Chapter 3:
He seemed to have changed little, or at all, in the intervening years. The robes he wore could not hide his lean, loose-limbed grace, or disguise his apparent youth. Amanda guessed he was no more than thirty-something, though that judgement could not entirely be relied on when it came to the Vulcan species. Rumour had it that they aged differently from Humans. For all she knew he could be twice that, or more. Amanda shivered, abruptly off balance embarrassed by the frisson of excitement that quivered up her spine.
Still unable to tear her gaze away she continued to stare until finally, no doubt feeling her eyes upon him, he looked straight at her from across the room, one brow lifted in enquiry. At his enigmatic inspection, a tumble of confused thoughts and feelings assailed Amanda. Yet, his closed expression showed no sign of recognition.
He did not remember her. Mortified, she looked away, the quick upswell of disappointment almost physical. Yet, why on Earth would he recall a Human child he had seen only once and so long ago? Amanda laughed inwardly at her own ingénue. And when she dared to peek again, he had gone, swallowed up in the wave of passengers making for the exit. The next moment Professor Kulren appeared at her elbow as if conjured from a puff of smoke.
He apologised for being so late, and thrust a small package into her hands as he bustled her quickly over to the passenger exit, talking every step of the way.
"Language tapes," he advised, indicating the package. "You'll need to know at least a few phrases just for the sake of politeness. Fortunately, your grasp of Standard is excellent so there shouldn't be any major language difficulties. If we'd had more time to prepare you would've been more adequately grounded in the essentials. But there it is, beggars can't be choosers. When this chance offered itself, we naturally took it. You're a resourceful girl, Amanda. I know you won't let the Institute down." Kulren hurried on, stressing the need for a logical, cool-handed, unemotional approach when dealing with her Vulcan hosts.
"I'll do my best," Amanda murmured, just as the monotonous computer voice called her name over the loudspeaker system. "Now I really must go, Professor. Wish me luck---"
"There's no such term in Vulcan!" He flashed that rare smile again, "Don't forget I want a report as soon as you're settled."
"She laughed, breathless again, "It's a deal."
Together they stepped through the sliding doors while Kulren exhorted her with an assortment of clichéd good-wishes and admonitions. Amanda, aware of the other passengers already seated in the carrier waiting to depart, listened with only half an ear. She offered her hand in farewell but to her surprise, he drew her into his arms and hugged her to him. Amanda accepted the fatherly embrace and returned it warmly before finally pulling away.
The last to board she realised far too late that the only vacant seat faced that of Her Vulcan! For the second time that day, that dark, assessing gaze, reflective and sombre alighted fully upon her face.
Mesmerised, somehow Amanda mumbled an apology for keeping them all waiting and abruptly boneless, slid into the seat upholstery. With a curt nod of his head, and an almost imperceptible tightening of the lips, the young Vulcan acknowledged her admission of guilt before returning to the padd he held. Hastily Amanda pulled an old, leather bound storybook from her overcoat pocket and buried her nose in the pages to hide the sudden rush of blood that stained her cheeks.
Darn it, that friendly hug she had shared with Professor Kulren had probably shocked the pants off him, an impression she probably had no hope of remedying on the short journey to Luna station. Then with an inward shrug, wondered why she even wanted to try. He is probably just the younger son of a younger son, with a fat contract for computer logic systems in his pocket, journeying home after expanding the family business on Earth, she scolded herself; not really the faerie prince of a twelve-year-old girl's imagination. But one quick glance at those ears, the slanted brows and wayward hair, and there was suddenly brilliance and shimmering colour and enchantment everywhere she looked…
They transferred to the shuttle that, due to her tardiness in boarding the carrier no doubt, left a few minutes later than scheduled. After a moments pause, the transport seemed to gather itself up before it surged forward and rushed into the gloomy December skies. The passenger terminal fell away and they roared through the atmosphere until the shuttle thrust an airtight nose into space. From somewhere upfront the same computer voice from the spaceport lobby softly intoned the history of Man and his voyage out into the wide reaches of the galaxy.
Amanda, finally engrossed in the novel, a parting gift from her father, only glanced up again as the first stage of her journey ended. Through the port beside her, she watched as the moon slowly but majestically floated into view. The orbiting space station basked in Luna's pale radiance. The docking arm snaked slowly out towards the shuttle and from outside came the sound of metal against metal, the slightest of thuds as it made contact. Cool air fanned Amanda's cheek as she gathered her possessions and rose to her feet. Shortly, she realised, as the air pressure equalised, such procedures would be outdated once the new matter transmitters – popularly named transporters – were on-line. Then shuttle and docking arm would be obsolete. For the moment, she tagged on the end of a line formed by her fellow passengers as the airlock door slowly opened and an official, wearing a Starfleet uniform, came to escort them onto the station.
Amanda's silent travelling companion, occupied in packing away the padd that had kept him busy since take off, was soon lost among the last minute confusion. Again, Amanda experienced a strange melancholy. Then she cheered up with the thought that the Fates had thrown them together twice now. Surely if it were meant to be, they would meet again. Through the tedious process of getting her travelling pass and Vulcan permit checked she put the charismatic Vulcan purposely from her mind. And once those formalities were done and she was free to glance about the crowded lounge, she belatedly recognised someone dressed in the classic dark green jumpsuit of a colleague from the Cultural Institute.
"Miss Grayson? Miss Amanda Carynese Grayson?"
She looked up into a pair of faintly amused brown eyes, set above a mouth that settled easily into a relaxed grin. The smile widened as she nodded and he thrust out a welcoming hand.
"That's a relief! The Institute didn't give me much of a description and I was expecting some scholarly old maid who'd need wet nursing all the way to the 40 Eridani system. I'm Mikhail Gorsky by the way, your escort, and principal xenobiologist of the team on Vulcan." He wrung her outstretched hand vigorously.
"Good to meet you, Mister Gorsky."
"Make it Mike," he insisted, "We Humans have to stick together, and Vulcan's a hell of a long way to go on last names."
Well built and tall, a stronger sun than Sol III could boast had bleached his shock of fair hair almost white. Around her father's age, that still did not restrain him from flirting – and his good-natured charm made it difficult to resent his easy familiarity.
"Okay, Mike it is," she agreed, matching his smile. "I'm Amanda."
Side by side, they headed toward the bar, a requisite for all Human space stations no matter where in the galaxy they were situated. Mike chose a table placed inches away from the floor to ceiling panoramic view outside. Besides the dim, artificial lighting within the room, the moon provided a startlingly lovely display.
"This is so beautiful." Amanda exclaimed
Shimmering light cascaded through the invisible force screens and illuminated Amanda's hair in a pale halo about her head.
"Beautiful," Mikhail agreed, though he was no longer looking at the view. He continued to study her as she faced him across the table. Amanda raised the tall glass she held in a wry salute.
"I saw that you'd made the acquaintance of our host. What do you think of the Vulcans now you've actually met one?"
"Our host?" Amanda regarded him blankly. "You mean he's here with you."
"No, he's here with you!" Mike laughed softly. "Obviously from your reaction, he stayed incognito – although how you could have missed the only Vulcan in that crowd of Humanity ---!"
Amanda recalled her uncommunicative travelling companion with the darkly saturnine looks and the enigmatic stare. She gulped, " That -- was --- Sarek?"
"Indeed, that was!" The dry undertone of Mike's voice aroused Amanda's curiosity.
"You know him well?" She pried for information, her cheeks reddening at his sudden amused glance.
"As well as any Human can know a Vulcan, I suppose. Sarek is easier than most. At least he's tried to appreciate what we're all about."
"He doesn't hold us in very high regard from what I saw." Amanda remarked bluntly remembering her companion's silence and cool stare.
"The majority of Vulcans consider us a little like undisciplined children, I guess, emotional … barbaric even, without an ounce of logic to redeem us. Women on his home planet head councils, the extended family unit, most everything - which makes them very special characters. "
"Really?" Amanda said quietly, wondering what she had gotten into.
"They were already a great civilization when we were still swinging in the trees." Mike's grin widened. "Have I shot all your pretty dreams down in flames? Don't worry, you're not the first, and you'll probably not be the last to have romantic ideas where Vulcans are concerned. But now is the time to leave them behind. This trip isn't going to be any picnic."
"So, I'm beginning to realise." She murmured ruefully. "You sound like an expert."
"I am. That's no idle boast, either. My grandfather was part of the team that finally managed to get a permit to allow Humans down on Vulcan for the first time. In those days, of course, we weren't allowed even limited access to the cities. My father followed in the family footsteps, and I was eventually born there. Not that it gave me any special rights. I'm still only an emotional Earther to most of them."
"And Sarek?"
"He is quite attractive isn't he – in a brusque kind of way!" He grinned at her blush, but relented quickly from his teasing. "We want the same things --- a better understanding on both sides of our separate species. Can you imagine what a fully combined Human/Vulcan association could accomplish?"
Amanda smiled, recognising fervour when she saw it. "I can see how we might benefit, certainly. But what do the Vulcans hope to gain?"
"Good question – and one we expect to be able to answer more fully once this mission is completed." He changed the subject to one that he seemed to find equally stimulating. "What about you, Amanda? Why did you apply for this particular job?"
"Oh, just my silly, romantic dreams about Vulcan, I suppose – which hit the dust just minutes ago, thanks to you." Her lips twitched at his expression. "I freely admit that's part of the reason I applied. We know so little that imagination has to fill in the gaps. This position was too good an opportunity to miss and how better to indulge my curiosity along with my wanderlust?"
"Aren't you a teacher?"
"In training. I'm hoping to observe some Vulcan schools in action. Their teaching methods must be something special ---" Again, Mike's grin widened, "What? What have I said? They do have schools, I suppose."
"Uh-huh, but I shouldn't try implementing their methods when you get back home. It would probably start a riot of protesting parents."
"They can't be that bad."
"Oh, no? When did you last throw a seven year old out into the deep desert with the barest of survival equipment and tell him he had to stay out there for ten days, come what may?"
"They do that?"
"Indeed they do." His smile turned grim. "It's called kahs-wan, a survival test for all males who reach the age of seven. They believe in physical fitness on Vulcan."
"And initiative, I hope!"
"When it doesn't conflict with logic," White teeth flashed against his tanned skin once more and his eye crinkled at the corners, making him appear ten years younger. "Ready to throw in the towel, yet?"
She grinned back at him. "Not quite yet."
His laugh was warm, rich, and deep, "Good for you, Amanda. I think you might enjoy this trip after all. You've got pioneer blood by the sound of it."
"I'm glad you approve." She inclined her head, her own mouth quirked in a humorous smile.
"It's not my approval you need, unfortunately. Sarek can still veto your inclusion in the team even at this late stage. He's the Big Boss around here. When he says jump we jump - and some."
"I'll bear that in mind." Amanda murmured, blue eyes artless and unruffled.
Mike glanced at his chrono, "Due to go aboard in five minutes. Better get moving. Vulcans are fanatics for punctuality – and Sarek's no exception."
"Oh," Amanda's grin faded as she rose from her chair, remembering those hurried last minutes at the Spaceport terminal. "I wish I'd known that two hours ago."
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