Title: A Fragile Destiny
Author: mzsnaz
Characters: Sarek and Amanda, other various canon and original characters
Series: TOS
Disclaimer: Star Trek is the property of Viacom and Paramount.
Summary: Yet another `How Sarek and Amanda met' story… but with a twist. What if their marriage was arranged as is considered customary by Vulcan standards?


-------A Fragile Destiny-----

Chapter 1 – The Idea

"I am pleased to see that we have differences. May we together become greater than the sum of both of us." - Surak of Vulcan (The Savage Curtain - TOS)


The Vulcan ambassador sat calmly at his desk, his right index finger tracing a pattern on the highly polished surface of the mahogany finished desktop next to the comm monitor. Skon knew that the action was illogical, but the stunning news from his wife on Vulcan was such that he found himself unwilling to discontinue the unconscious childhood habit. T'Lara's words still flowed through him with a stinging intensity. His eldest son, Sarek, was in the process of separating from his wife. The decision to divorce was nearly unheard of between Vulcan couples, but the reason given. T'Rea's desire to become an adept at Gol and study the ancient Kolinahr disciplines was honourable and could not be denied. The unconditional focus necessary to become an adept meant that no married individual could be considered; therefore, her decision by default ended the marriage.

Leaving his desk behind, Skon moved across his office to stand in front of the spacious floor to ceiling picture window that faced the San Francisco bay. The scene before him had seemed so alien when he had first been appointed ambassador and given these offices in the Vulcan embassy on Earth. Now, the outline of the bay and the colourful scenery was as familiar to him as the Forge. Often he had stood in this spot with his hands clasped behind him, carefully considering the state of affairs between the numerous Federation worlds and his own planet. Now, he struggled with the unenviable task of determining where he and his wife had gone wrong. Bonded as children, his son and T'Rea had been carefully screened and were considered most compatible with each other. Obviously, there had been a flaw in that supposition.

What troubled his thoughts most was that only two months earlier, he and his wife had attended their son's koon-ut-kali-fee. There had been no indication even at that time that T'Rea was planning anything other than to be Sarek's wife and bondsmate. There had been no suggestion of a conspicuous rift in their relationship, and she had never once showed any inclination toward the ancient disciplines. Perhaps she had only recently decided to study. Whatever her reasons, Skon now had the duty as a member of one of the most venerated Houses to find his son another mate. This time, he would be mindful of his son's disposition and impending stature. He had already heard the rumours that swirled about the diplomatic future of his eldest son. Sarek was building an impressive resume of successful negotiations as a senior diplomat for a small, but developing, quadrant of planets. He didn't need the distraction of his unbonded condition impeding his accomplishments.

Stepping back to sit behind his desk, the ambassador began to mentally compose a short correspondence to his son. There was no need to rush the choice of a new bondsmate due to the timing of the dissolution. A great deal of diligence and care would be necessary to select the proper mate. T'Lara had already mentioned the names of several potential candidates.  Obviously, they would find the right match for their son within the acceptable time parameters. Never having been in such an undesirable situation, Skon wondered briefly at his son's state of mind. It would be best to firmly assure his son that his parents would take care of the matter as expediently, and quietly, as possible. This time, there would be no mistake. The bonding would be for life.

Quietly reflecting on the problem allowed him time to briefly put aside another crisis that had begun to demand attention. Yet another dispute about the `unfair' boundaries desired by numerous members of the Federation Council had escalated due to the Terrans. The seemingly insurmountable schism between Humans and Vulcans had never been successfully bridged since that first fateful meeting after Zefram Cochrane's triumphant launch of the Phoenix. Over the decades that followed, there had been one predicament after another involving the vastly diverse species. Vulcan had tried to contain the development and exploration of the humans without success. By their very nature, Humans seemed to disregard the greater intelligence and experience of Vulcans in order to rediscover the known. It was most illogical. Telling a human that something was there or was to be avoided nearly guaranteed that they would seek out that very circumstance for the purpose of experiencing it themselves. At times, Skon was reminded of willful children, determined to do the opposite of the wiser parent. However, he could not discount the numerous advances in exploration that the Humans had initiated. Without their seemingly intrinsic need to discover, the expansion of the known universe of the Federation would have remained stagnant. Perhaps that driven nature was due to their shorter life spans?

A chime from his desk monitor interrupted his ruminations, and Skon checked the identity of the caller. Opening the channel, he waited for the screen to clear. There were times when the atmospheric disturbances on Earth interfered with communications. After a moment, the identity of the party was clear.

"My wife," Skon said formally and nodded slightly. He had been expecting her to contact him. She had stayed on Vulcan to handle several Clan matters and would be rejoining him in six days. Her dark ebony hair hung loose around her shoulders, indicating to him that she had just recently washed it. The customary upswept style complimented T'Lara's delicate features, but Skon had always been most intrigued by the natural, somewhat unruly curls that swirled around her face when she kept it down.

"My husband. You have received my earlier transmission?"

T'Lara's question was met with another nod. "I have. It is a most unfortunate circumstance, but it is one that could not have been anticipated. T'Rea's studies of the ancient disciplines will be supported."

"Yes," T'Lara agreed, tilting her head slightly. "Have you been contacted by our son? He returned to the Sigma Quadrant in a most abrupt manner and without notifying me. I am aware that it is his right to appeal for privacy at this time; however, to not take his leave of the family and to offer no explanation is most disconcerting."

Skon matched his wife's movement and tilted his head. His eldest son should have contacted them prior to taking his leave of Vulcan. His act was as close to insolence as any parent would allow.

"I shall contact him. He shall be reminded of his duties as well as be reassured that his unbonded condition will be resolved as expediently as possible."

"Very well," T'Lara said, a guarded look in her dark eyes. "Our decision will be communicated to him once a choice has been made. You have not inquired of my progress."

Pausing, Skon considered his response. He had indeed wanted to avoid asking if any candidate had shown promise. Why it was so he could not identify. "I have no doubt that your judgment is quite sufficient. Whatever decision is reached shall be supported."

Nodding solemnly, T'Lara seemed to relax. "It shall be a mutual decision, my husband. We shall ensure that the proper bondsmate for our son is selected."

"Indeed," he softly intoned. "I shall take my leave of you now, wife. Be assured that the matter of our son's predicament takes precedence; however, it is not imperative that we select someone in haste."

"Indeed," his wife repeated. Her narrowed eyes were the only indication that she didn't completely agree with her husband's assessment as she raised her hand. Skon copied the ta'al. "Farewell, my husband. Live long and prosper. I return to Earth in six days."

"Live long and prosper, my wife. The unresolved matter shall be settled soon. May your journey be uneventful." As the screen darkened, Skon pondered his conviction and his unusual reticence in learning of his wife's progress. One thing was certain. He would not ask his son to return to Vulcan unless an unbonded female with impeccable qualifications was presented.

The chime of another incoming message imposed upon his thoughts again.  It wasn't unusual for his office to be the centre of activity at this time of the day; however, with the additional burden of deciding the best course for his son, Skon was irrationally irritated by the disruption to his musings. 

He noted that the message was only a reminder of an upcoming dinner that was to be held at the Terran embassy nearby.  That peculiar habit of humans to send out such notices was wearisome at times.  He had received the invitation a week ago, and there was no sound rationale for him to be sent the same request again.  Glancing over it briefly to make certain no changes had occurred, he paused.  The wording of the invitation had not caught his attention before.  Now, it seemed to leap off the page.

`You are cordially invited to our first embassy `mixer' to be held August 2 (ECD)*.  Dinner shall be promptly served at 1900 hours.  RSVP our embassy at the below noted contact.  Formal dress required.  Our hope is to further Earth/Vulcan relations with this first of what we hope will be many joint gatherings.  Strengthening the bonds between our two peoples is our goal.  Please join us.' 

[*(ECD) - Earth Calendar Date]

An amused flash sent him back to the window.  There was no way that the human author of such an invitation could realize the implications of the words used.  `Strengthening the bonds'?  A very interesting choice of words, indeed.

"S'haile?"

Turning his head sharply in the direction of the voice, Skon again felt the flash of impatience.  He did not want further interruptions, and his senior aide seemed to know it by the slight hesitation in his tone. "What is it, Sennar?  Something important, I trust?"

The tall, grey-haired Vulcan entered the room followed by several Terran diplomats.  Skon knew two of them well, but was puzzled by their presence.  There had been no scheduled meeting planned.

"Please excuse the interruption, Mr. Ambassador," began the leader of the group.  "We have come to respectfully speak with you about a grave matter."

Narrowing his eyes, Skon considered the persons before him.  Ellis Hamm was a respected senior diplomat that the Vulcan knew well.  His forceful negotiating mannerisms were not Skon's style, but they did remind him of his son's rather unconventional techniques.  No matter how often he had tried to alter Sarek's confrontational approach to debate, the boy had ignored the suggestions and generally prevailed anyway.  Another diplomat, Chen Li, was classified as a junior member, but had shown great talent and Skon expected her promotion to be announced soon.  The third and final member of the group the Vulcan was unfamiliar with.  The man stood as tall as he, but that wasn't what held the Vulcan's attention.  The human had some of the most piercingly blue eyes he had ever seen on any being.

"A grave matter," Skon repeated with some distaste.  Now was not the time for yet another crisis.

"Yes, sir," Li said, the glower of distaste on her features physically matching his own mental state.  "We have received confirmation that another batch of sensitive documents has been downloaded from our embassy to yours.  Such breaches of our security cannot be tolerated, sir."

"You would accuse me of this incident?" Skon said with some vexation.  This was not the first time that the Terrans had accused his offices of such unconscionable actions.

"Not you personally, Mr. Ambassador," Hamm said, his measured pace showing that he was cautiously selecting his words.  "Our investigation indicates that someone within your embassy has tampered with our systems.  We thought that you should be made aware of the situation."

"Of course," the Vulcan said, moving to sit behind his desk.  "Such an offence shall not be permitted.  You can be assured that a full investigation will be initiated to determine the person or persons responsible."  Turning toward his monitor, Skon nodded slightly to the small group.  "I...thank you for the information," he stated as he remembered to add the proper human expression.

After a few moments, Skon glanced up at the group that was still standing uncomfortably in his office.  "Is there something else?" he asked as he swiftly went back over the conversation.  The group should have left his office by now.

Shifting to his right side, Hamm's expression was one of exasperation.  "Ambassador Skon, surely you understand that we need to have something more than just to be told that you'll look into the matter.  What is going to be done about the breach?  Investigating is one thing.  We need to be assured that this won't happen again."

"It shall be thoroughly investigated, Mr. Hamm," Skon said.  Why was it necessary to repeat himself with humans?  "Once we have determined whom the culprit or culprits are, the guilty shall be disciplined and your embassy shall be promptly informed.  I cannot do more."

"I see."  There appeared to be a sarcastic overtone to the senior diplomats statement.  Skon couldn't understand the problem.  Did the humans expect him to leave his office and do the investigating himself?  He was not a member of the security force.

Sighing, Hamm turned to exit the room.  "Very well, sir.  We would like your report of the investigation as soon as possible.  Oh!"  The human stopped and nodded toward the unfamiliar man.  "I meant to introduce you earlier to the newest member of our staff.  Ambassador Skon, this is John Grayson.  He joins us from our East Coast location."

The human bowed very slightly as he smiled.  "My pleasure, Mr. Ambassador."

"It is with some regret that we meet under these circumstances, Mr. Grayson," Skon said solemnly.  "I trust that your move to San Francisco has been without incident."

An almost unnoticeable flash of something appeared on the man's face.  Skon was not familiar enough with the nuances of human emotion to understand the action.  Although he had learned to recognize and understand most of the looks, humans still fascinated him with their incredible range of expressions.

"Yes, sir," the blue-eyed man said with a somewhat strained mild tone.  "I would say that the move went as smoothly as I expected."

Moments after the humans left, Sennar stood by the doorway and carefully observed the actions of his friend.  It was rather obvious that something other than the impolite, unscheduled appearance of the Earth diplomats was troubling him.  Sennar suspected that he knew what it was. "It is most odd that Ambassador Agani would not contact you directly about the breach," the aide said as he watched the reaction of the Vulcan in front of him.  "Most irregular.  Why would she send such low-level diplomats to meet with you?"

Skon fixed his gaze on his childhood friend.  Sennar had a tremendous amount of experience with numerous worlds due to his father's lengthy diplomatic career and had traveled extensively throughout the galaxy.  He was a skilled diplomat in his own right; however, he preferred the role of advisor to that of diplomat.  Skon valued his knowledge, but often in recent conversations the topic of due respect and the lack shown by humans had crept into the talks.  The ambassador could only shake his head at the evaluation. "I do not believe that Agani is so tactless.  Her schedule is like my own.  I doubt she had the time to investigate yet another such allegation."  Skon's intense gaze held the look of Sennar.  "Is there any merit to this charge brought against us?  I have made it clear that such activities are not to occur."

"I am only aware of some monitoring of outgoing communications from their embassy, nothing more," Sennar began.  He was taken aback as the ambassador rose suddenly and scowled in the faintest way.

"Sennar, I have repeatedly asked that the communications of the Terran embassy not be monitored," he briskly said as he paced in front of his desk, hands clasped firmly behind his back.  "How are we to build a relationship of trust if both sides are suspicious of the other?  Several of our offices, including my own, had to be cleared of listening devices only twelve days ago.  This cannot persist.  At what point will we be in a position of alliance with the humans instead of at odds?"

"Perhaps you have posed too great a question, my friend," the aide intoned, certain of his viewpoint.  "The humans are too immature a species to understand our ways.  No human could comprehend the complexities that make up our way.  It is beyond their grasp."

"How can the humans understand us when they gather what they know through illicit means?"  Skon stopped pacing as he considered his options.  "Sennar, send out a memo that will make the dinner at the Terran embassy mandatory.  All personnel are to be present, not just the diplomats."  He raised an eyebrow at his friends' surprised look.  "It is time to stop isolating ourselves."

"Skon, I…"

"Yes?"  The ambassador waited for his friend to continue, but Sennar only nodded and turned toward the door.

"I shall send out the notice," he said just as the door closed.

Leaning against his desk, the Vulcan gazed back out at the view.  How could he improve relations when his own species appeared intractable in their negative view of humans?  The problem seemed to merge and blend with the other problem he faced.  First, his son's dissolution of marriage, and now the difficult matter of finding a suitable wife.  How to build trust?

Something that was said at a recent diplomatic meeting rushed back to his thoughts.  A human - only a junior diplomat - was overheard complaining about the Vulcans' reluctance to divulge information about a matter of some sensitivity.  The man's words, said in anger and unmindful of Vulcan hearing, now replayed in the ambassador's mind.

"I don't understand why they won't tell us anything.  We just want the information.  They act so appalled by our request…I mean, you'd think that I just asked one of them to marry my daughter!"

Skon could still hear the cynical laughter of the others that had followed the man's proclamation.  Was it so improbable a situation?  Would there come a point in the future when a Human and a Vulcan would desire the union of marriage?  It was a dubious proposition.  There had been tales of romantic attachments between the two species, but none had been definitely confirmed.  None to his knowledge had resulted in a marriage. 

Thoughtfully observing a shuttle swiftly rise above the evening mist on the bay, the Vulcan began to formulate a proposal.  It would likely be acknowledged as preposterous, but its very idealism appealed to him.  In order to bridge the gap, a representative blending between the two species would show the capability of Humans and Vulcans to work together.  His son would represent the Vulcan part of the combination since the idea was his: there would be no problem with non-cooperation.  The difficulty was how to find not only the right human female, but also any human willing to be a participant.

He would need to formulate a plan to introduce his son to a potential Human bondsmate, but how to achieve such an event?  Humans took a certain amount of satisfaction in their independence.  Skon was aware that human children were only under their parents influence until the age of approximately eighteen, at which time they were considered adults.  Eighteen was far too young in his opinion, but that was the established age.  Vulcans never `outgrew' the influence of older, wiser family members, and he had no fear that Sarek would follow whatever order he was given.  The idea would need to be introduced to the parents of a girl. Perhaps a human girl between the ages of twelve to fourteen…in order to permit her to be indoctrinated into the Vulcan ways.  She must be young enough to be receptive to being taught, yet old enough to understand the complexities of Vulcan life and `of age' for his son's next pon farr.  There were more questions than answers, but the idealism.  Watching the city lights reflect hazily against the transparent surface of the window, Skon can only wonder if such a girl exists.


Chapter 2 – The Plan

"…The prejudices people feel about each other disappear when they get to know each other." - Kirk (Elaan of Troyius - TOS)

As dusk settled on the city, John Grayson walked the several blocks from the shuttle station to the small two bedroom apartment that was now his family's residence. The walk offered him a few moments respite before he had to confront his wife and daughter.  That's cruel, he thought glumly. It wasn't their fault that they were forced to move from one coast to another. No, that was his doing. What he couldn't understand was the near constant hostility that he now faced in their presence. His wife's bitter anger at the move was difficult enough. Having to face his daughter's hurt was nearly unbearable. At thirteen, not only was she faced with the challenges of puberty, but she also had just had her entire world turned upside down.

Only a year earlier, the privileged life of the Grayson clan showed no signs of problems. John and his father, Thaddeus Grayson, had their fair share of clashes over petty issues, but as his father's health had declined, the two had made up and settled their problems. John and his younger sister, Claire, had grown up in the lap of luxury, and while John didn't want his children to be quite so dependent upon trust accounts and rich relatives, he did want to give them what any father would want. If he could afford it, it was theirs. Then Thaddeus died.

It was like a physical blow when he attended the reading of the will with his sister and his father's other living relatives. The will, dated three years earlier, cut John out completely. In stunned silence, he realized that his father had never updated the legal documents after a brutal argument, and now it was too late. Thinking back on the events that followed was like a hammer blow to his body. His sister suddenly demanded that their ancestral home… the current residence of his wife and children...was now hers and she wanted it for her own small family. He couldn't believe her cold-blooded demand that they be out as soon as physically possible.  Worse, while he did have a job with a small diplomatic office in Boston, the position did not pay enough for them to afford the lifestyle they were accustomed to. A trust fund had covered most of their living expenses, and it was now also cut off. His sons, Matthew and Daniel, were both attending college while his daughter was enrolled at private school. John barely had enough financial wealth left to allow the children to complete the semester at their respective schools. He filed a lawsuit to challenge the validity of the will, but ultimately it was determined that the will was completely above-board. That determination had taken place only two months earlier.

Struggling for the first time in his life as his savings dried up, John was offered and accepted a better paying job on the West Coast. It still wasn't going to allow them the lifestyle they had in the past, but it was better than staying put and watching `their' life being lived by others. He had to get away from his sister and her family. He had to get a fresh start somewhere.

Entering the apartment, he was in for a surprise. While the room had been filled with untouched moving containers that morning, John felt a rush of relief as he saw that here was a path through the room, and it appeared that his wife was putting some effort into unpacking. She had been devastated by the news that they were moving and had been in a depressed mood for weeks.

"I'm home," he called. There were some noises coming from the kitchen, and he was in for an even bigger shock when his sons emerged from the room, empty containers in hand.

"Hi, Dad! How was your day?" his oldest, Matt, said cheerily.  The tall, ruggedly good-looking twenty three year old who stood before his father was the very image of the man except for his dark brown eyes and hair, which had been inherited from his mother's side. Dan entered the dining area, grinning his half-crooked smile as he shouldered a box back into the room.

"You doing all right at work?" the lanky boy said. Dan had always appeared younger than his twenty-one years. His dishevelled appearance was the typical college student look.

"I'm doing great. What are you guys doing here? Where are your mother and Amanda?"

The boys cast quick glances at each other. John had a feeling he knew where his wife was, but Amanda's whereabouts tended to be harder to guess.

"Mother isn't feeling well, so we told her to go rest and we'd unpack some things," Matt said, lowering his voice as he offered the information. "I'm still missing some books, and Dan said that he has some more clothes here somewhere. We haven't seen Amanda all day."

"I'm surprised to see you boys here," John said as he sat down at the dining room table that was now visible from under stacks of boxes. "When did you get in, and how long will you be staying?"

"We got in this morning around eight," Matt offered, moving another box out of the way so that he could join his father at the table. "An earlier shuttle that would have arrived before you left this morning was booked by the time we decided to come out. We're both here for the week." Matt's expression changed to one of solemn concern. "Mother was crying when we got here."

Taking in a deep breath, John leaned against the chair's back. "Yes, I know she's been upset about the move. Is she in our room?" Watching his sons nod, John continued. "I'll go in and talk with her in a minute. Did you get a chance to ask your Aunt Nanny about your school funds?"

Nancy Babcock, or `Nanny' as the children had taken to calling her in their childish way, was Thaddeus' aunt. Never married, the elderly woman had been a personal favourite of John's for her kind, yet eccentric, manner. She wasn't interested in the family fortune, but she'd also never been at odds with her nephew. John hoped that she might be able to shed some light on what had happened to his children's college funds that were supposed to be separate from his own trust.

"She said she'd check into it, but she thought that after your big fight with Grandfather, he took all the money that was earmarked for our education and put it back into his own personal account," Dan said, an errant, stringy lock of hair hanging in his eyes. "The money wasn't in a special college-only fund, according to what she'd been told."

The front door opened, and a figure flew past the dining room and into the darkened hallway before anyone could react. John leaned forward as he called out to his rapidly retreating daughter.

"Amanda! Your brothers are here."

Flying back into the room, the girl launched herself at her oldest brother, who just barely had time to prepare himself for an enthusiastic hug. "Matty! I'm so glad to see you!" she squealed, then turned a woeful look on her other sibling. "Danny, you're here, too?"

"Glad to see you, too," Dan said as he rolled his eyes. Matt was still seated at the table, and Amanda had taken her place on his lap. Hugging his neck again, she smiled broadly at him. While Matt and Dan had both inherited their mother's darker features, Amanda had the lighter brown hair and blue eyes of her father. The skin under her eyes had the rosy glow of having been in the sun most of the day.

"Did you get a chance to go to the ocean yet?" she asked. "It's the best part about moving here."

"No, not yet. We're helping mother unpack," Matt said with a grin. "So, how did you get to the ocean from here? Is there a shuttle between here and the beach?"

"Yeah, and what's on your arms?" Dan said with a sly grin of his own. His victorious grin grew in size as he watched his little sister quickly adjust her cover-all to better hide her exposed arms.

"What? What's wrong?" John asked, worried that something might have happened to his youngest. Inspecting the girl, he noticed that there was something on each arm just above the elbow. Pulling up the sleeves of her cover-all, his eyes widened in disbelief.

"This isn't what I think it is…is it?"

"It's nothing, Dad," Amanda casually said, giving her detested brother a look that should have ended his life. "It's only temporary."

"Did you use melemajic?" Dan asked, his desire to get his sister in more trouble than she already was egging him on.

"Melemajic?" John repeated, uncertain of what Dan was talking about.

"Uh, yeah," his daughter reluctantly agreed, "but, it's only temporary."

"A tattoo," Matt said with a chuckle in his tone. "I can't believe you took one of those pills!" Turning to his puzzled father, Matt shrugged his broad shoulders. "I've seen kids use this stuff before. It's just a fad. The effect only lasts twelve hours.  It's nothing to worry about."

"Except for the suit," Dan added with glee. Amanda nearly fell off one brother's lap in an attempt to grab the other's throat.

"Shut up, Danny!" she yelled, but it was too late. John and Matt were both exchanging baffled looks while Dan appeared entirely too pleased with the horrified mask of dread on his sister's face.

"What's this about a suit, Amanda?" her father asked. Watching her shrink against her brother's chest, John had an immediate feeling that he really didn't want to know why she was so reluctant to reveal the reason a swimsuit would cause her such unease.

"You want to show Dad the suit, shrimp?" Dan gloated as his sister's eyes filled with loathing. They had always been at odds with each other as opposed to Matt and Amanda's loving relationship. Still revelling in his sister's discomfort, Dan widened his eyes and stuck out his tongue.

"That's enough, Dan," John warned even as his gaze hadn't left his youngest. "Well? Where is this suit?"

A gentle nudge dislodged Amanda from her older brother's protective hold.  Standing, she retrieved her beach bag and, with tremendous effort, rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for.

"Dad, first let me say that everyone." her explanation was cut off by the sharp shake of her father's head.

"Let me see the suit," John carefully enunciated, forcing himself not to raise his voice.

Pulling the strip of material from the bag, Amanda again gave Dan a look of vilification as she handed the suit to her dad.  Holding it up by one of the strings, John's jaw dropped.

"THIS is the suit? This can't be all of it! This barely looks like a bottom. Where's the top?"

Snickers from Dan were the only sounds in the room as John watched his daughter's face turn a particularly bright shade of crimson.

"Amanda," John intoned in his most deadly serious voice, "Please tell me that there's more to this `suit' than just this?"

"Well." she began, and then the rush of words exploded from her lips. "Dad, you have to understand that the entire point of taking the melemajic pill is to have a tattoo that covers the arms and torso of the user. If you cover too much, there's really no sense in taking the pill at all, is there? Please don't be such a Victorian! I think it's."

"Amanda," John interrupted, his monotone tenor indicating his shock, "where is the rest of the suit?"

"That's it," she dejectedly said.

"I can't wait to see what she does when she's 16," Dan quipped between his guffaws. Matt had tightly pursed his lips together as he shook his head in dismay. John was working his mouth open and closed, but no sound emitted from between his lips. Finally, he tossed the offending strip of material back to his daughter…his child...his baby…and pointed toward the hallway. Taking the hint, Amanda stuffed the suit into the bag and ran to her room.

"Dad, it's just a phase," Matt offered as they heard the slam of a door, but John was beyond the point of wanting to reasonably discuss the problem.

"She's a thirteen-year-old girl!" he bellowed as he hoped the closed door wasn't soundproof.  He wanted her to hear his outrage.  "Who does she think she is, wandering around the beachfront half-naked like that?"

"You know, Dad," Dan said even as his brother cast a warning look at him, "Across the pond, they have a much more relaxed standard of what's considered proper. Nudity is embraced as completely natural and normal. Maybe Amanda is a latent European." Sniggering at his humour, he raised his eyebrows in the hopes that his brother would agree with him. Matt wasn't amused.

"Dan, be quiet if you don't have something helpful to say. We're not in Europe, and Amanda's too young to be prancing around wearing that…suit." Shuddering at the memory, he stared into the darkened hallway. "Let me go talk with her."

"That would probably be best," John said, a sombre look on his face. "I don't think I could keep my composure with her right now. I'll go talk with your mother." Both stood and glanced over at Dan, who had leaned his chair back onto two legs and had his back against the wall.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked with little interest.

"Keep unpacking until you find your clothes and my books. Make yourself useful," Matt said with a roll of his eyes. He knew that as soon as he and his father left the room, Dan would be at the replicator getting something to eat.

Standing in front of his sister's room, Matt knocked on the door and waited for a response. A muffled sound was the only noise he could make out.

"Amanda, open the door. I need to talk with you," he firmly said.

"Go away!"

Sighing at the angry snap, Matt knocked again, stood back and waited. After a few minutes, the click of a door being unlocked was heard. As the door opened a crack, Matt could just make out his sister's features in the shadows.

"Let's talk, all right?" he softly asked, putting a hand against the door to keep it open.

"Why, so you can tell me how immature I am?" Silence followed for several seconds, then she padded back into the dark room. Matt followed her in and touched on a lamp sitting on a dresser near the door. The room was naturally smaller than they were used to, but it already had his sister's little touches. The scarlet bed cover was the same one he remembered, as were the matching pictures of flowers on the walls. Several large pieces of furniture had to be left behind due to the size restrictions in the apartment, but Matt was pleased that Amanda had somehow been able to get the antique red oak secretary desk and chair that had been in her room since she was a baby. It was what was on the desk that intrigued him most, though. A beautiful cherry-finished mantle clock was perched proudly on the centre section of the desk.

"Where did you get this?" he asked in wonder as he touched the highly polished surface. The clock suddenly chimed the half hour. It was quite a work of art with its intricate gold-plated dial and inlaid mahogany sections. Amanda walked over and reverently touched the granite top of the case.

"Nanny gave it to me. She said that every time I look at it or hear it chime, it would remind me of home. See the time?" Checking the hands of the antique, Matt nodded his understanding. The time was set for the East Coast. While he appreciated his Great Aunt's gift to his sister, he wished she hadn't referred to the East as home.  It was time for that perception to change.

"It's a beautiful clock, but soon you'll want to reset the time.  This is home now," he said as he waved a hand around the room in an attempt to somehow take in the entire state of California with the gesture. As his sister's expression darkened, he took the moment to step out of the roll of big brother and try to see his sister in a different light.

With her light brunette hair and slight figure, she had the typical awkward appearance of a young girl not quite comfortable in the skin of a teen; however, there was a certain dignity to her delicate mannerisms that set her apart. She could be brash and impulsive, but her too sensitive heart balanced that. He had seen her cry over the littlest things that most would overlook, even as he had seen her tear into Dan with a ferocity that seemed to be pulled from the very depths of her being. But the most often commented upon feature of his sister was her brilliant blue eyes that she had inherited from their father. They were her Achilles heel in a way. Everything that she was could easily be revealed when one looked into those eyes. Nothing could be hidden. Watching her discard the idea of San Francisco as home, Matt could see in her eyes the pain of the too-recent move and the drastic change to her comfortable life.

"I don't like it here," she insisted, flopping down onto her bed. "This will never be home."

"Never say never, Amanda. Change is difficult, but instead of looking at the negative, why don't you look at the positive? You already mentioned the beach, right?" He gave her an encouraging look even as she wrinkled her nose at the memory of the swimsuit disaster. "You said that the beach was the best part about moving here. Every place has its good points, if you'd only look for them."

"That's easy for you to say," the girl mumbled as her eyes brightened with tears. "You're not living here with mother and dad."

"Are they that difficult?" Matt asked, knowing that his parents were unsettled by the move as much as they were.

"Dad acts like everything is just fine," Amanda said, a bitter look replacing the tears.  "It's not!  Mother is so upset that she just cries and stays in their bedroom.  You know how she is."

"Yes, I know," her brother agreed.  Maura Grayson had been born into a family of modest means, and she had set her sights early on improving her lot in life.  A whirlwind romance with the wealthy heir to the Grayson fortune had ended in marriage after only three months.  Matt had been born `premature' seven months later.  It was no dreaded family secret as far as Matt was concerned.  It was his mother who insisted that she was above such deception and that he was simply born early.  Maura's obsession with presenting the right image and having the perfect life extended to her family.  Matt and Dan were to be her and John's perfect boys.  Two children were considered her ideal and she had doted on them, parading them proudly in front of the Grayson clan.  Nothing had disrupted that conviction until Maura fell ill.

It was shortly after a vacation to an exclusive beach club off the coast of Africa.  John and Maura had left the boys in the care of their grandparents and enjoyed the private adult occasion.  Maura awoke one morning shortly after they returned home violently ill and stayed in the lavatory for most of the morning.  John contacted a cousin who was a doctor who came immediately to the estate.  Fearing that his wife had contracted some exotic disease from their travels, it was a relief to him to discover the truth.  John was thrilled with the prospect of becoming a father again.  Matt still could recall the excitement in his dad's voice when he told his sons the news.  But, even as he could recall his dad's happiness, he could also remember his mother's resentment.  Another child was not part of her idyllic plan.  With time, Matt expected that his mother would change her mind.  After all, he and his dad…and even Dan, although he would never admit it…adored their little sister and offspring.  However, Maura never developed a strong bond with Amanda.  It was insufferable to Matt that his mother was so cold.  Worse, he knew that his sister recognized that she had somehow upset her mother in some unnamed way.  Every criticism and negative remark that Maura uttered was usually aimed at Amanda.  Matt tried to counter that when he was home; however, when he, and eventually his brother, left for college, Amanda was left to her own devises.  There were plenty of activities for his sister at their old home to keep her away from their mother's censure; now, Matt feared that the isolation of living in a new city and having no friends nearby would leave her vulnerable.

"Mother doesn't want anyone to know that we live here," Amanda said.  Rolling over on her bed, she sat back up and stared at the far wall.  "It's weird that we have the same opinion on something."

"I told you that you need to look at San Francisco as your home now," Matt said with a shake of his head.  Taking in a deep breath, he decided to tell her more about why he and his brother were there.  "There's a possibility that Dan and I might be here for longer than you expect."

"Really?  Did you hear from Harvard?" As she asked the question, Amanda reached out and grasped her brother's hand.  "Oh, Matty!  They didn't accept you, did they?  That's why you're not going back, right?"

"No, they did accept me."  Grinning, he covered his ears in mock pain as she squealed.  Amanda had a huge smile on her face as she stood and nearly skipped to the door.

"Have you told Dad and Mother yet?  They'll be so thrilled!  Imagine...a son in Harvard Medical School!"  Even as she spoke, the girl noticed the fallen expression on her brother's face.  "Wait.  What's wrong?"

Sighing, Matt waited as Amanda sat down again on the bed.  "I've been accepted, but I'll need to work for awhile to get the money together for tuition.  Dan is in the same situation.  We really thought that Dad would get the college fund money from Grandfather's estate, but he didn't."  Seeing the stricken look on his sister's face, Matt forced a smile.  "Actually, it will give me time to decide if I really want to be a doctor or not.  I've been looking into some hospital jobs.  Dan's still wavering on his major, so he can take the time to decide what he really wants to do."

"Matty, I'm so sorry," Amanda said as she leaned her head against his shoulder.  "I wish there was some way I could help."

"There is something you can do," Matt said with great affection as he put an arm around his sister.  "You can keep your head up and not let this setback get to you.  I don't mean to say that we have to be blind to the changes, but it will do nothing to dwell on the past."

"I know."  Still leaning against her brother, Amanda tried to think of some way to cheer him.  It bothered her that he might not have a chance to do the one thing he'd dreamed of for years.  He deserved to go to medical school.  Although not a naturally gifted student, Matt had the tenacity and drive to succeed that allowed him to achieve his goals.  Pulling back to sit up, she beamed as she recalled an amusing moment from before their move.

"Guess who has Lazarus now?" she said with a humoured tone.  Maura had bought the red fichus for their home several years earlier, but from the moment it was set into place, the tree seemed to have no will to live.  After trying everything, the dead tree was ultimately discarded.  Much to her mother's consternation, Amanda had salvaged the twig-like plant and, within weeks, it had sprouted new leaves.  Dan had nicknamed it `Lazarus' due to its uncanny resurrection.

"I have no idea," Matt replied as he stood.  "One of your friends?"

"No, I gave him to Nanny after she gave me the clock.  She said it was a fair trade."  Joining her brother, she paused at the door.  "Do you really think everything will be all right?  I mean."

"Yes, I do," Matt resolutely said as he opened the door.  "We're not going to crumble because of some minor problem.  I am going to school, one way or another.  Let's go see if there's any food left."

Cheered by her brother's confidence, Amanda followed Matt back into the dining room where Dan was sitting with an empty plate in front of him.  Matt shook his head as his brother belched.

"Do you have no manners at all?" Amanda said as Dan tried to hand the plate to her.  She ignored it.

"Yeah, I have manners, but why should I use them here?  Hey, take this to the disposal," Dan insisted, but Amanda continued to ignore him.  Shoving the plate into her side, Dan growled as his sister yelped.  "Here, you're standing up.  Take it!"

"Dan, don't be so damned lazy and stop shoving that plate at Amanda.  She's not your servant."  Matt glared at Dan as the younger brother sulked.  Pushing himself to his feet, Dan roughly bumped into his sister as he passed by.  Swinging a fist, Amanda landed a blow on Dan's back as he entered the kitchen.

"Ouch, you little shrimp!  You're going to pay for that!" Dan yelled as the plate clattered onto the countertop.  Shrieking, Amanda ran behind Matt for protection as Dan furiously advanced.

"Stop it, Dan," Matt demanded even as the boy reached behind his brother to try to grab his sister.  "Stop fighting!  I said stop!"  Matt had grasped his brother's wrist in an effort to get some control.  Dan twisted out of the hold and seemed to glare straight through his brother to his hidden sister.

"Fine!  Protect the little sucker puncher."  He locked eyes with Matt and gave him a look of contempt.

"What's going on out here?" John asked as he entered the room.  Seeing the way Amanda was cowering behind Matt with Dan blocked by his older brother, John sighed.  This wasn't the first time he'd seen this particular scenario.  "Now what are you kids fighting about?  Dan, Amanda, you two stop it now.  I don't care what this is about.  It's getting late, and we need to clear a spot for you boys to sleep."

"Don't worry about it, dad," Matt said as he pulled his sister from her hiding place behind him.  "Dan's friend Ming lives in Sausalito and said we could stay with her.  She has a spare bedroom."

John wanted to protest the arrangement, but they were right.  Even if the living room were cleared, there would only be the hard floor for a large enough sleep area.  Feeling the weight of the move and its consequences, the man could only nod.  Dan came over to him and shrugged as he pushed a strand of hair from his face.

"Dad, it's fine.  Matt will keep me in line at Ming's house, and we'll be back in the morning to help unpack some more."

Touched by his younger son's uncharacteristic willingness to help, John could only nod once again.  His son's untamed hair jarred a memory from earlier in the day as he reached out and gave his son a quick hug.

"Dan, I appreciate the help.  Listen, do me a favour and get a haircut sometime this week, please?  On the 2nd, there's an embassy function that the entire family has been invited to.  If you boys are still here, I'd like for you to join us."  Recalling his initial meeting with Ambassador Skon, John ruefully continued.  "It should be quite an evening."

"An event at the embassy?  Sounds boring," Dan said with his usual blunt assessment of anything related to diplomacy.

"No, I'd say this will be anything but boring," John replied with a raised eyebrow.  "The Vulcans are the guests of honour."

"The Vulcans?  Really?" Matt exclaimed.  He had met only one Vulcan in the past, and that had been years ago when he was a young boy.  The only memory he had of the event was that of awe and a touch of fear.

"Yes, really.  We're trying to improve relations, and so this will be a family-friendly event.  Supposedly, the entire staff of both Embassies has been invited to the dinner.  I'll get you both on the invitation list."  John's hopeful tone made it difficult for either brother to object.  Amanda had been carefully staying out of Dan's reach since Matt had intervened.  Now, she stepped forward.

"I get to go to this one, right?" she asked even as Dan narrowed his eyes at her.

"Of course you're going!" John enthusiastically said as he quickly embraced her and provoked a giggle.  "We all are, and with any luck, it should be a night to remember."

As the boys moved toward the door to leave for the evening, Maura came out into the hallway.  Even in the darkened hall, John could tell that his wife had been crying again.  Forcing himself to ignore her red-rimmed brown eyes, he stood and put an arm around her shoulder as she came into the dining room.  She was a petite, dark-haired beauty that had caught his eye, and quickly his heart, back when his interests rarely moved beyond the fraternity parties that he cheerfully attended.  The circumstances of their current financial state had strained their usually loving relationship to the point that John wasn't certain what the end result would be.  Maura smiled warmly at the boys even as they also noticed her tear-stained cheeks.

"Oh, my boys!  I'm so glad to see you both," she said as they came forward and gave their mother a courteous hug.  "I've had absolutely no help in getting any unpacking done.  Your sister has done nothing at all."

"That's not true," Amanda responded, her defensive tone rising as she spoke.  "I have my room unpacked."

"Do you live only in your room?" Maura tartly replied, and then turned her attention back to her sons.  "I truly appreciate the help."

"Amanda's been busy at the beach," Dan added even as three sets of eyes gave him a warning look.  "She likes the European look this year."

"What does that mean?" Maura asked as her eyes darted between those in the room.  "I know she's been frittering her time away at the beach, but..."

"Maura, it means nothing," John quickly said before Dan could mention the melemajic and the swimsuit.  "I know that she'll be here to help unpack tomorrow.  Won't you?"  His light eyes caught his daughter's with an unspoken plea.  Amanda lowered her eyes to the floor littered with packing debris.

"It doesn't matter if she wants to or not," Maura interjected as she gazed over the dining room that opened into the living room.  "She will be here and she will help.  Have you eaten dinner?"  The question was directed at the boys.  Dan nodded even as Matt gathered the few books he had found.

"We're fine, Mother," Matt said as he opened the front door.  "We'll be back in the morning to help, too."  Smiling broadly, he gave Amanda a quick squeeze on her arm.  "Get ready to work tomorrow.  We're going to knock out the rest of these boxes."

"Okay," she said with a shy grin.  She watched as Maura fussed over Dan, who was attempting to carry out an oversized load of wrinkled clothes.  As the door closed, Maura focused her intense gaze on her daughter.

"Why didn't you tell me where you were going this morning?  Thank God your brothers are considerate and helped, or we'd still be surrounded by boxes."

"I told you I was going to the beach," Amanda objected, her eyes flashing.  "You were still in bed like you have been all day and probably didn't hear me."

"Go to your room." Maura demanded, angry at her daughter's words that struck too close to the truth.  "Maybe a night without dinner will change your saucy attitude."

Storming to her room, Amanda didn't need to hear the dismissive sniff that her mother always did after one of their arguments.  She was just satisfied that her bedroom door was of an old fashioned design and could be slammed.

Once inside her private sanctuary, she went to her closet and took out a jewellery box.  Inside one of the compartments, she pulled out a nutrient bar.  A triumphant little smile graced her features as she took a bite.  Falling back onto the bed, Amanda considered her next move.  Matt wanted her to accept this place as home, but she just couldn't do it.  She hated everything about it.  No, she thought, that wasn't true.  As she thought about spending the next day with her mother in the cramped apartment, Amanda carefully considered what she'd said to Matt.  `We' could be anyone.  And she really hadn't said that she would be there in the morning.

As she punched in the comm call number, she grinned.  Although no one answered, the machine automatically asked for a message.  She waited for the screen to finish blinking.  Her message was short and to the point.

"Hi, Memori?  It's Amanda.  You said that you'd be in the same area tomorrow due to the impree-ollie waves.  I'll see you there.  Oh, and if you wouldn't mind bringing an extra melemajic pill?  I'll credit you for it.  Thanks."

Chapter 3 – The Girl

Only once in the past had Amanda been invited to attend one of her father's diplomatic dinner parties.  She could distinctly remember the thrill of arriving with her family to the reception hall, its elaborately decorated tables and walls sparkling with gold and silver lined displays from numerous places both Earthly and otherwise.  The entire room was crowded with beautifully dressed people who spoke a wide variety of languages that filled her eager ears as she tried to determine what each conversation was about.  The evening hadn't lived up to that promising start, however.  As she was being introduced, a hulking bear of a woman dressed in a fluorescent cherry muumuu had insisted that the festivities were for `adults only' and had taken Amanda's hand in her own sweaty one.  Like a toddler, she was led to a room located off the main hall.  She could distinctly remember the terrible squall and the smell of disinfectant that assaulted her upon entry into the `children's' room.  While some of the older children took delight in playing one of the numerous holographic games, she dejectedly plopped down with the younger children to watch a vid of `The Wizard of Oz'.  Visions of that night still filled her with dread even as she wondered what awful nightmare would unfold at the embassy dinner.

Begging her dad to let her stay in the apartment alone was met with an incredulous double take.  Under the circumstances, she had the distinct feeling that she wouldn't be allowed to go anywhere unsupervised for a very long time.  Amanda had to admit that going to the beach instead of helping to unpack wasn't quite worth it.  She still wasn't sure if her dad was kidding when he said she was grounded forever.  Surely, he wasn't serious; however, she decided to act the part of the perfect child and see if her improved attitude would help alleviate her parent's exasperation with her.

Standing in front of the mirror in her room, Amanda wondered what evil designer had dreamed up the dress that she was now wearing.  The floor length pale yellow dress with a wide cream collar completely drained her face of color, and she felt like she was a flower girl at a wedding rather than preparing to attend an important embassy function.  The frilly dress her grandmother had given her wasn't the worse part, though.  The off-white slipper style shoes didn't quite match the dress and were already pinching her toes.  She had begged to wear something else, but her mother had insisted that the outfit was the only thing Amanda owned that fit the suggested dress code for the evening.  Amanda suspected that her mother wanted to mortify her as further punishment.  Sighing, she had to acknowledge that it was working.

As she entered the dining room, John gave her a warm smile.  "Now, there's my gorgeous girl!"

"My toes are being crushed, and this dress is ugly. Yellow is not my color," Amanda replied tersely even as she wondered if she should have just nodded as she watched her dad's expression fall.

"It's not ugly, Amanda," her mother insisted as she entered the room, "your Grandmother has excellent taste, and the dress is not yellow.  It's lemon chiffon."  Maura was gorgeous in her scarlet satin beaded dress with a matching organza jacket.  Amanda wished that she had something similar to wear as she watched her mother tuck back a lock of dark hair that had escaped her upswept style.  The Vulcan cultural attaché had recommended that the human women wear their hair up like the Vulcan women to minimize any conspicuous disparity between the two groups.  That was the only thing that had pleased Amanda about her appearance.  Instead of pulling her shoulder-length brunette hair into a ponytail like she usually did, she was able to wear it up in a more mature style.  Maybe it made her appear taller?  Although John wasn't aware of the reason for his daughter's smile, he beamed back his approval.

"I'm just thrilled that I have two beauties to take to dinner," he said as he escorted them, one on each arm, to the front door.  "Our transport awaits."

"Matty and Danny are meeting us there?" Amanda asked as they left the apartment.  Her dad had arranged for a rental flitter for the evening.  With the public shuttles so accessible, there had been no reason for them to have a private vehicle.  That evening, John felt it would be more appropriate for them to arrive directly at the embassy.

"Yes, they'll meet us," Maura replied, checking her makeup in the reflective surface in the elevator.  "I hope they've dressed appropriately.  I sent them the embassy recommendations."

"I'm sure they're dressed appropriately," John assured her as he adjusted the driver's seat to accommodate his longer legs.  "I just hope Dan got a haircut."

Arriving at the Terran embassy, Amanda found herself repeating a mantra of sorts.  `Keep your mouth shut and don't get in trouble...keep your mouth shut and don't get in trouble.'   Glancing over at her mother, the young girl gave her a slight smile.  Maura returned the look even as the flitter came to a stop in the valet parking lane. 

"I know you'll stay out of trouble tonight, won't you?" she asked in a benevolent, but firm, manner.

"I'll behave," Amanda hurriedly replied.  Looking at the throng around the entry to the reception hall, she relaxed.  There were so many people there, surely she could just blend in and be ignored.  After all, how much trouble could she get in at a dinner?

The reception foyer was already crowded by the time they entered the building.  Matt and Dan were talking with a group near the entryway into the hall when John spotted them.

"Oh, here are my parents and sister," Matt said as way of introduction as the groups converged.  Amanda could feel her disappointment mount as she realized that none of the people milling about in the entranceway were Vulcans.

"Ah, John!" Ellis Hamm exclaimed.  "So, you finally showed up.  Your sons have been telling me about their studies."

Looking around the room, Amanda recognized, from her dad's descriptions, some of the people present.  Obviously, Mr. Hamm was the gentleman who had been speaking to her brothers.  A woman who appeared to be Chen Li was engaged in a lively discussion several groups away from them.  John had mentioned that she reminded him of Nanny due to her blunt, but honest, opinion of generally everything.  Amanda was looking forward to meeting her.

"Ellis, please let me introduce you to my wife, Maura, and my daughter, Amanda," John proudly proclaimed.  Amanda gave the tiniest hint of a curtsey as her mother's extended her hand.  Mr. Hamm grasped it in both hands in a warm gesture.

"What a beautiful lady, John.  You are most fortunate."  Hamm continued to smile as his attention turned to Amanda.  "Yes, most fortunate.  I see that good looks run in the family.  Handsome sons and pretty little girls."

"I'm almost 14," Amanda stated, insulted by the comment.  She wasn't a child anymore.  Hamm seemed momentarily taken aback, but immediately recovered.

"So, that would make you 13, right?" he joked, and nervous chuckles were heard even as Amanda noticed the warning look in her mother's eyes.  Now what had she done?

"Perhaps we should find our seats," John said as he steered his family toward the hall.  "We are a little late, and we don't want to keep the Vulcans waiting."

"Yes, you're correct," Ellis said with a smile.  "That's the last thing we want to do."

Several dozen chandeliers that sparkled brilliantly above the milling crowds illuminated the reception hall.  While the hall was impressive, Amanda's attention was drawn to the seated occupants of one of the nearest round tables.  Vulcans!  Openly staring, she took in the sight of the aliens whom she had previously seen only in vids.  Her dad had described them as extremely intelligent and unemotional, which was fairly obvious from the staid appearance of all those present at the table.  The pointed eared men were all dressed in a similar fashion of dark tunic shirts and equally dark pants, while the women tended to wear elegant, long gowns of an equally dark color.  From what she could see, they didn't appear interested in the slightest with the dinner and the humans present.  Grinning, she thought about her previous school and the clique she'd belonged to.  They had always sat at one particular table located near the back windows in the cafeteria, and they always hung together.  Just like the Vulcans, she thought again, and now openly smiled.  Her expression froze, however, when she realized that she was being curiously observed by one of those at the table.  The imposing male sat next to an elegant Vulcan woman, her dark hair piled carefully atop her head.  Amanda had the impression that if the hair were allowed loose from its confines, it would show a tendency for curls.  Her wide-eyed gawking caused the staid male Vulcan next to the woman to raise an eyebrow at her.  Completely flustered, she lowered her gaze and scampered off to catch up with her parents.  As they were lead to their seats, Amanda was appalled to realize that they were going to be sitting at a table next to the Vulcans she had just ran from.  Hastily, she took a seat at the opposite side of the table from the aliens and hoped that the evening would end soon.  Although no formal introductions had been made, there was something about the way she'd been watched that petrified her.

"Move, shrimp," Dan insisted just as his sister took her seat.  She glared up at him as he favored her with a similar hostile expression.

"Why?  I got here first," she said and gripped the arms of the chair.  She realized that if he followed his usual pattern, Dan would try to physically remove her from `his' seat.  Not following her usual tendency for retaliation, she would silently suffer his assault and innocently prove what a rotten brother he was.  There was no way she was going to get into trouble this evening.  Just as Dan reached for her arm, John grabbed him by the shoulder and escorted him to a seat that was across from Amanda.

"Dan, I'm sure you'll be more comfortable over here," John insisted and, without giving the boy a chance to respond, firmly placed him in his seat.  Amanda's little smile at him was nearly the last straw, but he didn't have time to react.  The room had quieted, and the official business prior to the dinner began.

Listening to the polite opening remarks from the Terran ambassador was interesting for about the first five minutes.  Twenty minutes into the dialogue, Amanda was glassy eyed and bored to tears.  She had cautiously removed her shoes to relieve her toes from being pinched any further and had slumped down slightly in her chair as she heard for what had to be the tenth time the wonderful news of the improved relations between the Vulcans and the humans.  Pushing her shoes with her toes, she quietly played a game to see how far she could push them away and still reach them.  Without warning, she felt her left shoe being swiftly pressed down on the toe and dragged away.  Her gasp of surprise was met with disapproving looks from those at the table...with one exception.  Dan was slumped down in his seat, a `cat that ate the canary' look on his face.  He waggled his eyebrows at her as she mouthed the words `give me back my shoe' to him.  Ignoring the plea, he turned his attention back to the now-applauding audience.  Pulling her right shoe back under her chair, Amanda wondered how she was supposed to get the other shoe without drawing attention to herself.  Narrowing her eyes, she gave her brother her most ominous look, then sat up straighter as the wait staff began to serve the meal.

The dinner consisted of a variety of dishes that were both familiar and exotic.  As the heaping bowls were placed on the tables, Amanda's attention was drawn to the table next to them.  The Vulcans were sitting quite still, and several sets of eyes were focused on the male who had stared at her earlier.

At that table, Skon sat with his wife and several members of his staff in utter dismay.  While he had been to Terran events that featured the so-called `buffet' style of eating in the past, he had suggested that the unfamiliar arrangement of foods not be done at this dinner.  Apparently, his recommendation had been disregarded.  In general, the Vulcan head of the household would present the meal to those present and serve the foods to guarantee that all ate and were satisfied.  The idea that everyone, family or guest, was to reach and serve oneself was unheard of.  With the eyes of those at the table on him, Skon motioned for the bowls to be handed to him.  The plates had already been gathered up and were placed next to his wife.  T'Lara's expression was naturally unreadable, but Skon could easily discern the tight lines around her mouth. 

"My husband, what are you doing?" she asked in a whispered tone as he moved the plates within reach.

"An error has been made.  The meal shall be served as deemed proper, aduna."  He began to prepare the plates even as T'Lara took in a breath.

"It is most discourteous to prepare a table in such a manner," she finally stated even as she knew it was also discourteous to speak during a meal.  Skon's only response was to hand the first filled plate to his left.

Amanda continued to study the odd sight and actions of the Vulcans.  Their silence and seeming refusal to eat was in stark contrast to the boisterous humans who were loading their plates and lavishing praise on the catered foods and wait staff.  While she was hungry, she found that she was more curious about what the Vulcans were doing.  As she watched, she noticed that the Vulcan who was apparently in charge was preparing the plates of the others.  Bemused, she wondered why.  Maybe he wasn't in charge at all, but was the servant of the others?  That thought she dismissed immediately.  He was definitely an important person judging from the way the others deferred to him.  Maybe it was cultural?  That was a distinct possibility, and she felt suddenly uncomfortable as she gazed around the room.  Yes, the other Vulcans had taken the cue of the male at the table next to her and had someone at each of their tables preparing the plates.  A slight clearing of a throat brought her concentration back to her family as she realized instantaneously that her plate was still empty and her dad was trying to get her attention.

"Amanda, why aren't you eating?" John asked even as he glared at Dan in an attempt to stop him from getting a second helping so quickly after they had begun to eat.

"Dad, something isn't right," she said, not certain what her explanation would be.  Telling him that the Vulcans were behaving rather strangely wouldn't be met with approval, just as telling him that she thought they should remain silent as they ate would be met with ridicule.

"You're right, young lady," John said in a humored tone,  "there is something wrong.  Your plate is empty, and if you don't hurry, your brother will eat your portion.  Matt, pass me that bowl."

Saying nothing further, Amanda took the offered bowl and began to fix her plate.

"Amanda, remember...half," Maura reminded her.  The sting of her mother's remark wasn't in the words themselves as in the insinuation.  Maura had been a chubby child and was convinced that she needed to constantly monitor her daughter's diet to prevent what she feared was a genetic predisposition for being overweight.  While her mother now had the stately lissom figure that was the envy of many, Amanda just knew that she wasn't going to have that `growth spurt' the doctors were fond of speaking of.  It was like her mother said:  `Petite is one thing.  Short and fat is another.'  Cutting the vegetable casserole in half, she shoved part of it halfway off her plate and defiantly glared across the table.  Maura only nodded to show her approval.

Slowly chewing a bland, yet slightly sweet, roll, Amanda's attention was once again drawn to the table next to theirs.  The dignified Vulcan she now mentally identified as the `Chief' was finishing his dinner and was in the process of pouring some unidentified liquid into a tiny cup that was reminiscent of the delicate porcelain cups she had seen at an Asian market near the beach.  Checking her family's table, she was pleased to see that a similar pitcher and cups were present. "Dad, may I have something to drink?" she asked. 

John appeared to be carefully considering what to do with his daughter's request.  The mysterious pitcher was closer to Amanda's reach than his, but he understood her hesitation.  While he was certain that the foods present didn't pose a threat to their health, he had been told that even the most innocuous Vulcan drink had a slightly inebriating effect on humans. "Let me taste it first," he finally decided.

"You'll need to put the cups and the pitcher near you anyway," Amanda concluded as she again considered what the Vulcans were doing.  It appeared that the 'Chief' was pouring the cups for the entire table, just as he had prepared the plates. 

John's eyes narrowed at his daughter's avowal. "Why do they need to be near me?  Matt can just pour a cupful and hand it to me."

"No, Dad," Amanda said, a slight plea in her tone.  "It's important that you pour the cups."

Giving his sister a quizzical look, Matt passed the pitcher and cups to John.  He was genuinely curious about the significance Amanda placed on their father serving the drinks, but it was a simple request that he couldn't really dispute.  Dan, however, could.

"What if Dad doesn't want to play 'tea time' with you, shrimp?" Dan asked with a smirk on his lips.  "If you want something to drink, get it yourself."

"Dan, be quiet," John warned sharply as he watched his sons smirk disappear.  With the cup now half filled, his children and wife watched in near breathless expectation as he took the tiniest of sips.

Swirling the unfamiliar fluid in his mouth, he waited for any detrimental effects to seize him.  While the pungent aftertaste wasn't to his liking, there didn't appear to be any reason that he should restrict anyone from sampling it.  As the cup was passed, Amanda felt her anticipation grow.  Now this was exciting!

Skon had already read in his wife's face her disapproval of the lukewarm kasa juice.  It was rather obvious that the drink had been significantly altered to human taste.  He could barely discern the usual tangy bite of the drink; however, that wasn't what disturbed him.  The dissatisfaction that he sensed in those at his table was perhaps fueled by his actions.  The idea of the dinner was to provide an opportunity for the two disparate groups to meet and reach a more open dialogue, and yet, judging from the stilted distance that was being kept between the humans and the Vulcans, they might as well have been in different rooms.  His decision to serve the meal as he was accustomed to might have been a miscalculation that only emphasized the already acknowledged differences between them.  Something to meditate on, he thought, as he gazed thoughtfully at the next table filled with humans.  Blinking, he realized that the young girl he'd noticed earlier was watching him…perhaps waiting for something?  She held the monek before her in a tight grip that nearly swallowed the small vessel.  Noting the improper hold, he picked up his own cup and, using only his forefinger and thumb, grasped the body of the cup.  An eyebrow moved fractionally up his forehead as he saw the girl's intense look of concentration and her quick adjustment as she altered her grip.

"Adun, what are you doing?" T'Lara asked.

"Demonstrating," came Skon's enigmatic response.  Taking a sip of the kasa juice, he waited for the girl to do the same.  At the same instant, he realized that the decanter and cups had been moved and placed in front of the human John Grayson, whom he had met previously.  Had the girl recognized the traditions based on his actions alone?

"Mr. Ambassador," Ellis Hamm said, blocking his view of the next table.  "If you are finished with your meal, it is time for your closing remarks."

"Of course, Mr. Hamm," the Vulcan said, rising to take the podium.

Amanda glared at the back of the diplomat that had stepped in front of the 'Chief'.  Checking her grip of the tiny cup, she sighed at the interruption and took a sip.  The fluid was unlike anything she'd ever tasted before.  Her first impression was that it had a similar flavor to the fruited tea her Grandmother preferred on summer evenings.  That thought quickly vanished as the bitter aftertaste assaulted her taste buds and caused her to make a face.  Swiftly putting down the vessel, she grabbed another glass on the table filled with water and took a few cleansing gulps.  Dan was chuckling at her, and even Matt's bright eyes showed that he was amused by her reaction.

"It's kind of like a mix between apple juice and extra strong coffee, huh?" Matt commented.  Amanda could only nod as she observed the Vulcan at the next table rise and join Mr. Hamm as they walked toward the front of the hall.  Her suspicion about the importance of the alien was confirmed.  A jolt of self-recrimination shook her as she remembered her father's reminder of the importance of making a good impression.  Judging from the way the Vulcan had believed it was necessary to show her how to hold the cup, she feared that he must think her an absolute idiot.  She slumped down as he was introduced.

"Now, to close our evening," Ellis Hamm proclaimed as the crowd respectfully quieted.  "I am honored to introduce the Vulcan Ambassador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary, Skon.  Mr. Ambassador."

Amanda slumped down further.  The ambassador?  She'd been staring like a star-struck fan at the most powerful Vulcan currently on Earth?  Closing her suddenly heavy lids, she fervently prayed that she might instantly develop the ability to become invisible.  The Vulcan's deep baritone voice immediately gathered and held the attention of the room as he eloquently spoke of the desire to bridge the oft-deep chasm between the two species.  Amanda listened, but as she wriggled her toes, the thought occurred that perhaps she could use the distraction of the speech to get her left shoe back.  Dan appeared to be as interested in the ambassador's remarks as everyone else in the hall, and since she was already slumped down, it was an easy matter to lower her head and peer hopefully into the sea of legs.  Spotting the wayward shoe, she eased herself centimeter by centimeter closer to the edge of her chair, stretching her right leg as far as she could in front of her.  Just a little bit closer.

The last thing she saw before she slid to the floor was her mother's wide-eyed look of horror.  With every ounce of her strength, Amanda landed as soundlessly as possible by reaching behind her and grabbing the seat of the chair as her rump hit the floor.  The impact jarred her slightly, but pulling the chair toward her, she used her elbows to move the chair back under her and was properly seated before her dad even had time to realize what she'd done.  A wave of embarrassment flushed her face crimson as she considered what had just happened.  It didn't matter that she'd recovered so quickly.  Her mother's frosty glare indicated that she was going to be punished for her foolishness.  Worse, as she cut her eyes quickly around to see whom else had seen her fall, Amanda's expression froze as she observed the Vulcan female at the other table.  The curly-haired woman appeared most displeased in a way that only a mother could look in an undisciplined child.  She couldn't explain it, but Amanda was convinced that she had just confirmed the Vulcan's woman low opinion of humans.  Closing her eyes again, the young girl was thankful to hear the enthusiastic applause of the humans in the hall as the ambassador's remarks concluded.  As those assembled prepared to depart to their respective destinations, Amanda felt her left shoe hit against her leg as Dan tossed it back to her.  Slipping on the shoes, she kept her eyes lowered in an attempt to avoid what she knew would be the annoyed look on her mother's face.  She hadn't wanted to get in trouble, but it seemed that trouble always found her.

While Skon accepted the congratulations for his excellent closing words, he began to mentally prepare a request for a meeting with John Grayson.  Too many variables still existed, and he had yet to discuss his plan with T'Lara, but it was possible that he had found his girl.

Chapter 4 – The Meeting

Spock - Logic and practical information do not seem to apply here.
McCoy - You admit that?
Spock - To deny the facts would be illogical, Doctor.
Spock and McCoy, "A Piece of the Action", stardate unknown


"My husband, I cannot allow this."

Skon could sense T'Lara's reservations about his proposal even before he finished the outline he had envisioned for his son and the human girl to meet.  Her unblinking glare was far more telling than her words could ever be. "Why do you object, my wife?"

"Must you ask?" she responded with a dismayed tone that he rarely heard.  They had returned to their comfortable apartment located on the grounds of the Vulcan embassy only moments earlier.  T'Lara had arrived by shuttle the day before from her space voyage and was still adjusting to the lighter gravity and more oppressive atmosphere of Earth.  Although an ambassador's wife, she had never adjusted to her husband's present assignment.  Skon believed that it was those physically uncomfortable factors of the watery world they were on that was proving detrimental to his ability to convince her of his plan.

"Yes, I must.  The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, my wife." As he spoke, her walked over to the divan on which T'Lara sat and joined her on it.  "It is Surak's own words that must govern our beliefs.  Our son is the future of Vulcan.  Our greatest ally is with Earth and its people.  It is logical that the two should be forged into an inseparable union."

"A union that shall yield nothing."  Her solemn eyes held his as she spoke.  "You would deny your son the satisfaction of a proper marriage.  Instead, you would burden him with a female unable to bear his children."

"That has not been proven," he replied, but T'Lara's words hit home.  It was an injustice to deny the continuance of family, and it was very possible that he was suggesting just such a possibility.  Skon was most eager to enter into the role of Grandfather to his sons' children.  The Pon Farr had not yet affected Silek, his youngest son, and his bondsmate, and he despaired of his eldest son's lack of a mate.  T'Lara played well on his main concern.

"It must be so, my husband," his wife responded, even as she observed the illogical jutting of his jaw.  She wanted him to face the reality of what he was suggesting, but at times, he could be most obstinate.

"Again, I state that there has been no confirmation that Humans and Vulcans are incompatible.  A thorough bioscan will reveal if a viable pregnancy is feasible," Skon adamantly declared.  He wanted it to be so, but the facts would, indeed, determine if he would pursue what might be simply an idealistic dream.

"A bioscan?  Skon...adun." Her voice was soft as she lowered her head, whether in deference or dismay was irrelevant.  Skon wondered at the power she held over him at times.  "I understand your interest in improving the relations between our two peoples, but to force our son into such an arrangement would be detrimental to his potential.  I have been told that Sarek has an aptitude for the diplomatic career you've envisioned for him.  To have his services lessened due to the necessity of defending his choice of wife would damage his credibility.  There are also those who would accuse him of a crime.  Humans do not bond their children, Skon.  How do you expect to gain the trust of a human parent once all the facts are revealed?  How can you explain that the bonding is for life when the proposed girl is."  T'Lara paused as she searched for the right words.  "She is but an untaught infant, from what I could see.  She could not even sit properly in her chair without falling to the floor."

"I did not see such an action," Skon replied even as he felt his advantage slipping away.  Was the girl so inept as to fall out of her seat with no provocation?  "Aduna, you must understand that I will have the approval of the girl's parents before I present my plan to our son.  I have arranged to speak with the girl's father.  Sennar has provided me with some information that was available through the Terran embassy."  Never mind how the aide gained access to the personal information, Skon thought uneasily.  "The girl's name is Amanda Grayson, and she is thirteen Earth years old.  That is young, but once she has been introduced and taught our ways, she will be of an age that will allow for a proper marriage at the appointed time.  Her intelligence level has also been investigated.  She appears to have potential."

"Potential?"  T'Lara leaped on the word.  "What of her existing character?"

"Her father is a junior diplomat with a wife and three children," he began as he prepared to build a case for the young girl.  "I would expect that she has been instructed in the proper decorum and expectations of a life that is held to a higher standard than most.  She would not prove to be a detriment to our son as she is too young to have done anything scandalous or foolish.  That is the very reason I believe she is the best candidate.  At her age, she would still be respectful and obedient to her parents.  Our brand of discipline would only enforce what I must assume is already there."

"I saw no indication of discipline in the girl," T'Lara doggedly said, her dark eyes searching her husband's face.  There were occasions when Skon would become deeply engrossed with a proposal that was quite out of the realm of logical sagacity.  The problem was that on most of those occasions, his insight proved to be visionary and advanced the cause that he so vigorously embraced.  In that respect, she knew that Sarek took after his father.  It was that similarity that might be her best defense against the scheme.

"My wife, you only saw the child for a succinct period of time," he reminded her as he focused on a loose strand of ebony hair near her jaw line.  "Her comportment cannot be judged based on what I would deem to be a regrettable occurrence.  We do not have the entire account.  She may have had a reason to search for something under the table and lost her balance.  Humans do not have as good a sense of equilibrium as Vulcans."  Skon realized his mistake even as his wife raised her head slightly at the uncharacteristic opening.

"There are numerous physical and intellectual deficiencies that distinguish Humans in a decidedly unfavorable light," she charily said.  "That is yet another reason why I must object to your plan.  Would you suggest that a superior species must be hampered by the lesser abilities of the inferior?  Our son has excelled as a senior diplomat for the Sigma Quadrant and has revealed no desire to become acquainted with Earth or its people.  Such a lack of curiosity should indicate that Sarek's interests lie elsewhere.  You do understand my point of view, Adun?" She almost imperceptibly leaned toward him.  Skon was well aware of her presence and was actually pleased by her criticism.  Her scrutiny would assist him in planning his presentation to John Grayson.  Missteps could be studied and corrected while tactics could be fine-tuned.  Yes, her assistance was most valued.

"Our son's lack of interest in Earth does not automatically denote an unswerving denunciation of all things Terran.  Let us consider all that we have discussed for a later discourse."  Matching his wife's slight movement, he leaned toward her and raised his hand.  As her hand smoothly molded into his, he revelled in the comfort of the bond he cherished.  It was that reassuring, unspoken oath of absolute devotion that he wanted for his son.  Perhaps he should reconsider his proposal as he felt the warmth of his wife's essence.  Could a human be trusted to give such faithfulness?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


John waited patiently in the neutrally decorated reception area even as he pondered once again the unusual request that brought him to the Vulcan embassy.  He had discussed the meeting with both Ellis Hamm and Ambassador Agani, and both had recommended that he attend with an open mind.  There was no criterion for him to follow, especially since the meeting was supposedly not of a diplomatic nature.  He couldn't imagine why Ambassador Skon would want to speak with him about a matter of `utmost sensitivity', but he had to admit that the feeling of confidentiality that surrounded the request piqued his curiosity.

A door opened, and a stately, gray-haired Vulcan entered the room.  John didn't know who he was, but he did remember seeing him at the ambassador's table the night of the embassy dinner.

"Mr. Grayson," the Vulcan said as John rose to his feet.  "Ambassador Skon will meet with you now."

Entering the room from which the Vulcan had just emerged, the stately male nodded slightly and closed the door, leaving the ambassador and the Human alone.  John was immediately drawn to the expansive sight of the bay visible through several floor to ceiling windows.  The ambassador stood, and John forced his attention away from the impressive view as he raised his hand into the Vulcan ta'al that Agani had shown him only the day before. 

"Mr. Ambassador," the Human said with a slight nod.  With a slightly raised left eyebrow, the gesture was returned as Skon came around his desk and found his place in front of one of the windows.  Uncertain of what he should do, John followed him to the window and, with a comfortable space established, gazed out at the bay.  Several sea gulls could be seen lazily floating on the morning breeze even as the morning rush of shuttles filled the designated lanes both on land and in the air.

"Mr. Grayson," Skon said, his dignified baritone signaling an end to the sightseeing,  "You are no doubt wondering why you have been summoned here today."

"Yes, it has been the topic of discussion for the past few days," John admitted.  He noticed the sharp turn of the Vulcan's head in his direction and met the intense gaze of the ambassador.

"Who has been informed of this meeting, Mr. Grayson?  It was to have been kept confidential."

"Only Ellis Hamm and Ambassador Agani, sir," John quickly supplied.  "I haven't even told my wife about it.  I needed to inform my superiors due to the unusual nature of the request.  You do understand?"

"Yes," the Vulcan finally replied after several long seconds.  "I understand; however, what we are about to discuss must not be disclosed to anyone outside of this room, at least not immediately."

"Sir, if this matter would endanger the lives." the Human began, but he was quickly cut off.

"No, Mr. Grayson," Skon interrupted, pleased that the man was concerned about others, "the matter I wish to discuss will only impact the lives of two individuals at this time."  Seeing the furrowed brow of the blue-eyed man, Skon turned back to the view.

"Mr. Ambassador, I don't understand," John cautiously stated,  "Are you saying that this meeting will affect you and I?  Not to be rude, sir, but I'm not even a senior diplomat at this point in time, and I cannot see that we have anything in common."

Skon pulled his gaze away from the window and returned to his desk.  He noted the way the man hung back even as he took his seat.  Skon gestured for the Human to join him, but John remained standing as he waited for an explanation.

"Mr. Grayson," Skon began, but he paused as he tried to analyze why the Human had pursed his lips together so tightly. 

"May I ask a favor, sir?" John said as he tried to reflect on exactly what was happening.  "If this meeting is indeed of a personal nature, the formalities that we're using would seem to be out of place.  Would it be inappropriate for you to call me John?  I'd feel more comfortable if you would."

For a moment, Skon carefully considered the request.  Then, he nodded.  "Yes, that is acceptable.  You are correct in that there is no reason for such formalities during this meeting.  You may call me Skon.  One moment."  The Vulcan turned away and pressed a comm link on his monitor.  A voice that sounded like that of the gray-haired aide John had seen in the reception area quickly answered, and Skon spoke to the man in his native language.  The exchange was extremely brief, and within seconds of the ambassador having turned off the comm unit, the door opened and the aide entered carrying a tray.

"John, would you join me for something to eat and drink?"  Skon asked as the tray was placed on a low-set table near the back of the office.

"Certainly," the Human replied.  He'd been given a short introduction to Vulcan customs by Ambassador Agani and knew that it was seen as extremely discourteous to turn down such an invitation.  As they made their way to the table, John was struck by an amusing thought.  He still had absolutely no idea why he'd been invited to the embassy.  If he weren't told something soon, he'd have to insist on some enlightenment.

Once seated, John reached for a small cup of a similar fashion to the one he had used at the dinner.  Before he could make contact with it, Skon had picked up the delicately designed vessel.

"As my guest, John, it is my privilege to serve you," the Vulcan said smoothly, and John allowed his hand to drop without a word.  He filed away the apparent Vulcan serving etiquette as something he would need to tell Ellis and Agani.  There had been some troubling questions raised about the embassy dinner and whether the Vulcan cultural attaché had truly done his job.  It was quite telling that Amanda had been the one to tell him about what she had observed at the ambassador's table. 

"Thank you," John said as the dark maroon cup was handed to him.  He tentatively took a sip of the liquid.  This time, he was quite pleased when he recognized the flavor as that of a mild Green tea.  Remembering another thing his daughter had noticed, John drank the offered drink in silence.  Skon prepared a small serving dish of what appeared to be wafer-thin pieces of wheat bread with a bluish, buttery substance layered between them.  Nodding his appreciation quietly this time, John took the plate and watched as the ambassador expertly prepared his own and began to eat.  After he took another long sip of the tea, John picked up the bread with his fingers as Skon had done and took a bite.  He wanted to avoid any glaring gaffes if he could.  John knew that he had expected the texture of the food to be like that of bread; instead, there was an almost slimy sensation that reminded him of oysters.  Quickly swallowing before his gag reflex had a chance to react, he followed the 'bread' with several loud gulps of tea. 

Skon observed the reaction of his Human guest to the kap-mut and pla-savas filling with both alarm and consternation.  It was not his desire that the man become ill while dining with him. "Are you adversely affected by the foods, John?" Skon asked as he refilled the man's cup.  After draining it within seconds, the Human convulsively swallowed and cleared his throat.

"I'm all right," John said in a hoarse tone.  Forcefully clearing his throat again, he grimaced as a slightly amused sigh escaped from him.  "I'm sorry about that.  I don't mean to leave such a poor impression.  The consistency of the food took me by surprise."

Skon sagely nodded as he stood.  "Perhaps it would be best not to continue with the foods that are unfamiliar to you.  I prepared the tea as instructed.  Was it acceptable?"

"Oh, yes, there wasn't anything wrong with the tea, and I'm sure the sandwiches were fine.  They simply weren't to my taste."  John stood to join the Vulcan as he returned to his desk.

"Sandwiches?  What does that term mean?" Skon asked as he once again took his seat behind his desk.

"Sandwiches?"  John repeated as he tried to find a proper way to explain the item.  "Well, the way I make a sandwich is to take two pieces of bread and put some item, such as peanut butter and jam, between them.  Are you familiar with bread?"

"Yes," Skon replied.  "However, I am not familiar with the words peanut, butter, and jam."  John couldn't help but smile at the precise manner used by the Vulcan to pronounce the foreign words.  

"Perhaps I might be able to introduce them to you sometime," John offered as he took his seat.

"Yes, that is a possibility," Skon said sanguinely.  The light mood very nearly overshadowed the importance of their gathering.  Taking note of the expectation in the Human's face, Skon decided it was time to carefully present his plan. "John," he began, "how would you characterize the relationship between Earth and Vulcan?"

The Human sat up straighter as he quickly considered what could be said that wouldn't be insulting, even as he sensed that Skon wasn't one who would be offended.  "Honestly," he finally replied, "the relationship is shaky at best.  There is the viewpoint among many of my colleagues that Vulcans are not trustworthy.  I'm certain that a similar conviction exists among your people about Humans."

"There are those who do not believe that it is necessary to maintain a close association between our two peoples," Skon said, confirming what John had stated.  "It has been suggested that we do not benefit from the alliance with the Federation.  I am not of that opinion."

"Nor am I," John began, but the Vulcan raised his hand slightly off his desk to indicate that he wasn't finished speaking.

"In fact, I believe that both sides gain an advantage due to our joint collaborations and the sharing of information.  There is strength in the Federation alliance that some members on both sides do not appreciate.  I believe that it would be advantageous to encourage the exchange of knowledge and lessen the ambiguity and misinformation that exists.  Would you agree, John?"

"Yes," he started, but again Skon unrelentingly continued.

"It would be a valuable asset to both our peoples if there were a way to bridge the schism that currently exists."  Leaning forward slightly, the Vulcan arched one elegant eyebrow as a form of emphasis.  "I believe I have such a way.  It is the reason for this meeting."

John could practically feel the warning bells sounding at Skon's words.  So far, their discussion appeared to be diplomatic in tone and he couldn't understand why the ambassador wasn't talking with Agani.  On the other hand, Skon had said it was personal.

"I'm afraid that I don't understand why I'm here, sir," John said, returning to the formalities from earlier in their meeting.  "If this has to do with Vulcan and Earth diplomacy, then you would want to speak with someone in a higher position than myself."

Skon listened solemnly to the slightly frosty undertone of the Human and leaned back into his chair.  If his presentation was to be effective, he could leave no room for error.  He had already compromised with his wife in that she would continue to search for a bondsmate for Sarek among the Houses on Vulcan.  Her reasoning was valid in that there was no guarantee that his plan would be accepted, especially if further compromises were needed.  He cautiously decided to disclose his revised proposal, one that he believed would be acceptable to Humans.

"You agree with me that the relationship between our peoples is weak."  Seeing the Human nod, Skon went on.  "Therefore, I have arrived at what I believe is a mutually beneficial plan that will showcase the strengths of both Vulcans and Humans.  John, you have a daughter, correct?"

"Yes," he said as the warning bells now struck at red alert intensity, "why do you ask?"

Again, the Vulcan leaned forward to highlight his words.  "I noticed her at the embassy dinner, and was impressed with her willingness to observe and learn.  She is bright, I assume?"

Although John was still wary of the odd turn in the conversation, he agreed with a tight smile.  "Yes, she is very intelligent."

"According to the information I have, she is thirteen Earth years old.  Is that correct?"

John's eyes narrowed at the query.  "That is correct, but how did you find that out?"

Skon tilted his head slightly at the man's question.  "Such information is relatively simple to obtain due to the security precautions at all such diplomatic events.  It was imperative that I verify Amanda's age prior to this meeting."

John's eyes, which had narrowed, now took on a dubious look.  "Sir, why would my daughter's age be of such importance?  I'm starting to get a little nervous about this line of questioning concerning my family."  

"It is not my proclivity to make you uncomfortable, John.  I can assert, quite unequivocally, that what I am about to propose is quite inimitable."  Noting the slight grimace as the Human digested what the ambassador said, Skon again advanced his cause.  "From what I could see, your daughter appears healthy and without any deficiency that would prove detrimental to her potential."

"Yes, I'd say that's accurate," John replied dryly, "I guess I should say `Thank you'.  I still don't understand your interest in my child."

"I must believe that you would know nothing about Vulcan mores.  Is that correct, John?"

"Yes, that's right," he edgily snapped.  "What is this all about?"

Standing, Skon started to move away from his desk to once again find comfort in the view of the bay.  John's loud sigh of exasperation stopped him, and he sat back down.

"John, there is no reason for impatience.  Often in deliberations, hours pass before even a single point is agreed upon.  It is of vital importance that you thoroughly understand my proposal before agreeing to it.  There will be no reversal allowed...no `change in hearts'."

"Change of heart," John corrected.  "Very well.  What is your proposal?"

"You have a daughter who is of a certain age…an age that would permit her to be given a grand opportunity."  As the Humans eyes narrowed, Skon pressed on.  "We have received several requests from institutions of higher learning here on Earth to offer informational classes about Vulcan.  After much deliberation, it has been agreed that such courses shall be available to a select few.  The classes would be taught by some of our most experienced instructors.  My understanding is that the selection process is exhaustive, and that only the best and brightest of Earth are to attend."

"Yes, I have heard a great deal of discussion about the courses from my son, Matt," John said as he wondered why the highly sought after, invitation-only classes would be part of their conversation.  "He said that one of his professors was accepted and nearly cried in class when she told them about it.  What does this have to do with Amanda?"

Skon raised his left eyebrow.  "What if your daughter were permitted to attend?"

Despite his impatience with Skon's seemingly interminable delay tactics, John couldn't help but shake his head in amazement.  "My Amanda would be allowed to attend the classes that had thousands of applicants and only a handful of slots available?  How is that possible?"

"Our initial intention was to have a cross section of Earth's peoples attend each class in order to correspond with the vast diversity present on your planet," Skon explained as he leaned forward slightly as he felt the advantage sway in his favor.  "Your daughter would be representative of the young.  Will she be permitted to attend?"

"All of this was to ask if Amanda could attend a highly coveted class?" John asked incredulously.  "I hate to sound unappreciative, but I can't believe that you want her to attend out of the goodness of your heart."

Skon's left eyebrow nearly disappeared at the assessment.  "I can assure you, John, that goodness has nothing to do with it." Watching the Human smirk slightly, Skon puzzled over the expression on the man's face even as he firmly continued.  "It is as I stated.  Her intelligence and overall potential should be supported.  Do you not agree, John?"

As he forced from his memory an ancient phrase from a Mae West movie, John sobered and nodded.  "Yes, of course.  Like any parent, I want my children to reach their full potential."  As he stood, John was surprised when the Vulcan not only remained seated, but also placed his elbows on the desk and steeped his fingers.

"There is more," Skon softly intoned.  "Would you please sit?"

Something in the impossibly serious tone of the always-staid ambassador made John take his seat without delay.  There had to be more to this private conversation than just an invitation to a class, and now he felt the exact reason for the meeting was about to be revealed.

"John," the ambassador said with the calm authority of years of practice.  "There is a far greater reason for our meeting today than just that of a class.  After careful consideration and much internal debate, I have concluded that a visible representation of the Vulcan philosophy of IDIC would be beneficial to symbolically link our two peoples."

"IDIC?" the Human asked.

"Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations.  It is one of the main philosophical concepts of Surak, a revered leader and prominent advocate for non-violence during a most dire and treacherous time in our distant past." Skon watched the thoughtful façade of the man before him.  "Are you familiar with the teachings of Surak?"

"Unfortunately, no," John confessed.  "There have been such men in Earth's history; tragically, many of them were ahead of their time and suffered the consequences through rejection and, in some cases, assassination."

"Surak met a similar fate," Skon admitted.  "But his teachings continue to this day.  Our House is one of many that uphold his ideals of non-violence and logic over emotion."

"Very admirable principles," John said in a puzzled tone, "but how does this involve Amanda?"

Although composed, Skon's dark eyes appeared more intense than the Human had ever seen them before.  "Hear me out completely before you make your decision, John.  Allow me to answer any questions before your decision is finalized."  John sat up straighter as the Vulcan focused on his hands that were carefully placed before him.  Finally, Skon spoke.  "Nine days ago, I received a transmission from my wife that indicated my eldest son's marriage was ending.  This is a matter of the utmost concern for Vulcans.  As a telepathic species, we are mentally bonded to a well-matched individual at the age of seven.  With the dissolution of his marriage, my son is now in the regrettable situation of being without a bondsmate.  Although your daughter is over the age for a typical first bonding, it is my intention that my son and your daughter be bonded."

John opened, and then clamped his mouth shut before he said anything that would cause a galactic incident.  Barely controlling his outrage, he finally found his voice.  "Bonded?  I don't understand."

"May I continue?" Skon tactfully appealed.  "Allow me to explain.  A bond is a painless psychic link between two individuals.  If Amanda and my son were younger and bonded as children, a Master would oversee the proceedings and initiate the tie between their minds.  Now, my son has the ability to create the connection without the Master's assistance.  A bond is stronger than a betrothal and is an essential part of our Houses rituals."

"My daughter?" John said, his tone barely audible as the shock waves continued to crash against him.  "My Human daughter?  You want me to agree to allow my thirteen-year-old daughter to be 'bonded' to your son?  You've said that seven year old Vulcans are bonded, but." A thought occurred as he considered what Skon had said about his son's failed marriage.  "How old is your son, sir?"

"Fifty-six Earth years old."

John stood so quickly that he nearly toppled his chair.  "Forgive me, Mr. Ambassador," he icily said, "Due to what I hope is a cultural misunderstanding, I won't say anything about this, but I would highly suggest that you not try something like this with another Human parent.  What you are suggesting is banned by all Federation governments!"

"John, wait!" Skon demanded as the Human strode furiously toward the door.  "I am not suggesting that the marriage be consummated at this time, only that a mental bond be formed.  As a highly placed member of the Federation council, I am well aware of the laws that govern the peoples of our worlds.  You may be assured that what I am proposing is lawful."

John had paused near the door and took in several ragged breaths to get control of his raging emotions.  Feeling somewhat confident that he could speak with the ambassador without losing his temper, he turned back toward Skon, who was now standing in front of his desk.  "Sir, do you understand what you're asking?" John asked plaintively.  "Why would I agree to this `bonding' between my...my child...and your adult son?  How could you believe that any parent would agree to such an arrangement?"

"Perhaps a compromise," the Vulcan grudgingly said.  "While our House believes in the ritual bonding of our children, it can be postponed until such a time that your daughter has reached the age of majority, which I believe is eighteen.  Is that correct?"

"Sir," John quietly implored.  "You don't understand.  The last thing I imagined we'd be talking about today is the marital future of my daughter.  She's too young."

"For Humans, it may be too soon," Skon countered, "it is not too soon for Vulcans."  In an affable tone, the Vulcan continued.  "John, may I ask a question?  How old do you believe I am?"

"You, sir?" the Human replied, puzzled by the question.  "Well, I would guess that you are perhaps in your mid-fifties."  The age of your son who is older than me, he thought with no humor.

"I am 106.137 years old."

John blinked in surprise as he sat back down.  "I would never have guessed that you were so...uh." He stumbled to a halt as the ambassador slightly raised his chin and arched an eyebrow.

"Indeed?" Skon said with the tiniest bit of humor.  "Vulcans are longer lived than Humans.  Chronologically, I would estimate that my son's age would compare to that of a twenty-three year old Human.  I did not mean to startle you or cause you distress.  That is why I asked that you wait to hear my entire presentation before making a decision."

"I see," John said.  He still felt uneasy about the request for Amanda to 'bond' with Skon's son.  There was no way that he would allow such a thing to happen.

Watching the imperceptible look of resolve settle on the man, Skon decided to attempt a different strategy.  It would involve some delicacy, but perhaps if another element were added to the equation, the result would be in his favor.

"May I ask why you chose the location of your residence?" the Vulcan asked.  "It is some distance from the Terran embassy."

John's brow furrowed as he tried to determine where this shift in questioning was leading.  "Property near the bay is at a premium and extremely expensive even to rent.  A junior diplomat's salary isn't sufficient to allow us to live in this neighborhood, but our apartment is quite comfortable."

"I am certain that your living accommodations are adequate," Skon concurred.  "When you agree to allow Amanda to attend these classes, I shall insist that a proper escort be arranged so that she will not be traveling unaccompanied."

" `When'?" John repeated as it became clear that the Vulcan wasn't near giving up.  "Sir, I haven't agreed to this."

"May I inquire as to her educational background?"

An exasperated sigh escaped as John considered the question.  It seemed innocent enough.  "Amanda has attended The Rivers School for her entire educational career.  It's a highly ranked private school from which my sons and I graduated."

Skon nodded thoughtfully.  "Then she will be attending a similarly notable institution here in the San Francisco area?"

"She will attend public school here," John admitted.  He wasn't pleased by the situation, but he didn't want the ambassador to know.  "I've heard that the school system is quite good."

"However, there are private institutions that have better academic results," the Vulcan replied.  He watched John gradually slump in agreement.  "I have had my aide, Sennar, investigate, and one of the finest schools is quite near the embassy.  Have you heard of The Brantley Academy?"

John had heard of the esteemed school because it had been highly recommended to him by Ellis Hamm.  Even Ambassador Agani had mentioned the academy since her children had attended.  But the cost.

"Yes, I've heard of it," the Human succinctly confirmed.

"John, I shall admit selfish reasons for this request, but would it be possible for me to offer my assistance in paying your daughter's tuition at the academy?" Skon inquired as John felt his jaw drop.  "I only ask for my son's sake.  He must have someone with a comparable education as a bondsmate."  Seeing the Human's grimace, Skon raises an eyebrow.  "I see no detrimental reason for your concern, John.  Would it not be a waste to squander Amanda's educational opportunities?  Should the decision be reached when she is eighteen that she is not suitable as a bondsmate, she will still have the education that is a desirable commodity."  Leaning forward slightly, Skon gazed intently at the man in front of him.  "Do you not agree, John?"

"Let me assure you, sir, that I can provide for my family quite well on my own," John said, his pride feeling trampled by the constant assault that the Vulcan was waging.  " I don't need your assistance."

Sensing the undercurrent of resentment, Skon backed down…slightly.  "It was not my intension to imply that you were not capable of providing for your family.  My interest is self-serving, as I have stated." 

"I see," John replied in a resigned manner.  Although they had been meeting for only about an hour, it seemed to him that a lifetime had passed.  The thought that his daughter had drawn the attention of the ambassador in such a bizarre way caused a distinctly uncomfortable feeling to settle on him.  Thoughts of locking Amanda in their apartment and not letting her out played as the Vulcan tilted his head. 

"Sennar has given me some information about cultures on Earth that do still arrange the marriages of their children," Skon said as he watched the Human before him lean slightly against the chair arm and rub a spot between his eyes.  "Therefore, what I am proposing would not be a precedent."

Silence followed for several long seconds as Skon carefully considered the man before him.  John had now closed his eyes and had a taunt, stressed expression on his face.  Gradually, he opened his eyes and stood.

"Mr. Ambassador, I shall not reveal any of our conversation to anyone," John said as he gripped the chair back with his right hand.  "To be quite honest, I don't believe anyone would believe me even if I did speak of it.  My daughter is the most precious person in my world, and my main responsibility is for her safety and happiness.  I'm sorry that this has been a waste of time, but there will be no `bonding' between your son and my daughter."  John noted the way the Vulcan had begun to trace a pattern on his desk with his index finger even as those impenetrable dark eyes bored into him.  He swallowed before he continued.  "It has been a most…fascinating meeting, sir."

"Will Amanda be permitted to attend the class?"

John let his blue-eyed gaze settle on the composed Vulcan.  Except for the movement of his hand, Skon was still, his face a serene mask of authority.  Knowing how coveted a position in the class was, the Human emitted a soft sigh. 

"If there are no strings attached, I can't see any reasons why she couldn't attend the first meeting to see if she wanted to," John reluctantly replied.

"Excellent," Skon replied.  As he stood, John noticed the way the ambassador had consciously closed his hand as he stood, ending the odd little tracing habit.  Strangely, the fact that he'd seen the quirky practice emboldened John as he smiled.

"It will be Amanda's decision, of course," he said firmly.

"Interesting," Skon inquisitively said as he attempted to understand the man.  "You would allow your child to make such a decision?  I find that most disconcerting.  Vulcans expect that their children would do as they are told.  The experience of the parent is valued."

John nodded in agreement even as his eyes lit up in amusement.  "I can only hope that my daughter's children are just like her so she'll have the chance to be so valued."

Skon mimicked the Human's nod as he misconstrued John's statement.  "That is what I also hope for my son."

Another uncomfortable sensation swept over him as John mentally chastised his mention of grandchildren.  "I won't force her to attend if she doesn't want to," he again stated as he brought the subject back to the class.  "We did agree that there were no stipulations on whether she wanted to attend or not."

"That is correct," the ambassador concurred, "and I will leave the offer of her private school education available.  Perhaps a compromise?"  Seeing the suspicious look, the Vulcan arched an elegant brow.  "If I am permitted to assist with the financial obligations of your daughter's education, you may reimburse me…a loan.  That is the correct term?"

"You mean that you would allow me to repay you?" John asked.

Skon nodded.  "It is not our way; however, I shall allow you to do so.  Were the two young men at your dinner table your sons?  There was a striking familial resemblance."

"Yes, they are," the Human replied readily.  Now that the offer of Amanda's education no longer hinged on the requirement of marriage, John couldn't find any reason to mask any requested information.

"Are they of an age that they are still within your realm of influence?"

John grinned warily at the question.  "They are adults, but have been attending college.  Please tell me that you don't have any unbonded daughters!"

Skon unexpectedly blinked and appeared rather affronted by the statement.  "No, I have no unbonded daughters.  Have your sons graduated from their respective institutions?"

"No," the Human softly replied.  "But there are some work-study programs that my oldest son Matt has applied for, and Dan wanted to take some time off to consider his options."

"The loan shall extend to them, also."

"What?"  John exclaimed. 

"Family is of a higher priority than pride," Skon insisted, his aplomb re-established.  "Your financial status will improve over time, but if your children do not concentrate on their education, there is a possibility that they might not reach their objectives.  That would be a loss to the greater community as a whole.  If you would, send to my aide the tuition requirements from their respective schools, and the matter shall be attended to."

Now in front of the office's door, John was no longer startled by the ambassador's insistent manner.  "Sir, I'm once again overwhelmed by your generosity, but you don't know what you're agreeing to.  Matt is to attend Medical school, Dan is still trying to find his niche, and The Brantley Academy is one of the most expensive private schools in the nation."

"You shall repay me."

"And if I can't?" John posed. 

"Then your daughter shall be bonded to my son."

John's eyes widened in disbelief.  "Then I cannot accept your offer of an advance.  I can't guarantee that I'll be in a position to repay it anytime in the future."

"Very well," Skon intoned.  The door opened and both walked into the reception area.  "The first class begins this Friday at 1800 hours and will last three hours.  I shall arrange suitable transportation for your daughter."

"I'll have to ask her first, but I will let you know," the Human adamantly reaffirmed.  As he raised his hand in the proper Vulcan gesture, John allowed a slight smile to grace his features.  "I have a feeling this is not goodbye."

"Live long and proper, John."  The Vulcan imperceptibly straightened as his hand raised into the ta'al.  "You are correct.  This is not goodbye."

As he watched the man leave the embassy, the ambassador gradually raised an eyebrow.  It might take some time, but Skon was most patient.  He rarely lost, and he had no intention of losing now.  There would be a bonding ceremony.  It was only a matter of when.

Chapter 5 – The Class

Amanda:  It's logical.  It's a better way than ours.  But it's not easy.  (TOS - Journey to Babel)


After the unbelievable meeting with Skon, the last thing John wanted was another conference; however, both Ambassador Agani and Ellis Hamm were waiting and pounced as soon as he entered the Terran embassy's brightly lit foyer.  Without revealing the true nature of the Vulcan ambassador's request to meet with him, the junior diplomat was able to answer the questions of his superiors and offer his observations in a way that satisfied their curiosity.  By the time he departed at the end of the day, he breathed an enormous sigh of relief even as he wondered how he should present the ambassador's offer of the class to Amanda.

As he entered their apartment, Maura, who was holding what appeared to be a student's carry-pack, met John immediately at the door.

"John, you have got to do something about that girl," his wife demanded as she thrust the pack at her unsuspecting husband.  "She said that she was going on a practice run to her new school.  Look in this bag!"

As he opened the pack, he clenched his teeth as he pulled out a familiar piece of material.  "Amanda!  Come in here immediately!"

A few moments passed without any response, then a bedroom door opened and his daughter meekly entered the room, her head lowered.  Something about the way she was avoiding his gaze troubled John, but he let the feeling pass as he held up the swimsuit.

"I don't believe this is the proper attire for school, is it?  Why is this in your bag?"

Without looking up, Amanda shrugged.  "School starts next week.  I was going to walk to the school, then go to the beach.  I didn't lie."

"You didn't tell me you were planning to go to the beach," Maura said, her arms crossed tightly in front of her.  "All you had to do was ask."

"You would have told me no."

John watched the interaction with dismay.  Why the two most important women in his life were constantly at odds with each other was a mystery he'd never understood.  With nothing further said, Maura sighed.

"Go to your room," she said even as Amanda began her retreat without waiting for her mother to finish.  "You can figure out where the school is tomorrow."

As the door closed without the customary slam, John furrowed his brow at the abrupt, submissive way his daughter had acted.  Before he could follow the girl and find out about her atypical behavior, Maura spoke.

"You'll need to give your Great Aunt Nancy a call.  She said it was urgent, but could wait until you got home."

"I'll call her now," John replied.  He had learned over the years that Nancy wasn't one to overstate an important matter.  As he punched in the comm number, he gazed thoughtfully around the apartment.  With the boxes unpacked and gone, the dining and living room didn't really seem that small.

"John, Thank God you called me!" Nancy said without preamble.  The white-haired, tiny woman was a dynamo of energy, and her strident tone was entirely characteristic even as she passionately waved her right hand.  John had often commented that if her hands were tied, she wouldn't be able to speak at all.  "It's so good to see you, and have I got news for you!  You won't believe it!"

"What is it, Nancy?" John asked with great interest.

"Well, I was going through some old letters...oh, how is my girl?"  Nancy beamed as she inquired.

"Fine for the moment.  She's rather fond of the beach," John said with a touch of muted humor in his voice.  "Now, what is this about some letters?"

"Oh, yes!  The letters!" Nancy exclaimed, her hand emphasizing each word.  "I was re-reading some of my letters from Thaddeus, and came across one that I've transmitted to you.  Have you had time to read it?"

"No, I just arrived home," John responded.

"Make sure that you read it as soon as possible.  I think that you'll be pleasantly surprised."  Nancy had been beaming with an irrepressible excitement since the beginning of their dialog.  John quickly retrieved the transmitted letter from the unit and began to read the words of his father written approximately two years earlier.

As he read, he could hear the impatient tapping of his Great Aunt's fingers against her keyboard as the elderly woman waited for him to find the motive for her excitement.  His gasp was evident as he found that reason.

`Nancy, you know that John and I don't always see eye to eye.  I truly regret the way I changed my will and I'm changing it back to the way it was.  I'll send the amendment to my attorneys by the end of the week.'

"Do you know what this means?" John asked as he barely contained his own exhilaration.  "Dad did change the will back!  I wonder what happened to the amendment?"

"It's out there," Nancy firmly stated.  "We just have to find it."

"Yes, but why didn't Dad's attorney's have it at the time the will was read?" John asked as his enthusiasm cooled.  "He wouldn't have written something to you and not followed through, unless he had a change of heart and never went through with preparing it."

"Nonsense!" Nancy resolutely said.  "I knew my nephew as if he were my own, and if he told me he was going to change his will back, he would have.  I've already put in a request for Thaddeus' personal attorney to contact me.  Do you remember Harris Ng?"

"Yes, I remember him," the man said as the memory of the slight, sharply dressed lawyer came to the forefront of his thoughts.  "He seemed very professional, and I doubt that an amendment would have been ignored during the proceedings."

"That's true, but it does offer some hope."  Nancy's demeanor changed as her usual jovial face turned serious.  "A possible amendment might also explain Claire's actions."

"What do you mean?" John asked as his expression darkened.  "Now what has my sister done?"

"No, it's not what she's done recently, but the way she behaved after the will was read."  Nancy now leaned forward as if she could somehow gain some measure of privacy through the comm link.  "Think about it, John.  Why did she want you and your family out of the estate so quickly?  My understanding is that she has torn the house apart.  She claims that she's remodeling it, but I don't believe her.  I think she's looking for something, and that something is the amendment."

A glimmer of the previously felt hope began to peek through again as John considered his Great Aunt's assessment.  "That may be true, or she may simply be remodeling the house as she said.  She never liked the way Maura decorated."

Nancy harrumphed in a noncommittal manner, her right hand waving in a dismissive flourish.  "Claire doesn't like anything.  She especially doesn't like loose ends, and that's why I feel that she's hunting for that amendment.  Perhaps you can get a court order to search the house yourself."

"Nancy, I don't want to be constantly at odds with Claire," John said as he considered the idea of hiring yet another lawyer.  "If there was an amendment, Dad would have filed it."

"I don't want to upset you, but you are aware that as Thaddeus became ill, his behavior became more and more erratic."  Nancy stopped as she observed the slight way the man's face grimaced in agreement.  "He might have planned to file it, but never got around to it.  Just like he did with this."  She held up a piece of sheet paper that had his father's distinctive handwritten signature on it along with several other signatures. 

"What's that?" he asked with a mixture of intense interest and excitement.

"This is one piece of the puzzle that has me convinced that there's more."  Nancy put the paper down and pressed a key on the monitor.  Instantly, John received the transmission.  As his eyes scanned the paper, he couldn't prevent the broad smile that grew with each word.

"Nancy, where did you find this?  It's a copy of the educational trust information that." he stopped as he came to a disturbing conclusion.  "It only covers the boys.  Why didn't he include Amanda?"

The elderly woman had a pained look in her once-deep blue eyes.  "I can't be sure, but he was quite ill near the end and may not have remembered her.  He often spoke of the boys, but seemed confused whenever I mentioned Amanda."  The sad look changed to one of determination.  "It was like pulling teeth, but I was able to track down the trust.  It had been filed and recorded with an attorney not with Ng's practice.  You'll notice that the document is dated only eight months ago, so it's completely legitimate and the credits are there.  I checked."

Relief enveloped him as John beamed at the screen.  "Nancy, what can I say?  You're absolutely wonderful, and the boys are going to be so surprised!  I didn't want Matt to have to work and try to keep up with his studies, and now he won't have to.  Dan will eventually find his major and not bankrupt me in the meantime." 

"Yes, I was relieved to find it, too.  The attorney hadn't received notification of Thaddeus' death.  That's why I'm convinced that the amendment still exists."  Nancy leaned in quite close to the monitor screen.  "If he went outside Ng's practice once, he might have done it twice.  I'm going to keep hunting for it, and I suggest you do the same."

"I will," John insisted as Nancy gave him a concerned look.

"Will you send Amanda to that public school you mentioned?  The more I find out about it, the more I wished I'd had enough sense to save some of my credits when I was younger.  I really would prefer that she not go there."

At his Great Aunt's words, the man thoughtfully nodded.  The possibility of paying Skon back for all three tuitions was out of the question, but it wouldn't be impossible to pay back one, especially if the amendment was found.  Nancy's confidence that it was there helped sway his decision as he grinned at her.

"No, she's not going to a public school.  I know of a way to avoid that."

"Oh, I'm so glad to hear that!" Nancy exclaimed.  "Since she's not going to graduate from Rivers, I wanted so much for her to attend a similarly fine academy.  You have one in mind, then?"

"Actually, yes," John readily replied.  "Don't worry, Nancy!  I've got everything under control."

"That's so good to hear," the elderly woman said as she gazed warmly at her Great nephew.  "When you decided to move to San Francisco, I was concerned about the effect it would have on Amanda.  After all, she's never been uprooted before and doesn't like change."

"I'm not so sure about that," the man said.  "She's been spending her time at the beach with some new friends and seems to be fitting in just fine...maybe a little too fine.  To be perfectly honest, I'm hoping that once she starts at The Brantley Academy, she'll find some new friends that aren't quite so." He paused, and then shrugged.  "Not quite so open-minded about their attire."

Nancy chuckled as her face lit up with a grin.  "Oh, yes!  Amanda mentioned her new bathing suit when I spoke with her earlier.  I got the distinct impression that Maura wasn't pleased with it.  She's young, John!  She'll have plenty of time to grow up and become a stodgy old person like me."  Her smile faded as her countenance turned serious.  "John, that amendment is out there somewhere.  Thaddeus wanted you to have your fair share of the estate, and I'm going to do what I can to find it.  What worries me is that he was so ill near the end and wasn't making rational decisions.  You aren't basing your decision to send Amanda to private school on the hope that it'll be found, are you?  If she has to attend that public school until the amendment is found and verified, that might be best."

"No, Nancy," John said with confidence.  "Even if we never find the amendment, I'll be able to pay back the tuition."

The young man felt an uncomfortable sensation sweep through him as Nancy peered, unblinking, into the monitor screen.  "John, I'm quite serious when I say that I want what is best for my girl, but don't do something brash that you'll regret."

Straightening, the man nodded.  "You worry too much, Nancy.  I appreciate your concern, but I know what I'm doing."

Several seconds passed until the elderly woman slowly nodded her agreement.  "Perhaps, dear.  I hope that you're right."  A chime sounded, and the woman glared briefly at the offending interruption.  "Maybe that's some good news for us.  I've already placed some calls, so let me answer this and I'll talk with you again soon.  Goodbye for now!"

"Goodbye, Nancy.  Let me know what you find out."  As the monitor cleared, John turned to Maura, who had been listening to the conversation just out of the visual range of the comm unit.  "Well, what do you think?  Is it out there?"

" If Nancy says it is, I would say that it is," Maura thoughtfully replied.  "She's not one to make up such a thing."  A dark look took over her face as she closed her eyes.  "God, I don't even want to think about the way Claire is tearing our house apart looking for it."

"I know," John tersely said.  Now standing, he gently embraced his wife.  "Don't worry about it.  Once the amendment is found, we can buy another house and you can decorate it any way you want."

Maura pulled away to look into John's piercing blue eyes.  "You mean a house here in San Francisco?"

"Maura, this is our home for now, and I'm very happy with my position at the embassy."  He waited as she absorbed what was said.  With a sigh, she leaned her head against his broad chest.

"I'll try harder, John, I promise.  It will be easier now that I know this is only a temporary living situation.  There is something else I need to tell you."  Pausing, she seemed to be mentally warring with herself as her husband waited.  Finally, she came to a conclusion.  "Maybe you should talk with Amanda first."  Without another word, she pulled out of the embrace and went into the kitchen, leaving John to wonder what was going on.

Shaking his head, he went into the hallway and knocked on his daughter's door.  The squeak of the antique chair heard from within indicated to John that Amanda had been at her desk.  With the door now open, John humored his daughter with a smile.

"Do you have a moment to spare for your Dad?" he asked playfully.

"Sure."  The tone wasn't as light as John was used to.  The lights were on dim except for a desk lamp that shown onto a padd.  Walking over to it, the man picked up the small device and looked at it.

"Don't tell me you're studying already," he joked.  His disposition changed as he read what was written.  "A party?  Whose party is this?"

"Someone from the beach," Amanda said cautiously.  "Just a girl I met.  Memori told her to invite me."  She stopped, knowing that she didn't dare reveal any more.  Niobe had only invited her because of Gali, one of the boys she had met.  He was seventeen and had talked with her several times.  "It should be fun," she added with a hopeful look.  After all, Niobe's parents were going to be out of town.

As he read more, John sighed.  The party was planned for Friday.  "Amanda, I have to talk with you about a very important opportunity that you've been offered."  Noticing her disbelieving look, he sat down on the edge of her bed.  "Really, it's a once in a lifetime chance.  Do you remember Matt discussing that course at the Vulcan embassy that his instructor was invited to?"

"Yes," she replied.  "He said that she cried when she got her invitation."

"I spoke with Ambassador Skon today, and he wants you to attend also."

"Me?"  Amanda's eyes widened in surprise.  "I thought that the course was nearly impossible to get into?"

"It is," John emphatically said.  "That's why this is such an honor.  The ambassador was impressed with you at the dinner and wanted to invite you to attend."

"Really?" she dubiously stated.  She had thought she'd made a very poor impression on the Vulcan.

"Yes, really."  John patted a spot next to him on the bed and his daughter joined him.  "This is such a great opportunity for you!  You'll be in one of the first groups to really have a chance to learn about the Vulcans from the source.  Skon told me that you would represent the young.  Isn't that exciting?"

Nothing was said for a moment as Amanda considered the offer.  "What is the course subject?"

"From what I could glean from the ambassador, it's a general overview of Vulcan history, culture, language and etiquette.  It will offer a glimpse of a world few humans know much about."

As she considered what was said, John continued.  "The class will be once a week for three hours.  The first class will be this Friday." 

"This Friday?" Amanda said with blistering vexation.  "Isn't that convenient!  What a way to completely destroy my social life."

"You're too young to have a social life," John said decisively, his eyes blazing back into his daughter's with a matching intensity.  "Amanda, I don't think it's a good idea for you to go to a party with older teens, especially teens you've just met.  I didn't choose the day the class was to be offered."

Her first instinct was to refuse to go.  How dare her Dad make plans behind her back!  On the other hand, it would be three hours. "What is the class time again?" she asked with genuine interest.  Three hours to do as she pleased.

"From 1800 to 2100 hours," John said, delighted that she seemed to be swayed by his certainty.

"Alright, I'll go," she said, and the man gave her an affectionate hug.

"Excellent!  You won't regret it.  The ambassador will be sending a flitter to escort you to the embassy."

"What?" Amanda said as her plan came crashing down.  "Why can't I just take the shuttle?  I know the way to the embassy."

"The ambassador was worried about you being out so late, and I agree with him.  This way, you won't have to wait in the shuttle stations alone." 

"Oh."  Curses filled her mind as she tried to think of a way to salvage some small portion of her social life.  "Dad?" she asked innocently.  "Since I'll be attending the classes on Friday, would it be possible to extend my curfew on Saturday until midnight?"

A slow upward movement of John's right lip indicated his acknowledgement of what she was doing.  "Hmm.  No, I won't change it to midnight, but I'll agree to 2300 hours."

Slumping slightly with her face turned away, Amanda hid her grin from her Dad.  That was just what she wanted to hear.  "Oh, all right," she reluctantly agreed.  "I'll give up three hours for an extra one hour on Saturday."

"Good!"  For a moment, John seemed lost in thought, and Amanda gazed curiously up into his face. 

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Amanda, tell me the truth.  Did something happen between you and your mother today?"

John watched his daughter's expression change from a fleeting wounded look to a blank slate.  "No," she hollowly said.  "Nothing has changed."

"You can tell me." he implored, but the plea was met with a fierce shake of her head.

"Nothing has changed, Dad!  Nothing!" she angrily insisted as she stood.  "I've agreed to attend this stupid class!  What more do you want?"

After striding to the door, John looked back at his upset child.  He glowered as he observed her rather splotchy complexion that was caused by her fury.  "Calm down!" he insisted.  "All I wanted to know was if anything happened that I should be aware of."

"What does it matter?" Amanda asked morosely.  "You would only take her side."

"Then something did happen?"

"No."  With her back turned away from him, John could see the set way she had squared her shoulder blades.  He shouldn't be surprised by the action.  He'd seen it enough times in both Matt and Dan.  Sighing, he reluctantly left the room.

With her Dad gone, Amanda quickly went to check her appearance in her room's mirror.  Staring at the somber face that seemed to appear more frequently since their move, she touched her left cheek.  Yes, the foundation had done its work.  There was no sign of the redness that had emblazoned her face after the slap.  Gritting her teeth, she could still recall her mother's assertion that she was nothing like Grandmother in that she would never use physical force on any of her children.

"Oh, I'm so perfect that I'd never do that," Amanda mockingly said as she sneered in what she believed was the general direction of her mother.  Still, she watched her expression fall as the angry sting of tears filled her eyes.  Why was she such a nuisance for her mother?  When her mother had checked the bag and found the suit, she'd anticipated a strong reprimand and to be sent to her room.  As their eyes met, Amanda could see the fury, but that hadn't prevented her from defiantly raising her chin.  Had that been the breaking point?  The slap had apparently surprised them both, since a very long moment passed, with Amanda standing slack-jawed in shock and Maura holding the offending hand up longer than was necessary.  Flying past her mother, the girl didn't look back to see what her mother was going to do.  The only reason she'd come out of her room was to speak to Nanny when she had called.  Even then, there had been a look that passed between daughter and mother, and Amanda knew with a cold certainty that she would never tell anyone about what had happened.  Never.

Promptly at 1730 hours on Friday, an embassy flitter arrived at the Grayson's apartment complex.  While a number of the curious apartment residents milled about, a young Vulcan woman exited from the driver's side.  Perplexed looks and rumblings increased when a Human girl strode with no perceptible alacrity to the vehicle and got in.  Closing the door after her, the Vulcan made her way around the flitter, got in, and took off.  A puzzled silence followed the strange sight until, with nothing else to see, the small group dispersed amid wildly diverse speculation.

As they sped along, Amanda watched the rapidly passing buildings with little enthusiasm.  It wasn't the course itself that bothered her, but the destruction of her weekend.  Her Dad had already insisted that if there were any work that needed to be done for the Vulcan embassy class, she would need to complete it on Saturday so that she could focus on her schoolwork the rest of the time.  With a certain dread feeling, she just knew that there would be plenty for her to do.  Touching the soft maple coloured velour of the seats, Amanda gazed around the cabin of the flitter.  Several dispensers mounted in front of the seats indicated some form of a replicator.  Perhaps for drinks?  She grinned and wondered what kind of drinks would be dispensed in Vulcan vehicles.  Nothing alcoholic, of course.  Probably something like that nasty tasting stuff at the dinner, she thought dismissively as she noticed several buttons on the door jam.  Barely perceptible writing was visible by each, and Amanda spent quite a few minutes trying to decipher what each might mean.  Unlike the flitters she was used to, there was no obvious `open window' or `lock door' indicator, just the tiny hieroglyphics.  The slowing of the flitter indicated that they were near the embassy, and Amanda sat up. 

The Vulcan embassy was actually a complex of several buildings built several centuries earlier.  According to her Dad, the buildings were to have been demolished and new structures erected for the Vulcans to use; however, the Vulcan ambassador at the time had not wanted to destroy part of the historic bay front and had insisted that the buildings be spared.  Now that the buildings had been fully restored, Amanda could appreciate their elegant lines, sturdy appearance, and ageless quality.  A certain intimidating factor also seemed present which matched the occupants quite well.

The flitter had stopped, and before Amanda could even attempt to open the door, the Vulcan driver opened it.  Exiting the vehicle, the girl smiled. "Thank you for the ride," she said sincerely.  "This was much nicer than riding in one of the public shuttles."

The Vulcan nodded.  "I come to serve," she intoned in a low pitch.  "I shall escort you to the lecture hall."

Amanda opened her mouth to object, but closed it as the Vulcan strode purposefully toward the entrance of the nearest building.  There really wasn't any reason for her to object other than the fact that she didn't like the idea of being led through the building like a lost child.  She quickly moved to keep up with the woman, who was already at the doorway.

The inside of the building both surprised and awed the young Human.  Contrasting with the tired efficiency she had expected, the foyer was colourful and bright, with numerous sculptures along the walls and artwork gracing the walls.  Although she wanted to slow to take in the many sites, her guide was already at the elevator and was waiting for her to catch up.  Now at a near sprint, Amanda entered the elevator and waited in silence until they reached their floor.  Unfortunately, she wasn't sure what floor they were actually on since there was no sign or indication of which button the Vulcan woman had pressed.  The doors opened, and they moved toward the far end of the well-lit hall.  Several dozen Humans, who anxiously stood near the entranceway, blocked a set of double doors that evidently led into the lecture hall.  Nervous titters of laughter occasionally filled the air as the Vulcan woman stopped.

"You will go in when Osavensu Tolak is ready."  Without another word, the Vulcan woman left.  Amanda grimaced slightly at the woman's demeanour.  She hadn't even introduced herself except to her parents.

"Thank you, T'Spia," Amanda yelled.  The Vulcan entered the darkness of the elevator and disappeared as the doors shut. 

"Child, what are you doing here?" a male voice said.  Turning back to the crowd, Amanda realized she was now the centre of attention to those present.  The man who had spoken was glaring at her with no small amount of contempt.

"I was invited," Amanda said in a meek tone.

"Invited?  I hardly believe that's possible," the man haughtily replied.  He was a tall man, but was also nearly as wide, with an arrogant manner that Amanda immediately didn't like.  "Only the top echelon of humanity has been invited by the Vulcans to this course.  What exactly are you doing here?"

"Being young," she said with a touch of venom.  The man's pudgy face curled into a disbelieving smile, but before he could dismiss her statement, the doors to the lecture hall opened and the throng began to move.

"I shall sit in front in order to get the most from the instructor," the large man said to no one in particular as they entered the hall.  Amanda watched the man for several seconds to verify that he was, indeed, going to the front.  The lecture hall was reminiscent of the rooms her brothers described to her from their respective colleges.  Watching the disliked man take a seat front and centre, Amanda immediately spied a seat in the far upper right corner of the room.  That seemed to be the perfect place to hide and take in the lecture from a safe distance.  Plus, if it got boring, she could always put in her music earplugs and not be a distraction.  Before she could carefully thread her way between the quickly filling rows, a hand brushed against her shoulder.  Startled, she whirled around and came face to face with the oldest person, Human or Vulcan, she had ever seen.  The male's face appeared to be carved of craggy dark granite, and his snowy white hair was a shocking contract to his features.  Even his heavy robes appeared ancient.

"You are Miss Grayson?" the Vulcan carefully enunciated in perfect Standard.

"Yes," she whispered, then cleared her throat as she fought the intimidation that the Vulcan seemed to invoke in her.  "Yes, I am," she said with more confidence.

"Come with me," the elderly male said as he began to move at a far greater pace than she expected toward the front of the lecture hall.  She had no choice but to follow.

As the elderly Vulcan continued his procession down toward the front of the hall, Amanda followed with the sinking feeling that she knew exactly where she was being led.  The hall had quieted to a murmur of cacophonous whispers as the girl followed the robed male to the front of the lecture hall.  Turning to his left, the Vulcan steadily walked down the front row until he stood in front of an empty seat. 

"Sit here," the Vulcan commanded, and Amanda immediately slid into the desk-like chair even as she suppressed a groan of disbelief.  She was now next to the hulking man from the hallway.  As she felt his fish eyed glare pummel her, she effortlessly resolved to ignore him and stole a quick glance at the man who was sitting directly to her right.  Instead of the frigid looks that were assaulting her from the left, this man warmly smiled.

"Aren't ye a wee bit young to be in such an advanced course?" he asked with a gentle brogue and laughing brown eyes.

"I'm supposed to be here," she said, but tempered her irritation as she smiled in response to the man's beaming face.

"Ock, that's obvious, ye're being led to yer seat," the jovial man said.  "I was just wonderin' since the rest o' us are much older."

"I'm not really sure why I'm here," Amanda admitted honestly.  "Apparently, I hold a cup well."

"By the by, my name is Niall Scott," the man said as he puzzled over the girl's odd statement.  "A pleasure to meet ye, lass."

"My name is Amanda Grayson," she affably replied.  "Pleased to meet you, sir."

"Don' call me sir yet," the man said in mock indignation.  "If my fiancé heard that, she'd start to call me an old man.  Call me Niall."

The room had quieted further as the aged Vulcan stood behind a large conference table on the lecture stage.  Amanda leaned over toward Niall.

"Okay.  Please call me Amanda."

"Miss Grayson?"  The booming voice cut through the remaining conversations in the hall and absolute silence followed.

"Yes, sir?" the girl squeaked back.  She grimaced at her lack of voice even though the Vulcan didn't ask that she repeat herself.

"Such vulgar language will not be tolerated here."

Blinking, Amanda was mystified over what the Vulcan could mean.  "Sir," she warily began, "I don't believe I said anything vulgar."

"How did you begin your last sentence?"

Still in shock, she swiftly replayed what she had said to Niall.  "I think I said `Okay, call me Amanda.  Sir."

"What is Oh Kay?" the elderly Vulcan unemotionally intoned.

Eyes wide, the girl struggled to find a definition for the term she thought was universally known.  "Well, it means all right," she finally concluded even as her ears seemed to be filled with the pounding pulse of her heartbeat.

"You will use the proper term from now on.  You will also work on your memory skills.  Your exact words were `Okay.  Please call me Amanda.'"  There was no room for argument in the commanding tone.

"Yes, Osavensu Tolak," Amanda said as she felt the crawl of color fill her face.  The Vulcan's unblinking stare greeted her as she looked up and held his gaze.

"From whom did you learn the Vulcan honorific and my name?" the instructor asked.  He had tilted his head and, for some unspoken reason, Amanda felt less threatened as he also raised a bushy white eyebrow.

"The Vulcan who chaperoned me to the class said that I was to wait until Osavensu Tolak was ready to open the doors to the lecture hall," Amanda explained as the Vulcan continued to openly observe her.

"Is it not presumptuous to assume that I am the same person that the chaperone spoke of?" the instructor asked coolly. 

Amanda shrugged. "Perhaps, sir, but since you were the one to open the doors, I believe I'm right.  Am I?"  Her boldness caused a few gasps to echo through the hall as all eyes watched and waited for the reaction of the Vulcan.

After a few more moments of waiting to see if the young girl would back down, the instructor turned and spoke to the entire room.  "Miss Grayson is correct.  I am Osavensu Tolak.  The Vulcan word savensu means `teacher'.  By placing an `o' in front of the title, the term changes to mean `honored teacher'.  For most of you, this is your first introduction to the Vulcan language.  It will not be your last."

As the Vulcan began the lecture, Amanda relaxed.  Perhaps she had been too audacious in her assertion, but there was no indication that she was in any real trouble.  Despite her initial reservations, the three hours flew by as Tolak completely held the interest of all with his authoritative speaking style and extensive knowledge of the subject matter.  That evening, the subject was the Pre-Reform period of Vulcan history.  By the time the lecture ended, the students were already planning ahead to meet the next Friday.  Amanda couldn't believe it, but even she was eagerly anticipating the next class.  As she checked her chrono, she smiled.  It was only 2100 hours, which meant that she had an hour before curfew.  If she pushed it, she could claim that she forgot that the later curfew had only been agreed upon for Saturday night.  With any luck, she could still go to the party and.

"Miss Grayson?"  T'Spia had magically appeared at her side, startling her with her stealth.

"Yes?"

"It is time for me to escort you home," the Vulcan tonelessly stated.

"Oh, that's not necessary." Amanda said with a casual wave of her right hand.  "I'm sure I can find my way home."

"I shall drive you home, Miss Grayson.  What you choose to do from that point is not my business."

Amanda slumped.  Was the entire universe against her having any fun?  Grudgingly and with a few mumbles that caused T'Spia to glance at her occasionally, Amanda followed the Vulcan back to the flitter.

Once the lecture hall was empty, Tolak pressed a few keys on his monitor until the screen cleared.

"Ambassador Skon, the class has been dismissed.  You did request that I contact you."  Tolak's dark eyes met the equally dark gaze of the younger Vulcan.

The ambassador nodded.  "Indeed, Osavensu Tolak.  What of the young Human?  Does she have potential?"

The elderly instructor peered thoughtfully into the monitor screen.  "I have been told by your aide, Sennar, of your rather outlandish scheme.  Do you truly believe that this girl can be groomed as a bondsmate for your son?"

Skon blinked.  It wasn't his intention that the instructor discerns his plan at this early juncture.  Sennar would have much to answer for.

"I only asked about the girl's potential," the ambassador insisted.  Tolak gazed off screen for several long seconds.

"The girl does have potential.  Unlike many humans, she has no preconceived opinion of us.  She also has little discipline."  Tolak leaned in toward the screen, his wizened features adding weight to his words.  "You have given me a challenge."

"You accept, then?" Skon asked as he noticed a lightening of the lines around the other's eyes.

"It will be gratifying to observe the growth of that one," the elderly Vulcan stated firmly.  "Given the right opportunity and the timeframe you have allowed, I believe there is a chance.  I refuse, however, to give you the odds."  Tolak now raised an eyebrow to match that of the ambassador.  "I find that estimating the odds when humans are involved negates the result.  I do have one question for you, Skon."

"Yes, Osavensu?" the younger Vulcan replied.

"You wish me to shape this young human girl into a potential bondsmate."  Waiting until he saw the affirmative nod, Tolak allowed a tiny sigh to escape.  "You are preparing your son for this little da-eshu'a, I trust?"

Before Skon could answer, the screen darkened.  Blinking in surprise, the Vulcan leaned back into his chair as he considered what the instructor had just said.  Why would he call the girl a da-eshu'a?  Since his knowledge of Standard had improved, he mentally changed the word into Standard.

Tornado.

Chapter 6 – The Training

"How can you have lived on Vulcan, married a Vulcan, raised a son on Vulcan, without understanding what is means to be a Vulcan?"

- Spock to Amanda (Journey to Babel – TOS)


In the grand scheme of things, Amanda sincerely doubted that her groaning about the workload of one course would even make a blip on the universal radar.  Osavensu Tolak had not referred to the request for a research paper as homework, but that was exactly what it was.  More to the point, he apparently thought nothing of asking for the paper, all 20 pages single-spaced, by the next class time.  If her Friday nights were now filled with the class, it appeared that her Saturdays would now be dominated by the required outside research papers.  While her Dad had offered to contact the instructor and attempt to ease the workload due to her age, Amanda adamantly stated that she could handle whatever assignments the Vulcan wanted.  Now, after six straight hours of study, she began to reconsider.  Why exactly was she doing this?  As much as she grumbled under the strict guidelines, it wasn't nearly as tedious as she'd expected.  It did take all day, but the satisfaction of having completed the same coursework as the adults in the class pleased her more than she would have expected.

The Monday after the first class at the embassy, Amanda began classes at The Brantley Academy thanks to an anonymous benefactor.  It wasn't difficult for her to figure out who had given the credits for her to attend the esteemed school.  After all, just the week before, her Dad had talked to Nanny; now, she and her brothers had the tuition money they needed.  While Nanny often claimed that she was but the pauper of the Grayson clan, Amanda always suspected that she had more wealth than she let on.  It was so obvious to her, but to say anything about the generous gift would be gauche.  At least, that was what Nanny had told her about bringing up financial matters between family.

As the days slipped into weeks, Amanda fell into a routine that seemed to split her into two distinct individuals.  From Monday morning until Friday afternoon, she was a young privileged teen attending private school.  She had become fast friends with a number of others in her classes and enjoyed spending her weekdays taking comm calls and giggling about some of the very cute upperclassmen.  Perhaps not typical was her insistence that she complete all of her homework assignments as soon as they were given.  Friday evening until Sunday night was a different story.  During that time, she was one of eighty Human representatives ensconced in the details of Vulcan history, culture and language.  It had been difficult at first to realize that there would be no praise for keeping up with the older students.  Amanda suspected that being praised for doing the expected was seen as illogical, so she took some pleasure in the aggravation of some of the others in the course who protested the workload.  Several seats in the lecture hall were now vacant, and as the weeks lengthened into months, the number of students fell to fifty-eight.

Each class had a different flavor to it.  While the first had involved the Pre-Reform period of Vulcan history, others involved such topics as the teachings of Surak and other philosophers of his time, the advancement of logic from its roots in the early teachings until the present, and even such topics as medical advances that were pioneered by Vulcan specialists.  Amanda and two others in the class were asked to submit to the latest technological medical testing.  While the others in the class sat in awed silence, the machine seemed to `read' each of them in just seconds and presented an analysis that covered them from head to foot.  The Vulcans referred to it as a bioscan.  The best part, as far as Amanda was concerned, was that it was not invasive.  She just had to stand still for about a minute, and the machine did all the work.  Osavensu Tolak said that the device could break down a DNA sequence faster than ever before thought imaginable.  Although Amanda had been thrilled at being chosen, she did note that her Dad seemed very pensive…even upset about it when she told him.  She wrote it off as her Dad just being his usual overprotective self.

Her fourteenth birthday came and went with little fanfare.  While her Dad gave her a very pretty locket, and her brothers sent her a vid greeting that left her in hysterics, her Mother offered to take her shopping so that she could personally select a new dress to replace the awful yellow one she despised so much.  The offer had been a surprise to Amanda, but it was most appreciated.  After much searching, she found an outfit in an exclusive formalwear shop downtown that both she and her mother loved.  It was actually a two-piece gown with a bodice that laced up the back.  The gold metallic embroidery shimmered as the light caught the tiny flecks of Austrian crystals sewn strategically throughout the top.  The a-line skirt was floor-length and had an organza overlay that seemed to float overtop the satin material like a cloud.  Although she hoped to find the dress in a more bold color, it only came in a soft pink or sea foam green, so she selected the green.  The gown wasn't complete without new shoes, but that proved to be a point of contention.  Amanda so wanted to buy some pumps, but Maura insisted that she was still too young to carry them off effectively.  They compromised on a skimmer with a 1.5 cm heel.

The year went by quickly as she found little time to socialize.  Her beach friends had long since abandoned her as a `mal-ollie snob', but she really didn't miss them.  The beach was a different matter entirely.  She longed for a day off from her schedule to just walk along the waterfront with her feet sinking into the wet sand.  It had been almost a year since her last visit, and she wanted so much to go.  As summer approached, she had every hope that her schedule would be more flexible.

Late one Thursday evening as she sat at her desk working on her Algebra homework, a comm chime alerted the household to a caller.  After a few minutes, the door to her room opened, and her Dad peered in.

"Amanda, would you come here for just a moment?" he asked.

The girl's mind raced to the obvious reason that she would be summoned.  Did someone tell Mr. Garrett, the Algebra teacher, that she and some of her friends had been the ones to download the holographs of his honeymoon into the main computer database at school?  Wasn't it really his fault for leaving such personal information lying around for anyone to take? 

Entering the living room, Amanda was relieved to see only her Dad and Mother waiting for her.  Quickly taking a seat, she could see the tense look on their faces.  Maybe Mr. Garrett had contacted them after all.

"Amanda," her Dad said in a somber manner, "I need to talk with you about a most serious matter."

"Dad," the girl interrupted, "I swear that the downloading wasn't my idea!  It was Havia and some."

"What are you talking about?" John asked as Maura gave him a puzzled look.  "This doesn't have to do with downloading anything."

"Oh."  Amanda slumped and silently cursed her stupidity.  Now she'd have to answer for something that her parents hadn't even known about.

"What we need to ask you is this.  Your instructor, Mr. Tolak, will be leaving at the end of August.  He was supposed to be leaving this month, but some delay has kept him here."  Seeing the light that seemed to appear over his daughter's head, John softened his expression.  "I guess you know what I'm going to ask, right?"

Amanda nodded even as a frown settled on her.  "He's going to continue the course through the summer."

"Yes," Maura replied.  "He told us that you've proven to be a good student, but he would understand if you have made other commitments.  Of course we know that you haven't, but he said that most of the other students will be leaving to return home."

Amanda nodded again as a morose feeling swept through her.  Niall had already told her that he was going back to Scotland to marry his fiancé in June.  The course had been scheduled to end in May, and now that Osavensu Tolak's plan had changed, most of the students wouldn't be able to take advantage of his delayed return to Vulcan.

"How does this concern me?" Amanda asked bluntly.  "If the course continues through the summer, do I really have any choice other than to attend?  I wanted to go to the beach and be with my friends this summer, but I guess you still don't trust me."

"That's not it at all," John replied impatiently.  "We do trust you, and you've really matured since last year.  The reason we needed to discuss this with you is that the instructor would like to make the course more intensive.  For a ten-week period, the classes would meet every day except Sunday.  That's a bit much."

"No, I won't do it," Amanda angrily spat out.  "That's way too much, and I want to have some time to myself!  I never get to go anywhere or do anything that I want to do!  I won't go."

"Amanda, be reasonable," Maura began, but Amanda had already stood to leave the room.

"I think I've been more than reasonable.  Why do I have to attend the course in the first place?  No one from Brantley knows that I'm going because it's too difficult and embarrassing to try to explain!"  Amanda folded her arms and glared at her parents.  "All that I've learned in the course is how much better the Vulcans are than we Humans.  Is that really what you wanted to hear?  They have a better educational system, they have no crime, they have far better medical facilities than we do...the list goes on and on."

"No, that isn't what we wanted to hear," Maura tersely said.  "They shouldn't be filling your head with the idea the they're better than we are.  They are here on Earth, after all."

"Actually, once you're in the Vulcan embassy compound, you're considered on Vulcan.  Isn't that right, Dad?"  Amanda smiled as she watched him reluctantly nod in agreement.

"Don't be so impertinent, young lady!" Maura demanded.  "That cheeky attitude of yours is the reason I believe you should go to the course this summer.  It will keep you out of trouble.  What do you think, John?"

"Dad." Amanda pleaded, but John had also stood and pursed his lips together as he thought.

"I know that you thought the course was ending soon, so this is what we'll do.  You go this summer for the ten weeks.  At the end of that time, you'll still have a couple of weeks before your classes start again at Brantley.  I'll let you do whatever you want for those two weeks.  Within reason," he quickly added when he saw his daughter's eyes light up.

"Within reason," Amanda repeated.  She matched her Dad's pensive expression as she thought about the deal.  As much as she had said she was ready for it to end, she knew in her heart that the course was something she looked forward to every week.  It was extremely challenging, but the discussions were always so fascinating and lively.  Tolak was quite tolerant of the classes' tendency to take an issue and pick apart every tiny detail of it until everyone was satisfied.  That was so unlike her teachers at the Academy, who would become frustrated by her supposed excessive demand for details.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt to go.  It's only for ten weeks," Amanda finally stated as John smiled and Maura nodded.

"Very good!  I'll let Mr. Tolak know."  John started toward the comm, but then turned back as Amanda passed to go back to her studies.  "Oh, there will apparently be a few Vulcans attending the ten week course, including the ambassador's son."

"La de da," Amanda mumbled under her breath as she went to her room.  She couldn't believe she'd just committed herself to be indoors most of the summer.  It was going to be just dreadful.

John waited until he heard Amanda's door close before he turned to Maura, who was still seated.  "I hope we're doing the right thing by letting her go at this time."

"I know," Maura replied softly.  There had been enormous media frenzy after one of the former students in the class had suggested that the Vulcans were brainwashing the Humans with some form of mind control.  It sounded preposterous, especially after the student admitted that he had dropped out after only four sessions due to the infuriatingly excessive workload, but there were those who believed him and continued to present the issue as factual. 

"We'll just have to be vigilant.  I trust Niall and those in the class that say the guy is crazy," John stated.  "Not to change the subject, but I wonder if Nancy has heard from that one attorney."  The elderly woman had found the address of an attorney in Chicago in one of Thaddeus' many address padds he had left in her home.  It was a possible lead, but several other promising starts had gone nowhere, and John wasn't going to get his hopes up again.  It had been nearly a year since he'd accepted the assistance of Skon with Amanda's tuition, and he had saved practically nothing toward repaying him.  It wasn't time to panic, but he had to find that amendment.

"Yes, perhaps she's heard something," Maura agreed thoughtfully.  "I'm still wondering about Amanda, though.  What did she mean by `it wasn't my idea about the downloading'?"

John smirked.  "Unless I'm contacted by someone about it, I'm not going to ask.  I don't believe I really want to know."

Maura stood and gave him a slightly disgruntled look as she went into the kitchen.  "You're too easy on her.  She's very willful, and I didn't like the way she sassed you about the embassy.  At least she'll be in the course this summer and I won't have to worry about where she is."

"Yes, I suppose so," John agreed as he leaned against the kitchen counter.  "I don't want to ruin her vacation, but the benefits are just too great."  Since beginning the course, Amanda's grades at Brantley had only gone up as the year progressed.  She had been taught several of the teaching and memory techniques that the Vulcans used in their schools and had been able to easily keep up with her schoolwork.  After much reassurance from some of the other students that there was no reason for concern, John couldn't help but be pleased by his daughter's progress.   There was even talk of advancing her a grade level the following year.

"Yes, she has been keeping up with her work," Maura said as she pushed the `select' button on the replicator for dinner.  "I just wish that there was some way to force her to behave.  She's too strong willed."

"No, Maura," John insisted.  "I'll not let them break her spirit.  If she wants to keep going to the embassy and it's not detrimental to her, then I'll let her go."  He didn't add that he wasn't too pleased with the announcement that Skon's son was going to be in the summer course.  That seemed a bit too convenient.

Strangely enough, the ambassador's son was also on Maura's mind.  "I do hope that the ambassador's son is a good influence on her.  Maybe now that most of the students are leaving, she won't be coming home trying to imitate someone's brogue again."

John chuckled at the memory.  "No, I don't believe Vulcans have Scottish accents."  His good humor faded as he once again considered the influx of the Vulcans into the class.  Skon was up to something:  John could just feel it.  The ambassador was no fool and knew he couldn't keep the information about his son's whereabouts away from John for long... especially not the way Amanda brazenly eased her way into everyone's business.  So, what was Skon up to?

- - - - - - -     

The last Friday in May was the informal end of the course for most of the students.  As she left the apartment, Amanda could feel the sorrow building in her.  She didn't want to have to say goodbye to those in the class that she had built friendships with.  Walking down the sidewalk to the waiting flitter, no one batted an eye as she climbed into the vehicle with its diplomatic insignia emblazoned on the door. "Good evening, T'Spia," Amanda said with a sigh.

"Good evening, Miss Grayson," T'Spia replied as the vehicle took off.  It had taken Amanda several months to get any kind of response from the demure Vulcan woman.  Now, there were occasions when she could almost carry on a conversation with her.  Almost.

"Are you going to be driving me this summer, or are you returning to Vulcan?" the girl asked with genuine interest.  As quiet as the Vulcan was, Amanda still liked her and didn't want to have someone else take her to the embassy.

"I shall remain until Osavensu Tolak returns to Vulcan," T'Spia replied simply.

"Oh, good!  I'm glad to hear that," Amanda cheerfully said.  She noticed that the Vulcan glanced back at her in the rearview mirror without comment.

The route to the embassy took them past several sections of the city.  As they left the mostly suburban area, the road took them past the offices and industrial area set aside for international and galactic commerce.  Entering the city itself was like entering a time warp.  The graceful older buildings that Amanda now recognized as the `painted ladies' lined the steep hillsides with fanciful colors on their Victorian facades.  After passing them, the bay itself beckoned.  Amanda checked her satchel and smiled.  It had taken nearly the entire week to complete, but she had painstakingly cross-stitched a present for Niall.  The Scott name and clan colors now proudly looked back at her in the neatly framed picture.  She couldn't wait to see his face when he saw it.  The week before, he'd insisted that she accept a beautiful charm that she could add to a bracelet she'd worn on occasion to the class.  Niall had teased her about the fact that he did like her even if her surname was English.  Now, she felt that she could repay him for his kind gift.

As the approached the embassy, Amanda could see a crowd gathered near the front gate.  Never before had she seen such a large assemblage in that location before. "T'Spia, who are those people?" Amanda asked apprehensively.  She could feel the vehicle slowing even as she spoke.

"Unknown."  The Vulcan driver now had stopped the flitter completely.  About one hundred meters ahead, the throng appeared to be several hundred Humans who milled about and seemed to be waiting for something to happen.  Several spotlights had been set up by the news media.  Then, Amanda noticed that someone was pointing excitedly in their direction.

"Miss Grayson, lie down.  Now."  T'Spia's demanding tone surprised Amanda, who had never heard the woman raise her voice under any circumstance.

"What's going on?" Amanda implored, but the Vulcan shocked her by twisting around and forcing her head down to the velour seat.  Before she could voice her outrage at the action, the girl screamed when an enormous crash sounded against the flitter's exterior.

"Stay down!" T'Spia yelled as the vehicle accelerated in reverse.  Suddenly, the flitter seemed to flip up and around in such a way that Amanda slid and hit her head against the door jam.  Dazed, she clung to the seat and tried to get her bearings as the vehicle now flew down the winding streets at an alarming rate.

"Miss Grayson, are you injured?"  The Vulcan waited several seconds for a reply.  When none came, she slowed the flitter and glanced into the back seat.  "Amanda?  Are you injured?"

"No," came the tearful reply as she slowly sat up.  "I did hit my head, but I'm not hurt.  What happened?"

"An unknown projectile struck the flitter.  It did no damage due to the protective shielding."  On the dash, Amanda could see a flashing light that she'd never noticed before.

"Is that an alarm?" the girl asked as she rubbed her head.  There was no blood evident, but a sore place on the right side of her head throbbed under the pressure from her hand.

"Yes, I have alerted the embassy to our situation." T'Spia informed Amanda.  "There is no reason to be alarmed.  Once I have verified that we are not being tracked, I shall take you back to your apartment."

Amanda nearly objected, but quickly came to her senses.  Of course she wasn't going to go to class tonight, but she couldn't understand what was going on.  Why were so many people protesting outside of the Vulcan embassy?  "When did those people show up?" she asked the Vulcan. 

"They were not present prior to my departure," T'Spia replied. 

Amanda nodded. "When some of them saw the flitter, they pointed.  Do you think they were protesting against me?" 

The raised eyebrow of the driver dismissed the girl's frightened assessment. "Miss Grayson, I believe they pointed when they saw the diplomatic vehicle approaching the gate.  I thought it best that they not see you.  Are you certain that you are not impaired?  The turn was quite sharp."

"I'm fine," Amanda insisted even as she immediately stopped nodding.  Her head really did hurt, but it wasn't T'Spia's fault and she didn't want to get the woman into trouble.  "Actually, that was kind of exciting.  Did you have to learn to drive like that?  I've never gone backward like that at such a speed!"

The Vulcan glanced back at the grinning Human.  "I did learn defensive driving, Miss Grayson.  It was not my intention to ever have to use it."

"Oh," the girl said sheepishly even as the grin remained.  "I guess it's not good that you had to.  Still, it was fun!"

T'Spia didn't comment on Amanda's assessment of the threatening situation.  As the Vulcan waited for confirmation to return the girl to her residence, she occasionally looked in the rearview mirror to check on her young charge.  The Human didn't appear to be seriously harmed by the erratic departure from the embassy; however, it was her responsibility to ensure the safety of her young passenger.  The manoeuvre she'd used was approved by the embassy due to the extenuating circumstances, but had she made a thoughtless error in using it?  Those passengers who used the vehicles were Vulcans, and she'd not considered the girl's weaker constitution.  Still, if she hadn't done what she had done.  

Traveling the numerous winding side roads of the city, Amanda had no idea where they were until she saw the well-lit building and the clearly marked glowing sign.

"I'm NOT injured, T'Spia!" Amanda insisted.  "Why are you taking me to the hospital?"

"It is my responsibility to verify that you were not harmed by my actions, Miss Grayson." 

As the vehicle slowed, Amanda could see the curious stares and noted that a few of the medical personnel were moving toward them. "But, won't you get into trouble for this?" the girl asked plaintively. 

The Vulcan gazed steadfastly into the rear mirror. "It would be far worse if I were to return you to your apartment in an injured state."  T'Spia didn't add that she was already mentally preparing her resignation from her position as chauffeur.  The ambassador would expect nothing less once he discovered what had happened and to whom.

Once inside the Emergency Room, T'Spia explained the situation as a triage nurse checked the young girl's head.  Casting the occasional suspicious frown at the Vulcan, the nurse eventually confirmed that Amanda was suffering from a very mild concussion, but there was no need for hospitalization.  Climbing off the exam table, Amanda heard several worried voices echoing through the hall.  Grimacing in recognition, she forced a casual smile to her lips as her parents came barrelling into the room.

"Amanda, what happened?  Are you all right?" John asked as he took in the sight of his daughter.

"Are you hurt?" Maura asked at almost the same time as she looked from Amanda to the nurse.

"I'm fine, really!" the girl insisted.  "I bumped my head a little, but the nurse said it's all right."  She grinned at her somber parents.  "You were right!  I do have a hard head."

"This isn't funny," John said softly.  "We were scared to death when the embassy contacted us and said you were being taken to the hospital."

Maura had fixed her dark gaze on the Vulcan.  "What happened here?  How did Amanda get hurt?"

As T'Spia went through the details, Amanda listened with growing consternation.  Why was the Vulcan taking the blame for the incident?  It was the fault of the people who were blocking the gate, not the driver's.

"…and then I brought her here.  I wanted to confirm that her head injury wasn't serious."

"I…see," John slowly responded.  He wanted to yell at the Vulcan, but she had done her best to protect Amanda from what had proved to be a dangerous mob.  The cold chill of fear was still in him as he recalled the media's replaying of the crowd scene outside of the Vulcan embassy.  They were a mixed group of reportedly peaceful demonstrators, with some protesting against the supposed use of mind control by the Vulcans against the students in the course, while others were simply xenophobic radicals who wanted all aliens to leave Earth.  When the illegal `shieldbuster' weapon was spotted in the crowd, the authorities swarmed in, but not before the device was fired at a nearby diplomatic vehicle.  If the projectile had hit its intended target, the Grayson's wouldn't be at the hospital, of that T'Spia was certain.  The Vulcan had no intention of telling her young charge what had almost happened, but she still bore the burden of not identifying the danger soon enough.  It marked the end of her diplomatic career as a chauffeur.  Of that she had no doubt.

"What do you think will happen now with the summer course?" Amanda
asked, causing her Dad's eyes to widen in disbelief.

"Don't you realize what almost happened?" John tightly said.  "You could have been killed!  There will be no summer course for you, young lady.  You're not to set foot on or near the Vulcan embassy again."

"What?" Amanda cried out as she saw several nurses turn to keep an eye on the growing confrontation.  "Why not?  It wasn't my fault or T'Spia's that those mal-ollie fools tried to scare us by throwing something at the flitter.  You wanted me to go to the summer course, and that's what I want to do, too!"

John opened his mouth to tell his daughter exactly why she was so fortunate to be alive, but stopped when he saw the Vulcan woman's almost imperceptible shake of her head.  He quickly realized that all he would do was terrify Amanda if she found out that something hadn't been throw at the flitter, but had been aimed with the intention of killing all those unfortunate enough to be in it.  Including his daughter, John thought as he allowed his fury to turn to those who nearly destroyed his world. "It might not be T'Spia's fault, but the danger is at the embassy, and I don't want you anywhere near there."  His tone became gentle as the reality again nearly overwhelmed him.  "This incident has changed everything, and so I can't allow you to take the course anymore.  It's just too risky."

As she prepared to argue, Amanda was stopped by T'Spia's upraised hand. 

"If I may, Miss Grayson," the young woman calmly said.  "It is proper for you to obey your parents.  There is a high probability that the course will not be offered under these less than satisfactory conditions.  The ambassador would not allow it."  Turning to John, the Vulcan raised her hand into the ta'al.  "I trust that my service has been acceptable, Mr. Grayson.  With your permission, I shall take my leave of you.  Live long and prosper."

John thoughtfully considered the young woman before him as he raised his hand.  "Live long and prosper, T'Spia.  I won't forget what you did for us today."  A knowing look passed between them, and then the Vulcan was gone.  Amanda was still fuming about her Dad's obstinacy with regard to the course even as Maura received the release documents that allowed them to leave.  As they left the facility and headed for the nearest shuttle station, Amanda suddenly gasped.

"What's wrong?" Maura worriedly asked as John grasped the girl's arm.

"My satchel!  I left Niall's picture in the flitter!  I have to get it back!" She struggled against her Dad's grip on her arm, but the man was unmoved by her outburst.

"I'll contact the embassy on Monday and ask that they give it back.  T'Spia has already left, so there's nothing we can do until then, all right?"  He gave her an encouraging look, and she finally sighed in agreement.

"Oh, al lright," she mumbled as they approached the shuttle station.  "Just don't forget, please?  It's very important."

"I won't," John promised.  As they prepared to board the shuttle for home, he made a mental note to get the picture back.  That, he hoped, would be his last contact with Vulcans and the Vulcan embassy for a very long time.

------


Skon patiently waited as his friend, Sennar, entered his vast office.  It was rare for Skon to formally request the presence of his senior aide, but the circumstances warranted such action.  As the gray-haired Vulcan raised a questioning eyebrow, the ambassador remained seated behind his desk. 

"How may I assist you, my friend," Sennar serenely asked. 

Skon motioned for him to sit. "I have some questions for you," the ambassador said with an equal degree of composure. 

As the aide sat in front of his friend, he noted the tight lines around Skon's mouth. "It is most unfortunate that the demonstration escalated as it did," the aide casually said.  "A complete report will be on your monitor the first thing Monday morning."

"Sennar," the ambassador began, then paused as he steeped his fingers.  "My friend, tell me…what is your impression of T'Spia?"

"She is from a venerated House," Sennar replied, but Skon cut him off with a slight wave of his hand.

"That is not what I mean, my friend," the ambassador said with a trace of irritation.  "How would you characterize her job performance?  She came to me tonight to offer her resignation."

"I do not know her that well," Sennar admitted.  "She is young and inexperienced in matters of diplomacy.  Her family has recommended her for a junior diplomatic position when one becomes available.  That is all I know."

Skon considered the words of his friend, and then gradually leaned back into his chair.  "Yes, that is what I believed you would say."

Had Sennar been Human, he might have fidgeted under the ambassador's intense gaze.  As it was, the Vulcan straightened in a barely noticeable way. "Skon, what is this about?  The human girl was not seriously injured, and the damage to the flitter is already being evaluated and repaired.  T'Spia will not be given the duties of escort and driver again due to her poor judgment."  Sensing the tension level escalating, the Vulcan stopped speaking and waited for his friend to say something.

Skon's dark eyes never left his friend's face as he spoke.  The low quality of his voice was the only indicator of his true annoyance at the situation.  "My friend, tell me…T'Spia left the embassy at 1714 hours, retrieved Miss Grayson at 1728 hours, and arrived outside the front gate at 1749 hours.  The first demonstrators arrived at 1734 hours.  The security forces that are under your direct supervision have verified all of the times.  When did you inform T'Spia of the protestors?  She could have used the bay entrance and avoided the mob; however, there is no record of any embassy transmissions to her vehicle until after it was grazed by the projectile."

"Sasep is the Chief of Security Forces, Skon," Sennar haughtily reminded the ambassador.  "Perhaps you will find your answers from him.  It was not my duty."

"It is your duty, Sennar," the Vulcan softly demanded in a carefully modulated tone.  "It is your duty, and you failed.  T'Spia will be reprimanded for not confirming that Miss Grayson was properly restrained in the vehicle.  Her services as a driver will end; however, I shall arrange for her a new position…one that I had intended my son to have."

Sennar lifted an astonished left eyebrow at his friend.  "You would give the girl such a position over your own child?"

Skon's mouth tightened, and then relaxed as he began to formulate his plan.  "Yes, Sennar," the ambassador slowly said as the idea formed itself into a workable template.  "My original plan was to have my son, Silek, take the summer course with Osavensu Tolak for his educational edification and to garner his thoughts on Miss Grayson.  Now, in this deteriorating environment between our two species, it would be unwise to allow the course to convene.  Perhaps relations will stabilize quickly as they have in the past.  Until that time occurs, Silek will remain on Vulcan.  T'Spia appears to have gained the trust of the Grayson family.  She will remain in contact with them and continue to offer a positive image of Vulcans to those humans she comes into contact with."

"S'haile," Sennar said in a diffident way not common to him.  "I have failed you, my friend.  Do you require my resignation?"

Skon placed his elbows on his desk as he steeped his fingers.  Several long seconds passed before the ambassador looked up over his hands.  "What do you believe I should do, my friend?"

Sennar said nothing as he rose and turned toward the door.  The slight sound of a throat being cleared stopped him.

"Sennar," Skon quietly said.  "You shall remain as my senior aide.  If a situation like this ever happens again, you shall immediately resign and you will be sent back to Vulcan on the first available flight.  Is that understood?"

With his tense back still to the ambassador, the aide nodded once.  "Yes, S'haile.  I shall not fail you again."

"I trust that you will not," Skon replied as the aide left his office.  Alone, the Vulcan stood and walked to the window.  There was no comfort there now.  The night time mist that swirled up from the bay did nothing to improve his pensive mood.  He was a patient person and would bide his time until the incident in front of his embassy was but a hazy memory.  The media attention would diminish and the Humans would eventually forget the nearly disastrous turn of events that could have resulted in two deaths.  It was what Humans callously referred to as a twist of fate; but even so, the ambassador knew but one certainty. 

Skon knew that he would never forget.

Chapter 7 – The Friendship

Kirk:  We may make a human of you yet.
Spock:  I hope not.
(TOS: Patterns of Force)


Although she missed the friendships of the course participants, Amanda had to admit that the summer had been one of the best she had ever had.  Except for sleep, she was rarely at the apartment and spent nearly every day at the beach with her Brantley friends.  Two weeks had been spent on the East Coast visiting Nanny, Matt and Dan.  Staying with Nanny in her somewhat dilapidated, yet always neat, Nantucket home was always great fun.  Amanda suspected that the elderly woman took advantage of her youth by asking her to do such tedious jobs as weed the overgrown flower garden and dust the antique books in the library, but she didn't mind.  Nanny always said that she'd reward her `favorite girl' some day, but that wasn't her motive.  She just enjoyed the woman's company.  Nanny could always find a way to cheer her, and Amanda didn't realize until it was pointed out just how serious she'd become lately.  It was comforting to go back to her childhood haunts even though she now saw them in a different light.  She'd made a point of not contacting her Aunt Claire or going anywhere near their former home, but she did visit with some of her past friends.  That had been both uncomfortable and disappointing.  Stilted conversations about her activities in California paled in comparison to their `grand' adventures and lifestyles.  Strangely, Amanda felt sorry for them as she realized that they lived in a self-imposed exile that limited their experiences to the safe and expected.  The biggest scandal in the community still appeared to be her father's loss of his inheritance, and to Amanda, that was old news.  Didn't anything change?

The visit to her brothers' apartment had been quite the eye-opening experience, but not for the reason she'd expected.  The boys had decided to pool their resources and share a place to keep down the costs.  Matt was doing well in medical school, and Dan had finally decided to focus on getting his degree in Media Production.  Arriving early and finding their door unlocked, she entered…and froze.  A young woman was standing in the middle of the living room, her nude form seeming to glow in the morning light.  They stared at each other for a second until the woman turned and ran like a frightened deer into the back bedroom.  Murmured voices could barely be discerned coming from the room as Amanda dropped her overnight bag and wickedly grinned.  "Dan, I'm telling Mother and Dad that I saw a naked woman in your apartment!" she yelled giddily.  Her jaw dropped, though, when the woman, now covered in a man's oversized robe came back into the living room with Matt.

"Amanda, what are you doing here!  It's not 1000 hours yet," he demanded as he ran a hand through his dishevelled hair.  The young woman glanced back and forth between the two, an amused smile playing on her lips.

"What am I doing here?  What is SHE doing here?" the girl squealed as the situation became clear.  Her oldest brother. her steadfast, beloved brother. was the one who was with the woman. 

After the shock wore off, Amanda was introduced to Ming, the young woman who used to live in the San Francisco area and was Dan's friend.  `Was' appeared to be the operative word since Ming had moved in with Matt and Dan had furiously left to find a different living arrangement.  Matt explained that he had fallen in love with Ming the moment he'd been introduced to her.  The `Grayson' curse, he joked.  Amanda harrumphed and rolled her eyes at the comment.  Her Dad was fond of saying that it was love at first sight when he'd first seen their Mother, but Amanda wasn't so gullible.  It didn't happen that way, and the fact that Matt was now buying into such a ridiculous notion angered her.

"You can't be serious," Amanda firmly stated as she watched Ming gazing up at her brother with more than just a friendly look.  The beautiful young woman stood at least a head shorter than her brother.  Her exotic appearance contrasted with Matt's lean athletic look, and they did make a nice looking couple, but that just wasn't right, Amanda fumed as she watched them.  This woman shouldn't be distracting Matty at this point in his life.  He was supposed to be focusing on his medical school education and studying human anatomy and physiology in class, not in his apartment.

"Amanda, it's just something that I can't explain," Matt said as he contentedly smiled at Ming.

"I'm not too young to understand what's going on here!" Amanda insisted.  "Matty, I hate to tell you this, but you're thinking with your penis and not your brain."

Ming shrieked in laughter as Matt's mouth dropped open.  "WHAT!" he said, his outrage shaking his usually calm voice. 

"You heard me!" the girl yelled.  "Your hormones are raging and you're not thinking about your future!  It's obvious to me that you're throwing your life away!"

"MY hormones are raging?" Matt repeated.  He couldn't believe he was having this conversation with his little sister.  "Let me tell you something, MISS Amanda!  You're way out of line telling me what my `problem' is!  I don't have a problem, and I think you should apologize to Ming immediately for that comment!"

"What comment?" Amanda asked innocently, daring him to repeat what she said.

"She doesn't owe me an apology, Matt," the young woman said between chuckles as she fondly wrapped her arms around her love.  "I think she's wonderfully funny!  So, can I call you `Matty'?"

"No," Amanda spat out before her brother could answer.  Ming cast a questioning look up at Matt as he continued to glare at his audacious sister.

"You're right, Amanda," Ming said gently as she took a small step away from Matt.  "I'm just so thrilled to finally meet you!  I've been told so much about you that I feel like I already know you."

"You don't," Amanda said between clenched teeth.  She really wanted to hate this young woman, but Ming wasn't cooperating.

"No, I don't, but I'd like to," the young woman maintained.  "I understand that you'll be here for a few days before you return to California.  Would you be interested in helping me find a dress for the Fall Formal?  I'm really terrible at shopping."  Ming's warm expression wasn't lost on Amanda who felt her resolve beginning to falter.

"I suppose I could help," the girl agreed as she again observed her brother put his arms around Ming's waist.  He was an adult, she reasoned, but why didn't he tell her about their relationship earlier?

"Excellent!" the woman said as she leaned back against Matt's chest.  "I want to look my best, and since you know Matt's tastes, you can help me select something that won't send him screaming the other way."

"I have no doubt you'll be beautiful in anything," Matt said.  Amanda rolled her eyes at his comment.  Didn't he hear himself?  He was acting like a complete love-struck fool.

"How sickening," Amanda muttered as she picked up her bag.  "Am I to assume that I have Dan's old room?  I mean, I guess you two are sharing a room."

"Yes, we are," Matt said as he gave her an iniquitous grin.  "Dan's room is the one on the left.  So, when are you going to make the comm call and tell Mother and Dad?  I know you can't wait to spill the beans."

"I won't tell them if you don't want me to," she said dolefully.  Matt tilted his head as he tried to understand why his sister seemed so down suddenly.

"I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything right now," he replied.  "I want to tell them myself."

"That's fine," Amanda said as she began to walk toward the hall.  She then turned and Matt could see the mischievous light in her eyes that he was used to seeing.  "Just remember that I'm a light sleeper."  She grinned and went into the bedroom without another word. 

It was only on the return shuttle to California that it occurred to Amanda that she had told Matt that she was looking forward to going home.  When had her perceptions changed?  Her birthday was coming up soon, and as she admired the tiny `15' charm that Matt had bought as an early gift for her, she had the undeniable impression that there were more adjustments in store for her.  She only hoped that the changes would be pleasant.

"The channel is available," Sennar reported as the ambassador nodded his approval.  It had been 2.342 hours since Skon had requested that communications be established between the embassy and the Sigma Omicron city of Vlandren.  Six earlier attempts had failed, but finally the enhanced signal allowed for a clear image.

"Very well, Sennar," the Vulcan replied.  Sennar paused, but sensing the desire for privacy, left the office quietly.  Skon waited until the bluish face of the Vlandren diplomatic aide came into view.

"How may I be of service?" the aide asked in his silky-smooth voice.

"I shall speak with Senior Diplomat Sarek," Skon ordered. 

With no room for argument, the Vlandren diplomat seemed to bend his oblong head at an impossible angle. "One moment, Mr. Ambassador." 

Skon knew that his son had selected the young Vlandren representative as one of his aides as a sign of good faith, but it was still disconcerting to see a member of the once hostile species answering the comm.  Thirteen seconds later, his son appeared. 

Skon noticed immediately the slightly longer hairstyle his son now had that was in keeping with the Vlandren norm, as was the style of dress that was decidedly less formal than that of Vulcan.  He was pleased to see that his son's appearance had not drastically changed from when he'd last seen him.  Sarek was as tall and imposing as Skon, but with the darker features that came from T'Lara.  Sarek's dark hazel eyes quickly evaluated his Father's image in an attempt to determine the reason for the contact.  There appeared to be no outward indication of trouble as he raised his hand into the ta'al.

"Father," Sarek said deferentially.  Skon was again struck by how closely his son's voice matched his with its deep resonance. 

"My son," Skon responded.  "I trust that the situation on Sigma Omicron is stable?"

"Yes," Sarek replied, "the current status of the entire planetary system is stable.  A skirmish between two fringe planetoids has been settled, and the Vlandren government has elected new officials without the show of violence that marred the last election."

"Excellent," the ambassador stated.  "The strengthening loyalty in the region has been noted by several in the Federation council.  You are to be commended for your work."

"I cannot take exclusive credit for the changes, Father," Sarek humbly replied. 

Skon nodded his approval. "That is correct; however, your guidance has been the driving force behind the positive developments."  Skon paused as he considered his son.  "Your abilities have shown considerable growth.  That growth will continue at your next diplomatic post."

"My next post?" Sarek said in a slightly puzzled tone.  "I have not completed my service here, Father."

"Preliminary plans have already been submitted for your next assignment," Skon readily replied.  "The time frame set is one Standard Earth year."

"I see," Sarek carefully stated.  "Generally, such advanced notification is necessary for a particularly desirable location.  I trust that a tenable position has been secured based upon my qualifications?"

"There are no extenuating circumstances that would sway the council's decision," Skon insisted.  The fact that the council's desire to have Sarek on Earth meshed with his plans was quite by chance.  "You are to report to San Francisco next year."

"There was no other diplomat with more experience for the position?" Sarek queried. 

Skon raised an eyebrow at the unforeseen reluctance he sensed in his son. "The decision was based on your merits, my son.  Your recent show of reticence has not been unnoticed by either your mother or myself.  If it is rooted in your marital status, you can be assured."

"No," Sarek forcefully interrupted, "my concern is the possible appearance of nepotism.  I…"

"Kroykah!" Skon said with a vehement tone.  "You do not interrupt me!"

"I ask forgiveness," Sarek immediately replied.  "My intention was not to show disrespect."

"What was your intention?" Skon asked calmly, the previous outburst already excused.  "Your mother has advised me that any discussion about your unbonded status results in an abrupt change of subject.  There is no reason for such behavior."

"I prefer not to discuss the subject at this time," the younger Vulcan adamantly said.  He couldn't offer a logical explanation for his reaction other than he was in no position to search for a wife when he wasn't even in the same quadrant as his home world.

"As you wish," the ambassador decided as he observed his son's unyielding appearance.  "It is agreeable that you are becoming more comfortable with the use of Standard," Skon commented as the subject changed.  "Additional information about your new post will be communicated to you without delay.  You will be well versed in the operations of the embassy prior to your arrival."

"Of that I have no doubt," Sarek dryly remarked as he raised his left eyebrow, but before he could say more, he observed the way his father seemed diverted by something off-screen.

"I must take my leave of you, Sarekam," Skon said genially.  "No formal statement will be issued at this time.  All future developments will be communicated to you.  Live long and prosper, my son."

Sarek matched his father's upraised hand and formed the ta'al.  "Live long and prosper, Father."

With the connection now disengaged, Sarek stared at the blank screen for a moment.  Skon did nothing without purpose, and Sarek was well aware that his progress had been closely monitored; however, he had expected to be sent to Vulcan, not Earth. 

"Sir?" the Vlandren aide said from the entryway, "It is late.  Do you require my continued services?"

"No, Zandrel," Sarek immediately replied as he stood.  "Your service has been commendable as usual.  It is time to retire for the evening."

"Very well, sir," the aide said.  Hesitating, Zandrel tilted his head as his superior shut down the computer network.  "Sir," he said as the Vulcan straightened from his task.  "My consort has once again requested that I extend our Vlandren hospitality to you.  There is no reason to stay in the barren diplomatic lodging offered when you could have a warm bed and an even warmer companion outside these walls."

"You offer is most kind, Zandrel; however, as I've explained to you previously, I cannot accept your most...generous offer."  Sarek watched with thinly veiled amusement as his aide slumped.  It had been difficult to convince the man that there was no need for a Vulcan to indulge in such `services'. 

The aide sighed even as he smiled to reveal his sharp bright yellow teeth. "Yes, you have said that before.  I am still amazed that there are species that do not experience loneliness."  Zandrel bowed as he exited the office.  "Good evening, sir."

"Good evening, Zandrel." 

Alone in the office, Sarek finished shutting down the monitors.  Securing the office, he moved down the darkened hall to the quarters that had been his since his arrival on Sigma Omicron.  The sparsely filled rooms served his needs, just as the antiquated warming unit worked well enough to warm the main room and heat the meal that had been prepared by Zandrel's consort.  It was fortunate that both species were vegetarians since Sarek suspected that it would be nearly impossible to convince the Vlandren to stray from their strongly held beliefs.  As he ate the brightly colored concoction, he considered his aide's comment about loneliness.  Sarek had never said that Vulcans didn't experience loneliness, only that there was no need for the physical contact that the species on Sigma Omicron apparently craved.  Pushing the overcooked vegetables away, he calmly noted the stillness that at times threatened to envelop him.  It was time for meditation, and the silence of his surroundings would assist his ruminations.  The static routine that was his life should be satisfactory to him, and yet there did seem to be a growing sense of discontent within him.  As he sank into the light trancelike state, he considered his life up to that point.  It was, perhaps, time for a change.  Exhaling deeply as the correct methodology for illumination eluded him, he decided to reflect on his decidedly eccentric behavior at another time as the desire for rest prevailed over more intellectual pursuits.  As he changed into the warm night wear that was necessary due to the planet's chilly evenings, Sarek again wondered at his father's motives.  If he were to find a bondsmate, would it not be logical to be sent to Vulcan?  Why Earth?  The cool feel of the tightly woven thermal blankets against his skin caused an involuntary shiver as he climbed into bed and swiftly adjusted to the change in temperature.  Within seconds, he was asleep. 


"Are you positive this is a good thing?" John asked the smiling man on the monitor screen.

"Oh, absolutely!  I'm not one to exaggerate, and since your daughter's benefactor has already paid for this year's tuition, I thought you'd like to be the one to tell them that they'll have one less year to pay for."  The school director, Michael Cornwall, continued to smile as he sent the academic report to John.  "As you can see, her progress is such that her instructors have all agreed she should be advanced one level.  It's really for her benefit."

John quickly scanned the report.  The scores were such that he actually double-checked the serial number to verify that it was his daughter who had such perfect marks.  It wasn't his intention to disbelief her abilities, but after her reluctant admission of tampering with the school's computer system with some friends the previous year, he had reason to be suspicious.  The director almost seemed to read his mind as he chuckled.

"Don't worry, Mr. Grayson.  We did verify that there was no tampering or cheating.  She's really quite a remarkable girl, sir.  You should be very proud."

"Thank you, I am," John readily agreed, "My main concern is that she'll not be with her age group, not that such a thing is really that important.  She's actually used to being the youngest in a classroom setting."

"Yes, I've heard," Cornwall said as a somber look overtook his jovial expression.  "From what we've seen here at Brantley, Amanda has taken what she's learned in the Vulcan embassy course and applied it to her class work.  Is she going to continue with a course through the embassy, or have the Vulcans decided not to offer it due to the public reaction?"

John frowned at the director's choice of words.  "I don't believe it was the public who decided, sir.  It was a group of fanatics and misinformed people who demonstrated in front of the gates, not those who knew the truth of the matter."

"I see."  The uncomfortable moment stretched until John grimly smiled.

"Mr. Cornwall, you can be assured that my daughter will not be further affected by any influence, Vulcan or otherwise."

"Oh, I didn't mean any offense!" Cornwall insisted even as he relaxed, "Your daughter is quite the popular student and has done well both academically and socially here at Brantley."

"I know," John quietly said.  In fact, he was far too aware of Amanda's growing popularity, especially with the boys.  It wasn't making his life as a father any easier.

"Kids will be kids and all," Cornwall said with a laugh.  His dismissal only added to John's tense demeanor.

"I realize that, sir," he replied, "I just hope that they all realize that they are just children."

Cornwall's expression fell as he uncomfortably coughed.  "Oh, I meant nothing by that, Mr. Grayson.  Brantley students are well aware of their obligations as upstanding citizens."

"Let's just keep those 'upstanding' young men away from my daughter," John wryly responded. 

Flustered by what he believed the man was suggesting, Cornwall flushed and stammered.  "Oh, believe me, sir, I'm sure…um…well, our students don't engage in such...well.

"Never mind, Mr. Cornwall," John said, letting the man off the hook.  "I'm very satisfied by the academics at Brantley, and I'll inform Amanda of the change."

"Yes, that's excellent!" the director immediately replied, eager to end the uncomfortable shift in the conversation.  "I have no doubt she'll be thrilled by the news.  I must go now, Mr. Grayson.  Please let me extend my congratulations once again.  I'm sure that Amanda will benefit greatly from the promotion."

"No doubt," the man agreed as the screen went blank.  John leaned back and pursed his lips tightly together.  He didn't care for the way his mind automatically went into `caution' mode whenever the Vulcans were mentioned.  Skon hadn't contacted him at all since their initial meeting, but that was to be expected.  The human knew what he'd agreed to, and there was still time.  The irrational feeling that time seemed to be going by too fast was just that…irrational.

As he's suspected, Amanda was thrilled at the prospect of skipping ahead a year.  Also, as expected, her analysis of the advancement wasn't academically based. 

"Dad, come on!  Now that I'm a moving up a year, I should be able to renegotiate my curfew.  The older students I'll be with will be out later, and."

"No, Amanda," John insisted.  Watching her glower, he took into consideration her appearance.  She'd finally begun to fill out and no longer had the boyish figure of youth.  Just another reason to say no.

"But, Dad!  I'm being asked to so many events that don't even get rolling until 2300 hours!"  She stuck out her bottom lip in what she knew was an expression that generally worked to ruin her dad's resolve.  "How am I supposed to fit in if you refuse to allow me some freedom?  Don't you trust me?"

John could feel his determination falter as he looked into the very sincere eyes of his child.  Fortunately, he knew that she was just playing upon his emotions.  If she ever figured out how to keep up the façade long enough, there would be no stopping her from getting anything she wanted…but he knew her better than that.

"No, Amanda," he repeated, and was rewarded with a fierce scowl. 

"You're being unreasonable!  Shouldn't I be rewarded for my academic performance?"  Again, she pleaded with her eyes.  "I really think you should allow me just a little more freedom.  Just another half hour?  Please?"

Sighing, the man closed his eyes.  "I'll think about it."

Watching his daughter prance out of the room did nothing to improve his mood.  What was wrong with him?  Why did he cave into her demands when he was only trying to protect her?

The comm unit chimed, and he put aside his personal worries for a moment as he identified the caller as someone from the embassy.  As the channel opened, John was surprised to see the elegant face of Ambassador Agani smiling at him.

"John, how are you?" the woman warmly addressed him. 

John returned the smile. "I'm fine, Ambassador.  How may I assist you?" he asked, curious about the rare home contact.

"Well, this is quite an unusual request," the woman replied, her dark features still seemingly perplexed by the appeal, "but I've been contacted by Ambassador Skon.  You are well acquainted with him."  The last wasn't a question, and despite his best efforts, John couldn't prevent the twitch that affected the right corner of his mouth at the Vulcan's name.

"Yes, I know the ambassador quite well," the man agreed.  "Do I want to know why he contacted you, madam?"

Agani sat back slightly as she considered the junior diplomat.  "Let me first say, John, that there is no reason for concern.  I think you'll like this quite a bit."  Noting the man's interest, the ambassador continued.  "Skon has asked for my advise on helping to build the relations between Vulcans and Humans again now that the incident in front of the Vulcan embassy has been largely forgotten.  I had a marvelous idea, and I hope you can help me."

"Oh?" John said curiously.

"As you know, my children all attended The Brantley Academy which is where your daughter is currently enrolled.  I thought it would be a wonderful idea if one of the younger Vulcans might have the chance to see our educational system first hand.  My question."

"Wait."  John tried, but couldn't prevent the guffaw that spilled from him in a roar.  "I'm sorry," he replied, "I just had this ludicrous image of you telling me that you want Amanda to escort this young Vulcan exchange student around.  After the incident at the embassy, I know that can't be what you had in mind, right?" 

Silence followed for several uneasy seconds.  John's humor faded as quickly as it had come.  "Right?" he weakly repeated.

"It's just for a semester," Agani countered.

John just couldn't believe it, no matter how hard he tried.  How did the Vulcan find a way to get others to do what he wanted?

"Ambassador Agani, what exactly will Amanda be expected to do?" he asked.

"Actually, all that Skon mentioned was that he was familiar with your daughter due to the embassy course.  Obviously, I had the same information, so it only seemed natural that I would recommend that she assist the student." The sound of several padds being shuffled around a crowded desk were heard until Agani broadly smiled at him.  "Ah!  Here is it.  The student's name is T'Spia.  Apparently, she's being groomed as a diplomat and the Vulcans hope to gain a greater understanding of humans by having one of their own observe the educational teaching methods used by our schools."

"But Brantley isn't typical," John protested, "And T'Spia is much older than the typical student.  In addition, wouldn't it be more logical for the Vulcans to study a public school?"

"Perhaps," Agani agreed,  "but Skon didn't want to draw any undue attention to the young woman."

John thought about that for a moment.  T'Spia did appear to be even more quiet than the typical Vulcan, and he didn't have a problem with Amanda being in her presence.  Again, he felt a tightness in the pit of his stomach.  It was just so damned convenient that Skon would recommend the one Vulcan that his family trusted. "I'm certain that Amanda would be pleased to help T'Spia adjust, but there's still the question: isn't she too old to be attending?  I'm not sure of her age, but she did act as my daughter's driver while Amanda attended the course." 

Agani nodded her agreement to his assessment. "After discovering the young woman's age, I said the same thing, but Skon made the rather philosophical statement about how there was never an end to learning." Agani smiled and shrugged in a good-humored way.  "I got the impression that the young woman had no choice."

"That doesn't surprise me at all," John said with a firm sense of the irony of the situation in place.  "He's used to getting his way."

"Should I let him know that it's all right?"

John felt a bit deflated as he nodded.  "Yes, I'm sure that Amanda will be delighted to show T'Spia around and help her adjust to the school."  A sudden thought made him chuckle.  "Yes, I can just imagine the influence Amanda will be on her."

Poor T'Spia, John light heartedly thought as the connection ended.  Poor T'Spia.

-----

John's concerns for the young Vulcan proved to be unfounded.  In order to limit the unwanted attention that might be focused on T'Spia, the administration at Brantley decided that it would be best to classify her as an outside observer instead of a student.  That allowed her the freedom to attend the classes of her choice and still get the full effect of the Terran private school experience.  Although she was allowed access to any of the classes, T'Spia followed Amanda's schedule.  Brantley had a rather unique 'level' system that allowed students to pace themselves and move from level to level based on their abilities.  Since Amanda's advancement to the next level, she wasn't nearly as bored as she had been in the past.  In a strange way, T'Spia nullified any possible negative effect of being with the older students since Amanda simply didn't have as much occasion to socialize due to the Vulcan's reticent nature.  Perhaps it wasn't true, but Amanda sensed that her Vulcan friend was very uncomfortable around large groups.  The fact that she was supposedly training to be a diplomat made that reserved trait problematic.  Not being of a shy nature, it was difficult for Amanda to empathize, but she respected T'Spia too much to force her to sit in a room full of humans during their free time or during lunch.  Generally, if the weather permitted, they would go outside to one of the numerous wood benches along the walkways and talk.  In the past, Amanda would get her lunch from the cafeteria and eat with her friends.  Now, she brought her lunch from home, which was much more practical and fun due to their practice of sharing different foods with each other.  T'Spia introduced Amanda to kreyla, a form of bread, along with 'proper' kasa juice that hadn't been diluted, while Amanda marveled at the Vulcan's fondness for bagels, carrot juice, and black olives.  Their discussions between classes were far ranging, from the latest update on the talks between the Federation and the recently contacted Klingon Empire to the illogical way one of the top-level boys had winked at T'Spia.  It was that incident that sparked what should have been an interesting discussion between the two, but instead became a baffling mystery.

"Winking is a way to show that you're interested in that person," Amanda explained as she watched the growing furrow between T'Spia's brow.

"Interest?  I do not understand," the Vulcan demurely replied.

"You know…interest!" Amanda exclaimed.  "Interest in that someone is attracted to someone in more that a friendship kind of way.  That kind of interest."

"I do not understand," T'Spia repeated as she gazed calmly at her human friend.  Amanda exhaled loudly.

"Oh, come on!  You're older that I am.  You know what I'm talking about."

"Where are we going?" the Vulcan asked. 

Amanda puzzled over T'Spia's question for a moment before she realized her mistake. "I meant 'come on' as in 'you must understand what I'm talking about'…not 'let's go'!"  Shaking her head, Amanda took in a deep breath.  "Let's try this again.  Do you have a boyfriend?"

"A boy who is a friend?" the young woman asked. 

Again, Amanda didn't feel that T'Spia was being intentionally dense, but why was she acting so ignorant? "No, I mean a boy who is more than a friend.  You know…don't you?"

The Vulcan had tilted her head as she pondered the peculiar question.  "I would have to say that I do not understand what you intend by the reference 'boyfriend'."

Amanda again wondered about her friend.  How someone so intelligent could be so naïve at times.  "All right, let me try to explain.  Here," she said as she handed T'Spia a small bottle of black olives, "let's pretend that these olives are boys."

"That is illogical," the Vulcan immediately stated.  "Olives are not boys."

"I said pretend!" Amanda firmly said.  With one raised eyebrow, the Vulcan silently listened.  "Each olive in that bottle represents a boy.  One of those olives, however, is nicer, sweeter, and buys you lunch without you asking.  Which olive is the best?"

The completely perplexed expression on T'Spia's face quite amused Amanda as she observed the Vulcan trying to reason out the answer. 

"There are no differences between the olives due to their common qualities."

"You're missing the point!" the Human said as her exasperation got the best of her.  "Let's try something else.  Based on the fact that males and females are different, how do Vulcans decide whom to marry unless they date?  I mean, there are babies born."

T'Spia suddenly stood, dropping the bottle of olives in her haste.  "Such matters are NOT discussed," she adamantly demanded as she began to walk back to the school building. 

Amanda's mouth gaped open in surprise as her usually calm friend stormed to the entryway and entered, leaving her to clean up their half-finished lunches.  As she picked up the bottle of olives, she carefully considered the Vulcan's abrupt action.  What was the problem?  What wasn't to be discussed… dating or babies?  Or… maybe the discussion was just too personal for her friend to handle?  Why was that?  T'Spia wasn't a child... maybe she'd had a bad experience with a past boyfriend or lover?  Or was she completely off base?

Slowly walking back to the school, Amanda worried that she'd upset T'Spia to the point that they wouldn't be friends anymore.  Her fears vanished as she opened the door and discovered the Vulcan waiting for her.

"Amanda, allow me to apologize for my actions.  They were most discourteous."

Allowing a smile to form, the girl shrugged.  "No, I'm the one who's sorry.  I asked you something that I guess is taboo… is that right?"

For a moment, the Vulcan's eyes seemed hooded and dark, but she finally replied.  "It is not something that is openly discussed."

"I…see," Amanda softly said.  " `It' being matters between males and females?"  They walked to the next class silently as she noisy groups of students passed and surrounded them.  At the doorway to the classroom, T'Spia turned to her friend with a slightly pleased look on her features.

"Yes," she said just before they entered the room.  "In time, you shall understand." 

Taken aback by the statement, Amanda again wondered at the inscrutable nature of Vulcans.  Was T'Spia being intentionally vague?  And, for goodness sake, what did she mean about understanding in time?

Chapter 8 – The Arrival

“Avoid the planet Earth at all costs. Farewell.” Federation President (Star Trek IV)

Blue. The planet was so incredibly blue.

Sarek was quite well versed in the appearance of the numerous Federation worlds, but the holograms did no justice to the view of Earth from space. It wasn’t his first visit to the watery world. Only eleven years earlier, he and Silek had come to Earth at the behest of their father to study with some of the planet’s top instructors at Cambridge. Sarek had been impressed with the astrophysics department, just as the vast library had awed his brother. It was fortunate that the first impression had been favorable, since only seventeen days later, both he and his brother developed an upper respiratory ailment that didn’t respond well to treatment. They silently suffered the incessant coughing and medications that did nothing to end their discomfort until their sabbatical ended. It was only after returning to Vulcan that they fully recovered. The Vulcan propensity for research led to an improved treatment, but Sarek knew that it was that perchance for respiratory illnesses that limited his mothers’ stays on Earth. Duty required his father to serve in the most practical capacity and locality for the benefit of Vulcan, and such a separation was considered typical, just as it was also considered temporary. Skon had mentioned only once in his presence that he would prefer that T’Lara reside in the Vulcan embassy complex on Earth.

T’Lara remained on Vulcan.

The portal view from the Terran long-range shuttle Gagarin’s cabin area was superior to that of a Vulcan ship. The emotional desire to observe the external view was quite unnecessary. For once, Sarek wasn’t buried in the oft times overwhelming demands of his diplomatic work and could gaze out at the stars without some other pressing issue intruding upon his thoughts. The workings of the San Francisco embassy had been explained in such exhaustive detail that even his former aide, Zandrel, had stated that he was prepared to come along and serve on Earth. Sarek had highly recommended him to the incoming Federation diplomat, but that was no guarantee that Zandrel would be kept on. Prejudice died hard in the minds of some, and the Vlandren had only recently become members. If another Vulcan had filled the post, Sarek had no doubt that the young aide would be allowed to keep his job. It was the intolerance of narrow-minded species that hindered the efforts of those willing to allow past grievances to be relegated to history.

The final docking took place with the expediency of an experienced crew, and the passengers disembarked and quickly dispersed to their respective locks to await transport to their destinations on Earth. Walking with confidence past the seemingly endless walls of vid screens that touted the wonders of the planet below, Sarek made his way to the boarding area for the shuttle to San Francisco. It appeared to be a popular destination as there were no seats available near the port; however, that didn’t matter. While the voyage from the Sigma quadrant to Earth had been uneventful and allowed him time to further prepare for his new posting, it had not been conducive to any form of physical exercise. The chance to walk through the station prior to arriving on Earth was welcome.

The circular orbiting Station was arranged in a manner that allowed for the shuttles to dock and leave in the most practical way possible. Like octopus tentacles around the central body, the hundreds of air locks and docking bays beckoned vehicles to attach to them. Inside the station was the equivalent of a small city, with numerous restaurants, shops, entertainment venues, and even a hotel. The vast array of sights kept Sarek occupied as he purposefully strode around the station. Pacing himself, he returned to the boarding area as the final passengers entered the air lock. Once seated, he barely noticed the slight vibration as the shuttle gracefully disengaged and flowed away from the station. As one of the last passengers to board, there were few seats remaining, so he took the first empty spot that he came to. That, he swiftly concluded, might have been a mistake.

Sarek had paid no heed to the youth who sat next to the portal; instead, the Vulcan took his place near the aisle way and, leaning back, closed his eyes. Perhaps it would be beneficial to spend his time on the craft meditating. Certainly, there would be plenty of time…

“Vulcanian, right?”

Sarek opened his eyes and turned to the passenger in the seat next to him. The boy, perhaps in his early teens, was quite the spectacle. His rumpled tan tunic shirt and dark brown trousers were cut several sizes too big for his small frame, unlike Sarek’s custom made maroon tunic and trousers. The lad’s face was a mosaic of pimples and reddish splotches that did nothing to highlight his steely blue eyes, and he had the most unusual item perched on his nose. It was that strange apparatus that held Sarek’s attention as the human spoke again.

“Perhaps you don’t understand me…” the boy mournfully said.

“I do understand you,” Sarek replied, and the teen brightened as he nervously ran a hand through his already thinning hair. The boy’s rather high-strung nature was most disconcerting to the Vulcan.

“Excellent! I can’t believe that I’m actually speaking to a real live Vulcanian!” the boy announced to the shuttle in general. Sarek fixed his eyes on the seatback in front of him. There was a 75.43% chance that he now understood why this particular location had been viewed as unfavorable. Silence followed for a few moments as the boy seemed to be studying Sarek as if he were a laboratory specimen that had miraculously appeared for his educational enrichment.

“Sir, would you mind if I asked you a few questions?” the boy asked eagerly. While Sarek’s first impulse was to say yes, he would mind, he reminded himself that he was now dealing with humans. It was part of the reason he had taken the commercial shuttle instead of the diplomatic transport.

Sarek had planned to remain on Sigma Omicron until his replacement arrived, but the transfer of the diplomat had been delayed due to a family emergency. Zandrel was quite proficient in the operation of the diplomatic office. As a further sign of good faith, Sarek agreed to allow him to await his new post even as the Vulcan took his leave of him. Several Federation junior diplomats from another city on Sigma Omicron would assist the young Vlandren until Sarek’s replacement arrived, and keeping Zandrel in a visible position would be yet another step toward a more stabilized government for the planet. Sarek believed that Zandrel would become invaluable to the newly appointed Senior Diplomat…if the person were wise. Sarek’s decision to leave as scheduled was nearly postponed by an ion storm in the region. A smaller, private craft that had been commissioned for his use was slightly damaged by the storm, and the only transport available had been in the tiny crew area of a huge freighter that lacked even the most basic of comforts. Perhaps it would have been more prudent to wait for the repairs to be made to the smaller vessel, but Sarek did not wish to delay his first appointment on Earth. He tried to make the best of the situation by attempting to converse with the human crew on the freighter, but that had been a most frustrating exercise. After seventeen hours, twenty two minutes on that dingy ship, with half the crew constantly warbling off-key the latest popular song that seemed to involve acts that shouldn’t be discussed in public, Sarek’s only interest was getting to the Vulcan embassy as rapidly as possible, whether it was by private or public transport.

“Sir? I asked if I could ask a few questions.”

“You did. What do you wish to know?” Sarek replied as the boy convulsively swallowed.

“I was wondering if you could tell me about the legal system on Vulcan,” the boy keenly said. Suddenly, he ducked his head down and began to rummage under his seat, causing Sarek to move his left foot as he felt something bump against it. Some large item was being pulled out from below. “Do you mind if I make some notes?” the excited boy inquired as he put a bulky loose-leaf pad of writing paper on his lap and poised an old-fashioned ink pen over the blank page in ardent anticipation.

For the next half hour, Sarek answered the boy’s questions, most of which proved to be quite insightful and intellectual. Just prior to landing, Sarek raised a questioning eyebrow at the young teen.

“You have asked some perceptive questions; however, there is one that you have not asked, nor have I asked of you.”

“Oh?” the boy said, startled by the remark as he frantically scanned his notes. “I’ve forgotten something? What is it?”

“An introduction. I am Sarek.”

“Oh!” Flustered, the boy stuck out his right hand.

Sarek looked down at the hand, confused for a moment, until he recalled that it was part of the human ritual to ensure that he was not armed. The Vulcan mirrored the action even as he erected his mental shields. He’d been warned about the errant thoughts and emotions of humans. The boy grabbed his hand and vigorously shook it. Even with his shields, Sarek could sense the wave of thoughts and feelings that were flinging themselves against him until the physical contact ended. They were now within sight of the shuttle station.

“My name’s Sam. Here’s my card.” Handing Sarek the small piece of paper, the young teen began to dig more items from beneath his seat, most of which appeared to be antiquated.

“Sam, what is the item you are wearing on the bridge of your nose? I have not seen such a devise,” Sarek queried as he could sense the growing restiveness of the passengers as they approached the station.

“These?” Sam pulled them off and handed them to the Vulcan. “These are spectacles, or eyeglasses. Whatever you wish to call them, really. They’re just for show since I have perfect vision. If that weren’t the case, I’m well aware that there are more advanced ways of dealing with improving ones vision, but I prefer the tried and true. No machines cutting my eyes apart! No medicated drops messing with these orbs! No thanks!”

After inspecting the glasses, Sarek handed them back with a nod. “Most interesting. It has been a most enlightening experience to converse with you.” The passengers were now disembarking, and the procession of humans in the aisle impatiently waited their turn to leave the craft. Curious of the human’s reaction, Sarek raised his hand into the ta’al. “Live long and prosper, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes widened as he tried to force his hand into the same configuration. Finally, he shrugged. “I don’t think I can do that without breaking a finger or two,” the boy jokingly offered as he staggered slightly under the load of papers and hard backed books he had pulled from under his seat. “Still, it’s been just a thrill to meet you, Sarek! I mean it!”

Nodding, Sarek carefully joined the queue that had thinned considerable in only a few minutes time. He followed the passengers through a tunnel that led into an enormous concourse that stretched seemingly for several kilometers in each direction. Announcements about arrivals and departures echoed through the brightly lit structure as milling crowds formed around the information screens mounted on the transparent walls. Sarek stood immobile for a second to allocate time to adjust to the strange new environment as humans of every size, shape, and color passed before him. As he prepared to move, a familiar voice was heard over the milieu.

“Sarek.”

Turning toward the voice, Sarek immediately raised his hand. “Sennar,” he said as the senior aide to his father matched the ta’al. Lowering his hand, the aide began to walk toward an exit.

Pausing, Sennar looked over his shoulder at the son of his friend. “Thee has displeased thy father, Sarek,” the aide said in their native tongue. His voice was pitched so that only Sarek could hear it.

“There is no reason to speak Vulcan, Sennar,” Sarek said, ignoring the unsettling remark about his father. “I have become quite proficient in Standard. It is proper to speak the language of the native populace.”

“Yes,” Sennar agreed, his eyes narrowing as they approached the diplomatic flitter. “That is true. You shall become most proficient in things human.”

Sarek raised a curious brow at the remark. As they exited the station, he retrieved from his pants pocket the piece of paper the boy had given him. It was handwritten in a careful, if slightly unsteady, print that boldly stated the boy’s name and his ‘profession’.

Samuel T. Cogley

Student of All Things

Future Renaissance Man

An unmarked diplomatic flitter was waiting for them on the main entrance tarmac. Although the matter of Sarek’s arrival on the domestic shuttle should have been cause for discourse between himself and the aide, they remained silent as the flitter glided through the traffic and arrived on the embassy grounds. The exterior view of the buildings hadn’t changed since the last time he had entered the complex, and Sarek retrieved and slipped on his jacket that had been on the seat next to him as the vehicle slowed.

“Thee shall go immediately to thy father’s office,” Sennar demanded, still speaking in Vulcan.

Sarek waited for the door to be opened before he replied in Standard. “That is my intention, Sennar.”

He didn’t wait for the aide to respond as he climbed out of the flitter. The main doors of the embassy were strikingly hand crafted centuries earlier by some of Earth’s finest craftsmen. The solid oak doors still utilized the old style handles that had been worn dull by years of use. Before he could open those doors, they swung inward and a young Vulcan woman, her hair braided in an unusual style, bowed slightly to him and then scurried down the stairs in a most undignified manner. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed that the driver of the flitter was conversing in a low voice with her. As the doors closed, Sarek put the matter out of his thoughts as he went to his father’s office.

He was led in immediately to the impressive ambassadorial office where Skon was working behind his desk, the hum of the monitor and the light of the screen giving his face an unnatural glow. Sarek walked to the front of the desk and stood at attention with his hands clasped behind his back. Generally, his father would acknowledge him within a respectful amount of time.

Twenty-seven minutes later, with no recognition given, Sarek considered for the sixth time his case for traveling as he did from Sigma Omicron to Earth. Obviously, he had not taken into account this less than encouraging reception.

“Do you know what I am looking at, Sarekam?” Judging by the phraseology, the question was rhetorical, and Sarek remained silent. “I have been following your travel itinerary from the moment you left the Sigma quadrant until your arrival here in San Francisco. That is why a flitter was at hand for your use. An unmarked flitter.”

Sarek nodded. “I am grateful, Father.”

“Grateful.” The word hung uneasily in the air as Skon slowly stood. “You are grateful? You are fortunate to be alive.”

Now eye-to-eye with his father, Sarek forced calm as he felt his impatience beginning to grow. Since childhood, he had been quite heedful of his temperamental nature and how it failed to fit the Vulcan model. This was not the time for a deficiency in control. “I do not understand your statement, Father,” Sarek coolly stated.

“You should.” Skon sat back down and regarded his eldest son. “Perhaps I have misjudged you, Sarekam. I though you more intelligent.”

“Elucidate,” Sarek demanded, his voice remaining at a level pitch even as he tried to give no physical indications of his increasing frustration.

Skon leaned back slightly as he watched his son struggle to control his temper. Sarek was showing an improved grasp of the importance of remaining unruffled in challenging situations; however, as the telltale signs of a tenseness around mouth, narrowed pupils, and flared nostrils indicated, his son had a long way to go before he could successfully contain his emotional responses. More pressing was the fact that Skon was not interested in a diplomat who might botch a sensitive mission due to infantile behavior.

“With no effort, I was able to follow your journey. You are fortunate that I was not intent on causing you harm. It is essential that you begin to take precautions now to protect yourself.” Skon’s unblinking eyes bored into his son. “In the future, you will need to also consider your family. As your standing in the diplomatic community advances, it is imperative that you understand that there are those who are you allies and those who are your enemies. Those designations can, and do, change with each cause that you champion.”

“I am aware of the ever-changing political climate, Father,” Sarek contended, “it was not my intent to endanger myself or others by my actions. I believed it was crucial that I arrive in the most expedient manner possible.”

Skon continued to consider the young Vulcan before him. Perhaps giving him too much power too soon had inflated his image of self-importance. That perception would have to be altered without delay.

“Your arrival has done nothing to assist the embassy staff,” Skon stated as he walked over to the magnificent view from the window. “I would contend that your arrival has caused nothing but a disruption to the smooth operation of this organization. You are my son; therefore, it is regrettable that I must do this.” Turning to face his son, Skon’s composed features were tinged with only the slightest hint of sorrow. “Your original assignment as a senior diplomat and assistant to the cultural attaché is now forfeit. Instead, you shall act as my senior aide’s assistant.”

“Sennar’s assistant?” Sarek tried, and failed, to keep the shock out of his voice. “Father, I have a logical explanation for my decision to travel as I did. I have acted as a senior diplomat for an entire quadrant. You cannot demote me in such a demeaning manner.”

“I have just done so,” Skon coolly replied, his tone arctic as he observed the slight fidget in the younger Vulcan’s stance. He moved back behind his desk, sat, and began to work on a treaty proposal. “Tell Sennar to come in as you leave.”

The dismissal left no room for argument, and Sarek turned on his heel and stiffly left the ambassador’s office.

-----

“It’s about time!” Amanda yelled as she threw a large bag into the back and jumped into the front seat of the flitter. “Let’s go.”

“I apologize for the delay,” T’Spia said as the flitter began to move. “The vehicle was needed for the transport of a newly arrived diplomat.”

The human grimaced as she sat back into the comfortable velour seat. “It’s just annoying that your last full day on Earth has to be interrupted by some self-important jerk.”

T’Spia didn’t reply as she drove along the oceanfront road toward the beach. She was supposed to have returned to Vulcan after one semester at Brantley, but the ambassador had requested that she postpone her departure, first until the end of the school year, and then until the end of the Earth summer. T’Spia realized early on that her monthly meetings with the ambassador to discuss the educational system on Earth was only a pretense to his actual purpose, which was to learn more about Amanda. Although her time on Earth had been mostly pleasant, T’Spia had a disquieting sense of duplicity when it came to her friendship with the human.

“May I drive?”

“No,” T’Spia immediately replied. “You said that you are driving only in the simulator.”

“So?” Amanda whined, glaring at the Vulcan. “How am I supposed to learn if I can’t practice? My family doesn’t own a flitter, you know. And I’ve only crashed twice, and it doesn’t count in simulation anyway. Please?”

“Absolutely not,” T’Spia adamantly stated. “If I were to allow you to drive and something were to happen, it would be the second time that I returned an embassy vehicle in less than perfect operating condition.”

Amanda grumbled for several moments under her breath, and then sighed. “You know, you’re impossible sometimes.”

“Yes,” the Vulcan agreed.

They reached their beachfront destination a few minutes later. Amanda had asked her friend where she wanted to go on this last day, and the answer had honestly stunned her. T’Spia hadn’t shown any interest in the ocean or the beach; in fact, several mentions of going to the beach were met with a less than enthusiastic response from the Vulcan. Now she wanted to go, which only proved to Amanda that Vulcans were impossible to comprehend.

“How do you like the French braids?” Amanda asked as they gathered their bags. The ocean was only 100 meters away, and she had to speak up to be heard over the crashing waves.

“They have drawn numerous comments from the staff,” T’Spia replied as they began their descent down the sun bleached wood plank steps to the beach. “I’ve demonstrated the braiding technique to two junior diplomats.”

“So, it hasn’t caused a problem?”

“No,” the Vulcan conceded. She had been timorous about wearing the style back to the embassy when she had initially agreed to allow Amanda to plait her hair, but since it was up and the style was flattering, there was no reason for criticism. Even T’Lara, who had returned to Vulcan on an earlier shuttle the week before, had only glanced at the young woman with no comment.

“See, I told you!” Amanda elatedly said. “You were so worried about it!” They had reached the bottom of the steps where Amanda immediately kicked off her loafers. T’Spia kept her low-heeled sandals on and followed the girl as she briskly walked along the beachfront.

“Why don’t you take off your shoes, T’Spia?” the girl asked as she hunted for the right spot for her towel. No reply came as they carefully picked their way forward. The area Amanda favored was a flat stretch of white sand that was crowded with last minute beach goers. The end of summer and impending start of school had brought out a sizable number of people to the water’s edge. Amanda and T’Spia dodged around groups of families, teens and couples as they searched for the best location.

“There,” Amanda said, pointing to a sandy oasis. They quickly staked their claim to the parcel of beachfront as they laid out their towels and opened their bags. As T’Spia sat cross-legged on the bright orange and yellow towel, Amanda stripped off her halter-top and shorts to reveal her new skimpy bikini. A wolf whistle was heard, and Amanda grinned over her shoulder at the admirer. The new suit was nothing like the melemajic suit in that it was more modest and covered her…barely. Her dad had still fumed over the lack of material, but it was a better choice that the other suit. Now that she was almost 16, Amanda decided to follow the advise of Nanny when she’d asked the elderly woman about a proper swimsuit. “My dear,” the woman had said with a huge smile, “If I were your age and had your body, I’d be walking about naked; however, it’s always best to leave something up to the imagination of the viewer. If you show it all, then there’s no mystery left, is there?”

“Where’s your suit?” she asked T’Spia, who had closed her eyes.

“I am comfortable,” the Vulcan answered, a serene look on her face. Amanda’s expression fell.

“I can’t understand you,” the girl said with a good dose of exasperation. “You want to come to the beach, and yet you refuse to wear the proper attire. Instead, you wear a long tunic and pants and look like you’re heading to a diplomatic conference! What happened to trying to fit in? How are you supposed to go swimming without a suit?”

“Vulcans do not swim,” T’Spia firmly intoned.

“Never?” Amanda looked thoughtful for a moment, and then she slyly smiled. “But, what if you’re on a shuttle that’s over an ocean and an emergency requires a water landing? What if you get thrown out of the vessel?”

“There are floatation devises on all shuttles,” the Vulcan said as she raised a somewhat challenging eyebrow. These discussions often became quite lively.

“What if you get thrown away from the shuttle,” Amanda argued, spreading her arms apart. “What if you can’t even see the shuttle and none of the floatation devises landed near you?”

“The likelihood of that occurring is one thousand, fifty-seven to one.”

“You’re making that up,” the girl insisted as she kept a straight face. T’Spia’s habit of quoting the odds amused Amanda tremendously, but could be irritating in that there didn’t seem to be any way to check the statistical data used. “Well, you should learn to swim, and if you were here longer, I’d teach you. You can at least take off your shoes.”

“I see no reason to remove my footwear,” T’Spia innocuously said. Amanda noticed that her friend seemed distracted by something happening behind her, so she turned to see what had captured the Vulcan’s attention. Two teenager boys, each holding a bodysurf board, were casually striding up toward them. Amanda gasped in delight and stood up. The taller of the two boys smiled winningly as he put the board down and gave the girl a friendly hug.

“Jenner, how are you!” Amanda happily asked as she returned the playful embrace. “And you, too, Ebbe! How have the waves been?”

“Flatter than my sister’s chest,” Ebbe joked, then leered as his eyes settled squarely at a spot under her chin. “That is one lucky bikini, Amanda.”

“That is one childish remark,” she growled. Why were boys so immature?

“Ignore him,” Jenner said as he punched his friend’s arm. “So, next year is it for you, right?”

“Yes,” Amanda said as she glanced down at T’Spia, who was still seated on a towel, silently taking in the conversation. “I’ll graduate next year, and probably go to college somewhere around here. What about you?”

“College, definitely,” Jenner agreed with a friendly nod. “I was wondering what you were going to do about homecoming this year. You went with Rheb last year, and I didn’t know if you were seeing him anyone.”

Amanda’s heart raced as the implicit invitation that Jenner had extended to ask her to homecoming. He was, by far, one of the best looking top-level students at Brantley, and he could have his choice of any of the girls.

“No, I’m not seeing Rheb anymore,” Amanda said as she forced herself to sound nonchalant. “I don’t have a date for the homecoming.”

“Would you like to?” Jenner said with his winning smile. Ebbe had crossed his arms across his chest as he watched the humorous interplay.

“Sure!” Amanda exclaimed, and then gave an indifferent shrug. “I mean, you are the first to ask, and it would be impolite for me to turn you down.”

“Great,” Jenner said as he gathered Ebbe with a glance. “I’ll see you at school, Amanda.”

“All right,” she agreed as she quashed a desire to happily squeal. As his chiseled form sauntered away, she followed him with her eyes until he disappeared into the crowd. Sighing, she plopped down onto her towel next to T’Spia, who hadn’t moved since the boys first came up to them.

“Do you believe that accepting Jenner’s invitation is appropriate?” the Vulcan asked in a low tone.

“What do you mean, appropriate?” Amanda said as she wondered at her friend’s cool reception to her acceptance of the date.

“The ambassador’s son has arrived…”

Immediately, T’Spia stopped speaking as she came to the disturbing conclusion that Amanda had no idea about the plans for the bonding. Skon had said that he’d spoken with Amanda’s father, and T’Spia had thought her friend understood her obligations.

“So?” Amanda replied as she responded to the mention of Skon’s son. “If he wants a date, he’ll have to wait his turn. I’m going with Jenner to homecoming, and that’s that.”

“As you wish,” the Vulcan said, her sense of unease growing. Ambassador Skon had told her that the young human understood her future role…that barring the repayment of Amanda’s tuition, the girl and his son would be bonded. T’Spia was to act as a positive role model for the young human in order to gradually nudge her toward what was considered a more Vulcan way of life. Was it possible that Amanda’s father had not explained the situation to his daughter? T’Spia struggled over what to do. Should she ask Amanda what she knew and risk alerting the human to an event she had no idea had been planned? That would be counter to the ambassador’s order that she not do anything that would cause a rift in their sociable relationship.

“What’s wrong?” Amanda asked as she watched the fleeting look of dismay on T’Spia’s features. “Just because I’m going to the homecoming with Jenner doesn’t mean that we’re dating.” She’d tried to understand what T’Spia had said about the Vulcan concept of having a spouse selected by one’s family, but it just seemed so odd. There were cultures on Earth that still practiced a modified version of arranging marriages, but it certainly wasn’t the way HER culture operated. The thought that her mother or Dan might have a say in who she married made her flesh crawl. Mother would select a wealthy patron of some boring charity with zero personality, while Dan would find the most repulsive person he could. Thank goodness she had the freedom to make her own choice.

“Nothing is wrong, Amanda,” T’Spia replied as she focused her attention on a mobile vendor who was coming toward them. “Are you going to get the creamed ice that you favor? A vendor is approaching.”

“Ice cream,” the human corrected with a chuckle as she stood. “Dessert before lunch…my mother wouldn’t approve; therefore, I will. Would you like some sherbet? I know you didn’t finish what you had before, but there are all kinds of different flavors.”

“No, thank you,” the Vulcan responded with a touch of humor in her tone. “I prefer foods that are not frozen.”

Amanda shrugged as she took off to catch the vendor who had moved past them. “Suit yourself. I’ll be back in a moment.”

T’Spia thoughtfully watched the girl skirt around several groups to get to the vendor, who was surrounded by a throng of children. What was she to do with the knowledge that her friend most likely didn’t know of the arrangement? Perhaps it would be best to wait until her return to Vulcan to discuss it with her families’ Elders. They were wise and could direct her toward the correct response to her dilemma.

“Here you go,” Amanda said as she returned and handed T’Spia a bottle of water.

“Amanda,” the Vulcan said, disapproval in her tone as she took the bottle, “I said I did not want anything.”

“I know, but I thought you might be thirsty.” The girl was trying to keep her ice cream from dripping down the cone, but the heat was quickly making that impossible. “Take a drink. It’s lemon flavored.”

Grimacing slightly at the demand, T’Spia took a small sip of the water. The sharp, tangy sensation was different from any she’d tried previously, and she did have to admit that the lemon was more to her taste than the sweeter foods that Amanda favored.

“There! See, I knew you’d like it,” Amanda declared as she sat back down on her towel. The Vulcan didn’t comment as she watched the peculiar, seemingly futile attempt of the human to keep the ice cream from melting in the sun. Such an undignified way to eat…T’Spia was grateful that Amanda didn’t bring her one of the cones.

“You are correct about the beach,” the Vulcan said as she took another sip, “while seeing it from a distance is satisfactory, the magnificence of the ocean cannot be experienced unless up close.”

“True,” Amanda agreed. “Now, if you’d worn a bathing suit, you could have experienced it completely.”

“As I said, I do not swim.”

“I know.” Amanda had stretched herself out on her towel and, eyes closed, basked in the warmth of the sun. She’d taken her sun block booster at the beginning of the summer and wouldn’t have to worry about it again until the following year.

“Was there any particular subject matter that you wished to discuss today?” T’Spia asked several minutes later. A large group of parents and their rowdy children had packed up and left, allowing them a peaceful respite from their presence next to them.

“Not really,” Amanda sleepily replied. “I’m still trying to figure out why my dad’s so upset with mother about the furniture.” While Amanda had been excited to discover her mother had bought a new living room and dining room suite, her dad had been absolutely livid. It was the angriest Amanda had ever seen her dad with something Maura had done. The girl had tried to eavesdrop on her parents to discover the real reason for his reaction, but all she could overhear was that he was saving the credits for some extremely important reason. Maybe he was saving for a flitter? She hoped that was the case.

“If the furniture you had was functional, then that might be the cause for his negative response.” T’Spia said nothing more as she came to the unsettling conclusion that she knew exactly why John Grayson had been upset by the loss of the credits.

“Well, what we had was functional, but old. Not antique old, either,” Amanda said with a sigh. “It just seems to me that he overreacted. He actually wanted to take everything back! They argued and argued until mother pointed out that we’re still in the apartment, and dad had promised that we’d get a house. I don’t know what to think.” The girl closed her eyes again as another group of people placed their beach gear next to them. One of the older boys had a palm-sized radio that was playing a popular song. Humming, she barely realized she was doing it until T’Spia cleared her throat.

“Huh?” Amanda mumbled as she rolled to face her friend. “What’s wrong?”

“You are humming,” the Vulcan said as she winced. The boy had turned the music up to a painfully high level, and the obscene words of the song seemed to be assaulting her. Amanda glared over at the boy, whose mother was yelling at him to turn down the music.

“You know I do that,” Amanda commented over the music.

“You are off-key,” T’Spia answered in a more normal tone as the offending sounds faded to a more tolerable level.

“I know,” the girl readily agreed. “That’s why I was encouraged to learn to play the piano.”

“Ah,” the Vulcan replied as she nodded her understanding. She had been invited by Amanda to visit with one of the girl’s Elders three weeks earlier, and had seen and heard for the first time the large musical instrument. Nancy Babcock had been most gracious, although before the Vulcan had completely unpacked her travel bag, she and Amanda had been given the task of weeding the garden. T’Spia took on a more somber look as she observed her friend. “Amanda, I cannot stay here all day. I must give a final report to my superior and finish packing.”

“Oh,” Amanda said as she tried to hide her disappointment. “I thought you had off the entire day!”

“That is not correct. It was my intention to visit the beach at least once prior to my return to Vulcan, and I have done so.” T’Spia stood and dusted off some of the loose sand that had adhered to her clothing. “It is time to go.”

“But, can’t you stay a little longer?” Amanda asked as she scampered to her feet. “We haven’t even eaten lunch yet!”

“Mid meal,” T’Spia corrected as she shook out her towel, then she gazed thoughtfully at her human friend with a solemn look. “I should like to find a more restful place to consume our meal. We might also work on your elocution.” It had been discouraging to the young woman when Amanda, who excelled in her studies, struggled with the Vulcan words she’d learned. The human’s atrocious slaughter of the language was enough to cause the demure woman to shake her head in disbelief. Did all humans have such difficulties with enunciation?

“Sure, that would be fine,” the girl reluctantly said. Although she wasn’t pleased by the abrupt change in plan, Amanda gathered her beach gear, slipped on her shorts and halter-top, and shoved the rest into her bag. She knew that the Vulcan didn’t care to be in a crowd even though she’d improved on that since Amanda had gotten to know her. The loud group next to them had already begun to encroach on their small plot of sand as they sensed that the two were leaving.

A few kilometers along the main beach road, Amanda pointed toward a rest area that overlooked the craggy rocks along the shoreline. She’d been there once before when she first arrived in California. T’Spia expertly piloted the flitter to a parking space, and they found a vacant picnic table near the edge of the fenced cliff area. Amanda took charge of setting up the table, while T’Spia undid their food packs. They ate the multitude of prepared items in comfortable silence. After they finished eating, Amanda sat waiting for the inevitable diction lesson. The Vulcan pointed up, and Amanda relaxed. Maybe it wouldn’t be so dire if it were only a review.

“Wan,” she said as she followed T’Spia’s upraised hand to the clouds above. “Mazhiv,” she immediately said as the woman picked up a handful of sand. “Masutra,” she replied at the gesture meant to take in the ocean. The review continued for several minutes until T’Spia paused, a look of disquiet on her face that greatly concerned Amanda.

“What’s wrong?” she asked her Vulcan friend, but T’Spia remained silent. “Are you ill? Maybe the lemon flavor is upsetting your stomach?”

“No, I am not ill,” the young woman stated. She looked down at the table for a moment, and then sighed in a surprisingly resigned way. “Amanda,” she began, her tone hushed by concern, “be cautious in your ways. Do not allow yourself to be unduly influenced by outside forces.”

“What are you talking about?” Amanda demanded. It was such a bizarre shift from their usually easygoing conversations.

“Just be careful,” T’Spia insisted, her words as close to an emotional appeal that Amanda had ever heard. “Do not allow yourself to be changed.”

“Changed? I won’t change for anyone,” Amanda replied with a smile. Perhaps T’Spia was nervous about returning to Vulcan after spending so much time on Earth? That seemed like a plausible reason for her sudden philosophical bend.

T’Spia could clearly see the lack of understanding, but there was nothing she could say without revealing the bonding arrangement. Since she wasn’t a member of Skon’s House, it was not appropriate for her to speak of the matter; however, if she could convince Amanda to remain resolute in her spirited approach to life…

A beeping sound from the flitter ended their picnic as T’Spia answered the call. She had to return immediately to the embassy after returning Amanda to her parent’s apartment. No explanation was given for the demand. The ride was filled with the idle chatter of the young human as she recalled the numerous events and activities that they had shared. Generally, the Vulcan had been dismissive of the way humans related oft times imperfect memories; now, she ardently regretted that her time on Earth was ending.

“…and, don’t forget that you promised to send me a holopic of your family. Don’t let that fiancé of yours boss you around…remember, you’re not nearly so reserved now. Also, remember not to…” Amanda’s voice trailed off as an emergency broadcast cut into the station that T’Spia had reluctantly allowed the human to tune into.

“…completely destroying the city. Numerous reports indicate that the entire planet has been engulfed in a nuclear holocaust of massive proportions. The Federation officials for the sector have indicated that there are likely no survivors of the disaster on Sigma Omicron. There are now reports that the insurgent forces on several outlying planetoids were the ones to launch the attack…these are unconfirmed reports…” The reporters voice faded, then he cleared his throat in a nervous fashion. “We have just received confirmation that the planet Sigma Omicron has been obliterated.”

Amanda gasped in shock even as T’Spia silently shook her head in disbelief.

“Federation officials have just now given the word that the entire diplomatic entourage in the Sigma quadrant has been lost.” The reporter paused, and then continued even while urgent whispers could be overheard in the background. “Available census reports indicate that the population of the planet was 17.6 million.”

They continued to listen to the news of the destruction of the planet even as the flitter came to rest in front of the apartment building. Finally, T’Spia turned off the vehicle and glanced over at the distressed girl. “I must return to the embassy immediately.”

“I understand,” Amanda replied as she gathered her bag and put her loafers back on. “Could you wait a moment before you leave? I have something for you in my room.”

“Quickly,” T’Spia said even as she watched Amanda run toward the building. After several minutes, the girl came back with two packages under her arm. Breathlessly, she handed them to the Vulcan who had exited the flitter to stand on the sidewalk.

“The large package is yours. The other is for the ambassador.”

“Nash-veh odu itaren,” T’Spia warmly said as she accepted the brightly wrapped boxes. “I regret that I have nothing to give you.”

“Oh, just send me something,” Amanda said dismissively as she ducked her head. The Vulcan could sense the strong emotions beginning to surface, and so she raised her hand into the ta’al.

“Sochya eh dif,” she said as she observed the threatening tears in the girl’s blue eyes.

“Dif-tor heh smusma,” Amanda replied as she mirrored the ta’al. Biting her lip, she forced a smile. “Maybe I can visit you sometime if I ever get to Vulcan.”

“You will,” T’Spia replied after several seconds. “You will.”

As she watched the flitter leave, Amanda allowed the tears to fall even as she wondered if T’Spia was saying that she would see her again or that she would get to Vulcan. Or both? Vulcans are so enigmatic, she thought as she slowly walked back to her apartment.

T’Spia entered the embassy compound and noted the increased security measures that had been implemented since she had left that morning. After verifying that the packages she’d been given were harmless, the Vulcan woman took the smaller of the two packages to the ambassador’s office and left it with Sennar. She could profess to an intense curiosity involving the contents of Skon’s boxed gift, but it was a matter of privacy. Once in her sparse room, the Vulcan opened her package. As she pulled out the numerous items, she considered the care that had been given to find the right objects. A box of Earl Grey tea that she favored…a polished rock that Amanda had found in a riverbed near her Elder’s house…a seashell in the shape of a horn. The last item she pulled out of the box wasn’t a surprise, and T’Spia held up the bottle as she considered Amanda’s comment about relationships.

“Nicer, sweeter…that is not to be,” the Vulcan said as she stared in thoughtful reflection at the olives. Her wall unit chimed, and she quickly answered the call.

“Your presence is requested in the ambassador’s office,” the ambassador’s aide demanded. T’Spia immediately closed the link and left her room.

She was led into the spacious office and noted that Skon was behind his desk, staring intently at the monitor screen, the opened package on the neat desk. He nodded toward a chair and she swiftly took her place.

“Join me,” the ambassador said as he abruptly stood and went over to a small sitting area. “Until I receive more detailed information about the situation in the Sigma quadrant, we shall share this gift prior to your leave-taking.”

T’Spia diffidently accepted the invitation. Skon carefully observed the young Vulcan as her eyes widened slightly as the prepared plate was handed to her.

“You recognize this?” the ambassador asked as he raised an inquisitive eyebrow. T’Spia nodded, unable to keep the light of amusement from her eyes.

“Yes, Ambassador, I do,” the Vulcan woman replied. “You have correctly prepared the sandwich.”

The final report and tragic events of the day could wait for a few moments as each Vulcan considered the giver of such a gift. Although she wasn’t truly hungry, T’Spia finished her peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwich with no complaint. There was no way of knowing if she would ever have the Earth foods again...

And anticipating the unknown was not logical.