The silvery Vulcan transport, a short, wide tube with a cuff around the aft third, gently settled onto the landing platform accompanied by several loud hisses from the braking jets. T'Nia turned her head in the cramped transport to look out the window. Outside, through the remnants of a sandstorm that had caused the flight to be delayed by an hour, she could see the rugged outline of the city of Kedrithe, the city where she grew up. It was located in the Albic quadrant of the Eliph province and just to the west of Nasha, where her betrothed was from. The rough-hewn red and yellow stone of the buildings and spired were barely discernable in front of the jagged Dekorth Mountains behind them, even though they were several kilometers away. Several minutes passed before the transport powered down its main engines and the remnants of the sandstorm were completely gone. As the half full transport of mostly vulcans stood and began to gather their belongings, T'Nia continued staring out the window.

It had been four years since her last visit... home. That word seemed somehow inappropriate for Vulcan. For several millenia, vulcans had considered themselves the center of civilization and culture in the galaxy. The discovery of logic as the center of existance only served to further their belief. The discovery of dozens of other races did nothing to quell the belief. In fact, to many, it only served to reinforce it. Unlike other races, who chose to openly embrace each others differences and similarities, vulcans remained distant. It was an unspoken fact that such mingling of cultures and beliefs would only contaminate the vulcan way. Perhaps her beliefs were a result of that contamination. Perhaps Sekir was right. Staring out at the foreign land that was her birth home didn't help to settle the confusion. Slowly, she stood up, removed two of her bags from the forward storage, and exited the transport.

As T'Nia stepped out the hatchway, the low, afternoon sun kicked up the southern breeze across her face. She was instantly greeted with another sensation that made her... uncomfortable. She felt warm... very warm. In the midst of disembarking passengers, transportation employees, and waiting loved ones, she could easily make out the tall, thin body of her betrothed. Sekir stood stoically, his hand raised in a barely discernable wave. As always, his dark brown hair was cut very short, emphasizing his large, pointed ears. His rounded face sat atop a tall, thin frame; taller than most vulcans. Considering T'Nia was rather short for a vulcan female, the two made an interesting pair with over twenty centimeters separating them. It seemed ironic to her that they had a difficult time seeing eye-to-eye... both figuratively and literally. Gradually, she made her way down the moving exit ramp and found her third piece of luggage being carefully removed from the cargo bay underneath.

Sekir approached her dressed in the typical attire of a local councilperson. The robe was plain brown with dark brown edges. A gold patterned sash kept the robe closed. Under the robe, a bright red shirt clearly showed through. Around his neck he wore the Ale-na kere, a jeweled, golden necklace marking his position in the council. As he approached, he raised his right hand and extended his pointer and middle fingers together as a sign of affection.

T'Nia sighed silently, realizing she would have to set down one of her bags in order to complete the greeting. Obediently, she did so. Raising her hand and returning the gesture, she touched his extended fingers with hers. "Greetings, Sekir," she said emotionlessly.

"It is good to see you, my betrothed," Sekir replied with equal detachment. He reached towards the largest piece of luggage she was carrying. "Allow me to carry this for you."

She handed it over quickly... almost throwing it into his waiting hands. "That would be fine,"

Surprised, he backed up two steps before regaining his composure. "I... it is good to see you," he repeated.

T'Nia raised an eyebrow. "You already said that, Sekir." Could he be nervous about their meeting?

"How was your flight?" He asked as he started for the transporter pads inside.

"Uneventful," she replied, following him, "except for the extra orbit we had to make while we waited for the sandstorm to pass."

Sekir nodded. "The sandstorms are always bad this time of year. Your mother has requested we go straight to her house. Is that acceptable to you?"

T'Nia shrugged. "It was the plan I had expected." After passing through the automatic doors to the transport center, they stood in line for several minutes, patiently waiting their turn. The sandstone walls were painted a soft tan color. Several reproductions of paintings hung against the walls. Lining the near wall, behind a perfectly polished wooden counter, a pair of vulcans held discussions with a customs agent. Off to their left, a trio of large-eared Ferengi surrounded a desk attempting to pursuade a vulcan to let them speak with the Eliph governor.

T'Nia felt like she needed to ask him SOMETHING... take some kind of interest in what he did. These odd moments of silence only served to magnify just how little she knew the man she would soon call husband. "How is your work, Sekir?" she asked finally.

His face brightened a bit at the question. "Well, my recent appointment as district councilman has proven to be quite interesting," he began. "I am learning a great deal about local politics."

T'Nia did everything in her power to prevent a very human reaction to this news... the eye roll. Having him as the inventory control at the museum where her parents worked made their few previous discussions boring enough. Life as the wife of a politician? She momentarily lost control and gave in to an eye roll. She desperately hoped he didn't see that. Apparently, he didn't.

"For example," Sekir continued, lost in his recent memories, "there has been a considerable amount of discussion over an extension of the local Temple of Surak. The only logical location to expand would infringe on two of the stalls in the marketplace, which would dramatically lower the inventory they could have on hand..."

"What was it Tony kept saying at times like this?" she thought. "Oh, yes... 'think of a happy place.'"