K'hat'n'dlawa

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The day after the meld Sarek completed the necessary forms, setting the extradition officially into motion. He spent the next three days with Amanda, giving her more "therapy" as she had taken to calling it- which included physical activities as well as a constantly-open link through which he sent her peace and affection. Even her current emotional state did not seem to hamper her sex drive. He did not complain of course. She needed distraction and it would be illogical to protest.

He had been illogically relieved when they left Earth. Now they were back on Vulcan. They were home.

And soon he would administer the meld on the Purist. This thought occurred to him many times a day now...and he found he looked forward to it.

The humans believed Vulcans to be pacifists, and while that designation was...fitting...it was not entirely true. Very few beings knew how to incite anger in their species. And two of the ways guaranteed to test a Vulcan's temper were to threaten either their spouse or their offspring. The Purist had done one...and he would suffer for it. Sarek would see to it personally.

The man would regret what he had done- or attempted to do. Sarek would make sure of that. He would pay for almost killing him- pay for almost leaving Amanda heartbroken and bereft. Sarek could not imagine the pain she would have endured at his sudden passing. It should not be that way- she was not supposed to ever have to endure his death. That was his lot in life- his payment for choosing a human wife. It was inevitable that she die before he did. The thought was extremely unpleasant, but true- something he had thought much about the last week. He was comforted by the fact that he estimated he had at least another seventy to eighty years with her, according to the current average human life span.

The High Council scheduled the meld for two days after the Purist's arrival on Vulcan- and they selected Sarek to perform it. He had already known they would, as it was his duty as ambassador between their respective planets. He could have delegated the task to a lower-ranking official, but of course he did not even contemplate the possibility.

On the morning indicated, he rose earlier than normal to begin his routine. Amanda was still asleep when he returned from exercising and meditating, and as he changed from his cloth pants into a tunic and trousers he looked over at her. Her chestnut hair was fanned around her shoulders, spread on the pillow like a gleaming crown. Her face was still, so peaceful and lovely...the sheets barely covered her nude body, outlining the soft curves of her figure as she turned over, stretching her arm across the empty space he had occupied two hours before.

He felt the desire to rejoin her but knew he could not. Not today. Today was too important- too much hung in the balance. What he must do was partly to preserve her safety. As much as he wanted to awaken her, to feel her cool arms around him and see her gentle, sleepy smile...he couldn't.

When he returned he would indulge in the whim...and if she was already awake he would just have to take her back to bed.

Fully dressed, he turned to go. He was determined. He was prepared for what he must do. It was his duty- and his right- to confront the man. To protect his wife, himself, and his people.

It took ten minutes to reach the Shi'Kahr prison. It was a tall structure- much like the ones around it; with sharp, jutting spires and built from pale red stone. Archaic beauty mixed with modern security with the metal posts standing every twenty feet around the perimeter- the posts connected an invisible force field that surrounded the building.

Most of the prison's occupants were outworlders who had been caught in Vulcan's jurisdiction for various crimes. But there were Vulcans of passion there as well- those who rejected the teachings of Surak and engaged in barbaric behavior. There were a few Vulcans of logic, but they made up an extremely small contingent of those held behind the stone walls. He did not focus on the others as he walked toward the building. His mind was set on a single target.