Part One, if you missed it last week.
Triona went to the replicator. “Trelan tea, two.” The machine whirred compliantly, depositing two cups of the steaming Vulcan brew onto the dispenser pad. Picking up the cups, she turned, handing one to Spock.
There was a whole body of tradition and ritual involved with Trelan tea. She didn’t intend on going there, but just her handing him the tea was an indication of the seriousness of her intent at this ‘chat’. An intent Spock seemed to acknowledge as he accepted the cup gravely between his two hands, his long fingers delicately clasping the small drinking vessel, with a slight bow.
When he spoke, it was in Vulcan, using the more formal mode of the language, suitable for speaking to an elder and family member. “Seveh, Tela'at T’rona.”
“K'war'ma'khon Spock, tesmur,” she replied as formally. Indicating with a wave of a hand that he should sit, she gracefully sank into one of the chairs in the small seating area of the guest quarters.
They both maintained silence, sipping tea as they gathered their thoughts. Finally, after the appropriate interval, Spock spoke into the quiet. “Your presence here on the Enterprise was unexpected.”
The Imladrin Planetary Union kept a relatively low profile in the quadrant, some might even say secretive. It was rare for such a public high level delegation to attend a Federation conference. Most diplomatic business was conducted privately, through back channels and upper echelon contacts.
“Your father’s doing,” Triona replied.
“While Imladris is not a member of the Federation, we do have a great deal of influence to bring to bear. Influence I intend to use to expedite the entrance of the Coridan system into the Federation.” She sipped at her tea. “In return, Vulcan will press my government’s concern at the growing influence of the Orions with the Federation Council. A mutually beneficial arrangement, as we see it.”
She laughed. “I’m pleased you think so!” After regarding him for a moment, she added, “But I have other concerns that brought me here, Spock. I think you realize that.”
“I had arrived at that conclusion.” His voice was tight and controlled.
Sighing at his tone, she glanced at him before looking down at the teacup she held in her hand. “You and Sarek.” With a sharp motion of her hand, she forestalled him. “No, Spock, you will let me finish.” This was said in a tone that brooked no argument. Triona was determined that he would at least hear her out. The young Vulcan swallowed his words, and she continued, “I will not try and mediate between you and your father. That is not my intention. God knows you and Sarek are as stubborn as anyone I’ve ever met.” She gave him a piercing look, daring him to say that stubbornness was a human emotion. Wisely, he kept his peace.
Setting the cup on the adjacent side table, she clasped her hands in her lap. “But what about your mother, Spock? She’s human, with a human life span. Is it logical to waste so much precious time with her? Believe me when I tell you that regret is one emotion you will be unable to avoid if you continue to keep Amanda from your life because of the discord between you and Sarek.”
His jaw clenched ever so slightly. “It was never my intention.”
“And yet, that has been the result,” she replied sadly. “Amanda gave up so much when she married your father. She even gave you up in the end, gave you up to be your father’s son, to be a Vulcan. Please, Spock, just for a little while, can’t you be her son too?”
“Sarek, I believe, would disagree that I am a proper Vulcan son.”
“Sarek is a fool,” she snapped. Spock raised one brow at her sharp outburst. “Oh, Spock, your father is one of my dearest friends, but I am not blind to his shortcomings. And while I can not directly broach the subject with him, you are a different matter. Vulcan custom gives me that right.”
Triona had known Spock’s grandfather, a member of the First Contact compliment to Earth in 2063. And then she and Sarek had become friends some five years before Spock’s birth. When Spock was a child, Triona had lived in Sarek’s household for two years. In the course of that time there, she had been made the boy’s Pry'lyn. The closest human equivalent was Godmother, though it was somewhat more involved than that – as many Vulcan customs tended to be.
“I do not regret my choice to attend Starfleet Academy or to serve on a human ship. To do so would be illogical,” he said stiffly.
“And you think I disagree with that, Spock? If I’d thought that you were making the wrong choice, I would have told you then. You know very well that I’m not averse to giving you my opinion.” She flashed a small crooked smile that was answered by a sparkle in her companion’s eyes that amounted to outright laughter in a Vulcan. Yes, he knew that quite well indeed. “I am very proud of you, of what you’ve accomplished.”
“It has been my good fortune to serve on this ship, under this captain. The path I have chosen suits me well.”
“I wish you’d known your grandfather, Skon. You remind me so much of him.”
“And yet, he did as was expected, he attended the Vulcan Science Academy and then entered diplomatic service.”
“He did,” Triona agreed. “But there was no Federation, no Starfleet Academy when he was young. I firmly believe that if there had been, he would have chosen as you did. Your grandfather was insatiably curious. As delighted with having me explain what my name meant as he was in Earth history, or the matter, anti-matter mix in a warp engine.”
Gently, she placed two fingers across Spock’s wrist, an embrace for a Vulcan. “If ever you wish me to share those memories of Skon with you, you only need ask.” They had been mentally bonded during the ceremony that had made her his Pry'lyn. It sealed her responsibility for him and his well being for as long as they both lived. It was a responsibility Triona took very seriously. While neither had ever utilized the bond they shared, it was ever present at the edges of their awareness, bringing a closeness that was belied by their outward formality.
“You do me honour, T’sai T’rona,” he said quietly.
“No, Spock, I just love you,” she replied as quietly. A memory of him at three, sitting with her in the garden in the Vulcan twilight, flitted across her mind’s eye. Blinking a little at the tears that threatened to well up, she marshaled her emotions. She always tried her best not to embarrass her Vulcan ‘family’ with overt displays of human emotion; sometimes, it was harder than others.
The Vulcan remained silent, seeming to know she needed a moment to gather herself. Taking a deep breath, she stood, smoothing the fabric of the floor length skirt she wore. Then she said briskly, in English this time, “Your parent’s shuttle will be arriving soon.”
“‘Forty-seven minutes,” he agreed, standing as well.
“Then I’ve taken enough of your time, Spock. I know you have duties to attend to.”
Bowing slightly, he accepted the end to their meeting. “I promise you, I shall think on what we have spoken of here.”
Nodding, she smiled. “I’m glad.” Walking to the door, she waved a hand across the sensor, causing it to open with a quiet whoosh. “And now, Commander, duty awaits us both.”
“Ambassador York,” he took his leave before exiting the open door.
Part One ][ Part Two ][ Part Three