The warm alien sun warmed his cool skin. There was something lifeless about this otherwise alive planet. He wondered if rescue was on its way. He certainly hoped so… for his captain. The human had saved his life yet again. But this time, thankfully, he had not broken the prime directive. Admiral Pike would not have a reason to reprimand them this time. But just then he remembered. Admiral Pike was dead. Killed by a criminal. His captain… he had been killed too. No, he would not think about that. But he couldn't remember the name of the criminal. Something was jamming his memory. Something was...

"Get up, Spock," Hamid's gentle voice roused him. "We have to leave in less than an hour. Your students are waiting and I have to get to the clinic. We have more refugees arriving from Orion today."

Spock opened his eyes. The sun shone on his face from the window, warming up the otherwise cool November morning. But this was real, unlike the superficial light of the sun in his dream. He got up and made his way to the bathroom. He had overslept again. Normally, he was very precise about waking up at a certain hour. But these days, he spent long hours in the molecular chemistry lab and often, he came back home way past midnight.

But things were normal, peaceful. It had been four years since his return from Fardour. He had dreaded coming back to his apartment after that, afraid that his other flat mates, Damien and Mike would make life tough for him even after everything he had gone through. But mercifully, he had been allowed to keep his rank and despite continuing as a student in the command track, he had been allotted an apartment in the officers housing area on Captain Pike's recommendation.

He had graduated a year ago. And Hamid had finished a few weeks ago. They were both Starfleet officers now. Spock had been promoted to Lieutenant Commander soon after accepting a research and faculty position in the academy. Hamid was a part of the Starfleet medical corps in the trauma and triage division.

Today, his first class was with the second year students. Interestingly, Gaila was in this batch too. Advanced Interspecies Ethics. An elective course.

He finished shaving and liberally splashed aftershave on his cheeks. His mother had insisted on gifting him an entire box of Armani's grooming products. He had sighed inwardly at his mother's annoying (and endearing) human tendency to shower him with gifts. But even he had to admit that this particular aftershave, Armani Pinomeiro, did smell refreshingly earthy.

"BREAKFAST'S ON THE TABLE, SPOCK," Hamid called out from the other room.

Spock quickly took a sonic shower and changed into his black instructor's uniform. A few minutes later, he sat opposite Hamid to eat breakfast.

"I still can't believe they allowed us an apartment together," the doctor said through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. "I mean, you are my superior."

Spock simply quirked an eyebrow at that and continued to eat his toast in silence.

"How do you eat dry toast?" Hamid asked him yet again. "At least put some margarine on it."

"I prefer my toast dry," Spock said. "The oleaginous sensation generated by the consumption of margarine is most uncomfortable against the back of my throat cavity."

Hamid shook his head and continued to eat. But he could not hide his amused smile. Even after all this time, he found Spock's way of talking funny and adorable at the same time. He didn't say anything and the rest of the meal passed in silence.

XXXXX

Spock was still getting used to being addressed as 'Professor.' As a commissioned officer, he wasn't tenured faculty. But in terms of academic seniority, he was the equivalent of an assistant professor. He didn't quite understand why human students insisted on calling all the teachers 'professor' despite that fact that all of them were not full professors yet and wouldn't be for another two decades.

He had heard good things about the second year class. And considering how strict his requirements were for students who wanted to take his elective course in Ethics, he was fairly confident that the class would be serious, intelligent, and resourceful. Last year, he had had to deal with an extremely tiresome group of boys from the command track who had taken a special interest in making his life difficult. They had often pinned up copies of the horrible articles that had been written about him after Fardour, on the student notice board which was normally used only to display artwork. One time, they had crossed all limits by drawing and circulating a very insensitive cartoon of him and a woman that was presumably T'Amun in a compromising position.

Needless to say, he had ultimately turned them out of his class and they were now repeating the first year because his class on Social Xenodiversity had been worth four credit hours of coursework and two credit hours of project work.

He was reasonably certain that this new group would be nothing like the hooligans from the last batch. Besides, this was a sophomore class. They had all been in the xenodiversity course as well. And even though that had been a large class of 200 students, they had all been made aware of his disciplinary standards, particularly after the cartoon incident.

He entered the lecture hall to find that the 18 students who had made it through his requirements were all seated already with their PADDs ready for note taking.

"Good morning, Cadets," he said. After all these years, he knew a little about human courtesies and tried to use them effectively. "Welcome to the Interspecies Ethics course. I am Assistant Professor Spock. I specialize in Xenoanthropology, Applied Research Methodology, and Advanced Scientific Programming. Before we begin the lecture, I expect each one of you to stand up and introduce yourselves briefly. Name, track, and your reasons for selecting this course will be sufficient."

The students stood up one by one to introduce themselves.

"Helena Foster. Operations Track, specializing in intergalactic law. I joined this class because I want to be a law officer on a science vessel."

"Diane Felmann. Science Track, specializing in genetics. I joined your class because my research interest in genetic engineering and synthetics."

"Ramesh Krishanan. Science Track, undeclared specialization. I want to learn more about interspecies ethics in general because I hope to be a science officer on a ship some day."

"Rubaya Khatun. Command Track, specializing in diplomacy. I think everyone in Starfleet should have a thorough training in ethics. Since I am aiming to be a diplomat, I want to have detailed training in the customs and norms of various federation worlds."

"Sarmiss Gaila Alhoyn-Amden but I go by Gaila. Operations track, specializing in administrative programming. Joined your class because I'm curious about you."

At that, the entire class turned around to look at her. For a tiny moment, Spock didn't react. His first instinct was to reprimand her but then he realized she was probably serious. He did ask the students to state their reasons for joining his course. And if hers was curiosity, it wasn't something he could fault her for. He had seen that many humans tended to not say what was actually on their minds. And he had come to expect the same for almost all other species except for Vulcans.

It was refreshing to have someone in his class who was obviously not like other humans. He should have known. This was G'Ahaila after all.

"Next person, please," he said to get the class back on track.

"Nyota Uhura, Operations track, specializing in communications…"

But he wasn't listening any more. A mini shockwave went through him as he took in her appearance. This student. This dark-haired, dark-skinned student looked like T'Amun. The same long, braided hair. The same strong features. The same dark, piercing eyes.

He missed Nyota's explanation of why she was in his class. The next student had already stood up to introduce himself.

Spock chided himself for not paying complete attention to his class. From that moment, he concentrated fully on each student.

XXXXX

"Oh my god, he's so cute," Nyota Uhura said as she left the lecture hall. "Damn, Gaila, you actually said you're taking his class because you're curious?"

"Vulcans are honest," Gaila answered. "I think he likes my honesty. And he's not cute. He's hot. H-A-W-T- sex-on-a-stick hot."

"Eeeew, Gaila. Sex on a stick ?… that even sounds gross."

"Meh, prude. I'm hungry."

"Sure, wanna get some lunch? You know the cafeteria serves a pretty lit buffalo wings pizza."

"You eat the buffalo whatever… I want the bull."

"Gaila, stop."

"A girl can dream. But yeah, let's do the pizza for now."

Unfortunately, the freshly baked pizzas were already gone and they had to choose between fresh sandwiches and replicated pizzas.

"Fresh sandwiches." Gaila said gloomily. "Once we are up there, replicated cardboard is going to be it. As they say, make hay while the sun shines."

"Or make marinara while the tomatoes are ripe…" Uhura added, feeling completely ridiculous but having fun nonetheless.

"I thought the lecture was pretty good," Nyota said as she placed her bag on the seat next to her. "He seems so smart. But he's a little intimidating, don't you think?"

"He's really nice though," Gaila answered without thinking.

"How do you know that?" Nyota asked conversationally, taking a small bite of her tuna sandwich.

"Erm… he has been around for a while," Gaila said, trying to answer the question without giving away her entire personal story. "He was on the same ship that brought me and a bunch of other refugees to Earth. But we didn't get much of a chance to interact."

"You were on a SHIP with him?" Uhura asked, her eyes wide as saucers. "Damn, girl. You should have said something. Does he know you like him?

"Who said anything about liking him?," Gaila said with a smile. "I am curious about him. I'd love to know him a little better. He's hot, good looking, whatever, but I don't really see him that way. He's not my type."

"You have a type, huh?" Uhura teased her friend, visibly relaxed that Gaila was not seriously interested in Spock. But again, she knew how stupid that thought was. They were students. It wasn't as if she could actually pursue Spock just because her roommate was not interested in him.

"I can help you get him, though," Gaila said, cutting off Uhura's wonderings. "He does seem your type. Strong, silent, sexy… in a nerdy way."

"I don't like nerds. What gave you that idea?"

"But you like him. Admit it. He's yours."

Uhura blushed furiously at that. She hadn't thought of Spock as hers yet. But she couldn't deny that it sounded wonderful. Well, if her Orion roommate couldn't help her get to the Vulcan, no one could.

"Let's do it," she said at last. "Professor Spock is mine."

Gaila grinned. This was going to be challenging. But oh, so much fun.

XXXXX

Amanda was waiting to call her son. She had received a box of assorted liqueur chocolates from an a Belgian Chocolatier based in San Francisco. Spock had remembered her birthday. She smiled to herself. Leave it to her son to go gift hunting for his mother and send a note like this along with it.

"Celebrating the anniversary of one's birth is illogical. However, I believe I am quite content to simply celebrate the fact of your birth and commemorate your continued presence in my life. I hope you will find the chocolates satisfactory."

She shook her head and punched in the code for her son's personal comm. unit.

A few seconds later, Spock answered the call.

"Oh, it is so good to hear your voice," she said, unable to keep the emotion out of her voice. But she didn't care. She had no appearances to keep in front of her son. "How are you? And thank you so much for the chocolates. They are perfect. I didn't realize you remembered I like Kahlua-filled truffles."

"Mother, Vulcans have eidetic memory," Spock said, unwilling to admit that most other Vulcans would simply not care to act upon such information even if they did remember it.

"Whatever makes you happy, son," she said fondly. "You will never change, will you?"

"No, mother, I do not intend to," he said good naturedly.

"How is your friend, Hamid?"

"He is adequate."

"And are you going with him to Aleppo next summer? He has invited you so many times."

"I have not yet made any travel plans for the summer."

"Okay, but what about the upcoming break? Auntie Marrion will be glad to see you for Thanksgiving."

"Mother, we have had this conversation before," He said almost tersely.

"Spock, she is my sister," Amanda said, almost pleading. "We have finally started talking to each other after 20 years of silence. She has told me umpteen number of times that she wants to meet you. She has changed over all these years."

"It is getting late, mother."

"Spock, if I can forgive her and her husband, why can't you?"

Amanda's question was logical.

Spock had been no more than six when he had visited Earth with his mother. But that time, aunt Marrion had taken one look at him and called him "Satan's Spawn." Her children had shied away from him and ultimately, the youngest one had started crying because his pointed ears were scary. Finally, her husband, Uncle Phil had asked her to take him away. There was no place in their household for little freaks like her son.

"You having a kid with that Vulcan is no better than a bitch mating with a gorilla. We disowned you the day you ran away with that thing. Your poor father died because he couldn't believe his eldest daughter was such a slut, humping things that are not even human! Don't ever come back here."

It was illogical to hold grudges from early childhood. But such harsh, taunting words could not be forgotten so easily.

And the rejection, the coldness… it was too close to what he had endured at the hands of his peers and teachers on Vulcan and then on Fardour. It was hard for him to accept the same treatment from someone of his own blood. He wanted to respect his mother's wish. But he just didn't have the courage.

"At least try," Amanda said softly, sensing her son's turmoil.

"I will, mother," Spock said and hung up.