His fingers deftly weaved between the material, pulling the onyx beads through the little slats in the soft fabric until his over shirt was adequately fastened. He turned to examine himself in the mirror. He looked much as he always did in his subdued, well-fitted clothing.

His bangs appeared too long again, even if only marginally. He stepped closer to his reflection, holding up his index fingers to approximate the distance between the top of his eyebrows and the bottom of his hair. There was sufficient time before he was scheduled to begin his duties at Cary Cartographic to trim them back into submission.

No sooner did he extract his scissors from his personal hygiene kit than he was interrupted by a sharp trill from his bedroom. An unexpected incoming transmission.

When he saw the identity of the caller, a soft knot formed in his throat. He quickly swallowed, centered his thoughts, and deliberated whether to acknowledge this communication request. Whatever his brain might think, his fingers seemed to act on instinct and swiped the small green bar at the bottom of the screen.

He lifted the device into an upright position and waited for the face at the other end to appear. When she came into sharp enough focus, he delivered a small bow of his head and stiffly said, "T'Rama."

"Sarek," she replied, pausing a moment before adding, "My son."

A long silence stretched through his bedroom and all the way back to his former home in Shi'Kahr. It was nighttime there and he could see the brilliant image of T'Khut, Vulcan's planetary neighbor, glowing through the window in his mother's study. The sky was vivid green and blue, indicating strong disturbances in the planet's magnetosphere from solar wind. It was a common phenomenon during the Vulcan season of Silkar and something in the dazzling dance of colors caused him to ache with nostalgia.

He took note of the telescope behind her and recalled many fond memories of stargazing there with her, carefully charting the movements of nearby planets and watching for comets and asteroids. His love of astronomy and physics was born in that room with her.

"What is the purpose of your transmission?" he finally asked.

"You are my son. It is logical to periodically inquire after your wellbeing, particularly since I have not spoken to you since your departure. It would have been polite to inform me you had arrived safely on Earth."

Sarek nodded but could think of no words to defend himself against such accusations of filial neglect. Whatever disagreements he had with his father, they did not extend to her. Perhaps he had been unfair to avoid correspondence.

"I see there is a geomagnetic storm this evening," he said, preferring to turn to simpler subjects.

"Yes, quite early this year. The colors are remarkable."

"You anticipate a cool summer then?"

"Yes, quite cool. It will be a good season for the garden. The Silkar holiday approaches, as you know."

"Yes," Sarek replied, thinking of the Vulcan commemoration of spring.

What was considered a minor holiday on most of Vulcan was a significant observance in Shi'Kahr. Traditionally it was a time when communities came together for planting and feasting with the last of the winter harvest. In modern times it had adapted to a three-day festival when neighbors met to clear away the dead refuse of winter and plant community gardens, trees, and all forms of flora in public and private spaces.

It also marked the beginning of a season when males were prone to enter pon farr, likely due to the slight hormonal changes brought about by longer days and warmer weather. And the length of the Vulcan year very nearly coincided with that of Vulcan fetal gestation, and so it was also a time when many babies were born from the previous year's pon farr cycles. Silkar was a season of mating, renewal, and birth.

"Silek will be returning home in twenty days' time to honor the season," she remarked.

"Did you intend to imply I should return with him?"

"I did."

The memories of T'Rea's refusal and his father's admonishments flashed through his mind. "I will not."

"T'Rea has left Vulcan," his mother said. She always had an uncanny skill for deciphering his deepest thoughts.

It was logical that T'Rea would leave following such a scandal. Sarek himself had left Vulcan. He longed to ask his mother if she knew where his former asha'kan had fled to, but it was illogical to speak of things that could never be again.

"Come home, Sarek," his mother urged.

"I am not welcome at home."

"I believe you could be reconciled with your father if you would only apologize and agree to take a sensible mate."

"Skon has acknowledged Silek as his heir, rejecting my implied right as his eldest child. He has made it very clear he has no intention of being reconciled with me."

"You did not wish to be your father's heir."

That was true. Following completion of his advanced degree, Sarek had acquiesced to his father's wishes and attended the Vulcan Diplomatic School, completed a three-year course of study, and even served a year as an aide to Secretary T'Lora before receiving an attractive offer to pursue research on a two-year project at the Vulcan Science Academy.

His father had been amenable to Sarek's scientific diversions back then, but no doubt Skon believed they would be short-lived. An assignment that was scheduled to last only two years turned into decades as new discoveries led to new projects. Skon became impatient with his son, urging Sarek to pick up the family mantle of diplomacy with increasing urgency and reminding him their family had served as diplomats since the time before Surak.

Then the affair with T'Rea happened. Sarek swallowed and took great efforts to compose himself before replying, "Nor did I wish to be cast from our family's home, yet here I am."

"You were not cast out. Your father merely indicated it would be prudent for you to take an extended leave of absence and find some clarity. There is no logic in bitterness."

"Perhaps you should tell that to Skon," he replied coolly. "I myself harbor no resentment. I only wish to live privately and perform my current duties to the best of my abilities. I must go."

There was no outward change in her expression, as was appropriate for any logical Vulcan, but he knew her well enough to sense her disappointment. "Live long and prosper, my son."

"Live long and prosper, mother."

His walk to work was solemn and he arrived at precisely 0850 hours. Sarek removed his fitted cloak and draped it over the back of his chair, collected the plant from his desk, and carried it to the break room to provide it with water. It was a very fine specimen called a pothos plant, according to his research. His predecessor, Jason, had left the plant with the green and white teardrop-shaped leaves to die, but a few weeks in Sarek's care saw it thriving.

He sat down to find Kyla had arrived early, which was highly unusual, and that she also had a sprinkled covered donut in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, which was less unusual. They exchanged quick greetings and only seconds after he sat down, Alicia poked her head into his cubicle to ask, "How's your Wednesday?"

He turned to regard her. "Adequate."

"How's life? How's the girlfriend?"

"Life is well. Amanda is well."

Alicia's mouth formed a thin-lipped smile. "Can't wait to meet her at the barbecue this weekend. She is coming, right?"

It had been more than a week since Sarek had last seen or heard from Amanda but he believed she would honor her commitment. "Yes."

She left him to his work and he spent the next three hours shifting between his desk and the telemetry laboratory. When he returned from lunch, he discovered a new message on his PADD.

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.25; Time 1249
Any chance you're willing to do some more tutoring?

Sarek
Stardate 2229.25; Time 1301
Yes. How did you perform on last week's examination?

Grayson, Amanda
Stardate 2229.25; Time 1302
The quiz? I almost passed so that's something. I don't have work tonight so can you meet me at Pete's Place at 1700?

Sarek took a moment to respond. In truth, he'd spent most of his day struggling to suppress the conflicted feelings that the conversation with his mother had elicited, but the thought of seeing Amanda suddenly filled him with a different set of emotions. Why was he experiencing such an increase in illogical sentiment lately? He wondered if living on Earth was affecting him more than he realized.

His eyes flicked in the direction of Vedek's cubicle and he spied the tattooed young Vulcan leaning far back in his chair and tossing bits of food from a brightly-colored bag high into the air in an attempt to catch them in his mouth. However much Earth was eroding his logical faculties, he knew there was little risk he would ever turn into that.

Sarek
Stardate 2229.25; Time 1305
I shall see you there.

It was around 1715 by the time Amanda made it to Pete's. It was busier than usual, probably thanks to the guy with the oversized green hat by the back wall, plucking at a guitar and attempting vocals that seemed a bit ambitious for his range. But he was good enough and a lot of people had stopped to listen.

She had hesitated to reach out to Sarek after her awkward gaffe the last time they met, but she realized she would have to see him again anyway at the barbecue. Still, she couldn't deny she felt relieved when he agreed to tutor her a second time.

She squeezed her way through the crowd and found Sarek sitting at the bar by the western-facing window, squinting through the vivid sunlight pooling through the glass. His hands were wrapped around a paper cup. He didn't seem to notice she'd arrived but that was hardly surprising considering the noise.

"Let me guess," she said from behind him. "A mocha latte?"

He jumped ever so slightly and twisted on the barstool. "You are late. And correct."

She offered an apologetic smile and wondered once again if he was a situational drunk or a garden variety alcoholic. "I got hung up talking to the TA after my last class. And it's really busy in here."

"An astute observation."

"That sounded so sarcastic."

"Sarcasm is—"

"Illogical, I know. You want to go somewhere quieter?" She was forced to nearly shout over the guitarist's brave falsetto.

"Please."

He followed her from the coffee shop and once they were out on the street she asked, "Is the park okay?"

"If that is what you prefer."

They set off, turning left down the alley and were soon weaving through a residential neighborhood. The cries of children at a playground up ahead mingled with the thrum of engines from passing vehicles. The weather was good and the sun felt nice on her face. They both seemed content enough in their silence, but as they approached an area with several picnic tables, Amanda felt compelled to ask if he minded the location.

His eyes darted toward three children playing tag on a jungle gym and she worried he would make some comment about their unnecessary exuberance, but to her surprise he gave a conciliatory nod and took a seat at one of the green metal tables.

"How's your week been?" she asked, extracting her tablet from her bag.

"Satisfactory," he replied.

"So I failed last week's quiz," she announced, opening the app for her physics notes.

"You told me earlier."

"I got a 68.4, which is the highest quiz grade so far."

"Out of how many marks?"

"A hundred."

He took a casual drink of his coffee. "That does not even rise to the level of mediocrity."

She wanted to be offended but he was right. "That's why I messaged you. I figured it was worth it to spend a few more hours at your barbecue if I could figure out circular motion."

"We covered circular motion during our last remediation."

"Yes, and I finally get the difference between centripetal and centrifugal force and I know all the equations for angular acceleration and velocity, but then after our tutoring session last Monday, my professor went through all this other stuff about reference frames and Euler acceleration."

"I am unfamiliar with the term Euler."

She shrugged. "It's probably some old, dead physicist."

"I had deduced as much. I presume it is a term in relation to rotating reference frames, since the topic is circular motion."

"Yeah."

"There are three—"

His words were cut short by the sound of a scream so piercing Amanda would have sworn someone was being flayed. Instinct made her leap to her feet at the sound of a howling child, but she quickly saw her care wasn't needed. A little girl of about four years-old was crawling to her feet from the concrete sporting a pair of very bloody knees, but a woman, probably her mother, was already running toward her.

"Oh baby!" the woman cried, scooping her into her arms. "Oh Hannah, it's going to be okay."

The boys, her older brothers by the looks of it, had stopped running and stood by, observing the scene with very panicked eyes. Amanda still felt a powerful urge to see if she could offer any assistance but the woman was already snapping her fingers at her sons and telling them they were going home.

Amanda slid back into her seat, surprised to see a semi-perplexed look on Sarek's face. He remarked, "Those children were not in your charge and I do not believe the girl was injured so badly as to warrant the assistance of bystanders."

"No, but I still care if a kid gets hurt. I work at a nursery school: it's a habit to come running when I hear a little person screaming."

"I see," he replied, folding his hands over the table. "As I was saying, there are three fictitious forces relating to circular motion."

"Fictitious?" she laughed. "Like you made them up?"

"No," he replied. "It is interesting that you are not familiar with the term. A fictitious force is one that appears to act on a mass in motion based on a non-inertial frame of reference, including a rotating reference frame. You are already familiar with centrifugal force, which is one of these forces."

Amanda was barely listening, not only because her mind was trying in vain to wrap itself around such a dense topic, but also because it was so stunningly impressive to listen to him ramble about physics in such a confident way. She would almost call it attractive.

She began asking questions for clarification and he commenced his usual attempts to simplify the subject matter. They eventually determined that what her professor had called the Euler force was a thing he knew as azimuthal acceleration—even if she still wasn't clear what that was. He also broke down the Coriolis effect and offered numerous examples, from the rotation of tropical storms to its various applications in astrophysics. She thought she was getting it but then he began to quiz her and it was clear she had no idea what was going on.

The familiar feeling of overwhelmed frustration formed an enormous ball of anxiety in her gut. She folded her arms on the table and buried her face between them, wondering what her dad would say when she came home at the end of the term because she'd failed out of college.

"Are you ill?" Sarek asked.

"In a manner of speaking," she groaned. "I hate being so dumb."

"You are more intelligent than you believe," he insisted. "Even if you are not very skilled at physics."

His very honest rebuke was endearing and offensive at the same time. She took a deep breath and tried to collect herself.

"Will you come with me?" he asked.

Amanda looked up and saw he had risen to his feet and was looking in the direction of the empty playground. She followed him to the merry-go-round and when he told her to "mount the apparatus," it took everything she had not to burst into a fit of immature giggles. She did as he asked, then crossed her arms and turned to him. "Now what?"

"This peculiar contraption the children were playing on earlier also provides a very simple example of many of the concepts we've discussed," he said, gripping one of the steel bars and pushing it hard to the right.

She nearly fell from the sudden motion but managed to steady herself. She glared at him. "What was that for?"

"Why did you move?"

"I didn't move. I almost fell."

"Yes, but why?"

"Because you pushed the merry-go-round."

"That is the name of this apparatus?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

"Yeah," she answered dryly.

"Fascinating," he mused, skipping a beat before asked, "If you were to describe in physics terms why you nearly fell, what would you say?"

She almost said the Coriolis force because that's what they had been discussing, but she caught herself. "Inertia."

"Precisely. When the merry-go-round began moving, your body initially resisted the change in velocity."

"Yes, an object at rest stays at rest," she droned. "I'm an object. Hooray."

"Technically you stayed at rest with respect to the Earth," he replied. "Because the Earth is moving through space, rotating around your local star, and you are moving with the Earth."

"Okay?"

"But if I turn the merry-go-round to the left and you eventually reach a constant speed, will you continue to be unsteady and have a tendency to fall to the right?"

"No, because I'll be in motion with the merry-go-round," she responded, more out of a sense of having played on merry-go-rounds and being able to sense what would happen rather than explain it in physics terms. "We'll be like one object."

"Will other forces act on you while you rotate?"

"If you spin it fast enough, I'll get flung off because of centrifugal force," she said, adding emphasis to indicate she accepted the difference between centripetal and centrifugal force.

"Correct," he replied, stretching his arms out by his sides and turning to face her. "The centrifugal force goes out, forming a straight line from the center of the rotating object through you."

"Right."

He gestured with his left hand toward the center of the merry-go-round. "And what force opposes that with equal and opposite force?"

"The centripetal force."

"Yes. And what vector bisects this 180-degree line perpendicularly when the merry-go-round is in motion?" he asked, positioning his right arm straight out in front of his body, making a 90-degree angle with his arms.

Amanda bit her lip. "If we're moving, then it's…velocity?"

"Precisely."

"So how does the Coriolis force fit in?"

He looked around and spied an abandoned rubber kickball underneath the jungle gym and returned with it. He handed it to Amanda and said, "Throw it to me."

She did as he instructed, unsure where he was going with this.

"It traveled in a generally straight line, correct?"

"Yes."

"Would you agree that it would be impossible to throw a ball in anything other than an approximately straight line? You can't throw it and cause it to turn mid-flight in a completely different direction?"

"Unless it's acted on by an outside force like wind," she shrugged.

"True," he agreed. "But the wind is a separate force from the force your arm provided. Now, if you were rotating and threw the ball, what would happen to it?"

"It would go straight. We just decided that."

"I agree that it would travel in a straight line with respect to you, the thrower, but because you are rotating, it will actually appear to curve."

Amanda frowned, holding the ball up and trying to imagine what he was saying. "That doesn't seem right."

"We can test it experimentally and assuage your doubts."

It was hard not to smile when he went to the other side of the merry-go-round. He ordered her to brace herself and started turning it, accelerating slowly but eventually picking up moderate speed. He leapt aboard with the grace of a cat, gripping one of the bright yellow poles to steady himself. It was funny to watch a grown man, one old enough to be her grandfather, approach a common playground staple with such seriousness. And it was kind of fun to be spinning on a merry-go-round, even if she had abandoned such things years ago.

Without his efforts in pushing, they were quickly losing momentum. "Throw the ball to me," he called.

She did and much to her shock, the ball turned midair, going nowhere near Sarek's outstretched hands like common sense would predict, but instead bounced off the merry-go-round before landing in the grass. She stifled a childlike laugh with her hand and stared at the pink orb in wonder. He jumped off and slowly halted the merry-go-round's spin.

Amanda took a seat on the edge, still staring at the kickball. "That was...interesting."

"That was what you refer to as the Coriolis force, seen in this example as a discrepancy between real and apparent trajectory. The Coriolis force appears to exert a force on the ball, but the ball actually travels in a straight line. It is you who was moving."

She looked up at him, touching her index finger to her lips. "I think I get the idea now. Quiz me again."

The returned to the table and began working through several examples from her homework. She tactically neglected to mention he was helping her with an assignment just in case he would jump on some kind of academic honesty soapbox. Within the hour, it was complete and she felt a little smarter.

As Amanda packed her tablet to leave she very nearly said, "At the rate we're going, we're going to be spending the night at your boss' house after this barbecue."

Then she remembered her awkward joke about being fake married and sucked the words so far down in her belly they would never stand the chance of being heard. On their way out of the park, they followed a different dirt path around the other side of the playground so Sarek could dispose of his empty mocha cup in a recycling receptacle next to a community bulletin board.

"So your barbecue is Saturday," she mentioned.

Sarek suddenly stopped and she wondered if she'd once again said something weird. She frantically analyzed her language, wondering what might have put him off, but quickly realized he was looking at lovely loopy graffiti stenciled on the shiny community board, partially obscuring a screen that was flashing notices about Shakespeare in the park and youth sports leagues.

"Isn't that Vulcan writing?" she asked.

He tightened his jaw. "It is."

"What does it say?"

"It says, "Ask'era Ozhikersa is rising."

"What does that mean? Askera…I'm sorry, my tongue is too dumb to repeat what you just said."

"Loosely translated, it means logic prevails. However, it also refers to a group of logic extremists."

She could scarcely believe what she'd just heard. "What do you mean, extremists?"

He pulled his PADD from the wide inner pocket of his jacket and took a picture. "They believe in Vulcan superiority and reject embracing contact with off-worlders."

"Sounds kind of racist. But Vulcans do kind of stick to themselves though, don't they? Most of the ones in Austin aren't as logical as you as far as I can tell, but even they choose to live in a relatively closed off community."

"Yes," he agreed, glancing around. "Let us go."

They resumed walking but Amanda sensed a shift in his mood. He was clearly preoccupied and she didn't feel the urge to ruin his thoughts with idle conversation. They finally turned back onto the block where his apartment building was situated and she mentally prepared herself to say a quick and casual goodbye when a woman across the street shrieked, "Sarek?"

Amanda's eyes fixated on a tall, greyhound-silhouetted woman with the shiniest black hair and sharp, eagle-liked features. She couldn't decide if this woman was beautiful or intimidating. She waved at Sarek, looked both ways across the street, and then crossed to greet them.

"Hello, Petra," Sarek said.

"Is this your girlfriend?" the woman asked, eagerness dripping from her voice.

There was something else in her tone that Amanda didn't like. It wasn't quite condescending, but it was dismissive. Amanda linked her arm with his and smiled. "Sure am."

"Petra, this is Amanda, Amanda, this is Petra. Petra and I work together."

"Ugh, you're so gorgeous!" the woman proclaimed.

If Amanda were a less polite person, she would have rolled her eyes so hard that the centrifugal force would have flung them right out of their sockets. It's not that she thought she was ugly, but no one would have ever described her as gorgeous in such a breathless way. "It's nice to meet you. Sarek and I were just headed back to his place for dinner."

Petra gently touched his forearm, a gesture that seemed more possessive than friendly. "I hope you're a good cook, Sarek. You're going to have to be to keep such a pretty lady in your life."

"Well, the garlic's not going to peel itself, so we should get going," Amanda said, leaning closer into Sarek. She was surprised how warm he was.

The women exchanged goodbyes in pitches a full octave above their normal speaking voice, indicating to anyone even remotely familiar with human women that they couldn't stand each other but were pretending to for other people's benefit. They continued on toward Sarek's building arm in arm. He seemed stiff and uncomfortable, but she couldn't decide whether it was from running into his coworker or the writing on the park community board.

When they were out of earshot of Petra she murmured, "She seems really into you."

"Clarify."

"She likes you. A lot."

"What gives you cause to think so?"

"Uh, my eyes and ears?" she laughed.

He craned his neck to look at her and they fell out of step, which made walking with linked arms awkward. They broke contact and Amanda stopped to look at him. "She's kind of fake but she's pretty in her own way. You're not interested in her at all?"

"No."

"So what's your deal then?" she blurted. "What are you into? Women? Men? Both? Neither? Are you pansexual? Asexual?"

"I am capable of sexual reproduction."

She didn't mean to laugh in his face but she couldn't help it. "Asexual is also a term for people that don't tend to feel sexual desire. I think they still like to have romantic and emotional attachments, they're just not interested in sex."

He straightened his jacket. "I do not wish to discuss my sexual proclivities."

"Not even with your fake girlfriend?"

"No."

"Well, thank you for your tutoring then," she said, feeling like she'd once again overstepped a boundary with an uncomfortable joke. "What are we up to? Five hours?"

"Four hours and fifty-three minutes precisely."

"Is that counting the minute or so we just spent with Petra?" Amanda asked with a smile. "We did say any public appearance as your girlfriend, not just at the barbecue."

He cocked his head, acknowledging her question. "Correction, four hours and fifty-two minutes."

"Let's just make it an even five hours," she said, taking a step back. "I'll see you Saturday. Speaking of which, where should I meet you?"

"I would prefer that we arrive together," he said. "I can collect you, if you prefer."

"I'll message you my address," she said, giving him a warm smile. "Or I guess you could just ask your friend Vedek, because he's over in my room all the time."

This seemed to surprise Sarek, which forced her to clarify that her roommate and his coworker were still in a very passionate and likely short-lived relationship.

"Does he intend to bring her to the barbecue?"

"No idea," Amanda admitted with a casual shrug. "Either way, it should be weird. See you Saturday. Live long and prosper."

He perked up at her offer of his traditional greeting. "Yes, live long and prosper."

They parted ways. She smiled all the way back to her room, but that smile faded when she opened the door and was greeted with Vedek's bare buttocks moving rhythmically from Mara's side of the room.

"Dammit, Mara!" she yelled, storming back into the hall and slamming the door behind her.

"I thought you'd be at work!" Mara called back, panting heavily. "We're almost done!"

Amanda rolled her eyes and headed for the library to study for Friday's government exam. Mara could ruin anything.