The BLTS Archive - Der Ritter/The Knight
by Pat Foley (patricia.foley@verizon.net)

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I live in a castle, surrounded by the trappings of war. Towers and
turrets. Tapestries depicting historical conflicts. Battle emblems and
weapons.

I can hear the trumpets sound from warriors long dead, though five
thousand years of Vulcan peace. A warning. A rallying cry. Sometimes
they wake me in the night.

Oh, Vulcan is at peace. But there are conflicts ongoing that make me
shiver, even in my castle stronghold.

I live in an age where the battlecries from across the Federation ring
in my castle as clearly as if those sounding them were close enough to
touch. I see the reports of them. I watch my husband struggle with
them. Strive to hold them at bay, in an ever numerous Federation. With
ever varying beings. With unending sources of conflict.

And he doesn't struggle merely for himself, but for all of Vulcan, and
their allied planets and colonies. And many others in the Federation
who have put their trust behind his standard. His standards. He has an
army behind him, true, but they look to him for leadership.

It's a role that comes to him naturally. My husband is a Vulcan
warrior, both by inheritance, and by practice. Even if, in this day
and age, he does not fight in the traditional sense.

But every day he sails out to do battle. With words. With debate. With
logic. With compromise. Head high. Undaunted in spite of needing to do
this over and over again. Sure of his convictions and his duty.

He fights for the rights of all in the Federation, not just for those
he represents. Fights for them in a skiff made of paper, without ever
drawing a sword but of intellect. Hand fasted by his principles, by
logic, by his oaths sworn to peace. But he fights nonetheless. And he
fights hard.

It takes its toll. I see him grow weary with it. Grow older. Even grow
exasperated and at times, almost despairing. That the same battles
must be fought repeatedly. That even in this advanced age, peace is so
elusive. That war soaks our Federation like an incendiary, needing
only a spark to cause a conflagration that could engulf us all.

We call ourselves gentlebeings in conference. Sometimes, I tell my
husband, I believe it is said in the forlorn hope that the
characterization will, one day, actually stick.

Others grow jaded, and skeptical. Others lose their tempers and their
principles. Become blinded by political demands, or private self
interests. But Sarek goes on undaunted. His foot never slipping. His
principles never tarnished. Trying to hold others to theirs. To make
of the Federation what it claims to be.

Something that doesn't necessarily make him, or Vulcans, always held
in high esteem. To only too many, he is a perpetual thorn in their
side. But the Federation would not be what it is without him. And I
honor him for that.

Though he wears no battle gear but his principles, he is my knight in
shining armor.

And I could not love him more.

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The End