Strange New Worlds X Page 2

  Her mother was remarried—another stormy relationship. She’d come to San Francisco a few weeks ago, looking for a place to stay for a while.

  Perrin hadn’t handed her the keys to the kingdom.

  “You’re hard. And unforgiving.” Her mother had cried, of course. She always managed to cry without smearing her makeup. It was an art.

  “You made me hard when you left me with him.”

  “I couldn’t take you both, Perrin. And you were always his favorite. I thought he’d be kind to you.”

  “No. You thought he’d be less cruel. And there’s a difference.” She’d shut the door in her mother’s face, had ignored the knocking that eventually stopped.

  But she’d watched her mother through the upstairs window, hating that she’d cared as the woman had walked out of her life again.

  Perrin closed her eyes, unwilling to relive those memories. Opening them again slowly, she realized there was no one by the grave. She scanned the area; Sarek, Saavik, and Spock were walking slowly up the path. She waited until they rounded a corner and disappeared, then hurried down to Amanda’s grave and knelt by it. The grass was cool and still slightly damp, the turned earth smelling rich but final.

  “You were kind to me,” she whispered as she set the rose down. “You saved me. You may not know that, but you did.” Letting her hand rest on the lovely, rose-streaked marble headstone, she said, “Whenever things got too bad, I’d think of you. And Sarek.”

  She imagined Amanda smiling at that.

  “I wish—”

  “Who are you and what do you think you are doing?” Sarek’s voice no longer had the perfect calm Perrin remembered.

  She pushed herself to her feet, shaking as she did so. “I’m sorry. I meant no harm.” Her English accent, which she’d worked hard to erase so she’d stand out less here, came back with a vengeance under his glare.

  He studied her, his eyebrow going up. “Do I know you?”

  “I nearly ran you down in Regent’s Park. Eight years ago.”

  He seemed to be thinking back. “The young girl—Perrin.”

  “Yes.” She felt a flush of pleasure that he remembered her. “I’m so very sorry about your wife. She was kind to me. You both were.”

  “We did very little.”

  She could tell he did not remember the day as something special.

  “No, you did a lot. You taught me there’s such a thing as control. Even the air around you was serene.”

  “And that is important to you?”

  She laughed, the barest puff of air, to show brittle, angry humor. “My life has not always been that way.”

  “I see.” He looked at the rose. “Is that from you?”

  “It’s one I grew.”

  “My wife loved roses.”

  “I know.” It was a terrible admission. He’d understand that she’d been too interested in them.

  His eyes grew colder. “Did you come to San Francisco just for this—to be … close to us?” There was a note of concern in his voice.

  “No, I live here now. I go to Berkeley.” A liberal place, full of people determined to make the universe better. “I’m in graduate school, studying xenodiplomacy.” Her choice of disciplines was because of him.

  He seemed to realize it.

  “You influenced me greatly, sir.”

  “So, I see.” He looked away.

  “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and this all must sound quite mad. But you see, meeting you was a revelation. A way to act that did not involve yelling or crying or anything else overly emotional.”

  He stared at her, then nodded, his expression more wry than she expected. “It is fitting, I suppose. I could not influence my son, but I have this effect on someone else’s daughter.” She heard the unsaid: someone else’s human daughter.

  “My life has been much more peaceful since I took an interest in Vulcan.” She was attending a meditation class at Berkeley, taught by a visiting Vulcan scholar.

  “I speak at your school occasionally. Have you attended my lectures?”

  “Oh, only all of them.”

  “I see.” This time the concern seemed less, but it was still there.

  “I can explain this better than I have.”

  “I am sure you can.” Suddenly, he looked very tired. “I do not, however, think today is the day, Perrin.”

  “No. You’re right. Of course, it’s not.” She looked down, feeling guilty that she’d intruded on his private time with his wife. “I’ll go.”

  He did not seem to hear her, did not acknowledge the hand she lifted in goodbye before hurrying away.

  She had a sick feeling—how badly had she just embarrassed herself with this man?

  “These internships are hard to come by,” Perrin’s friend Monroe said, as he turned to her while they waited in line. “Five openings and all of us.” He gestured ahead and behind them, where students stood patiently, waiting to go in for their fifteen minutes of opportunity. Only a quarter of an hour to sell herself. Perrin wasn’t sure she could do it.

  “Make that six,” the student ahead of them whispered. “I heard that Ambassador Sarek has agreed to take an intern. Can you imagine learning from him?”

  “Can you imagine interviewing with him?” Monroe asked with a laugh. “The man’s a legend. And he has no sense of humor.”

  “He doesn’t need one,” Perrin said, feeling her cheeks color as both men looked at her. “I mean, he’s Vulcan. They never have one.”

  “Well, rumor is he’s not interviewing today, anyway,” the other man said. “He’s just going to pick someone. He can do whatever he wants, I guess.”

  “Perrin Landover,” she suddenly heard the loudspeaker announce. “Please report to registration.”

  “Oh, you’re in for it now. What’d you do”

  “Nothing.” Perrin glanced at the line. They were almost to the front, and she didn’t relish losing her place.

  The page repeated, her name seeming to fill the crowded hallway.

  “Break a leg,” she whispered to Monroe as she walked to registration, passing students who would no doubt clinch the slots before she even had a chance to compete.

  The woman manning the desk at registration looked up at her. “Oh, Perrin. This was left for you.” She handed Perrin a padd.

  The message said only, “Thirteen hundred. The Chalice. I have heard you are looking for an internship.—Sarek.”

  She handed the padd back to the woman and checked the time. She had thirty minutes to either get back in line and secure her future the normal way, or to hurry across town to the best Vulcan restaurant in the city and see if the man she idolized was serious.

  She made it to the Chalice ten minutes early. Sarek still beat her. He seemed to be studying her as the maitre’d led them to a table.

  She could feel herself blushing under his appraisal—she thought he could see right through her, could determine what kind of person she was just at a glance.

  “I have examined your transcripts. They are most impressive. And your professors speak highly of you.”

  It was odd to think he was now studying up on her.

  “I am a demanding master,” he said.

  “That’s fine. I perform well under pressure. Just ask Professor Kincaide. I was his assistant.” The man gave new meaning to the word “demanding.”

  “I spoke with him. He had nothing but positive things to say about you.”

  “Indeed.” She was not sure where this confidence was coming from, but it felt good.

  “He did, however, say your life appeared to center around your studies—to the exclusion of all else.”

  She could feel her face fall. Kincaide had said that? The man who spent every night and weekend at the University? “Coming from him, sir, that might have been high praise.”

  Sarek seemed to be amused, even though his eyes barely lightened and his lips did not curl up. He seemed to find some humor in her statement. Or possibly just in her. Was
it a good thing if a Vulcan laughed at you?

  “Give me a reason to offer you this internship, Miss Landover. There are many students who have already petitioned for the honor.”

  She met his eyes, did not flinch from them. “I want it more than those others do.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I can learn from you. Not just diplomacy, although I doubt there could be a better teacher. But I would like to learn more about the serenity I sense in you. The control.”

  “You seem very controlled for a human.”

  “For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction.” At his look, she smiled tightly. “My parents taught me how not to behave.”

  “Ah. What you were saying in the cemetery.”

  She was surprised he remembered; that conversation had been nearly a year ago. “Yes. Exactly.”

  “It will not be an easy assignment.”

  “Then I am the perfect candidate. I am unused to ease.” She met his eyes, keeping her own calm and assured. But her heart was pounding, and she could feel her palms sweating.

  “Very well. You will start tomorrow at the Embassy.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She started to get up.

  “I did not invite you to this restaurant to leave before eating.”

  “Oh.” She saw the waiter coming, the plate loaded with traditional Vulcan foods, most of which, she knew from her studies of Sarek and things Vulcan, would be exceedingly hot. “A test?”

  “Do you think I would do that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then, yes. It is a test. Let us see how you fare.”

  She was sweating and her nose was running a bit when she finished. But she didn’t choke or sputter.

  “It is possible you will work out.”

  “Eating is important?”

  “In your capacity on my staff, you will attend many functions. Being able to enjoy—or at least tolerate—the local cuisine is a key aspect of the job.”

  “You’re a vegetarian. How do you manage?”

  “I did not say I had to do it.” There was definitely some humor in his voice. “Although if it is not the flesh of an animal, I will find a way to ‘choke it down,’ as my wife used to say.”

  “You must miss her.” She thought for a moment it was the wrong thing to say, because he became very still and did not answer. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my b—”

  “I do.”

  She feared she might say something gushy and human, but the waiter saved her, bringing the bill, which Sarek paid, then leaving them alone again.

  Sarek rose gracefully from his chair. “I will see you at oh-six hundred at the Embassy tomorrow.”

  She got up, probably with much less grace, but she was too excited to worry about it. “Thank you, sir. You won’t regret it.”

  He did not answer, just left her with a quick nod of his head.

  She nearly floated home. Her apartment seemed too confining, so she went out to the balcony, busying herself with her roses as she tried to relax. The bush that she’d cut Amanda’s rose from last year seemed to have come alive, the blossoms open and perfect, their aroma beautiful in the still air.

  She knew she’d remember this day forever.

  Perrin felt a surge of happiness, bit it back so that it would not find a way to her face. Spock would not approve of her if she was overly emotional. He’d barely tolerated her as it was as his father’s intern, then as Sarek’s assistant. Now—what would he think of her becoming his father’s wife?

  She could feel her legs shaking and decided to walk, roaming the halls of Sarek’s house. This lovely place she’d worked in until all hours of the morning, helping Sarek prepare for a mission, would be her house soon. She’d surrender the comfortable suite of rooms he’d given her and move into his—into theirs.

  She walked out to the rose garden Amanda had started. The garden Perrin had found dying when she’d first visited the house some years after she’d started working for Sarek as an intern.

  He’d looked at the garden, then had turned away as if in pain.

  She’d wandered around the plants, checking them. Someone had watered them, but not enough. And they needed pruning.

  “Those were Amanda’s,” he said softly.

  “I can save them. Make them thrive again.”

  It had been a big claim. They’d been very nearly dead—and in this Vulcan heat, she’d be hard pressed to bring them back. But she’d wanted to do it. For this man she’d come to respect and enjoy so much. For the woman who had been so kind to her on the day she needed it most. And maybe for the son she’d only met a few times. The son who’d stared at her with such disdain, as if he thought she was trouble.

  She realized now that Spock had understood how she felt about Sarek long before she had.

  She’d gone to work on the garden the next day, when she’d been between duties for Sarek. It had taken a long time to make the roses beautiful again. A great deal of coaxing and tending and fertilizing. And of course, water. A commodity so dear on Vulcan it was almost a crime to waste it on flowers. Except that it would make Sarek happy, and she’d wanted that more than anything else.

  “Perrin?” Sarek was coming down the hall. He, too, looked nervous. Was the idea of telling Spock so terrifying? Did he think Spock would disapprove?

  She thought so but hoped that her fear was just a case of human nerves. “Sarek, all is ready.” Her voice was more resonant since she’d been with him; she thought it was from the breath control she’d learned in her twice-weekly meditation classes. She’d progressed much more rapidly here, where she was surrounded by all things Vulcan.

  He looked at the garden. “When you asked me if you could restore it, I did not think it was possible.”

  “Then why did you let me try?”

  His expression lightened, and there was something—something that felt like love—in his eyes. “Because you wanted to.”

  She smiled. The restrained smile he liked best. She’d learned to do that, to scale back her emotions. It felt good. It felt right. It felt light-years away from what she’d grown up with.

  “Saavik is coming today, too.”

  Perrin worried that she didn’t have enough food. But Spock never ate much when he came over. It was as if he lost his appetite the minute he crossed Sarek’s threshold.

  “Saavik was most pleased to accept,” Sarek said.

  Perrin read the contrast in Sarek’s words: Saavik’s reply had been gracious; Spock’s must not have been.

  “It is not you, my dear.” Sarek actually sighed. “You must not think this is about you. Or about his mother. Spock’s issues have always been with me.”

  “What issues could he have with you? You are such a good man.”

  “Such blind loyalty.” Sarek touched her cheek gently. “You love with such ferocity, Perrin.”

  It always startled her when Sarek spoke of love. But he did, and often. He understood it. He embraced it. Perrin suspected it was why Amanda had seemed so filled with joy—to be loved by a man like this was extraordinary.

  The chime rang.

  Sarek sighed. Spock could have just come in—to ring the chime established a distance, a sense that this was not his house. Saavik would have just come in, calling out to them in her brusque way that somehow combined Vulcan dignity with warmth and humor.

  Perrin hurried to the door, unwilling to let the dark feelings get worse, and opened it, to find Spock standing with his hands behind his back, his face stoic in the extreme.

  She stood aside. “Please, enter.”

  It was not the ritual greeting. One did not use the ritual greeting with family. And to take advantage of that was a moment of rebellion she had not intended to indulge in.

  Spock looked at her in surprise, then his face tightened even more. He turned to Sarek. “You have news, I take it?”

  “Perrin and I have decided to wed.”

  Of all the ways he could have put it, that was the most neutral. But it include
d her in the decision, made her part of the choosing, not just the prospective bride who’d waited to be chosen.

  “My congratulations,” Spock said, every note perfect. But the temperature in the house seemed to go down several degrees.

  “What are we congratulating them for?” Saavik asked, coming up behind him, her expression easy.

  “Perrin and my father are to be married.”

  “That is very good news.” She sounded like she meant it. She pushed past Spock, touched Perrin’s arm gently. “It is a pleasure to welcome you to the family.”

  Spock did not look like he shared the sentiment. But he was part of the family by birth. Saavik, like Perrin, had been taken in. She was a member by chance, a member by the desire of those within. In Saavik’s case, all of those within. Perrin could see she’d have to settle for two out of three.

  “You should see the rose garden, my son.” Sarek sounded as if any diversion at this moment would be a good one.

  Perrin led them down to it. Spock wandered it in silence, while the other three looked on from the doorway.

  “It looks healthier each time I see it,” Saavik said. She’d had a hand in the restoration, too. She’d often helped water the plants.

  “I am very pleased with it,” Sarek said, his gaze warm as he looked at Perrin.

  She smiled back at him.

  “My mother would be pleased,” Spock said, and his tone was more open.

  “I hope so.” Perrin sensed Sarek drawing Saavik back into the house. “I restored her roses, Spock. I didn’t plant new ones. I’m not trying to erase her.”

  “Yet, you take her place.” He stood staring at the ground for a long moment, then looked over at her. “Forgive me. My words were not kind. I do not bear you any ill will.”

  “No?”

  “It is not your fault this happened.”

  “Fault? Your father is happy. He’s been alone for some time. Is it so bad that he has found someone he wants to share his life with?”

  Spock started to say something then bit it off, turning away to stare at the sky. He always seemed so alone. Saavik had told Perrin that the death of James Kirk had changed Spock, robbing them of a man who’d understood his human side—who’d made peace with it and embraced his own form of warmth and good humor.