Sarek's Trousers
by Tegan
Rated:
PG
Disclaimer:
I don’t own anything from Star Trek and am just borrowing the characters for a
bit of fun.
Summary:
This story is bit of silly
nonsense I wrote as a change from writing and reading Doctor Who fan-fiction.
It’s my first Sarek/Amanda foray and my first venture into writing humour. The
story is told gradually from the POV of different characters, so be patient.
The title sums up the intension, so please don’t take it seriously. Oh and feel
free to email with comments.
………………………………………………………………………………………
Sarek’s Trousers.
Chapter One …The
former Receptionist
Imported from every
corner of the universe, the bar had an amazing selection of drinks. She scanned
them with a somewhat unsteady eye, selecting her next sampling. “Any Orion Gin?”
“Joking yes?” The
smartly dressed Andorian raised his antennas at her. “Not Or’Gin,
not legal and you not take it well.” He dipped his head and looked directly at
her. “You young lady
who serves at embassy. Why not go and work now?”
“Did work.” She turned
and glared gloomily at him. “You speak decent Standard, but you’re getting the
past tense confused.”
“Much apologies, did-do,
you no longer work yes. Drink here instead, not good.”
She picked up her
glass and eyed him over the last of the Spanish brandy. “They sacked me about
an hour ago. Now, what have you got that’s the same potency as Orion Gin … and also
pink? That stuff over there.” She made an attempt to point, but her arm just
wouldn’t stay still, the Andorian barman followed as the gesture encompassed
the whole of his bar, ending on the stool next to her.
“You very drunk
now, nice lady, not used to drink. I have water.”
“Great idea, give
me some nice Scottish spring water and do me a favour,” she learned forward and
tried to wink, “put a little whiskey in there too.”
“You upset yes?”
He tilted his head, his antennas moving forward. “Embassy treat
you bad.”
She began to turn
on the stool and almost fell. Collecting
herself she tried to use the wayward arm and this time successfully managed to
point to the magnificent Art Deco building opposite the bar. “The Vulcan
Embassy…” she spoke in perfect high Andorian, with a royal accent, “treated with
shame an honourable servant,” then thumped her chest to complete the statement,
but that started a coughing fit.
“You speak
excellent Andorian.”
“Yes, very good
Andorian, but excellent Vulcan, five different Earth languages and a little
Tellarite… I’m still learning that one. How about a beer?”
“Will
serve you beer.”
She watched as he
deliberately selected the weakest beer and picked up a very small glass. “Hell,
lost my job and my reputation and now I can’t even get drunk, things are…” she
closed her eyes concentrating for the right phrase in the right language, “…shit!”
He passed her the
glass. “Shit?” His head tilted trying to
understand. “Why job gone? You work at door, yes?”
“Yes, I was a receptionist,
I needed the experience for my studies and I was kinda hoping it would be a
foot on the ladder to greater things, because I’m good.” She held her chin up
in pride, then propped the beer glass under it to keep her head steady. “They
told me my work was satisfactory, but my temporary contract would not be renewed.
Then Selron said it was for my own good.”
Her face turned a slight shade of red and her chin fell off the glass; she
decided to take another heavy gulp. “He thinks I’ve got a thing for the ambassador.”
“You want to kill
the ambassador?” He smiled; it was obvious to him his translation had been
incorrect.
“What? You know I
think you’re right, I’m no good with alcol… alcol-hol… alcohol, it sort of gets to me.”
“What is this
‘thing’ you do with the ambassador?” Andorians are by nature an inquisitive people;
he pulled up a stool and sat opposite her.
She looked at him
imploringly, and then her shoulders seemed to give. “I just… well I just…” her
skin colour changed again,
“I did something stupid and they don’t go in for stupid over there.”
“Very
curious now.” He poured her some more beer, then watched patiently as she took the glass and twisted it
nervously in her hands.
“I got caught
looking.”
“Looking? You spy
for your government yes?”
“NO, no, no, no!
It’s nothing like that.” She looked around as if about to divulge something
highly confidential. “I was sacked for looking at the ambassador's ass.” She
sat back and waited for a response.
“Ass?” There was a
total lack of understanding.
“You know… bottom,
posterior, backside, arse … err, let me think of the Andorian… I know, ‘toeya’.”
“Unting?”
“Koy!” she raised
her glass to salute the correct translation.
He was laughing,
“Funny, yes?”
“Hilarious.”
“And he sack you for this. It is compliment on Andoria.”
“Well ‘he’, thank heavens,
didn’t know and I wasn’t technically ‘sacked.’ As I said, it was only temp work.
They told me nicely to, well, go away… it’s a long
story.” Looking up she tried to concentrate, but there was three of him, she
addressed the middle one in Andorian. “What’s your name?”
…………………………………………………………………………………………..
Chapter Two …Selron the Vulcan
The ambassador was
about to arrive and the embassy was still unacceptable. Selron scanned the
reception area looking for the main ‘culprit.’
“Miss Grayson, why are there Humans still present, the embassy is now
closed.”
The young women
looked at the chronometer attached to her wrist. “As of five minutes ago Selron,
these people need some time to gather their belongings if they’re suddenly told
to pack up and leave. Surly Vulcan customs apply to courtesy of a guest...”
“Your
interpretation of our customs is of no importance, please attend to your duties
and have the reception cleared of tourists.”
“They are not
tourists; it’s a cultural exchange visit…”
“Now,
Miss Grayson.” He always felt it necessary to interrupt her,
before she detained him any further.
In his opinion, the
new ambassador's insistence on employing a Human receptionist had been a rare
mistake in judgement. Its consequences had been a detrimental reduction in the
efficiency of his department. Miss Grayson had been adequate, but her presence
had created distraction amongst his staff; they considered her ‘fascinating’
and consistently asked her irrelevant questions. Indeed, he suspected two of
his staff to be deliberately engaging in unnecessary conversations with her to
improve their spoken Standard. Miss Grayson’s approach to problem solving was also
unpredictable and he occasionally found it challenging to supervise her, given
that he found it impossible predict her responses and therefore was unable to assume
her actions. Essentially Miss Grayson had to go; he just needed a reason to
terminate her contract if she opted for a renewal. Unfortunately, so far she
had failed to make an observable error.
He deliberately
turned his back to her and watching carefully through the clear glass doors he
spoke over his shoulder. “Miss Grayson, the ambassador’s vehicle is outside.” Selron
was aware that his attitude to her was an insult.
“Yes, I can see.” Her
voice betrayed some emotion, he suspected it to be
impatience. “It’s just that Mrs Rimmer has lost her
purse.”
Selron turned and
raised a questioning eyebrow. “Purse?”
“It’s used to
carry currency and personal items, a keritch-eya.”
“It was definitely
in my bag when I gave it to that young gentleman,” the aged human standing
opposite Miss Grayson pointed a suspicious finger at Torn, one of his security
staff.
Miss Grayson lips
curved; it appeared as though she considered the unacceptable situation humorous.
Her voice also seemed lacking in any Human urgency. “Are you sure it’s gone Mrs
Rimmer? Have
another look.”
Torn suddenly
stood to attention, looked past Selron and bowed his
head. “Ambassador Sarek.”
Selron quickly
turned but realised it was too late; he had not been properly prepared for the
welcome. Indeed, he had even been caught standing with his back to the door. He
hurriedly raised his hand to give the belated greeting. “Welcome back Ambassador.”
Sarek’s hand was
already returning the gesture without altering his pace, he swept passed,
stopping momentarily to acknowledge the retinal scanner at security.
The elderly human’s
harsh voice pierced the silence. “Is that the ambassador, Miss Grayson? Is that the ambassador? Excuse me…are you
listening...IS THAT THE AMBASSADOR?”
Selron looked at
his receptionist; she stood, her head slightly inclined,
the small smile still on her lips. Something
had grabbed her attention and she stared as through transfixed. He followed the
direction of her gaze, realizing it was centred on the ambassador’s trousers. He looked away quickly. “Miss Grayson!”
“Oh,” her face
instantly changed colour, “I’m sorry, I was…looking for Mrs Rimmer’s purse…” She
seemed unable to finish the sentence.
…………………………………………….
Chapter Three …. The Culprit Amanda
Things were not
going well and Amanda Grayson could feel them getting worse. She had carefully
planed this cultural exchange for several weeks, basically to impress Silek,
but everything seemed to be heading for disaster.
Amanda had met Silek
two months ago, when she had been sent to his office to read through a difficult
translation. The job had been easy; it was a sound bite of spoken Glaswegian,
which the Federation had messed up in the translation, making the text sound
suggestively rude. However, the meeting had left her enchanted with the Vulcan.
He was charming, approachable and (for a Vulcan) pleasant. He had even understood the crude hummer in
the incorrect translation, commenting ironically on T’Pau’s reaction at first
hearing it. He was the brother of the Vulcan ambassador, but more importantly,
he ran Marketing and Media on an interplanetary scale. Now, that interested her. Planetary Media was
a whole new field and she knew she had the personality and linguistic skills to
break into it. She had left his office determined to get a post in his
department, she just needed an opportunity to show off her talents.
As a result,
Amanda had arranged a cultural exchange. On the surface it had been a great opportunity
to invite local people and news stations into the embassy and give them a
‘taste’ of Vulcan life. In reality, she could play host to the local news
stations, getting her name in the media and noticed by Silek. Unfortunately,
her present boss Selron had seen right through it. He’d even unsuccessfully attempted to veto
the visits.
The exchange had
been scheduled over the last three days – today had been the final visit.
Yesterday had been a tremendous success.
She had even managed to arrange an interview with Silek for UNV News, and
the Vulcan had been impressive. Then today had been a catastrophe.
“Ambassador Sarek
is returning early, Miss Grayson; it appears there has been a problem with the
negotiations. Security is on alert and I would like everyone removed.” Selron
seemed almost ‘smug’ when he had given the order.
“But I have
thirteen guests and two news stations.”
“Then remove them,
security at present is on priority.”
“But, it’s going
to be difficult…”
“Would you like me
to call security and have the tourists removed more efficiently, Miss Grayson?”
He hadn’t been bluffing;
Selron would have everyone escorted out at gun point if it proved effective.
Most of her guests
had taken the announcement badly, except the news stations. They had immediately begun happily filming
the enforced evacuation. She’d decided to brave it out and was now politely
urging the last cameraman out of the doors without appearing to be rude. Of
course, it didn’t help that Selron kept intermittently moaning at her. However,
the local sheriff had refused to go. As she was frantically looking for something and glaring at a
security guard… Amanda could feel the impending disaster.
“What seems to be
the problem, Mrs Rimmer?”
“It’s my purse,
it’s just gone.”
“Miss Grayson, the
ambassador’s vehicle is outside.”
“Yes, I can see,”
she tried hard to curb her impatience, “it’s just Mrs Rimmer has lost her
purse.”
Selron turned and
raised a condescending eyebrow. “Purse?” He obviously
didn’t understand the importance of the missing article.
“It’s used to
carry currency and personal items, a keritch-eya.”
“It was definitely
in my bag when I gave it to that young gentleman.” The old lady pointed at Torn, one of the
security staff and stiffened herself expecting a challenge, but the young Vulcan
merely looked through her.
Amanda considered
her options; perhaps she ought to distract the old girl by getting her to double
check her bag, while personally escorting her out of the embassy by the back
door. She adopted what she knew to be a reassuring smile as she moved around
the reception desk. “Are you sure, Mrs Rimmer, that it’s gone?
Have another look.” But then Torn spoke and she looked across to see him
standing at attention. Turning her head
further she watched as the Vulcan ambassador himself came through the embassy doors.
He moved so
quickly that Amanda was frozen, amazed at the speed. It was like watching a
panther on the wildlife holo-channel. His sudden explosive
appearance was thrown out of context by the deceptively and seemingly
casualness that he always adopted. There was power and grace in every step.
Selron stood clumsily
in his way, but Sarek just swept passed, his eyes briefly resting on everyone
and moving his hand almost automatically.
Her eyes followed
him; he always moved like a panther, dark, black and hungry, but something was
different about him today, something odd. She realised he wasn’t wearing his normal
heavy ambassadorial robes, instead he wore a tightly fitted brown suit that was
far more figure hugging. The movement of muscle below the clothes was now
obvious, and watching the play of the skin under the material, she decided his
clothes were a size too small. Sarek’s trousers were definitely fitted a little
too tight around the hips. At the top of the legs she could actually see the
outline of his underwear and she could swear he was wearing a pair of Speedos….
“Miss Grayson!”
She was pulled
away from her thoughts and surfaced into reality, where she was the centre of
attention. Selron glared at her with a momentary look of horror on his features
and Mrs Rimmer was shouting something. Only Torn ignored her, but he seemed to
be frantically searching Sarek’s trousers for some unseen threat.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She could feel herself burn with embarrassment
and couldn’t think of anything sensible to say. “I was…looking for Mrs Rimmer’s
purse.”
Composed now, Selron
merely raised his eyebrow again, but Mrs Rimmer went for the throat. “Well you
certainly won’t find it there, my dear.” She turned and pointed at the ambassador's
retreating backside.
…………………………………………………………………………………………..
Chapter Four… Ambassador
Sarek
Sarek was
immediately aware of the cameraman as he ascended the steps of the embassy. He
deliberately turned away and began to quicken his pace; such negative publicity
would be highly beneficial, especially if it appeared that Vulcans were
prepared to withdraw and close ranks.
Sarek had now
realised the only way forward in the present negotiations was to appear to
retreat. It was not logical, but the Ryan ambassador appeared not to comprehend
logic. He had failed to realise the detrimental consequences of his persistent
stalling and accusations. Over the past two point three days he had
deliberately offended each senior diplomat in attendance, leaving Sarek himself
until last. That insult had been vigilantly timed, and was instantaneously followed
with an unreasonable request. Sarek had
no alternative but to depart. He had also ordered all other Vulcan diplomats
onto alert status, sending out a clear message of disapproval across the
Federation.
The Ryans were a highly paranoid and deeply suspicious race, almost
certainly because, as a mineral rich planet, they had been invaded so often.
Still, they had gained little sympathy within the Federation, as they also
proved to be extremely arrogant and often openly offensive. They had demanded
certain ‘conditions’ to the negotiations from the outset and so far Sarek had
accepted every one, however illogical. The bowing of heads when talking had
been simple to adopt, even avoiding direct eye contact had been effortless, (and
that one had been the undoing of the Tellarite ambassador.) Keeping his hands
always forward and visible had proved more taxing, as it was a natural Vulcan
stance to hold hands clasped behind the back, but he had risen to the challenge.
His hands and every other diplomats attending were firmly under control. Even
the wearing of clothes had been forbidden, as garments concealed weapons. Sarek
had managed to gain a compromise by insisting that all the diplomats who
inherited a cultural privacy about their bodies wore suitably tight garments instead.
As a result some delegates had appeared naked, others in underwear, but those
who wore clothing had chosen garments that clearly offered no opportunity for
concealment. However, that compromise was a weakness the Ryans
had been prepared to exploit.
This morning, halfway
through his meticulously prepared speech on the importance of gaining progression,
Sarek had suddenly been interrupted; he was openly accused by the Ryan ambassador
of concealing something… in his trousers. This was followed by demands to
remove them. The negotiations had simply fallen apart at that point. Shras the Andorian had thrown his head upwards in laughter,
and the Lemnorian delegation, (which consisted mostly of females,) were
actually cheering and waving their large hands in every direction. Sarek had
simply bowed his head further, turned his hands palm upwards and suggested the
meeting be cancelled as several of the conditions requested had now been broken,
then he walked out.
Now, as he entered
the embassy, he permitted himself to experience relief, despite the failure. Everything
here would be consistent; here he would regain stability, peace and normality.
Here he would consider carefully his next move before the mandatory call came
from the Federation petitioning him to return to the talks tomorrow.
He heard his name
as the doors opened, it was the routine announcement by the security guard on
duty and he adjusted his hand to return the traditional greeting from Selron.
“Welcome back,
Ambassador.”
As he moved to the
retina scanner, he glanced at the upturned lips of the Human female who manned reception, her smiling face was an accepted presence and a
welcome contrast to Selron’s. It had been a successful experiment to engage a Human;
logical considering most of the visitors to the embassy were also Human. It would now be difficult to replace her; however,
his bother Silek had requested her promotion into his department only this
morning. Sarek searched his memory for her full name.
A human voice
pierced his thoughts, “Is that the ambassador Miss Grayson? Is that the ambassador? Excuse me…are you
listening...IS THAT THE AMBASSADOR?”
Amanda Grayson. Sarek now recalled how Silek had delivered an
impressive list of her credentials, unusual that she had achieved so much at
such a young age, especially for a Human. It would be potentially interesting
to test her Vulcan linguistic skills, especially on pre-reform terminology.
However, he still
needed to inform her of the promotion and before the lift doors closed, he
looked back and considered calling her over, but she seemed to be earnestly
engaged in conversation with Selron, so much so that her face had somehow
changed colour. He would delay the announcement and arrange the transfer to
start automatically consecutive of her temporary contract in reception.
Therefore, the transfer would start the following day and would be a surprise
for the Human. They seemed to enjoy
surprises.
The doors closed
and Sarek slumped heavily against the mirrored wall, looking downwards through
force of habit. At his feet was a small bright pink bag and picking it up he
examined it with interest. A keritch-eya.
Obviously someone had dropped it. He would have to hand it in to
reception later, a convenient opportunity to engage in conversation with Miss
Grayson. He attempted to stuff the keritch-eya
in his trouser pocket but they were far too tight.
He needed a change
in clothes and to meditate and then consider the situation with the Ryans.
………………………..
Epilogue…The
Andorian Barman
“My
name is
She started laughing;
everyone always did when he said it. “But
that sounds Human.”
“
“I’m so sorry Fredrish, Fred-er,” she giggled,
“can I just call you Freddy? You’re right, I’m so very drunk and not at my best,
but…” She never finished, the
communicator attached to her sleeve started to bleep. “Oh shit!” she jumped and
looked at her arm.
He leaned forward,
“Someone wishes to talk, yes.”
“It’s the embassy.”
She looked at him in horror.
“That’s good,
yes.”
“NO, I can’t speak
now; I can’t even say your name let alone say anything in bloody Vulcan.” She
removed the bleeping device and threw it across the bar.
He picked it up
and curiously pushed the receiver. It
spoke. “It's
Ambassador Sarek, Miss Grayson.”
The communicator
spoke again. “Miss Grayson?” It
sounded so authoritative that
“Much apologies, Miss
Grayson not here, could leave a message, yes.” He smiled with false confidence at
the Human; however, her blue eyes were now huge and she looked ill.
“With whom am I speaking?”
“
“Why are you in possession of Miss Grayson’s
communicator?”
“Indeed, Miss Grayson is under the impression
her services at the embassy have been terminated. Where can I find her?”
“That is acceptable Mr Frederick.” There
was a slight hesitation and
The Human’s head
shoot up at that, but she swayed unsteadily on the barstool.
“Tomorrow at nine hundred will be sufficien. Tthank you for
your assistance Mr Frederick. Sarek out”
He leaned over the
bar to see her lying on her back, a huge smile enhancing her already beautiful
face. “You very happy now, yes?”
“Gloriously,” she
pulled herself up and managed to make her smile go further, “but hasn’t he got
the most gorgeously sexy voice ever?”
“Like Sarek?” The
smile disappeared as she seemed to consider the possibility for the first time.
She pulled on her overcoat, leaning forward and upwards to lightly kiss him on
the cheek. As she moved back her smile returned. “He’s a wonderful job-giving
Vulcan who will probably never be liked by anyone as much as me at this moment,
bless him... Yes Freddy, right now I love him more than anything!”