Holography 3

As a Reminder and a Promise

By

Pat Foley

Chapter 36

Sarek spent the evening pondering T'Pau's words. And watching his wife. His innocent wife. She was innocent. Innocent of vice, of guile, of all the negative and troublesome emotions that their marriage had brought to her. If not for him, she would not be in a position where she had to be protected outside and inside Fortress walls. He had brought her to this, and he did not forgive himself for it. Even as he tried to dismiss those thoughts as dangerous, they plagued him.

Even to bed.

He found Amanda in her study, and watched her for a moment, thinking again, how much he desired her. She was so deeply entranced in her work she did not hear or sense him, even when he extended his aura to intrude on her consciousness.

He finally crossed to her, and she looked up, and smiled at him as he settled down next to her. He put an arm around her waist, and bent down to kiss her. First lightly, then deeply. She put her arms around his neck and parted her lips to his.

A surge of pure desire, washed over him, nearly overtook him and he froze, fighting for control, and surprised to discover it more difficult than he expected. Obviously the threat to her safety had affected him more than he had anticipated. He drew back, controlling his breathing, using that to help control his emotions, considering this flaw in his control, having long used the gauge of his desire both as an indicator for when he would suffer another Pon Far, and as a measure of his ability to get through it safely. And of the effectiveness of their lessons. When he regained control, he looked down at his wife regretfully. They had been "making love", as Amanda called it, daily and sometimes several times a day. Since he had restored her to bondmate status, they had had no lessons. And he had practiced no control. He had used to consider these lessons mostly for his wife's benefit, but the last six months had taught him how fragile was his own control, and how easily lost. After months of strict control, he had considered they had some margin of safety, but clearly he was encroaching on it. He sighed and said regretfully. "I believe it is time for a lesson, my wife."

She drew up and looked at him uncertainly. He could see the muscles move in her throat as she swallowed. "Did I…did I do something wrong?"

That surprised him. "No. Of course not. But it was been some weeks since we have practiced any control. And I feel the need for it."

"But you're all right?"

"I am quite well," he reassured her. And at her uncertain look added, "Amanda, you know it is normal for us to intermix lessons and lovemaking. While I have enjoyed this recent interlude, you are well aware – certainly after the last six months – that this is a necessary practice." He looked at her. "Part of the normal life we must resume, if you will."

"Yes, of course," she murmured, but she seemed subdued. Of course she had never been enthusiastic about lessons. It could merely be disappointment. He sighed silently, disappointed himself, but there was no help for it. He was Vulcan, and she was his wife, and while he might himself wish to be free of some aspects of his biology, he had no choice but to submit to them. Nor, by default, did she. The only thing he could do was attempt to see her safely through them.

Amazing that he actually felt some regret – not at his wife's humanity, but at his own lack of it. For if he were human, there would be no need for lessons. No specter of Pon Far for which to prepare. There would have been no vrie. They would never have to live in fear of the violence that could accompany a Time. He could love her, as a human, as he never could as a Vulcan.

Even to consider such a life was amazing. How idyllic a life human males must live, free of such concerns. He tried to comprehend such an existence, and failed. No wonder humans were so outrageously extreme in their emotions, and their behavior, with no stringent need to control on threat of painful death.

Yes, he did feel some regret. Regret, and wonder that Amanda had chosen him, knowing that there were things that as a Vulcan he could never give her. She could have married a human. Any human she could have married would have given her a life of more safety, more security, more …love, than what he provided. As a husband, comparatively speaking, he had been a poor provider of such comforts – at least, compared to any human she might have wed.

He had not realized the enormity of that when he'd first pursued her. It had come to him, gradually, incident by incident. The loss of independence and freedom she'd suffered due to the media attention engendered by their marriage. The very real danger from anti-Federationists who'd chosen her as a symbol to attack and a target to eliminate. The loss of family and friends she'd endured – both by leaving her Terran ties behind and from his failure to give her the Vulcan family that was her due – the result of his mother's shunning her, leaving her outside of the circle of clan ties.

He had not anticipated the full extent of any of these. And, last but certainly not least, the dangers, totally unrealized, his Vulcan heritage represented to her. And he'd never even conceived that vrie would reach forward 5000 years to claim him. Small wonder he had tried to make up for that by giving her anything, everything else he could. As if any of that could be just compensation for what he lacked, simply by being Vulcan But she had married him anyway. And as he could not change his biology, there was no help for it.

Amanda looked up at him and smiled, in forgiveness, in acceptance, and rose to follow him to the bedroom.

He turned away, stripping off his clothes, and Amanda followed suit.

He heard Amanda toss the bed coverings on the floor, and draw back the sheets. He closed his eyes, drawing a deep calming breath, marshalling his control. Thinking what folly he had practiced, a male of his line, of his violent passions, to take a fragile human to wife. He sighed and turned to her.

She lay back on the bed as he turned, and as he settled down next to her, he could see her swallow hard. He looked her over, head to toes, thinking, as always when he looked at her, what a pretty girl she was.

He'd thought that on first seeing her.

Stardate 2229.10 Terra

It had been autumn, and he'd been walking, enjoying the flame colored leaves of the trees, one of the few things he'd found on Terra akin to Vulcan skies. He had seen her giving an interview to the press, surrounded by them, beleaguered, apparently having been caught leaving a building, for she was on the steps of the UFP headquarters.

He'd paused, only because he'd had some unpleasant encounters with the press himself before he'd learned how to control the environment – he had concluded it would be impossible to control the press. Yet this girl had been surrounded by what appeared to be a very assertive group of them, and she was…Amanda's phrase now would be 'holding her own' with them.

He'd stopped out of concern; he'd stayed out of curiosity, well aware he was lacking in such skills himself, watching her banter with them, keeping them at bay. He didn't understand the subject of the interview, something to do with a controversy over her review of another prominent theorist, but in spite of some of unpleasant reporters, she'd stayed in control of the group, polite, on point and even amused.

Looking up to answer a reporter at the back of the group, she'd noticed him watching. And she'd smiled in what he'd understood was friendly acknowledgement among humans, a tacit sort of "I see you" recognition and query as to what he wanted, standing there staring at her. And he'd felt the light extension of her aura, something that proved she was far from psi-null, if untrained. No more and no less than what he encountered from many humans in the course of a day.

He had not responded and she had turned back to the reporter's question. He did not think she ever remembered the chance encounter with a stranger, even a Vulcan one, at the edge of a crowd. And yet, from that moment of connection, he'd …wanted…her.

He'd watched her with the reporters for a few moments more, taking note of her, of the name they used to speak with her. And with a consciousness that still surprised him, even now, he'd looked at her left hand, well aware that rings there indicated a human female was bonded. There were none. He watched her a few minutes more, thinking about that, about his response to her, about her, before moving on.

Perhaps nothing would have come of it, if fate had never brought them together again. But he had not allowed fate the final say in that, whatever role it had played in their first meeting. He'd always remember that moment, struck by her holding her own, surrounded by what he'd come to consider the jackals of the press. Admiring her possession of an ability he did not share, particularly in such a young girl. And at the same time wanting to intervene. Wanting her. It had been a curious, but not entirely illogical phenomena.

He had not exactly been surprised, merely wondering a little, that he found himself attracted to her. Perhaps because she was the antithesis of him, and had some qualities he felt he lacked. A small, very human girl, with her hair like Terra's sun and eyes as blue as Terran skies, holding the press not just at bay but enthralled, with an arch amusement and a casual control he could never emulate.

The press had been interested in her negative review of an apparently well loved and respected researcher. But she had, if not swayed them to her point of view, made considerable inroads. If she had not mastered them, she had stood up to them, held her own, undiminished. They had admired her, if not agreed with her, by the end of the interview. He admired that. And her. And by the end of the interview, he had desired both for himself. The ability as well as, surprisingly enough, the girl who'd possessed it. He had wanted to possess the girl as well. He had felt it deep within himself, that stirring of desire.

That depth of feeling had surprised him. Not so much that he felt it for a human, but that he'd felt it at all. It ran in his line, and he'd long been expecting, hoping that it would come to him. It had been part of his parent's marriage, and part of what he'd wanted for himself as well.

He'd had innumerable chances to choose a bondmate, for his parents had not imposed a choice on him. Yet of those eligible, none had tempted him. For all those presented to him, Vulcan women of estimable lineage and suitable political and dynastic lines, none had engendered more than a passing interest from him, even that fading on closer acquaintance. He had begun to believe he was not a true Xtmprszqzntwlfb. But put off making a choice until necessity forced him, as it soon would and must.

So to feel it at all surprised him more than the object of his desire. He looked at her anew, critically, calculatingly, evaluatingly, but the feeling stayed within him.

He'd wanted that girl.

And at the back of his mind was a quiet, calm certainty. No matter. If the desire survived passing acquaintance, he would deal with it. He always got what he wanted.

He had noted her name, gone back to his embassy, and had Senet do an information search. No one had thought twice about his request, assuming it business related. He had almost forgotten it, and her, when the dossier had been delivered to his computer. He remembered opening it, looking through it. Who she was, why she was in Geneva.

Her field was incomprehensible to him, a combination of both theory and science, something to do with comparative ethology among Federation races. Her current notoriety was that she was challenging some long entrenched views on the uniqueness of certain long to be held preeminently human characteristics, and subscribing them to a more universal status. She'd been apparently asked to "peer review" a far more well known theorist's work, one whose name was well known enough that even he recalled it. Her recently published and devastating if empirically founded rebuttals had the academic community up in arms. He noted it, without much considering it or even understanding it. Of far more interest to him was not what she was arguing, but how. And that her dossier had confirmed her unbonded status. That confirmation of her status had been all the catalyst he needed to satisfy his curiosity. He had contacted the appropriate Federation liaisons.

He was a powerful man on Vulcan, and accustomed to his requests being instantly fulfilled. He was becoming a powerful man in Federation politics, now holding not just Vulcan's influence, but beginning to hold many of the votes of the non-human and telepathic block in Federation politics. No one even questioned his request for a review, an analysis of how Vulcan fit in the comparative ethology of Federation species by a researcher young but already well established in such matters. It even had a sort of logic to it, though logic was far from his thoughts. In a short time he had arranged that their paths would cross again.

And he was so used to always getting what he wanted, he did not even question his ability to do that. He'd been curious, but he had not really expected that his brief surge of desire would survive a second meeting. He had come to realize he was going to be …fussy…about a choice of bondmate. It was, after all, a characteristic of his dynastic line. But he didn't dwell on the incongruity of his sudden focus. He expected this one would effect little more than a passing interest too.

He did not know, even now, if she thought their first formal meeting had not been chance or business alone, but for a much more personal reason. That he had deliberately arranged her attendance at the Vulcan embassy, made himself available when she was to be there, had let them become acquainted in stages, as if casually. He had not told her at the time of his machinations, more concerned with learning who she was, if what he had thought he wanted was real, was even feasible.

And in their meetings she had displayed the same qualities that had first intrigued him. Most humans he dealt with were in the diplomatic field. On opposite sides of the negotiating table, they were wary, even hostile. Most had various professional agendas, if not immediate concerns, then potential concerns for the future.

She had been different, had come curious, uncowed, with that same arch amusement, not at or of him, but a sort of shared amusement. At their meeting. At life itself. He had once again felt that sense of …connection.

He had come to see she took joy in even the most ordinary of tasks, that she found life interesting, and was prepared to find the good in it, rather than the reverse. And that unlike most humans, she saw their similarities, Vulcan to human, far more keenly than their differences. Unlike himself, for that matter. It was an unVulcan outlook. Vulcan philosophy made much of celebrating differences. But he had come to realize from a diplomatic standpoint it was as well to recognize shared values, shared goals. She'd been almost the first human who seemed to take that as a given, as matter of fact. As a first course, rather than a last resort. That they had more similarities than differences.

Even in their differences, there were times he felt she understood them better than he. She seemed to always expect that underneath superficial differences, there was often a greater shared truth. Of course, it was her field. Still, he found it fascinating that she might teach him some things. Outside of course, of handling the press.

Now attached, at least in a temporary, adjunct way to the embassy, she was eligible, even required by human sensibilities, to attend the various quasi-social, quasi-business social events that seemed part and parcel, di rigueur, of diplomatic affairs. She attended the first alone. Casual questioning revealed she had no serious male attachments in her life. The lack of rings on her hand proved a valid talisman. The dossier was correct. She was not promised. She was not even in one of the quasi permanent relationships humans engaged in that so mystified Sarek, where they seemed to change life partners as easily as changing hands in a dance.

She had associates. Friends. She had come to Geneva with a group, some older, some younger. He was aware, too that the researcher whose work she had so soundly discounted was even bandied about in the press with her name. But there was apparently no evidence of a liaison other than a professional one. She was not seen with him at social events. He did not come to the embassy. Sarek suspected the man had sought to align himself with her for professional gain and then discovered she was not so easily manipulated. Still in spite of her unflattering assessment of the man's work, they were often together. Working together. There was nothing he could do about that, but he disliked it.

He ordered a dossier on him as well, and looked at the man, the human, with the narrow, discounting eyes of a potential rival. And found him… unimpressive. Easily dismissed. A small troll-like man, soft from academia, and too aged for such a young girl – Sarek discounted his own actual, even greater age, preferring to think in relative rather than chronological terms. And the man's logic was flawed. Now that Sarek understood her level of intelligence, he seriously doubted she'd align herself with someone whom she could … outthink.

Naturally he had no qualms about himself in that regard.

But humans did make illogical choices as regards life partners, and his discounting of this rival did not necessarily mean that she would. Using the excuse that he spent too much time enclosed in meeting rooms, they'd been discussing her research requirements, the ostensible purpose for her association with the Vulcan embassy and Sarek, while out walking. He found it easier to consider her as a potential choice outside of the remembered constraints of his embassy, the reminders of his culture, his dynastic line. So, when the press waylaid them and asked her for a "quote" on the current controversy, he later used the opening to ask of it, as if he were unaware, with a view toward hearing about man who was a tacit rival, if only in his own eyes.

"It's very simple," she said, turning down the path by Lake Geneva. "Jacob's theories were long entrenched views, and supported by some science. But recent discoveries have proven that they were based on a too limited, too exclusive, a data sampling. Many of his conclusions are simply flawed."

"He would seem a poor researcher, then."

She smiled. "He's more a theorist. And I disagree. New discoveries are made all the time, and the revisitation of theories, the reanalysis of science, is inevitable. And it is not Jacob's conclusions that are so interesting to me – though they are beloved by many, and I've become unpopular in some respects for upsetting them, but his questions."

"His questions," Sarek echoed, frowning.

"His questions are marvelous. He is brilliant. And the way he writes," she drew a breath. "Is beautiful. I may disagree with some, perhaps most, of his conclusions, but I confess to utter admiration for his questions." She looked at him, "and aren't the questions in some respects even more important than the answers?"

Sarek stared at her, stunned. She was, of course, right. But that was not what distressed him. Her admiration was obvious, and real.

For a moment he wondered if he had lost her before he'd even begun.

And at that moment as they turned onto a narrow path that edged the lake, a large bird came flying out of the water straight at them. For a moment both of them froze, while the bird came at them, huge wings, drops dripping from its feathers, the leathery, orange colored webbed feet, the odor of it and then Amanda yelped and turned, nearly colliding with Sarek, and he took her arm and they ran. But even though he sensed her startlement, he could hardly be alarmed, because she was laughing even as they ran. When they got far enough up the path, the bird suddenly veered off.

"What was that?" Sarek asked, staring back at the creature, now rejoining its fellow.

She got control of her laughter, leaning against him while he kept his arms protectively around her.

"It was a swan." She looked up at him, still staring across the lake at the birds. "I forgot they were still here. Don't worry, they don't bite. They don't even have teeth. They just fly at you. He was just protecting his mate."

Sarek looked back at the pair, now flapping their huge wings and settling back on the water. His eyes narrowed. "Indeed."

"Swans are very devoted. One of the few Earth species that mates for life."

"Like Vulcans," Sarek commented, regarding the creatures with more respect.

"It's rather late in the season for that sort of display though."

"I don't understand."

"It's almost winter. They'll be migrating soon." She looked up at him. "The lake will freeze. They will have to fly south."

"How unfortunate," Sarek commented, shivering inwardly at the thought of the huge lake freezing solid, "that Federation government offices do not migrate south with the swans."

She laughed at that. "I suppose it will be cold for you. Perhaps you'll believe the legends."

"Legends?"

"When the swans – geese too – migrate, they fly in a V formation, like an arrow in the sky. It's for aerodynamic reasons, but it's very beautiful to see them. There are all sorts of Terran legends as to how and where they are directing us poor humans. To migrate south with them." She shook her head. "I'm digressing from our previous conversation. Sorry."

"I believe the swans were responsible for that."

She pulled back a little. "Sarek?"

He looked from the swans back to her.

"It's all right. You can let me go."

He released her, forcing himself not to show any regret for the action. "My apologies."

"Don't be silly. I was startled too." She looked up at him. "Blame the swans if you must."

Sarek thought he would rather thank them. He gave them a narrowed glance, but they seemed no longer interested in them, and Amanda was leading them away from the path by the lake.

Her mind was back on business as she continued, "Questions aside, Jacob's work was seminal. And I confess to have fallen absolutely in love with his writing. It made it very hard for me to so thoroughly trounce someone whom I respect so much."

Sarek gave her a narrowed glance. This was going from bad to worse. He had thought the man no rival, and now it appeared she was, if not in love with him, in love with his work, flawed though it might be. Sarek felt frustrated.

"But I suppose you don't have that problem in evaluating his work."

"I have not read it," Sarek said shortly.

She turned to him, frowning, confused. "But I thought that's what stirred your interest in having a comparative ethology study done? His original conclusions certainly favored the pro human dominate faction in the federation. And the recent research disproving is – as you can't have failed to notice in the press – and from my reception by the press – far from popular.

"I can admit to the advantages of such a study without reading flawed theorists," Sarek said curtly.

Amanda shrugged lightly, slightly put off by his mood. "Well, if you have a day or two, you might find going through his lecture series well worth your time. Even disproved, his views represent a considerable majority faction of the Federations political weight. That's what you're up against."

"Would it not make more sense merely to read your work, since it is the correction?"

"No." She gave him a light smile. "Humans have a saying. Know your enemy. Such entrenched views aren't going to change in people's minds because of a flurry in the press over some new science. Humans especially can have an emotional attachment to long favored views. And until they do, it can't be anything but useful for you to know the mindset of those on the other side of the negotiating table."

"Perhaps." He was thinking of more personal issues, that this man was more of an enemy than he had at first assumed. He did not get any sense from her that she considered him a potential bondmate. But her admiration for his work – and her love – love – for his words, was a considerable setback.

"There are those who think you have asked for this study for that purpose alone."

He drew his mind back with difficulty to Federation politics. Her mistaken belief of the purpose bringing her to his embassy. "Do you believe that?"

She shrugged. "It's logical. And very shrewd." She looked at him. "I've heard, oh, round and about, that you've impressed people with this move. People who expected you to be a pushover in certain aspects of human-style negotiation tactics have revamped their decision to play those games. Some believe you are planning to use the press interest in this too. That you aren't interested in the study merely for the relevant aspects, but also seeking to capitalize on the controversy. For scenes like that one." She nodded to the departing press contingent. She half smiled. "I'm being told I'm something of a traitor, for aiding and abetting – not an enemy, certainly, but a potential rival."

He blinked at this, unsettled by her continuing to bring up points he had not considered. "And do you believe that as well?"

Her blue eyes looked at him. "I'm not really qualified to judge. I only know that the majority of the Federation believes we're stronger with Vulcan than without her. My personal beliefs are that the more friends and allies one has, the better. It's not my job – or my nature – to look for enmity. I'm an ethologist." She half smiled. "I look for the similarities, more than for differences. And I prefer to look for the good."

"An…admirable goal. Though, among Vulcans, the philosophy of IDIC celebrates differences. Diversity, if one will."

"'That not a blade among the grass but flaunts its difference with elation.'"

"I don't understand."

"A poem. By Phyllis McGinley. In Praise of Diversity."

"Indeed? I would like to hear something of human philosophy in this regard."

"She was a poet, not a philosopher. And …somewhat of a humorist. But a Pulitzer Prize winning one." She looked at Sarek. "A great award."

"Then her poetry must be worthy. In addition to its subject matter."

"I like her work." She looked at Sarek, who seemed to be waiting for more, and continued:

Rejoice that under cloud and star

The planet's more than Maine and Texas

Bless the delightful fact there are

Twelve months, nine muses, and two sexes

And infinite in earth's dominions

Arts, climates, wonders and opinions.

She smiled and broke off. "You will have to excuse her somewhat provincial phrasing. She lived centuries ago, long before the discovery of other worlds. So she speaks only of Earth. But I think she would have approved of the Federation."

"Based on this short sample, I agree. I believe I would approve of her works as well. On closer acquaintance."

"If that's a hint, I will tell you it's a very long poem, too long for me to recite. And as much as I like her work, I can't say I'd remember all of it, or do it justice. But if you want to see more, I'll bring you a volume."

"A …volume?"

"A book, Sarek. As I said, her works are centuries old."

"Such an item must be valuable."

"Somewhat. Not very. And I happen to have two of that particular volume. I liked her work so much, that when I came across a second, I bought it as well." She gave him a scapegrace look. "I happen to be something of a collector of books." She shook her head ruefully. "It is a terrible vice of mine."

He was surprised at that. "I would hardly consider the pursuit of knowledge a vice, Amanda."

"You don't have to worry about finding space for 10,000 books."

He looked at her. "You do not know that."

"Ah." She gave him an arch look. "A kindred spirit."

"Perhaps. However, I would hesitate to deprive you of even one of your vices."

She laughed. "It would be my pleasure." She looked at him. "Truly, I don't need two. And I've never known anyone else that I could quote McGinley to." She half smiled. "Consider it a souvenir of Terra. When you think of IDIC, you can think of her poem."

"And of you."

She looked up at him. "And of me." She turned a little away. "And if you collect books, you should have at least one Terran one."

"On that condition, I will accept with equal pleasure." He eyed her. "Perhaps someday I will have occasion for more than one."

She looked at him, and then shook herself, drawing a steadying breath. "To get back to the subject. Even if that is all you wanted, I also think you'd get more out of it if you reviewed Jake's work in toto, not just the parts I've put in contention. You'd find it useful."

He looked at her, eyes narrowed, thinking of what she'd said "I am curious. Who requested you to evaluate that work, given that your views were in opposition to his? Was it he?"

"There's a review committee, at the press that publishes both our work. Why?"

"He did not request it himself?"

"He was probably given a chance to reject me as a peer reviewer. With his reputation it's common. He's been around a lot longer."

"That is obvious."

She glanced at him. "I hope you aren't referring to the quality of my work."

"I am not familiar enough with your field to make a judgment on your work, and in that your reputation must speak for you. I was merely making a personal remark. You are twenty Terran years - barely more a child, even by your standards."

She bridled a little at that. "In many fields of Terran science, it is almost traditional that if one hasn't made a major breakthrough before twenty, one never will. I am not unusual in that regard."

Sarek flicked an eyebrow, discounting but uninterested in the foibles of Terran academia. "Nevertheless, I wonder if he didn't choose to have you evaluate it for the notoriety alone. The controversy has generated a great deal of press coverage for him. I have been given to understand such is rarely undesirable, even when largely negative."

"The same could be said of your bringing me to the Vulcan embassy."

Sarek gave her a sharp, almost startled look, but she had merely tossed the comment off, seeming unoffended either way.

"I was honored to be asked to review his work. It's true all publicity is good publicity for Jake. His series is being rerun on BBC and his ratings are higher than ever. And well deserved."

But he was still stunned at her implication. He was secure enough in his own knowledge of himself that he discounted any implications on that score. But that she might call him on it astounded him. Just a human, barely more than a girl, he had not thought her to review the situation and come up with such an interpretation. As for annexing her to be a professional asset for himself, that idea was plainly ludicrous. Skills, even rare ones, could be hired if the price was considerable enough. Securing a bondmate was a far more important matter. Yet he'd already begun to think of her in that light. And in that light, he did not appreciate her tacit defense of her associate, or her casual reference to base manipulations on his part. It was unseemly. Even though she did not …yet…consider herself, or even know he was considering her, a potential bondmate, her disloyalty stung.

He chose to challenge the former, still rankling over his perceived rival.

"And are you honored to be asked to come here?"

Again that arch, amused look. "Of course."

He frowned a little at that. She seemed more amused than honored. "It seems illogical to air flawed theories."

She still seemed amused. "How do you know they're flawed if you haven't investigated them? It could be I'm wrong."

He looked down at her in surprise, and she smiled back, a wry twist of her lips. He resisted for a moment, but found her mood, her air, infectious. He raised an eyebrow, half in challenge, half in amusement. "Are you?"

She answered him exactly in kind. "No."

He liked that utter confidence. And it seemed to settle his rival as well. "Then I don't need to view his."

She grew serious again, turning away. "You really should, if for the writing alone. His words are …beautiful."

Sarek drew a sharp breath, having had just about enough of this, particularly when he had just felt he'd made a real connection to her. He took her arm, stopping her as she turned. "If I wish to experience beauty, I have no need to look elsewhere.

She did a classic double-take, staring up at him wide-eyed. He raised an eyebrow, looking down at her, satisfied he'd finally made his intentions clear. She seemed stunned. And then she shook her head, as if she discounted his words, his touch, considered it merely a cultural misinterpretation.

"We should go back," she said abstractedly. "It's getting late."

And he realized he would have to be plainer still. What would have been very clear to a Vulcan, was not clear to her. He needed to do more research, on communicating such intentions in a way that a human female would understand.

To be continued…