Slowly, Sarek opened his eyes, which had been closed in both meditation and frustration, surveyed his son’s demeanor, and asked Spock pointedly, “And what of Captain Kirk?”
Taken aback, Spock’s answer was typically straightforward. “Captain Kirk awaits outside.”
Sarek stepped up to his son with a perceptible air of intimidation. “Did I not ask that you to come alone?”
Spock, almost shrugging at the obvious, answered rhetorically. “Certainly these six walls do not have ears, Father.”
Sarek actually repeated the words, and as a Vulcan elder himself, the repetition itself connoted a shout. “I asked you to come alone.”
Spock raised a brow.
“From your earlier question, Father, you knew that I would not.”
Sarek’s eyes narrowed and he let out a long, disgusted sigh. “Spock, since your childhood, you have defied and disobeyed me. It has become a most tiresome routine.”
As though he, too, were plagued by this scenario, Spock brought his hands from behind him to hang much too casually at his sides. He shifted his weight to one leg so that the line of his body was no longer perfectly straight, suggesting a flowing curve, as if his starched Starfleet demeanor had melted away.
“If it is, as you say, Father, ‘routine’, then it is illogical for you to continue to test me.” He thought of the beckoning stars. Having heeded his father’s summons, his duties among the stars would soon call him away. As the USS Enterprise orbited above them, neither he nor his captain had even thought to bring a change of clothes. He was here for this short appointment at his father’s behest. At this time, nothing more. “You asked to see me. I am here.”
Now Sarek joined his hands as he was likely to do before making a pronouncement.
“I am concerned for you.”
Spock was skeptical, but his tone betrayed no emotion. “Indeed.”
“You are my son. Your welfare is foremost on my mind, and your mother’s.”
Spock’s features softened at the mention of his mother. “How may I alleviate my mother’s concerns?”
“You cannot.” Sarek’s dark eyes flashed in the direction of the door. “You have brought him.”
“I hardly believe that Captain Kirk’s presence on our planet deleteriously concerns my mother. She is fond of him. It is your concern, Father, of which we speak.”
“And that of the High Council.” Sarek took in a deep lungful of air. “It has come to their attention . . . this preoccupation you have with him. It has been found to be unusual, abnormal, not of Vulcan.”
Before answering, Spock again raised a brow in consideration.
“Because it is formed of military discipline and deepest friendship,” he began, "my relationship with James Kirk may very well be unusual and not of Vulcan, but it is not abnormal. On the contrary, it is most normal and satisfying to us both.”
But the look on Sarek’s face said that he was quite through with small talk. “Your Time is near. You have made no arrangements.”
Spock stiffened to finally know the point of all this.
“That is my affair,” he said.
The Vulcan word for ‘affair’ did not translate with any of the sexual connotations—a small detail for which Spock could be grateful.
“He has bewitched you,” Sarek said as though it were fact.
“It has been said that my mother bewitched you,” Spock seemingly countered.
“You mother is female, and she and I have produced viable issue. You cannot—”
“Exactly. I cannot. Therefore, a child of my flesh is irrelevant. I do not understand this concern by the Council over points outside population or relations with Starfleet.”
But Sarek would not withhold the only matter for which he would have to answer to the Council. “Do you plan to invoke the ancient warrior rights at the onset of your Time?”
“At this moment,” Spock said honestly, “I have no plans whatsoever.”
Sarek turned and moved behind his desk, but he did not sit. “Your foolishness astounds me.” His son could be preposterously illogical sometimes, wantonly human. He would not allow it, this time. “Pon farr cannot be ignored, Spock. Certainly you comprehend its inevitability.”
“I comprehend only its . . . possibility.”
”That is illogical. You are a Vulcan male . Your body will betray you, and you must mate. Who will be ready for you?”
“I do not know.”
“I think you do.” Leaving his desk, Sarek moved directly towards the door that opened to the immediate outside, and to their human visitor. “Let us ask him.”
Spock’s spine lengthened.
“Father, I forbid!”
Spock could only watch his father retrace his own steps, and he felt powerless to physically stop what was about to happen. Why had he even asked Jim to escort him here? It had been a mistake. Father, damn you . . . you are a bastard!, human words that rolled across his angry mind. As though he had actually heard his son’s dismay, Sarek paused, his hand resting dangerously on the hand-tooled copper handle, and Sarek’s hesitation gave Spock time to collect himself, to finally whisper, “Why do you do this?”
“Captain Kirk attended the kal-if-fee and was an instrumental part of the challenge. As I have come to learn, thoughts of his death at your hands completely sublimated the plak tow. He was there. He knows.” Sarek pushed open the door. “And he can count.”
Just a few feet outside in the bright morning sun, Captain James T. Kirk, two years into his second five-year mission, leaned down with his arms across one thigh, his boot up on the low wall. He’d been staring out across the landscape as far as the expansive sandstone horizon; his chin was up as if he were sniffing the air, and his distinctive profile conveyed the air of a man who had surveyed even this alien domain and made it his. Upon hearing movement, he turned his head in Sarek’s direction. With a start, he brought his feet back together, gave his gold shirt a formal tug, and thoughtfully stood at respectful attention.
“Ambassador Sarek!”
The conversation now switched to Standard.
“Captain Kirk.”
“I am honored to see you again, sir. I didn’t know if I’d get a chance—”
Sarek nodded slightly. “Greetings accepted. Join us now.”
It was a noticeable order.
Kirk nodded. “Of course.”
He followed the flowing robes into the darkened office. Once inside the cooler building, he nodded to Spock, who stood stiffly, his dark eyes slightly wide. The captain felt an instantaneous case of the creeps. “Something wrong here, gentlemen?” He looked directly at his first officer.
“My father believes that there is something wrong. Yes.”
“And the Vulcan High Council, as well,” Sarek added sternly.
Kirk’s hazel eyes grew enormous at this unexpected suggestion.
“What? I have done something to offend the Vulcan High Council?” He tried to think of any recent act of his that would qualify as such a sin, but he hadn’t even been on shore leave until today, and recent space duties had been Starfleet’s most routine. “I don’t know what it could be, but if you’ll tell me, I’ll attempt to explain or change the offending behavior.”
“It is not your behavior, but mine,” Spock said.
Kirk’s eyes darted from son to father to son again. What the hell did that mean? Why couldn’t these people ever say anything outright? He could feel his palms starting to itch from dread.
“Captain Kirk,” Sarek began, ”the Vulcan High Council has become aware of your extremely close relationship with my son. While normally harmless . . at this time, it could be deleterious.”
Kirk’s eyes grew even bigger. At this time? He turned to Spock and touched his arm, almost solicitously. “You didn’t tell me.”
Spock straightened and in the straightening, pulled away.
“My father’s use of that term is premature. I am not experiencing the pon farr, but he fears that I will soon do so and have no one with which to mate.” Spock forced out the words. “But you.”
There was astonishment now in this one quiet response. “Me?”
Spock’s nostrils flared. He was utterly failing to control his emotions. “We have discussed it many times, Jim,” he said. “Surely you remember?” Acerbity dripped from his tone as he turned his face away. How could he have brought Jim into this? This cultural quagmire? This insult?
Kirk knew that the snipe was not aimed at him but at Sarek. He had never been part of a direct argument between father and son, not even on the mission to Babel, and he certainly didn’t relish being in the middle of one now. He tried to mediate.
“Sarek . . . Ambassador, sir, this is not the High Council’s affair.” This time in Standard all connotations of that words came into play. “This is Spock’s life, and mine. He is my friend. Our relationship is . . . “
Spock interrupted. “You do not have to explain our relationship.”
But James Kirk held up his hand to silence his friend. He would speak.
“Sarek, our relationship is also my responsibility. If it appears that it is serious, exclusive, even sexual to the High Council, which it apparently does, then perhaps, if it isn’t, it could be.” Spock moved towards him. “I do not apologize for my emotions towards my best friend. We complement each other in ways I’ve never felt with anyone else. Spock and I are closer to each other than to anyone else. I enjoy him. He’s delightful to me. Sometimes he’s the only joy and comfort I have. So far, it hasn’t become physical.” Kirk diverted a droll glance at Spock. “I guess it just hasn’t occurred to us.” Then his hazel eyes grew steely as he returned his gaze to Sarek. “But as you know, I can be a very physical person.”
“You would be harmed by such a turn,” Sarek interjected sternly. This human had no conception of the rigors of mating with a Vulcan. And this one’s ill reputation for sexual promiscuity proceeded him across every Federation planet. Indeed, human flippancy did not serve well here.
But James Kirk could neatly fume.
“What makes the Vulcan High Council think that I wouldn’t instigate such an act myself?’ He furrowed his brows indignantly. “Is the Council really trying to protect me—or itself?”
Sarek’s dark eyes became hooded. He did not enjoy this vulgar defiance by an imprudent off-worlder. “The High Council’s purpose is to protect All. Spock is a son of Vulcan. You, Captain Kirk, are a sentient being.”
Kirk couldn’t quite stifle a laugh at Sarek’s attempt to put him square in his place. “Yes, well, thanks . . . I think.”
Sarek’s stern demeanor did not change. “You cannot understand our ways, our needs, Captain.”
The undercurrent of mirth evaporated quickly as Kirk’s eyes flashed before he offered a response.
“I don’t need to, Ambassador. I only need to understand Spock’s. Please give T’Pau and the other Council members my regards and my word that I will always act honorably towards Spock, for his good. I would never put my own welfare ahead of his, but I would and do put it ahead of theirs.” He let out a short puff of air. “Let’s go, Spock, unless you’ve got further business with your father.”
“I do not.”
“Spock—” Sarek stepped toward them. “It was not my intention to embarrass you. Only to warn.”
That was as close to an apology as Spock had ever heard, but he was not moved.
“On the contrary, Father, this was a test—another of which I have failed at your hands.” He looked directly at James Kirk but still addressed his sire. “It is the most notable difference between you and him. He has no need to test me. He knows who I am.” Near-black eyes returned to the older man’s stark face, and he held up his hand in proper salute. “Live long and prosper, Father.”
Without waiting for Sarek to return the formal greeting, the two Starfleet officers turned and left the ambassador’s office.
*****
Outside in the blinding sun, James Kirk felt like he’d been kicked in the gut. His heart pounded and his face flushed crimson.
“You are angry,” Spock observed, upon seeing his captain’s state.
“Aren’t you?” Kirk snapped. In the heat, he wiped his brow with the back of his hand before he took out his communicator and flipped it open. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Jim, as we are close by, I wish to visit my mother.”
Kirk turned back to his first officer, the open communicator a reflection of his own open mouth. “Well, all right. Yes, of course, Mister Spock. I’ll see you back on the ship.”
“Jim, I wish for you to accompany me.”
But Kirk raised the small box straight up to his face. “And all I want to do is to get the hell off this planet.”
“Come with me,” Spock repeated. “Please.”
Giving up, Kirk could do nothing but gradually drop his hand. “Promise me it won’t be anything like that in there.”
Spock lowered his eyes and fought away a gentle smile. “I promise.”
Acquiescing, Kirk failed to fight off his own answering smile. “Okay, but this better be pleasant as heck.”
“We are visiting my mother . . . .”
Kirk shrugged. “Good point.”
Flipping open his communicator again, the captain ordered Montgomery Scott to remove the Enterprise from standby condition and position her in standard parking orbit, begin any necessary systems repairs, and invoke four-hour incremental shore leave privileges for nonrequired personnel. When Kirk couldn’t think of any more orders for his chief engineer, he signed off and tucked the device back in his hip belt. Then he shrugged again as if totally giving up or just giving in to the heat, and together the captain of the Enterprise and his Vulcan first officer headed towards the snug interior of a rented flitter.
*****
“Oh, Spock, I’m so happy to see you!”
Amanda moved forward to clasp both her son’s shoulders. Then as if remembering to pay formal homage to Vulcan protocol, she stepped back, and pressed the palm of her left hand to that of his right, before returning to hug him hard. Immediately, she turned to the other man and hugged him, too.
“Captain Kirk! Jim! Welcome to Vulcan. Come in, come in.” She stepped between them and took their arms, moving them forward, and James Kirk felt as though he’d just stepped into a happy whirlwind.
As they walked into the vast desert house, she steered them into a spacious sitting room.
“Sit down, please.” She clasped her hands together as they all made themselves comfortable. “Now, Jim, tell me all about my son.” She smiled at Spock and touched his knee.
“Mother . . . .”
But Kirk was happy to play along.
“Well, let me see, Amanda . . . . If I remember correctly, a month ago Spock discovered a new solar system with two class-M planets suitable for colonization. And then two weeks ago, he saved the lives of an entire six-member landing party by reconfiguring the transporter with only a minute to spare. And just last week, he earned—” The captain held up his fingers to count. “I’m pretty sure this is his eighth doctorate—this one on spatial/temporal sub-gravitational physics. Though now that I think about it, I have yet to see an actual diploma.”
His smiling, open expression conveyed that he hoped that that was enough. It certainly was for him.
“Wonderful,” Amanda said in amazement and pride. She sent a sideways glance to her ever-humble son. “I suspect this trip has overtaken your tape in which you’ve told me all about it, dear.” Spock accepted the teasing. “You both look so wonderful.” She stood up. “Let me get you something to drink. You must be hot. Spock, you’re not used to being out in the heat anymore, and Jim . . . my, you must be feeling totally wilted.” She left them alone for just a minute and returned with a tray of drinks and food. “Now, Spock, tell me about Jim.”
Kirk put his hands out in front of him. “No, no.”
Spock raised two brows. Turnabout was certainly fair play.
“His modesty aside, Mother, Captain James Tiberius Kirk continues to be the finest starship commander in the fleet. His list of Starfleet commendations has grown by three in just the first six months of this year. Even his chess game has noticeably improved.”
Kirk shrugged, accepting the chess compliment, and bent to help Amanda with the drinks. The plate of assorted Vulcan ‘sandwiches’ reminded him just how famished he was. Getting pissed off first thing in the morning always made him hungry.
“Amanda, this looks like you knew we were coming.”
“Yes, of course. Sarek called me.”
Kirk scratched his temple at this bit of news. Huh! Father, son, and friend have a Vulcan-style knock down drag out over son’s sex life in Father’s office, and after it’s over, Father cheerfully phones Mother to tell her that the rebellious boys are coming over for a visit.
Spock took a deep breath. “Mother, I think you should know that we did not enjoy our visit with Father.”
She sighed and handed him his drink. “Yes, he told me, but he was sure you wouldn’t leave in haste.”
Spock sighed only at the surety of his father’s Vulcan overhearing of their outside conversation. “Mother, he invoked your name on behalf of the High Council’s scurrilous invasion of Captain Kirk’s privacy.”
“My name? Well, of course. I am Sarek’s wife. He can use my name in whatever way he chooses.” She could see Kirk frown, as her son shifted his weight uneasily. “Sandwich?”
“Mother, surely you cannot take his side in this.”
Her tone became serious. “I take no sides, dear.”
As he did in Sarek’s office, Kirk tried to desensitize the situation by briefly touching Spock’s arm. He could tell that Spock felt frustration by his stony demeanor.
Even Amanda picked up on his dismay. “I can see that you’re disturbed by your Father’s behavior,” she said to her son. She took a sip of her fruit drink. “He is worried for you.”
“My father speaks for the Council—who has never worried for me, but for my perceived behavior as a public figure and newsworthy representative of Vulcan.”
“You are a public figure, Spock, to Earth as well as here at home.” She watched as he began to speak, and also when he paused as though he could not effectively deny her point. “But, of course, none of this really means a thing to you, does it? Only Jim’s discomfort.” She smiled at the other human. “As it should be.”
James Kirk set down his half-eaten sandwich. He glanced at Spock.
“Amanda, everyone on this planet seems to have already decided what our relationship is. Frankly, I’m surprised that you have, too.”
“You’re both happy together. It’s so obvious.”
“Well, sure. But the Vulcan High Council and Sarek have us practically married!”
Amanda laughed heartily.
“Even in this day and age, Vulcan is probably the only planet in the entire Federation where marriage comes before any other delights . . . of a personal relationship.”
Kirk blushed crimson. God, she could be sneaky. Saying so little directly but implying so much. He kept his eyes down, embarrassed to look at Spock who would be mortified.
“Mother, may we change the subject?” Spock queried quickly. Why did she assume that because she was his mother that she could tease about something so personal—about sexuality in a world where sex only raised its ugly head once very seven years?
“Why, yes, of course. Perhaps you’d like to know how my class on Vulcan/Terran relations is coming?” She frowned to herself. “But that’s not really changing the subject, is it?”
“Sounds fine,” Kirk responded eagerly. “You’re still teaching?”
“Oh, yes, nearly every day. In fact, I’ll be at the institute all day tomorrow. Spock, one of my favorite students wishes to meet you. I promised her that the next time you visited . . . Well, do you think it would be possible for you to spare a few minutes?” Not waiting for him to answer, Amanda’s eyes brightened as an entirely new idea popped into her head. Smiling in delight, she said, “I’ve got your rooms ready upstairs. You’d probably like to rest before dinner.”
Kirk stood up.
“Well, ma’am, we weren’t exactly planning to spend the night.” He swallowed. “Were we, Spock.”
Spock answered his mother’s look of disappointment with his own expression—as though caught between a rock and warp core breach. “I was planning to surprise Jim with a visit to the kriz‘nai festival, Mother. But with Father’s unseemly disputation, I had assumed that Captain Kirk would prefer to return to the ship instead.”
Intrigued, Kirk sat down. “What festival?”
“It’s quite impressive, Jim.” Amanda continued the thread. ”It’s scheduled only once every twelve darthas for several days. And you know Vulcans, they’re not ones for carousing, of course, but this is a celebration of music in all its forms and comes complete with fireworks, waterworks, food and crafts, and wonderful performances by Vulcan’s greatest musicians twenty-six hours a day. Thousands of people attend. It’s a major attraction for vacationing Terrans and other off-worlders. You’d fit right in.” She touched his hand. “Please say you’ll stay. Everything here is ready. Spock’s old room is at the top of the stairs and yours is right next to it, or if you prefer, there is a large room with a double bed at the end of the hallway.”
Spock nearly choked. “Mother, please . . . this is not like you. Do you really think I would share a room with Captain Kirk in my father’s house? Especially under the circumstances?”
“I was speaking to our guest,” Amanda admonished, seemingly. “I thought he might enjoy the luxury of a larger bed. Everyone knows you Fleeters sleep in rock-hard bunks hardly wider than your shoulders. Besides your father won’t be here for the next two days.” Only Kirk saw her wink at him. “He’s coming home for an early dinner, then he’ll go on diplomatic assignment. You’ll have the place to yourselves while I’m at school.”
“Well,” Kirk said, “how can we say no, Spock? We’d be happy to stay, ma’am. I’ll contact the ship.”
“Wonderful.” Cloaked in an air of satisfaction, Amanda rose. “Spock dear, please go out to the garden and pick me six ripe jewel fruit. They’re in season and I know you like them. Take your time, dear.”
The two men made eye contact, and the captain could see resignation and disquiet in the dark eyes. But with a long sigh born of years of Starfleet obedience, Amanda’s son did as he was told. After Spock had left, Kirk leaned forward towards Amanda.
“Spock thought that Sarek wanted to speak to him about your upcoming anniversary.”
“Oh my. My, yes, forty-nine years of wedded bliss.” Amanda chortled. “Well, not every moment, of course, but it’s been pretty good, considering no relation on either side of the family said it would last.”
Kirk laughed, but then grew somber. “What about Spock. He’s suffered.”
She silently remembered her son’s childhood, years of tantrums, discipline, rebellion, frustration, and tears. Then the kahswan, her sweet little boy become a grim little man. A little man for so very long, then a young man. A very determined young man. She would never forget the day Spock left home for Starfleet, without a word for his father. That day, she could never, ever forget.
“Yes, he has,” she admitted.
“So that’s why you overindulge him when he’s home. Make his favorite foods, hug and hover a little too much. You probably fluff his pillow and tuck him in at night as well.”
“Why not?” Her cheeks turned pinker at his teasing, but she wouldn’t stay embarrassed at expressing her feeling any way she could during one of her son’s rare visits. Her blue eyes bore into this brash young man’s hazel ones. “I can tuck you in if you need me to, Jim.”
Kirk lowered his eyes, knowing his teasing seemed cruel.
“He’s a grown man and so am I.”
“Parts of us never grow up, Jim. I can see the child in him still, in the hurt in his eyes or the ramrod straight line of his spine. Sarek is a good, fine man, but he has always been a taskmaster with Spock. He expects so much of him.”
Kirk shook his head sharply at the family dilemma.
“How many times does Spock have to prove himself, Amanda? He’s the finest person I know. The finest officer. I’m proud to call him my friend. Why can’t Sarek see that?”
“Because Sarek isn’t you, Jim.”
Kirk paused at the bold truth of that statement.
When they heard Spock return, they both turned to making idle chit-chat as Spock rumbled around in the adjoining kitchen. When he reappeared, Amanda graciously ushered them upstairs and enigmatically disappeared after a quick “Dinner’s at the hour of tazmeen sharp. Don’t be late.”