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Date: Wed, 7 Jan 2004 02:35:38 -0600
Subject: [ASCEM-S] NEW: TOS: "The Farther They Fall", Sa/m, K, S, Mc, U, [NC-17+] 1/6
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The Farther They Fall


Title:  The Farther They Fall (or The Big Mama That Wouldn't Seem to 
End!)
Author:  T'Riva (rstrimble@sbcglobal.net)
Series:  TOS
Pairing:  Sa/m, K, S, Mc, U
Warnings:  NC-17+; The first 18 pp of this 57-page story are 
extremely violent, but this is mainly a story of dealing with that 
trauma.  It includes non-con sex (molestation, forced sodomy and 
rape); violence (beating and flogging); general nastiness; this 
story is not for the faint-of-heart.
Acknowledgements:  I would like to thank Selek for the fabulous beta 
read.
Archive:  Sarek and Amanda group; ASCEM; Sarek Fun Fest; Sarek Slash 
Page; others please ask.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns these guys; I just enjoy them for 
nonremunerative frolics.
Summary:  Kirk and Sarek get captured and try to survive a ruthless 

PART ONE - Held Captive

Zeta-Kesar: Class M planet on the edge of the Neutral Zone near the 
new border of the Romulan and Klingon Empires, now strategically-
located since the most recent incursion of Romulan forces into what 
had been Klingon territory.


Kirk felt his breath quicken at the implication.  Surely they 
wouldn't.couldn't.  But Sarek couldn't fight them; he had passed out 
sometime before Kirk was allowed in, and even if he could, he was 
far outnumbered, exhausted, chilled far beyond what a Vulcan could 
likely handle, and now, seriously injured.  Also, there were the 
plentiful weapons jangling on every belt of the rebels - every 
weapon of torture imaginable and likely happily used, given the 
opportunity.

But he had likely heard correctly, ".too pretty to waste this way, 
leave him for better things."  The guards had laughed and asked if 
they might have a turn.  The officer had replied that the ambassador 
should be served to the officers first, but with enough oil, who 
knows how long he could last."

He and Ambassador Sarek had dressed in simple clothes when they had 
realized there was the danger of discovery by rebel forces, hoping 
that they might not be recognized.  But Sarek's face, regal bearing, 
and voice could not be concealed by the plebian attire of a Vulcan 
trader.  They had recognized him immediately, Kirk believed, as all 
eyes shifted toward Sarek as he turned toward them.  They smiled and 
asked his name rather pointedly.  Upon giving a pseudonym, a guard 
backhanded Sarek with such force that he fell back and Kirk barely 
caught him.

Kirk's anger had boiled over at the obvious misinformation they had 
been fed.  They had been set up from the beginning.  Everything had 
appeared as it should when they had arrived, so the Enterprise had 
been sent out after a high priority distress call that had also 
probably been faked.  They had been receiving reports for close to a 
year that the violent rebels were being contained and that the 
capital city was a safe place to start negotiations between the 
dictatorship and those same rebels.

But the dictatorship had never had the control that their faked 
reports and holo scenes depicted.  They only had the technology to 
create the images to lure the diplomatic party in.  The elite's 
dictatorship had been dismantled and their leaders were held 
captive.  The Federation diplomat had been brought in as a scapegoat 
to mollify the furious rebels that had actually taken most of the 
planet.

From the adjoining cell, Kirk had been forced to listen to Sarek's 
jacket being ripped off, the crash as he was thrown across the cell 
into the wall, the rustle of chains and clank of cuffs being secured 
about his wrists, then the ripping of the back of his shirt, and 
finally the crack of the heavy whip again and again.  Kirk found 
himself cringing inwardly in empathy for the compassionate, 
dignified man who sought only to bring people together, and seemed 
to suffer endlessly for it, from what Kirk had seen.

The Patron stood just outside, between the cells, watching as Kirk 
tried not to react, and too often did, being laughed at heartily 
each time.  He kept Kirk up to date on Sarek's ability to stand, his 
swaying, minute signs of discomfort, and on the amount of skin left 
on his back. When Sarek had finally sagged and hung from the metal 
wrist cuffs, they stopped.  It had been much longer than Kirk 
would've thought possible, and he cursed the Vulcan control and 
pride that kept Sarek standing so long, thereby increasing his 
injuries and lengthening his suffering.

Two guards dragged Sarek's unconscious body unceremoniously across 
the hay-strewn floor and tossed him in a heap.  The remains of his 
tunic were shredded and mixed with blood and raw flesh, and now 
littered with dirt and scattered bits of hay.  Kirk was finally 
allowed to go to him.  He approached and rolled Sarek onto his side 
to keep the pressure and dirt from the open wounds and his face off 
the damp floor.

He felt Sarek shiver; heard an almost imperceptible moan escape his 
lips as Kirk tried to reposition him.  "Let me clean and bandage his 
wounds, at least," Kirk said roughly.  "And if you want him to last 
much longer, he'll need some warmth."  Guilt tugged at him - he, the 
military man, had not a scratch on him, while the ambassador, a 
civilian trying to help these people, lay bloodied, in immense pain, 
and cold to the bone.

The Patron grinned.  "Watching you cleanse him might entertain the 
guards, but I'd rather see you lie together under a single blanket," 
he leered and Kirk had to wonder if he was implying something 
sexual, but not for long.  "He will be nice to lay with, don't you 
think?"  He snickered and winked.

Kirk glared at the Patron, but softened his expression as he 
realized that any more punishment would be dealt to the ambassador, 
not himself. The rebels had decided that Sarek, being Vulcan, 
certainly would not tell them what was sought, and so decided to use 
him to get to the captain to provide them their bounty of 
information for use in their insurrection.

Water, rags and bandages were brought, and a single small blanket.  
More guards than necessary sat about the outside the cell, vying for 
the best seat.  Kirk positioned himself as best he could to block 
their view of Sarek and began to gently wipe away the blood and 
debris from amongst the wounds.  Sarek jerked slightly with each 
wipe.  He worked quickly, taking advantage of Sarek's 
unconsciousness to spare him even more pain upon his wakening.  Too 
little was left of the tunic, so Kirk ripped the remains from him.  
The guards chuckled and offered, "I think the pants should go to.  
They will soon enough, anyway."  The guards laughed heartily.

Kirk swallowed at the thought of what might come next for this man 
he had so admired and respected and was coming to think of as a 
friend.  Their shared experiences in sickbay while both recovered 
during the journey to Babel had only been the beginning, but it had 
sparked Kirk's interest in getting to know the man behind the often 
intimidating demeanor.

The ambassador had the adoration of a beautiful, generous, loving, 
and indubitable woman that Kirk felt drawn to immediately, and a 
complex relationship with his son, Kirk's closest friend, that 
involved incredible respect, a hair-trigger volatility and a deep 
devotion each seemed not to see in the other because of constant 
misunderstandings.  He had wondered if he would ever have the chance 
to get to know the man himself with family drama, battles, and 
treachery always taking the forefront in his presence.  But little 
by little, he had.

He had made so many assumptions about Vulcans based on Spock, and 
his father seemed to dispel almost every one of them after his heart 
operation, during their trip to and from the Babel conference.  
There was his obvious devotion to his wife to the point of 
distraction, and his odd almost quixotic tendencies toward both 
women and men that Kirk had attributed to the demands of his 
position.  Sarek could persuade and enamor with charm, magnetism and 
a devilish sense of humor that was both infectious and erotic.

And just like his wife, he showed a generous nature, whether it be 
to help a cadet confused by astrophysics she was studying as he did 
on the way to the Babel conference, the need for a musician to 
accompany Uhura in her singing.  Even an emotional pain to be eased 
by a brief mind touch.

Kirk had not thought Sarek would have had the sensitivity to glean 
his pain from the loss of Miramanee that welled up as he watched 
Amanda tend to Sarek and his attentiveness back.  But he had called 
Kirk over and subtly talked of the Vulcans use of a mind touch to 
lessen the pain of grief after there is little left of value to gain 
from it, and offered his touch.  Kirk was a surprised by the 
admission of grief by a Vulcan as he was by the offer of what felt a 
very intimate act as he accepted and experienced it.  He felt the 
pain ease as it seemed to sift from his mind, saw Sarek's body 
stiffen subtly, heard his sharp intake of breath, then his eyes 
closed then opened, glistening, and a flash of sadness crossed his 
features, then he looked again as he always did - confident and 
regal, in full control.

Sarek and Amanda ingratiated themselves together and separately all 
over the Enterprise.  Not knowing Sarek before except through the 
media, Kirk had considered that it might have been his gratitude and 
relief at having a second chance at life, but Amanda never seemed 
surprised by what she saw him do, or heard he had done, in this vein.

Then there was his completely illogical and provocative contrariness 
when cooperation would win him what he wanted, his need to poke the 
hive to watch the bees swarm angrily.  He seemed a man of depth and 
contradiction whichever way Kirk saw him.  Kirk had seen him at his 
worst - emotionally ravaged and defeated when the timeline sabotage 
had taken his wife, and with it the incredible courage it took to 
try to gain her back, and emotionally vulnerable in pon farr  when 
Lieutenant Teanae had taken advantage of his weakness and assaulted 
him.

Kirk had realized that Sarek's austere and indifferent mask was 
merely him trying to be the Vulcan most expected or needed to see in 
his position of authority.  Sarek was, however, more secure and 
comfortable with himself; he was not so rigid as his son in his need 
to appear in control.  Kirk was afraid how this experience might 
affect Sarek, because though he had been vulnerable and even 
defeated before, he had likely never been so brutalized or 
humiliated, if what he'd heard was going to happen.  He could not 
imagine a man of Sarek's stature, background, and dignity sodomized 
and raped.  The unfortunate irony was that these were exactly those 
things that made him these men's target.

He lifted him gently into a sitting position, laying Sarek's head on 
his shoulder to wrap the bandages around his chest.  Sarek let out a 
soft moan that just reached the guards.  "Hmmm, he is already 
getting hot from your embrace, Captain.  Just wait `til we have him 
in ours.  He'll really like what we're gonna give him."  A chorus of 
laughs followed.  

Captain Kirk gritted his teeth and tried to imagine how Sarek would 
have wanted him to respond.  He gave them no reaction - imagined 
they weren't there.  Sarek rolled his head and croaked a word that 
might have been "James".  Kirk shushed him gently.  "Rest.  I've 
just bandaged your wounds."

As he turned Sarek and started to lay him back on his side, he saw a 
gash on his forehead he hadn't noticed before, and swallowed.  The 
now-dried blood had oozed down the side of his face in rivulets.  
Head wounds were very serious for Vulcans.  He cupped and lifted 
Sarek's face so he was eye-to-eye with him.  Sarek's eyes were 
partially open, but looked cloudy with confusion - a bad 
sign.  "Sir," Kirk whispered as he tried to catch some recognition 
in those eyes.  "Sir!" he said loud enough now for the guards to 
hear.  Titters followed, and they echoed him, "Sir!" in the same 
anxious tone.

The eyes seemed to focus a bit, but the cloudiness remained.

"James?"  Sarek asked in a slightly stronger tone.

Kirk smiled.

"Where is my wife?"

Kirk frowned.  Could it already be too late?  He couldn't give up.  
Sarek was traumatized and confused, but with some rest, perhaps he 
would be himself again.  He had to believe that.  The Enterprise 
would come for them.  Soon they would discover the deception, and 
realize the likely explanation.

He could not help but think of Amanda on board.  He remembered her 
discomfort at leaving her husband behind.  Sarek explained how it 
was simply the preliminary meeting and it would be short and 
organizational, essentially of little substance, and that the 
capital was secured long ago.  But since it qualified as an area of 
unrest, Sarek wasn't comfortable about bringing her as he usually 
did.  Kirk had heard that Amanda had a bad feeling, perhaps that had 
also influenced Sarek to leave her somewhere where he knew she would 
be safe.

Kirk wondered if she had now heard that the distress call was 
probably faked and felt compassion for what she must be fearing for 
her husband, but he realized it was infinitely better than having 
her here to see this, or worse, to be assaulted herself.  The 
Enterprise would come back soon.  Hopefully, soon enough.

Sarek's eyes slipped closed and Kirk felt panic as he felt for a 
pulse on his neck.  It thrummed softly, perhaps too softly, but he 
was still alive at least.  He had to hope that the head injury would 
not kill him, and that his body would mend enough to survive until 
the Enterprise arrived.  It had been only a couple years since 
they'd almost lost him on the way to Babel.  He could not face 
Amanda and Spock with the news of Sarek's death, just as he could 
not imagine witnessing it himself.  Just as the rest of the crew had 
grown fond of him since the journey to Babel, so had he.  He had 
been as relaxed, warm and teasing on this mission as after his heart 
operation.

His reconciliation with his son had allowed him to be more himself 
and he had seemed sincerely motivated to get to know his son's 
friends, and continually drew out and comforted others by his mere 
personality and sense of humor alone.  Kirk quickly saw the 
charisma, magnetism and charm he had always heard of in the man and 
understood now why he was the ambassador extraordinaire.  His 
serious heart condition and rift with his son had seemed to suck the 
life out of him when Kirk had first met him. 

When Sarek had first arrived on the Enterprise, he had seemed so 
severe and cold, but with the back story filled in, it all seemed so 
understandable why he was not the same man they saw later.  They had 
all rushed to judgment, Kirk thought sadly, and taken Spock's side 
with poor Amanda caught in the middle trying to explain how such 
divergent views could coexist.  Yet what son sees his father 
clearly?  How many fathers act the tyrant out of desperation 
thinking that that might help protect the son?  Wasn't it usually 
the middle ground that held the grains of truth?

Sarek had been filled with hurt and disappointment in losing his son 
so early, young even by human terms when he left Vulcan for 
Starfleet.  Spock had been so resentful, independent, and angry at 
his father he felt did not care for or respect him (and wrong on 
both counts, Kirk had found out rather quickly).  That hurt only 
grew over the eighteen years, brick by brick, the lack of 
communication fortifying the anger and betrayal Sarek must have felt.

Then to come aboard the Enterprise full of his son's comrades and 
friends fiercely loyal to him, already ill with a dangerous heart 
condition; his wife realizing something was wrong and feeling Sarek 
was pulling away from her; fearing for her marriage as she had 
admitted to Kirk when Sarek had moved to a guest room in their 
house.  Likely it was easier than sleeping with a wife he couldn't 
be physical with, especially when he couldn't even explain why.  He 
had wanted to protect her, Kirk had figured, but had done more 
damage in the end.

All that stress plus the over one hundred representatives, half of 
whom attempted to corner him to argue about the vote, the volatile 
conference they headed to, the Tellarite ambassador regularly in his 
face, the murder, and the accusation of murder.  They had not given 
Sarek any leeway for the considerable stresses, and no chance to 
explain his side.  He and the crew had been so unfair to Sarek that 
he had to make the first move by involving his son in the teasing of 
his wife when some of the stresses had been relieved and he realized 
he would live.  Sarek never begrudged any of them that judgment and 
treatment.

He gently lay Sarek down on his side and saw him shiver again more 
forcefully.  He had to keep him warm.  Kirk pulled off his jacket 
and wrapped Sarek in it, then tucked the blanket about him.  He 
paused, not wanting to give the audience even more of a reason to 
mock them, but realized that Sarek needed all of the warmth Kirk 
could offer.  He slipped under the last of the blanket and lay down 
along Sarek's back spooning him as closely as he could without 
aggravating his injuries.

"What ya doin' under there, Captain?" one guard asked.

Another chimed in, "Stuff somethin' between his knees, Captain, and 
you can get at his package!"

"That'll make him feel better!" another added.

They all laughed at that.

"Captain don't know how to take advantage of a pretty ass and face 
ready for the taking!"

"He ain't got fight to stop you, Captain.  At least have a taste, if 
not a meal."

Kirk tried to focus elsewhere.  Nothing he could say or do would 
improve their situation, and too many things could worsen it.  He 
only hoped the guards kept to their orders to let Sarek recuperate 
until their intended sport the next day, at least.  But he could 
feel those eyes on their backs; feel the lust and rage directed 
toward them, and especially toward Sarek who he believed they 
resented for his comportment and station.

Kirk had the sense to question Sarek about the choice for this 
assignment.  Sarek had also felt trepidation about his ability to be 
heard by the rebel side that seemed to want to hate him before he 
said a word.  He was aristocracy incarnate to a world of the 
downtrodden and resentful, presumably held captive by the regal, 
spoiled, and callous minority.  He had all of the opportunity, 
wealth, and circumstance they could never have.  Except for his 
integrity, fairness, generosity, and compassion that they could not 
envision in him, he was the epitome of their mortal enemy.

The Federation Council argued that it was merely the beginning of 
long talks between the dictatorship and the rebel factions.  Sarek 
would certainly make a great impression on the elitist leaders and 
he could get the "ball rolling" as those leaders seemed to be 
seeking this resolution of hostilities out of the goodness of their 
hearts.  Sarek protested such an optimistic assumption, but they had 
at least thought that they would enter the safe capital city and 
organize and educate the leaders to mend their fences and possibly 
start their planet on the road to a possible Federation alliance, if 
not full admission.

Little contact had been made with the planet, as it had been hands-
off for many decades due to unresolved hostilities that were too 
threatening to visitors.  The majority of the world had an almost 
paranoid vision of visitors taking over their world due to 
skirmishes with both the Klingons and Romulans in the past.  Only 
the more street-wise and sophisticated traders had penetrated the 
established zones, and in the last decade, few traders slipped in 
and then escaped.  For almost a decade, only holovids had made it 
out and reports from the constantly changing leaders.

Kirk and Sarek had argued that there were too many discrepancies, 
and that the view of the planet suddenly sounded too serene and 
close to cooperation to be believed.  Strategically, it was a 
brilliant holding should the Federation acquire it, allowing a 
window into both the Klingon and Romulan Empires.  For all their 
resource-draining wars, it still was a fairly rich planet, not 
needing support but able to pay their fair share of Federation taxes 
if they received membership.  It was also mineral rich, which 
translated into dilithium.  So, the positive reports offered up a 
rationale, at least, to send in diplomat.

Ambassador Sarek was the best, and so the Federation ignored both 
Kirk's and Sarek's objections, and with trepidation, Sarek agreed 
and resigned himself to a steep battle of persuasion.  Who could 
have known that he would be so silenced before he could even marshal 
his first argument? 

Sarek might have had a chance to begin to state his case if he was 
allowed a few more hours to recover from his injuries, for he 
appeared to be in a healing trance.   But the rage beyond the bars 
had been burgeoning throughout the evening, and late in the night, 
as many of the guards fell asleep, one stood, and with a fierce 
determination, wanted to take the one who seemed so like those he 
hated.  He grabbed the key opposite the door, slid it into the lock 
and stepped in so quietly that no one noticed.

He stood and stared at the two soft faces in sleep, then stooped 
near the ambassador and traced the streak of dried blood on the side 
of his face and touched it to his own lips.  He imagined what the 
ambassador's mouth might taste like, perhaps a light reflection of 
this coppery blood his tongue savored.  He imagined tasting his 
lips, his tongue, biting down and cutting deeply as the ambassador 
fought him but could not pull free.  But there were even greater 
pleasures he might find with this soft-voiced prince.

He lifted the blanket and surveyed the wrapped chest, tight and full 
with well-developed muscles, and the expanse of soft skin above and 
below the gauze.  He traced the furls of hair just above the bandage 
and imagined the drifts that would lead to his nipples that were 
now, unfortunately, hidden under the dressing.  His finger traced 
the trail of dark hair that led into his pants.  His finger caught 
in the fastener, pushing it down to survey the upper groin.

He would have this prince before the officers.  He pulled out his 
dagger, newly sharpened and slipped it into the waistband.  With a 
quick slice, the crotch opened to the sight of a soft, stretchy 
undergarment, almost transparent over a mound of hidden flesh 
revealing a good-sized organ.  He felt his heart quicken as he 
reached underneath the soft material to feel the warm flesh and 
fondled the flaccid yet hefty penis.

Sarek groaned as his breathing accelerated.

The guard grabbed Sarek's hair and thrust his mouth over his to 
silence him as he masturbated his prize.

"Leave him be," Kirk growled with a ferocity that surprised even 
him.  The shock of what he saw, and worse, what might come of it, in 
front of him, filled him with rage.

"Wake the others and he'll die," the guard said, and the dagger 
whipped to Sarek's throat with breathtaking speed.  Kirk could see 
it poised over Sarek's carotid artery.  One flick and there would be 
no way Kirk could save him.  He also saw that the guard intended to 
continue his violation as he saw the hand underneath the sheer 
fabric still stroking Sarek's penis.  Kirk tried not to notice 
whether Sarek was responding, other than his breaths quickening.

Just how far would the guard go, and what chance would there be that 
this man might risk all - a loose canon that would give his life for 
this last act of defilement, out of lust, rage, and resentment?

"What do you want?"  Kirk asked, thinking that there might be some 
way to barter for later "gifts" from Sarek or himself.  More 
importantly, Kirk wanted to delay what might be inevitable.  He only 
had to get the man talking, and keep him talking to begin to develop 
a bond.  If he saw them as worthy beings in their own right, that 
might ameliorate the damage to come - something he had learned from 
Ambassador Sarek, himself.

The masturbation ceased.  Kirk swallowed and felt his fear-induced 
nausea decrease.

"You will strip him, and I will have all of him."  The guard looked 
around and frowned.  "There is no surface to lay him over."

Kirk felt shock roil through him.  Surface to lay him over!  Kirk 
had to force the sickening image of the guard's preparation of 
Sarek - the naked form draped forward, legs spread - from his head.  
The man seemed to be organizing his entire night's horrific 
entertainment in front of Kirk, as if he would gladly stand by and 
help with the tools and props.

The man was not set to bargain; he had simply thought Kirk was 
willing to allow him anything of Sarek in his fear for Sarek's 
life.  Then the nausea came back with a vengeance as he imagined 
what this man could do to Sarek and that at some point, Sarek might 
awaken to see Kirk as his audience.  His heart pounded at his 
impotence.  Sarek was so vulnerable now, and this man was a strong 
specimen of a strong species, loaded down with weaponry, bent on 
taking Sarek in every way he could think of.

They stared at each other for several moments, when the guard 
smiled.  "Is it really so much to ask, for the life of your 
succulent prince?"

The man looked down at his quarry and traced the bandages.  "It is 
too bad they damaged him so soon.  I would have liked to feel the 
length of his body against mine."  His eyes became hooded with lust 
as he caressed Sarek's face and licked his lips as if ready for an 
enticing meal.  "Pull off his pants," the guard ordered.  He looked 
distracted by his heady lust and glanced around the cell.  "We can 
bind him to the bars above the door."  He pulled off a leather strip 
from his belt that must have been a sort of garrote.  With a sick 
irony, he remembered losing consciousness, almost dying, by a very 
similar weapon at the hands of Sarek's own son.

The guard caught Kirk's anxious stare at it.

"I don't need to asphyxiate him while I take him."  The guard 
actually laughed good-naturedly.  "That's a fondness and privilege 
of the officers, which he will soon experience, no doubt.  I will 
bind his wrists with this, and leave some length to turn him so that 
I can taste his seed before I leave mine within him." 

Everything seemed to be accelerating out of Kirk's control.  He had 
thought by now the other guards might have awakened.  He was 
beginning to believe this man's revolting fantasy might actually 
take place, with Kirk powerless to stop him and being forced to 
watch as Sarek awakened.  It was a nightmare.  Why hadn't the guards 
awakened?  He stared at them as they lay still, mouths hung open, 
snoring.

The guard caught his appraisal of the guards. "Don't worry about 
them.  I added a little herb to their drink.  We'll have the whole 
night to enjoy him."

Kirk felt himself pale; the man thought he might join in?  There was 
little he could do but play along.  If he thought he was in on it, 
perhaps he might be afforded a chance to save Sarek from this.

The guard smiled at him.  "You realize your friend will never 
survive the officers, each man will be allowed to asphyxiate him a 
little longer as they take him, until the last officer gets to watch 
him die.  They like to see the light flicker out as the victim 
stares at he who takes him.  You feel them rock with your thrusts, 
see that last bit of terror, as their life force ebbs."  He seemed 
to shake himself out of his reverie, a bright smile on his face.  "I 
can't wait to be an officer; someday maybe I will watch that life 
force ebb as I ram him harder and harder."  He stared at Sarek's 
still form hungrily.  "I am almost tempted."

Kirk shivered at the thought.

"Let me get some drink for the occasion!"  He stepped out, leaving 
the door open slightly, then thought again about that, smiled, and 
locked it.

Kirk felt his mind racing.  Sarek was to die the next day, after 
this guard spent the night.  He stepped quickly toward Sarek.  If 
perhaps he could wake him.  Together they might be able to surprise 
or distract the guard.  He pulled Sarek up to a sitting position, 
careful of his wounds, but his head lolled; he was still unconscious 
in his healing trance.  Perhaps, if he knew of the danger, he could 
awaken for a short time.  He shook him lightly.  "Sarek.Sarek!  Wake 
up!"

Continued in next section...




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