Cantrell: The Early Years, Part Four

Unsavory Dinner, a Cantrell: The Early Years Update

Joseph Cantrell sat back in his chair, staring at the legal draft set before him.  The meeting wasn’t going well.  He was glad now that he had insisted it take place here in this very public spot, the Islander Restaurant, a notable place for fine dining.  He glanced around him briefly at the other patrons, taking in the ambience of this place, the low lighting, the intimacy of the booths and the tables scattered throughout the center aisle, where he and his companion sat. Waiters and waitresses flitted expertly from table to table toting heavy trays laden with food in a carefully choreographed dance, skirting close to each other, yet never once making contact.  He would have preferred a booth, needing the quiet it offered, but his huge six foot six frame just didn’t lend itself to such tight confines. 

Joseph took in a deep breath, gathering into his lungs the pungent aroma of roast beef marinated in au jus.  His guest was a strict vegetarian, but knowing the nature of the business they were to conduct on this cheerless evening, he decided some form of vengeance was in order.  He reached for the pen, changed his mind and grabbed his wine glass instead, taking a sip of the Von Haute Estate Meloire, a rare vintage Cabernet Sauvignon.  Stalling.  

“Is the wording contrary to your liking?” Ambassador Sarek said at last.  His gaze was cool beneath the gently angled eyebrows flecked with bits of gray, his brown eyes beginning to reflect his advanced years.  The Vulcan’s demeanor exuded patience as he waited for an answer. 

 Joseph drew in a quiet breath, glancing away again unable to look the aged dignitary in the eye.  He had lived on Vulcan for many years and he was familiar with the culture.  He embraced it with all of its intricacies and subtle nuances, he just never dreamed it would creep its way into his own household so very intimately.  Never dreamed he would be signing such an agreement as this.  So much of him railed against the notion, his hand nearly shook.  “No,” he said.  “No, it’s quite logically put.  It just occurs to me now that perhaps something more provisional should be offered.  You know, something with more wriggle room.  We’re talking about two people’s lives here.  What if they don’t even get along?  Hell, marriage is hard enough . . .”

“Arrangements of this nature quite often take place in your own culture.  Human history is replete with it.  I do not comprehend your continued reticence in the matter.  As for whether or not they will get along, it is up to them to make it work.  We must not forget how tenaciously they clung to each other after the Council ruled against such a match in the first place. It is Kiftiri, the will of the All —”

“Destiny, kiftiri, sounds more like a trap to me.  Listen, Sarek.  You’ve known me a long time.  You know my word is good, why do we need this in writing?” he said as he drew a line through some of the language on the page, striking it out, initialing each change as he went.  “Here’s what I recommend.  Rather than jump off the deep end, let’s just see how things work out.  Put them together on the ship, and we’ll go from there.  What do you say?”  Joseph shoved the amended paperwork across the table.  Sarek barely glanced at it.

“It is not for me to say, the Council requires more than a mere promise. Reputations are on the line, the integrity of his family. This is a serious business, the — moderator in question was accused of malfeasance. Surely, you would not deny him the opportunity to prove himself unfairly maligned,” Sarek said. “And what of your daughter? She pines away.  Already certain damage may have been done.  Why tempt fate?  We all made an error in judgement four point one-eight Standard Earth years ago.  It is time to rectify it, would you not agree?”  With that he scribbled something on the page, initialed it and scooted it back across the tablecloth.

Joseph made a pretense of studying the parchment.  He noted the emphasis placed on the word moderator.  He had requested the Ambassador withhold the identity of the man, for now, for reasons of his own.  It was all part of his backup plan should the meeting go against him.  Which it had been, steadily.  Sarek was a skilled diplomat, with decades of experience under his belt.  Joseph, although flustered, wasn’t really surprised the elderly statesman had wrung concession after concession out of him.   Still, he would not give in so easily.  He had one minor ace in the hole, and he planned to play it.

“We must at least make the attempt,” Sarek said, breaking the uneasy silence.  “If he does not find favor with your daughter after a time, she is free to Challenge him.  And honor will have been served.  If it were your son who stood accused, Joseph, what would you do?”

With that Joseph looked up, startled, for a moment thinking that the father-to-father tactic Sarek employed had something to do with the identity of the man in question.  Then he brought himself back to his senses.  Sarek only had two sons, one who had disgraced himself and the House of Talek Sen Dene years ago, the rumor of his recent demise carried on the wind, and another son by his second union, Spock of legendary fame. As things turned out, Spock, the younger son had simply gone into retreat, some years back, attempting to achieve the Vulcan Kolinarh.  

Due to a crisis, Spock was suddenly back in uniform, serving in Starfleet, as he had for decades. Shortly after his Test, at age seventeen, he fled the planet to join this auspicious force. Ran away, as humans would suggest. Joseph always wondered why. Many Vulcans were betrothed at that age . . . 

From what Joseph had observed, Vulcans were, for all of their sophistication, a mysterious breed, balancing technological advancements and logic with a deep faith bordering on the superstitious.  

How to exploit that, he pondered, in order to free his daughter from an uncertain fate?  It was time to play his ace.  “I’ll agree to most of this, but this is how I want it to come down,” he began and proceeded to lay out his plan, producing a legal document of his own for Sarek to sign.  When Joseph was finished running down the finer points, Sarek was the one who looked thoughtful for a time.  The Ambassador then leaned forward and with a bold stroke, signed the provisional agreement Joseph had countered with, Joseph doing the same, signing the parchment Sarek had presented, with a flourish. 

“There,” he said, handing it back to the Vulcan.

“It is done,” Sarek echoed, easing out of his seat.  He gathered both the paper and his copy of the provisional agreement Joseph was handing him, Joseph having slipped the small 4 cm cube out of the electronic recorder, coming to his feet as well.

“I shall take my leave.  My secretary will make the needed adjustments to this contract and you will get a copy of it, forthwith.  And I thank you for your courtesies tonight.  The meal was exceptional.  The next time Amanda comes to Earth with me, I shall bring her here.  Good evening, Joseph.” 

“Live long and prosper, Sarek.”  With a polite nod, the Ambassador strode from the crowded restaurant.  Joseph sat back down, pocketing the other cube taken from the device, his copy.  For a long time he just sat, finishing his wine and contemplating what he should do next.  Certainly, he couldn’t leave things as they were.  A few minutes later, the bottle of rare wine exhausted, the giant bear of a man lumbered out of the establishment, grinning at the workers, calling many by their names and seeing to it his server was handsomely rewarded for the job well done.

“Good night, Mister Cantrell,” the pretty young hostess called out as he left.
“Good night,” he said, hesitating in the foyer, reading her name tag.  “— Trudy. You’re new here, aren’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good name recognition, Trudy.  Keep that up, you’ll go far in this business.”  With a wink and a smile, he was gone.

Author’s Note: This is taken from Chapter Two of my published Star Trek fanficion mini-series, Night Whispers: Volume Two: The Deception. With few exceptions, it is mostly intact. Thank you.