Sarek

i miss sarek :(

and all of you

THERE IS WONDER that goes well beyond the snowy mountains of her home planet. Somehow something so simple as a diplomatic shuttle can bring her to silence, an awe she cannot shake. It isn’t freezing here. When she flexes the fingers on her left hand, the fighter can feel the blood rushing; thawing. Her right hand gently clutches her mangled jacket together at her chest, afraid that filth such a herself might accidentally ruin a place so pristine.

When Sarek speaks, Echo turns as though she is reluctant to stop looking around, but something else dawns on the horizon: a panel before her moves to reveal something much greater than anything she’s ever seen before. Lips parted in a phrase that cannot manifest, the Contraxian takes her time to walk towards the image of the stars with childlike awe.

“This is real?”

She can’t even fault herself for the blurted question. She moves close enough to stare up and around the vastness of space, palm hovering so not to dirty. Her eyes connect with the compound in question not too far off in the distance. “…I will admit your wife has good taste.”

“I’m sure my wife will be pleased to know you said so.”

Sarek was glad to see the girl was able to let down her defences to some extent. He doubted she would be able to in the presence of her father--who could blame her for that given the circumstances--but it was a good sign that she had that capability at all. If she were like, say, a Klingon or an Andorian, particularly raised in similar circumstances, he doubted he would be able to reach her.

It gave him some hope for the Contraxians overall, but he realized he might be generalizing. And to generalize too broadly would make him no better than the Vulcans who rejected his wife, daughter, and son.

He allowed her to continue to adjust to her surroundings without further comment; he did not want to overwhelm her. He quietly guided the shuttle to the compound and finally down to the landing pad near the Federation side. 

uncertainlogic replied to your post: apparently una’s adopting all the vulcans… 

[narrows eyes]

            ❛ Someone has to look after them… ❜

“Tch. You’re just as bad as– Well, I’m not really supposed to say. But suffice it to say, he’s every inch as bad as you and I’m really beginning to see where he got it from.” Q’s deep unamusement shone through in the deepening of his tone, even as he sifted through the rest of the meaningless babble.

“Whatever you’ve heard–ESPECIALLY the worse things–I can guarantee you is one-hundred percent true. I’m no Harry Mudd, after all: I don’t need to cheapen my name with car salesman techniques. But I don’t just traipse about doing tricks on demand, either. What are you going to put up if I agree to prove it to you?”

Sarek raised an eyebrow. The being spoke much, but said little. 

THIS IS A STORY IN PROGRESS. It’s what she tells herself when she’s ended up accompanying a Vulcan in his travels far more than her own friends. They’re somewhere in the second or third chapter of this endeavor, but Amanda doesn’t pretend she’s keeping count of the pages nor does she try to pretend she knows how many chapters there may be. It is infinite. Just like him.

It starts like this: an unassuming school teacher finds herself with in a proximity bubble of a Vulcan Ambassador. He calls himself Sarek. You call yourself Amanda. And although the conversation can often look limited from the outside, you learn a wealth of information about the universe outside your four walls that you otherwise could not with a nose in your book. 

He asks you to walk with him. You ask if you’ll see him again. He says he won’t be on Earth for long. You tell him that isn’t any issue, because at the time it isn’t.

Even now as she walks side by side with him in this botanical garden, Amanda can’t help but look over at him as if tonight may be the last night. And truly, she’d told herself months ago that it would be fine if she never saw him again. Another adventure in the books, another story to live on the tip of her tongue with fondness. All journeys come to an end at some point. She’d seen no reason to mourn it as a loss when it had always been a gain.

Except now it feels different. Now it feels like they’re running out of time before he returns to the Federation, and what then? Beautiful flowers should keep her mind occupied, but a singular name races through her mind with the intent to never forget this moment. And as she lifts her modest purple dress with a breath of a laugh to join him on the stairs, her smile pauses when she sees spies the hand he so graciously extends.

“It’s like you read my mind,” she teases, bunching the skirt in her free hand before ever so gently taking his. “This place is beautiful… truly, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Her hand is small and light against his, but the touch reflects his time with Amanda. She takes up more space than is logical. His thoughts linger on things she’s said or done, what meaning might lie underneath. He is sure there *is* meaning, but it is a meaning he can’t find with typical Vulcan methods of social understanding. The touch has meaning, too. He knows he will be thinking about it for a long time, regardless of her answer to his question.

“Your planet has many wonders,” he says, with his eyes on her. He leans her to the railing of the gazebo, looking out on a stream flecked with blossoms in colors that do not exist on Vulcan, with thick, waxy stems. The trees here have leaves which drip down from twisted branches. He has learned that they are called ‘weeping willows.’ Leave it to Humans to ascribe emotions even to their trees, yet he finds that looking at them stirs something inside of him. He can understand that the name is not merely descriptive of the physical appearance of the leaves, but something less tangible.

He turns to her, finally letting go of her hand. He knows that he cannot say what he must while her hand is still in his.

Her head bobbed once to both his statements. “I am aware, Ambassador. A majority of your alter-echos are very similar.” While not all identical for one reason or another but most Sareks was an ambassador. it gave them plenty to work with, to understand from. 

“We JahSepp do not venture from the network. I am the only one that has done so to take on a humanoid form for the purpose of exploration.” They knew of another who had escaped but not permanently; for help. “A JahSepp does not have their own faces either, our natural forms within the network are….spore based.” To add reason to their appearance if that continued to trouble the Vulcan, so to speak. They hadn’t dared tweaked the human genome; one wrong and there would have been unforeseen issues upon birth.

“I am open to answering your questions before I start mine.” After all, they were technically the ones imposing. 

There were any number of questions that he could ask. Her species unlike any he’d encountered, for one thing. For another, the concept of alter-echoes fascinated him. That he remained similar in these other “echoes”... was that common or rare? And there was the question of Michael herself...

However, these questions were selfish ones, which he discarded without much consideration.