NEW: Lost in Translation Series: One Does Not Thank Logic

By: T’Ashalik

Sa/Am

Rating: G

Summary: Amanda’s habitual translation hobby presents itself to Sarek throughout their marriage.

2250

Sarek sat in the lounge of the T’Plana Hath, awaiting the ship’s docking maneuvers in orbit around Earth. It had been ten days since he had received Amanda’s communication – and in the privacy of their home, he had welcomed it. Although the duration of standard docking procedures had not really changed during his career, this particular day, the procedures seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time.

While he knew that she was still displeased with him for his severing ties with their son, Amanda had made it clear to him that she wished there to be no further discord in their family. It meant more to her to be with him alone, than without either of them. He looked at the message she sent to him, and considered it carefully as final preparations were made to seal airlocks and gain entry clearances.

My Dearest Sarek,

It is of endings that I would speak with you. I will be very clear with you, Sarek, that I still have not been able to forgive the way you treated our son… our son… our only child… vre’kasht… but that is a conversation for a later time.

I have made my decision regarding our relationship, and I will return to you, Adun. While I do not agree with your choices, it is more important to me that you and I hold fast to the commitment we made to one another.

You see, wounds like these have a way of mending themselves over time, and perhaps one day you and Spock will be able to mend yours. That would mean a great deal to me; in fact, it would mean more to me than you may ever realize.

My teaching contract ends in ten days, and they want to know if I will be renewing with them or not. I await your response.

Your Wife,

Amanda

Sarek sighed quietly and considered the turmoil he felt at the end of a year’s separation from her. It had been decidedly unpleasant, and having her home safe, in his arms, rebuilding the trust he had shattered was his top priority.

However, he was not prepared to consider redacting his decision regarding Spock, not at all. If things between them were to change, Spock would have to make extraordinary decisions regarding his future, and Sarek did not estimate the probability of that to be high.

His response to her had been immediate, and he was grateful for his aides clearing his schedule for the journey to Earth without so much as a question or even a raised eyebrow. She sent a second communication to him two days ago with her finalized plans for his arrival and their mutual return to Vulcan.

Along with that letter was a translation she had completed for him. He gently turned it over to obscure its contents from the first officer who approached him.

“S’hai’le, we are under control of the docking agents and will be clear to disembark in five minutes,” the young woman said quietly.

“Acknowledged, Nerien. Has the item I requested been located and brought aboard?”

“It is to be beamed aboard in two minutes, sir,” she responded.

Sarek inclined his head to the young officer, who turned and briskly strode out of the lounge. Sarek returned to the poem, by the Terran poet Federico Lorca:

“With a Lily In Your Hand”

K’t’dular svai-teluk svi’d’ru

With a lily in your hand, I leave, my night-love.

K’t’dular svai-teluk svi’d’ru – trashu nash-veh – mu-yor ashaya.

Little widow of my single star, I find you, taming the dark butterflies I follow along my way.

Naglanshau nash-veh tu-pi’kir’an t’nash-veh goh khio’ri - fnau-tor t’mugel mathralar zahaltor t’nash-veh yut.

After a thousand years, you will see me, my night-love. Following the blue foot-path,

Po’shahtau leh-teh tevunlar – dungi gla-tor du nash-veh – mu-yor ashaya. Zahalik plankur lates-yut –

taming the dark stars, I will go until the universe can fit inside my heart.

fnau-tor t’mu’gel khio’rolar – hal-tor nash-veh yut abi’stukhtra dungi-nunau svi’khaf-spol nash-veh.

Sarek folded the peace offering and placed it in the hidden pocket of his robes. He walked quietly out of the lounge to the transporter room, and was greeted by a yeoman, with the item he’d requested in his hands.

He stood by the control station and waited as the transporter chief acknowledged the order to activate the transporter.

***

Amanda stood on the transporter pad, feeling uncharacteristically nervous, but ready to return to the man she loved. The year apart had been hard for him, she was certain – but she was not ready for the toll it took on her being away from him in anger. She still did not understand how he could declare their son unworthy and disown him as he had.

She had been more than pleased to receive a subspace message in reply to her peace offering, and was delighted to know that he was personally coming to bring her home. As the odd twinge of her molecules being scrambled moved through her body, she closed her eyes and waited.

When she opened them, Sarek was there waiting for her with flowers in his arms. She stepped off the pad and approached him. He handed them to her, and she smiled softly, inhaling their delightful scent.

“Sarek, they are lovely, I thank you.”

“You are most welcome, Amanda; however, one does not thank logic.”

“Sarek, how can flowers be logical?”

“Are you not familiar with the variety?” he asked her.

She looked at the identification tag, and realized just how sound his logic was. The only possible choice was Stargazer Lilies. Embracing two fingers, she looked into his eyes.

//One may not thank logic, Sarek, but I will thank the one thinking logically.//