Making a quick detour to the past. We'll be back to our heroes in no time.

any experience,your eyes have their silence:

Sirak had never in his life seen so much rain. He had travelled the deserts of the Middle East and along the winding coast of the Mediterranean, but he had never seen the sky open itself so completely to the ground below. He was on the second year of his Terran exploration when the air, which had been swollen and heavy for hours, fell around him all of a sudden in a burst of moisture.

Standing under an awning, his robes damp and warm, Sirak considered staying to observe this strange phenomenon. His well-laid travel plans, charting through several populous countries of the world that was now their ally in the newly formed United Federation of Planets, had threatened to be hindered several times before. For a planet so ruled by the motion of its moon and star, their sky carved with cyclical patterns of wind and water, Earth was unpredictable. Thus, Sirak had adjusted his plans to allow slight flexibility, not knowing then that this small compromise would have such a great impact on his journey.

He would not be hindered, Sirak reasoned, by a period of respite in Nairobi. He had been thorough and efficient in his research, and still had over three years remaining in his five-year journey. Moreover, he heard from another Vulcan staying at his hostel that there would soon be a phenomenon worth seeing within transporter range of Nairobi—the Serengeti Migration, which took place only once per Earth year. "The wildlife reservation in that region is impressive," the travelling xenozoologist from the Vulcan Science Academy informed him over dinner one evening. "Thousands of species, many of which are extinct anywhere else. The variety of carbon-based life here is truly fascinating. I have not yet visited a more diverse planet."

It was at his suggestion that Sirak planned a visit to Nairobi National Park. He chose a day with lighter clouds, and an hour directly after the forecasted rains had fallen. He declined the humans who suggested tours and guides and transportation, and they were too struck by his sallow skin, slanted eyebrows, and pointed ears to argue when he wandered out alone. The savannah glowed a lush green, and the earth along the wide path was darkened by the fresh rain. The hem of his robe was soon coated with red dust. The city skyline was a grayish outline drifting in the fog that hadn't quite lifted for days. He saw several four-legged creatures with different odd patterning that he could not identify. He would have to describe them in detail to the zoologist when he saw him next.

He had stopped to observe a herd of sleek brown mammals when he heard, strangely, a voice that was not animal. It hummed a song that he had heard somewhere in the city, woven into its disorderly myriad of sounds. The syllables were in a language he did not know, but could identify by its phonetics as Swahili, the native language of this region.

The car, which he had seen from a distance and assumed to be source of the song, appeared to be empty. Sirak followed the sound to a cluster of trees just off the path. Sitting on a thick, low branch, was a woman with hair as dark as his own and skin the color of the damp earth at his feet. She leaned against the trunk with a book in her lap. She wore a red dress in a light cotton fabric that curled and wrinkled into her knees and spilled over the sides of the branch. Through the corner of her eye, she saw him approach. Her song cut off abruptly and in the silence that followed, their eyes met. He saw her survey him, the way her eyes followed the line of his eyebrow, the straight cut of his hair, and the sharp angle of his ear. It was the same assessment he received from nearly all humans he encountered.

"Vulcan," she said simply in Standard, shutting her book and swinging her legs over the branch to face him. Her speaking voice was deeper and more severe than her singing voice. "I've never seen one up so close."

"There are few of our kind on your planet. The probability of contact is not high."

She smiled. "I'm sure you already know what they say—that you're all like machines. But you seemed to be enjoying my song."

He tilted his head in acquiescence. "The pitch and tone, and the patterns with which you varied them, formed a pleasant sound."

"Thank you." She hopped out of the tree and approached him. "What brings you to our quadrant?"

"I come to observe."

"How interesting. My father mentioned there was a Vulcan xenozoologist wandering around these parts lately, but I didn't think I would actually run into you. Though I really thought you'd have some company."

"You are mistaken. I am not the one you speak of, though I am acquainted with him."

"Two Vulcans in Nairobi?" Her eyebrows rose in an arc and her lips quirked to one side. She began walking back towards her car and waved him along with her. He followed. "So if not zoology, what are you observing out here?"

"I am in this particular location merely out of curiosity. My primary field is theology. I am in training to join the priests of Mount Seleya on Vulcan."

"So what, are you on a conversion mission?"

He shook his head just once, and only slightly. "That is not the Vulcan way. As I already mentioned, I am here to observe. Study human theologies to better understand the heritage of our new allies."

The woman swung her legs into the open-top car without opening the door. "Get in. I didn't tell my father that I was borrowing one of the cars, so I should get back before he notices."

She inserted the activation chip and the car hummed to life with a mechanical inquiry of "Destination?"

"Walking is adequate."

"It's going to rain soon."

Sirak looked up. The sky was indeed beginning to look darker. "The current climate tends towards precipitation often."

The woman tilted her head forward in a spirited laugh. The sound was very close to a melody. "This isn't even the rainiest season. Get in!"

Sirak considered the distance he had travelled from the entrance and decided that it would be in his best interest to accept her offer. He nodded and sat beside her.

"Main Research Facility." She commanded the car before turning her shoulders to face him. She curled her knees up against her chest, wrapping her arms around them. "How long will you be staying?"

"Undetermined. At the very least, until the Serengeti Migration passes through the nearby region."

"Oh, good choice. It's almost that time."

The wind was pleasant as the car ambled down the path. Sirak watched Inira with fascination. Humans were not a particularly hospitable species. Not hostile, either, but he had never encountered one who approached him with such ease. It piqued his curiosity. "What are you reading? Paper books are rare."

"The Language Instinct. My third time reading it. It used to belong to my grandfather," she said, turning over the yellowed volume fondly. "He was a linguist, like me. Both of my parents are zoologists, but they say that language skips a generation in our family."

"Free will and personal preference cannot be determined by any reliable pattern."

"True, but that is how it's always been."

Sirak considered arguing, but he found that humans had a tendency to cling strongly to their beliefs and feel threatened by opposing views. He changed the subject. "Is language a subject you pursue academically, or professionally?"

"Both. I study at the university, but I also teach children at one of the public schools."

"Do you specialize in Standard?"

"You ask a lot of questions, don't you?" She laughed. "Standard, Kiswahili, Classical English, Ancient Latin, Urdu, Hindi, Mandarin, French, Spanish, Andorian, and I've been trying to teach myself Vulcan."

"Impressive." Sirak raised an eyebrow. He was genuinely surprised at her prolific accomplishments, especially at such a young age, given humans' inferior memory capabilities. "Though I do not believe Vulcan is a language easily learned independently."

"It isn't, but they still don't teach it at the university. There aren't any Vulcans that want to live here full time, and there are no humans proficient enough to teach it. At least not in Nairobi."

"A predicament, indeed."

A silence passed, filled only by the gentle whir of the car's engine.

"Listen, I'll admit I had an ulterior motive in giving you a ride." Her smile fell and she looked up at him with a new intensity.

"Explain?"

"Will you be… very busy in your stay here?"

"I believe I will be at my leisure."

"Could you spare some time to help me learn Vulcan? There are nuances to the pronunciations that I find myself struggling with."

Sirak considered this. He had no clear reason to refuse her. It was true, his stay in Nairobi was unplanned, and therefore without a strict schedule to adhere to. He was not opposed to spending time with this human, who proved to be more pleasant than others of her species, and could certainly find time to do so. Therefore, it was only logical to accept. "I can."

Inira's face brightened immediately. Her delight was alarmingly evident, and made him uncomfortable. It was intriguing, how plainly humans expressed their emotions. It was as though they all constantly walked about stark naked.

"What's your name, anyway?"

"I am called Sirak."

A pause stretched between them before Sirak offered, "I believe it is customary to ask your name in return."

"Inira." She smiled wide this time, lining the corners of her mouth with gentle dimples, revealing a row of straight teeth. When she blinked he noticed for the first time the slant of her eyes. They were shaped like a Vulcan species of nut that he was particularly fond of, its skin the same coppery color as her own.

He would soon come to know her as his first human friend.