May 2228

The sweat rolling down Amanda's back was a product of the heat made worse by nerves. Nothing she could do about it now.

She wanted to appear confident, but that would have been a lie. Councilwoman T'Lona wanted Amanda to meet with her in her office. Privately. She had refused to comment on the reason, even when Amanda asked for details in her return correspondence.

She threw the door of the taxi open and stepped onto the curb, trying to appear relaxed in the presence of an unfamiliar, bustling city center. The heart of Shi'Kahr in the daytime was unlike anything she knew. She was accustomed to the pulse of a busy, crowded city after living in San Francisco, but Vulcans did city living in a manner that was downright impressive in its efficiency.

The walkways were wide and people moved with quick purpose, and nowhere was there the familiar push of elbows, car horns accosting jaywalkers, or occasional curses to pay attention. As her awe at the remarkable deftness of Vulcan vehicular and pedestrian traffic faded, she realized she was committing the sin of being in the way.

She was standing in the middle of a sidewalk that people were walking along, and though they moved past her without saying a word, she could feel dozens of eyes narrow a fraction of a millimeter as they passed her. Dread bubbled up from her stomach as she tried to find her way into the flow of the sidewalk.

The building was easy to spot, just as Sarek said it would be. Tall and narrow, the Vulcan High Council building, referred to as the Shikh'orna, was unlike any of the surrounding structures. It was made of dark stone and resembled something approaching a Gothic cathedral, and she was tempted to look upward to see if there were any gargoyles perched into the upper parts of the masonry.

No, that would look too weird, and she already stuck out enough.

She moved up the steps to the entrance, waiting to be stopped at any moment by a clerk or security person, but no impediment came. She entered a full lobby and could identify nothing that looked even remotely like an informational desk.

The high walls of the government building arched upward into a steep ceiling and left Amanda feeling smaller than ever before. She was overwhelmed and tired, but more than anything else, she was eager to avoid public humiliation.

She hadn't slept much the night before. She had tried to talk to Sarek about it, but her husband had no theories about the purpose of the councilwoman's request, and refused to speculate about it, since after all, speculation was illogical.

She had hinted that she wanted him to go with her, but he had been adamant in his refusal, citing the fact that the councilwoman's message made no mention of him. She desperately wanted someone to agonize over this nerve-racking request with, but she had married the wrong person and moved to the wrong planet for that.

Her eyes scanned for some kind of posted directory or informational desk until she found something promising. At the end of the lobby was a tiny station, less than a meter wide and staffed by a slender man with sharp features.

She approached him, trying to get the Vuhlkansu words straight in her head, but he beat her to it by asking in perfect English, "Yes?"

"Oh- I'm here to meet with Councilwoman T'Lona."

She was proud that her voice had been firm, clear and free of stammering. Apparently he was unimpressed. His eyes darted down to the computer terminal below him and he replied, "I know."

They stared at each other for several moments until she added, "Can you tell me where I should go?"

"To the Councilwoman's office."

"I- Yes. Where is it?"

"Down the corridor to the left, though you are twelve minutes early."

That hadn't occurred to Amanda. Vulcans respected efficiency, and in this culture, being on time meant being on time.

"Thank you," she said to the man, remembering to avoid a polite smile at the last moment.

She turned down the hallway to the left and walked slowly, wondering how best to kill twelve minutes without being conspicuous. The foot traffic was much lighter here, and she battled the feeling of insecurity at roaming the corridors of one of Vulcan's highest government office buildings. She didn't belong here.

She wandered for a while and checked the local time on her PADD repeatedly, watching the seconds slog into minutes. 0954. 0955. 0956.

She started to panic about what she should do when the hour struck 1000. Should she knock on the door, or would someone come out and receive her?

Suddenly one of the doors opened, piercing the solemn quiet of the long hallway. A familiar woman appeared, and it took Amanda a few moments to identify her. She was not Councilwoman T'Lona, but Minister T'Pau, head of the Vulcan Ministry of Security.

She saw the briefest look of surprise on the minister's face that faded into the definition of neutrality. She clearly hadn't been expecting to find anyone in the hallway.

Amanda remembered T'Pau from her state dinner dossier, and recognized her by her unusual auburn hair, which was dappled partly gray from age. She'd spent decades in every top security position within the Vulcan government, including the V'Shar, Vulcan's Security Directorate, the Vulcan Security Council, and most recently, the head of the Vulcan Ministry of Security.

She was short for a Vulcan, but possessed a sinewy grace and penetrating, amber eyes that gave her a commanding presence. When the woman's eyes fell on Amanda, her heart began to thunder.

T'Pau's head moved slightly down and then back up, taking stock of her in a way that was markedly unsubtle for a Vulcan, reminding Amanda of scornful judge examining a person accused of a heinous crime. It took everything she had to resist the urge to grin as a means of diffusing the tension between them.

Amanda nodded deferentially instead. T'Pau did not return the gesture, but turned right and stalked toward the lobby with a fluid stride.

"Amanda?"

She returned her gaze to the door and saw Councilwoman T'Lona standing in the threshold.

"Yes," she replied, faster than felt natural.

"You are four minutes early."

"I- yes," Amanda admitted, horrified at the red flush she could feel spreading across her cheeks. "I apologize."

"No apology is required. Come," T'Lona said, standing aside to allow Amanda to enter.

It was a brightly lit, impressive room with floors and walls of gray kohv-tukh, a hard mineral much like granite. The overhead light reflected the clear silica in the stone surfaces, making the room seem brighter than it was.

Amanda followed T'Lona to a low desk at the far end of the room, and sat in a hard, high-backed chair as the councilwoman directed. It was still warm.

The room was warm too, much warmer than it had been out in the hallway. The moisture on her chest, back, and under her arms began to condense.

All the rules she knew about meetings were invalid here, and without those, she felt rude and robotic. Small talk and handshakes were probably the last thing one of the most important women on Vulcan had time for.

Between the rigid chair and the harsh overhead lighting, Amanda felt like she was facing an interrogation. That's what the detectives on the police holos always did – make the suspect as uncomfortable as possible until they divulged everything. Sometimes they would confess to things they hadn't even done. Councilwoman T'Lona was intimidating enough without the gimmicks, and with the right questions, Amanda could easily see herself inadvertently confessing to being a serial murderer or a war criminal. So much for being less nervous around Vulcans.

"Your background in linguistics is impressive."

"Thank you."

"It was not intended as a compliment, merely a statement of fact, but you are welcome."

Amanda recalled her Rosetta Project interview with Tolek two years earlier. That experience had taught her that Vulcan interviews were more of a formality than a discussion about qualifications – Vulcans did their research and made up their minds about candidates before meeting any of them.

So it seemed she was being interviewed, but why?

"Secretary Tolek tells me you were a valuable member of his staff on Project Rosetta."

"Did he?"

She thought again of her interview with Tolek and her heart began to race. It was one of those moments when she desperately wished she had Sarek's gift for recall, because she couldn't remember exactly what Tolek had said, but he never had told Amanda never knew who recommended her for the position.

She'd asked, of course, but he refused to give an answer, and had said things like, "someone who knows how good you are at Romulan referred you to me" and "someone with a good reason to finish the universal translator wanted you on this project."

"Yes," T'Lona replied, her bright blue eyes bearing down hard on Amanda. "He claims you are possessing of a very unique ability with the Romulan language."

Weren't those the exact words Tolek had used? "Unique ability?" She couldn't be certain. A few beads of sweat ran down her back and she prayed she wouldn't leave a wet puddle in the chair.

"Well, I guess it's fair to say I'm better than most," Amanda admitted. "But most people don't know any Romulan at all."

"You also taught at the Federation diplomatic school."

"Yes."

What did that have to do with anything?

"How many students did you have?"

"Eight."

"Were they all human?"

"No."

Amanda got the feeling Councilwoman T'Lona already knew the answers to the questions she was asking, which only made the feeling she was being interrogated that much worse. She felt tempted to expand on her answers, but the rapid-fire style of questioning made one-word responses feel safest.

"Have you traveled off-world much?"

"Vulcan is the only other planet I've visited besides Earth."

"Have you interacted with many other Federation species?"

"Yes."

"In what capacity?"

"I worked at the embassy complex for nearly two years, and since marrying the ambassador I have met species from many Federation worlds."

"Only Federation worlds?"

Her heart skipped a beat. Was she possibly referring to Amanda and Sarek's encounter with the Romulan warbird captain?

She took a slight breath and explained, "I've encountered quite a few Coridans, and I met two Orion traders once. Maybe there have been others – my memory isn't perfect."

She expected an immediate follow-on question, but T'Lona nodded her head slightly and asked, "Do you have hobbies?"

Amanda nearly choked.

"Hobbies?"

"Yes, preferred activities performed outside of one's standard employment."

"I suppose everyone has hobbies," she replied, trying to keep irritation out of her voice.

"Would you share with me some of yours?"

She blinked and tried to collect her focus. Her fragile confidence was all but gone. What was the purpose of all this?

"Um, I recently took up gardening and cooking," she explained, suddenly feeling very unsophisticated. "I've also had a lifelong interest in language learning."

"You married the Vulcan ambassador to Earth."

"Yes."

"Do you possess any aptitude for politics and diplomacy?"

"No, not really."

"Fascinating."

Amanda stared at the woman's fixed gaze and felt goose bumps prickle her skin.

"May I ask- forgive me, what is all of this about?"

"I wished to become better acquainted with you."

"I see," Amanda replied.

A very Vulcan response, especially since asking why T'Lona wanted to get to know her better would sound rude.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Amanda."

That was it?

The Councilwoman rose from her chair and Amanda followed her example. They walked toward the door, and Amanda got the distinct feeling she'd failed somehow, that she'd been inventoried and found lacking. Had she said the wrong thing or offended her?

"Amanda, I would ask you not to discuss our meeting with anyone."

"I already told Sa- my husband I was meeting with you, and the man at the front desk-"

"There are many who know that you came to meet with me today; all I ask is that you not disclose what we discussed."

They hadn't discussed anything, aside from her linguistics chops, her stint as a schoolteacher, and her hobbies.

"Of course," Amanda replied.

She shuffled through the door and it shut immediately behind her. The standard moments of pleasantries upon parting were clearly not in the Vulcan custom. She walked down the quiet hall, trying to comprehend what had just happened.

She wanted to talk to Sarek – he would know. She was about to reach for her PADD when she stopped. T'Lona said not to discuss the meeting with anyone. The human side of her wanted to say that surely that didn't extend to her husband, but by the Vulcan perspective she was growing accustomed to, she understood that "anyone" was a blanket statement to apply to literally any one person, which would certainly include her husband. Sometimes she really hated logic.

How could she not tell her husband? She told him everything.

Well, not everything.

Over dinner last night, she hadn't managed to choke out her desire to start a family, but in hindsight, she was grateful. That wasn't the kind of discussion she wanted to spring on her husband at random, and she wanted to do more in depth research on exactly what would be required for them to conceive.

She stepped out of the Shikh'orna and gasped. The late morning heat slapped her in the face and gave her a feeling of momentary faintness. She trudged down the stairs and waited to merge into the orderly foot traffic on the sidewalk, and made her way to a nearby bench to sit down.

She extracted her PADD from her shoulder bag to call a taxi, but was surprised to see she had a message from Sarek. He was leaving the Academy for the day and was willing take her home when she was finished with the Councilwoman.

She sent him a quick message in reply, and less than ten minutes later, the black shuttlecar pulled up to the curb. She ducked into the passenger seat and smiled.

"Why are you going home so early?"

"I am to meet with the caretaker for the estate to make arrangements for our absence."

"Oh," she replied, leaning her head against the door panel.

She could sense Sarek's curiosity through their bond, and she wondered if he could sense hers.

"Sarek?"

"Yes?"

"Councilwoman T'Lona… does she know?"

"About the Romulan vessel and our encounter with Llhran?" Sarek finished telepathically.

Amanda started and looked him in shock. It had been a long time since they'd talked in this way, and she felt out of practice. It also worried her he would choose this method of communication. What was so secretive about the councilwoman that he didn't even want to talk out loud in a private car?

"Yeah," she finally answered, reaching out to his mind.

"May I ask why you wish to know?"

"Would it be illogical to assume that answering a question with a question helps affirm my suspicions?"

"It would be."

"But does she know?"

"What gives you cause to think that she does?"

"The conversation I just had with her. I think she recommended me to Tolek for Project Rosetta."

"What did you discuss with her?"

"She told me not to tell anyone."

"Then I am not entitled to know."

"You're not even a little curious?"

"My curiosity is irrelevant – if she requested you keep your conversation private, you should honor her request."

"She didn't order me to," Amanda argued. "It was more like she strongly suggested."

"You are tending toward the fallacy of exception – it is evident you wish to tell me, and you are seeking a logical justification to do so, despite comprehending that it would be untoward."

"You do it sometimes, you know, do as you please and justify it with logic later."

"I do not."

She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips. His denial sounded more like the argument of petulant child than a seasoned ambassador. Sarek glanced at her and Amanda could tell he was sensing her thoughts. She stared back at him with smug defiance.

"The point is that you should not betray Councilwoman T'Lona's confidence."

"Are there lots of things you don't tell me?"

"I imagine there are many things which escape your notice that I fail to inform you about, due to triviality or supposed lack of interest. There certainly are details of my position as ambassador that I cannot disclose to you, due to their sensitive nature."

"Like Councilwoman T'Lona knowing that we both know that Vulcans and Romulans share a common ancestry because we unwillingly went joyriding on a commandeered Romulan warbird?"

Sarek's eyes again found Amanda. "I did not confirm your theory."

"Yes, but you didn't deny it either."

"Denial is not the same as confirmation."

"No, not in a court of law, and not even by logical standards, but there is a strong association, yes?"

She caught a third, sidelong glance from her husband.

"I feel weird keeping secrets from you," she said aloud.

"Perhaps we should find a different topic of discussion."

"Fine," Amanda sighed. "How was your day?"

"Uneventful."

"Great," Amanda groaned. "Good discussion."

"You are agitated. Why?"

"I'm not. I don't know. I'm sorry. Tell me about your uneventful morning. Tell me what's going on in the world of politics or astrophysics."

"Minister T'Pau refused the vacant seat on the Federation Council," Sarek replied. "I do not believe anyone has ever done so."

"T'Pau, the head of the Vulcan Ministry of Security?"

"Yes."

"When did this happen?"

"It was announced just moments before I arrived to collect you."

"Weird, because I saw her leaving Councilwoman T'Lona's office right before I got there."

She could sense Sarek's curiosity beginning to peak off the charts, and through their bond he asked, "Did you speak with her?"

"I guess we both have our secrets," Amanda replied, half teasing, half not.

Vulcan politics didn't really interest Amanda, and she only tried to keep informed of the most important and general details because of her marriage to Sarek. She'd always suspected Vulcans were just as nosey, gossipy, and catty as other species, they just went about it in different ways. Observing these qualities in her husband only made her love him more.

"I should start getting things together for our trip to Risa when we get home," she said, reaching for the fingers of his left hand.

The pleasant feeling produced by the ozh'esta made her smile, and when he looked at her, his eyes were questioning.

She didn't like keeping anything from her husband.


Amanda would turn twenty-seven years of age tomorrow. The anniversary of his wife's birth was unremarkable to him – Vulcans did not celebrate birthdays – but he knew it was important to her.

Tomorrow they were to journey to Risa for discussions with Ithenite representatives, and he would be less capable of marking the occasion in a meaningful way during their travels. He also knew that where human romantic attachments were concerned, surprises were often well received, and therefore it seemed logical to attempt to celebrate her birthday on a day she would not expect it.

He had returned early from the Vulcan Science Academy to find Amanda napping. She'd been working long hours in the garden in recent weeks, and Vulcan's harsh climate often quickly tapped her stores of energy. He seized the opportunity to prepare pre-tarmeeli for dinner, which he knew to be her favorite Vulcan dish.

He set the formal dining table, choosing to position them closer together in a more intimate fashion, rather than an opposite ends. When the place settings were arranged and the food was ready, he made his way to the entry hall and removed the box from the top of the closet.

His present to her.

Sarek knew it was appropriate to offer a gift on the birthdays of friends and loved ones, according to human traditions. It had taken several days to locate, but his choice seemed suitable.

Her new interest in gardening, coupled with many of his memories of her had served as inspiration. One of their first encounters had been at San Francisco's hanging gardens, and he had come upon her on a wooden bench surrounded by pink climbing rose bushes. After they married, she kept several species of freshly cut roses in the house to "add color," as she liked to say.

He didn't understand the human proclivity for cutting away the reproductive organs of live plants for adornment, but when he thought of roses, he thought of Amanda.

The small box in his hands contained packets of seeds for eleven varieties of Terran roses that had been genetically modified to grow in Vulcan's arid climate. Though this was a small gesture, he wanted the presence of roses in their home to give her the familiarity of Earth he knew she missed.

He heard the clicking of I-Chaya's nails on the smooth stone floor, and turned to see his wife rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her hair was tousled and she wore nothing but a thin shirt and her underwear. His eyes lingered on the slope of her nipples and petite breasts through the soft fabric.

"Ah!"

Her brief shock radiated through him. Her eyes widened and she jumped, but then she clutched her chest and began to laugh.

"What are you doing home so early? You scared me half to death."

"Death?"

"Yes, never mind, it's just an expression," she interrupted, striding toward him to embrace their fingers together.

She drew her lips to his, and as she bridged the gap between their bodies, areas of his mind that were normally kept under tight control began to rebel against his discipline.

"You should confine yourself to private areas of the house when dressed in this manner," he said softly.

"You don't seem to mind," she argued, running her hands down the small of his back.

"I might have invited colleagues home."

"But you didn't, did you?"

"No, but-"

"Then I guess if you had, they would have gotten a show."

He looked at her carefully, teasing apart the emotions close to the surface. She was jesting.

"What's this?" she asked, noting the small box in his hand.

"It is for you, to celebrate the anniversary of your birth."

Her lips parted, leaving her mouth agape with wonder. She looked at him keenly, and deeper emotions began to rush through her.

"You got me a birthday present?"

"Yes."

"Can I open it now, or should I wait?"

"I had intended to give it to you after dinner, which has been prepared and is ready in the dining room."

"You cooked dinner too?"

"Yes."

"And you did this for my birthday?"

"I thought I made that clear."

Excess moisture began to form on the surface of her eyes, and she looked to the ceiling and then at him. She kissed him lightly on the lips, and then examined the box. She flipped open the lid and her brow furrowed in curiosity as she considered the packets of seeds.

"Seeds for your garden, for rosebushes. The varieties are Terran in origin, but are capable of growing here."

She stared intently at one of the clear bags and a tear fell down her left cheek. He believed he erred in his choice as she returned the packet to the box and closed the lid.

"If I have-"

The warm press of her mouth on his ended his sentence.

"It's perfect," she said when she finally pulled away. "Thank you, Sarek. It might be the most thoughtful present I've ever received."

He felt Amanda's presence in his mind with sharp clarity, which reminded him of their courtship when she so freely shared herself with him. She had grown distant in recent months, shielding her thoughts with increasing ease, but in this moment, her mind was open and her body was caught in his embrace, and together they were mutually content. They lingered in that way, but soon he sensed anxiety and longing pooling at the fringes of his consciousness.

"You wish to speak to me? You want something from me."

She reeled back in surprise, and her mind began to grow quieter.

"Um, there was something- this is, actually, but no, not tonight. Tonight I just want to be with you."


Author's Note: Fun fact - the end of this chapter directly intersects with a one-shot I wrote titled, Amanda Explains. The next chapter will pick up with their return to Vulcan, so consider that story a "director's cut," if you will. It's not necessary to read if you don't want to, but it's there if you do.

Also, see, I can end chapters without cliffhangers. Yeah.