Thankfully, Commander Spock's direct question had punched through the awkwardness. But if Mbaruku once thought he could win the upper hand in the inevitable conversation, he did no longer. Commander Spock's intense eye contact told him that the younger man refused a submissive status, his careful formality fortifying his aura of authority. The fire beneath the calm exterior could, if provoked far enough, prove explosive. For the first time, he realized the potential depth of Vulcan emotion that Faizah had warned him about.

Mbaruku evaluated the situation before him. If the younger man insisted on having a conflict, then Mbaruku believed he could face off with him, if necessary. But, his own inner turmoil aside, this was not the time to lose his cool and inflict a wound on the relationship with his daughter. The more he looked, the more evidence he saw that she was deeply in love. Had Nyota lost her common sense? He did not think so, but he could not be sure. Love had a way of blinding reason, even the kind of reason that should be telling her to avoid a relationship with an instructor, superior officer, and Vulcan.

Even now, if Mbaruku interpreted the movement in Nyota's upper arm and shoulder correctly, she was touching him underneath the table's surface. Nyota gave Spock supportive glances in conjunction with her movements, reinforcing Mbaruku's supposition.

The Vulcan moments ago had asked about clearing up misunderstandings. He was waiting for an answer.

Faizah broke the silence. "Gentlemen. Is it time to have a certain conversation?"

Eyeing each other, both men nodded affirmatively.

"Then we shall have it, but let us eat first. We will all feel better on full stomachs, and then we can give each other our full attention. Are we agreed?"

"That is wise," the Vulcan said, glancing up at Faizah for a second, then returned his stare to Mbaruku.

"You have no argument from me," Mbaruku said, answering Commander Spock's stare before moving his eyes toward his daughter. "Nyota?"

"Yes, we have to talk," she said, suddenly looking less hungry.

Faizah patted her arm. "Good. Let us finish our breakfast."

Vulcan custom or not, the four members returned to eating, this time silently.

Each swallow became more difficult as Mbaruku tried to finish his last few bites. As nervousness set in, Mbaruku's stomach refused to expand or accept the last spoonful of uji. However, the Vulcan maintained a mask of calm. Mbaruku was determined to exude an air of calm as well. Between the last few spoonful of uji and last few bites of fruit, he stole occasional glances to the other side of the table.

Until now, Mbaruku had observed the commander interacting with Nyota and Faizah, but he had not looked more closely at this "boy" himself. Mbaruku's first impressions remained intact. The younger's strong features and powerful bearing was a kind of presence that effortlessly drew attention, though, Mbaruku noted, Commander Spock tried to avoid it with his more quiet manner. His dark hair lay perfectly in the classic Vulcan cut, accentuating the angular, high cheekbones and pointed ears. He presented a tidy appearance—clean-shaven, clothing obviously tailored and well-fit to his form, neatly trimmed nails. No doubt that within that well-toned body were muscles gifted with the strength that Vulcan genes bestowed. Every movement was precise, with purpose. The connection between a disciplined mind and body was there—quintessentially Vulcan, at least to Mbaruku's eyes.

Mbaruku tried to ignore the alien features and look deeper, as Nyota and Faizah obviously had, to consider Spock The Individual. That same aura of intelligence and authority that had rippled from him weeks ago at Nyota's graduation ceremony now hit Mbaruku in waves. Perhaps the commander's strength of personality in these aspects had swept Nyota away. Throughout her life, Mbaruku's daughter had found few people who matched her genius intellect or her dogged drive. Commander Spock matched both.

But, who was he really? He still had no grasp of the person behind the persona.

In looking for his answers, he had to tread carefully, especially as he looked at Nyota, then at Nyota and the commander together. After two years in this relationship, they were undoubtedly a couple. They sat together like a couple. They exchanged small glances and touches that they alone understood, just like a couple. In some ways, they looked like a younger version of Faizah and himself.

The commander's impeccable record made finding fault difficult. Mbaruku recalled how Faizah's own father had interrogated his younger self, looked for any fault or deficiency, and how much his younger self had not liked it. Spock surely would not like it. Nyota would like it even less.

Still, the father-warrior continued his evaluation. The mysteries of an interspecies relationship and the fraternization and rule-breaking issues continued to nag at him. Had Nyota been unduly influenced and compromised? If this continued, would Nyota be all right?

Mbaruku brought his eyes up again for another look and met the Vulcan's eyes doing the same thing. So, maybe the Vulcan had been preparing for the inevitable conversation as he had. Well, Mbaruku supposed, one did not work one's way up the chain of command in Starfleet as rapidly as Commander Spock had without always being prepared—or more than prepared—for any situation or an opponent. That thought did nothing to ease Mbaruku's own apprehensions, but he had to respect the Vulcan.

The two continued to assess each other. Neither looked away. Was this another challenge? No, the commander's eyes seemed more inquisitive than challenging. But this moment, stretching into longer than a moment, was becoming awkward as neither of the two men seemed to know how to look away from the other.

The visual stalemate caught Faizah's notice. "More chai?" she asked, drawing the men's attention, breaking the silent skirmish.

"I will have some more." Mbaruku nodded gratitude to Faizah. She seemed to understand the predicament and nodded back, her lips turned slightly upward in amusement.

Faizah filled Mbaruku's mug. "Spock?"

"No, thank you."

Nyota's amused expression was a twin to her mother's. Mbaruku realized that she had been observing the interaction, watching her two men sizing up one another. She quietly shook her head, smiled at her father, gave Spock another supportive glance, and tried to resume eating. The commander returned her glance, and an eyebrow rose slightly. Suddenly she tilted her head forward and looked directly at him. He straightened somewhat and adopted an aristocratic air. Then Nyota's lips quivered and her shoulders shook slightly as she tried to repress a smile, maybe even laughter.

Now Mbaruku knew that they had been communicating beyond glances, which explained the subtle touches between the two under the table. Vulcans were touch-telepaths. It made him uncomfortable, wondering if it was simply conversation or whether the commander was implementing some kind of mind control over his daughter. If so, surely a Vulcan would not be trying to make Nyota laugh. Other than obviously being in love, Nyota seemed like herself. If Mbaruku had to guess, Nyota had just teased the commander during their game of mental tennis.

As everyone's focus no longer fell on the few leftover morsels of food on their plates, Faizah got up to clear the table. The second she did, Nyota, the commander, and Mbaruku abruptly stood up and brought their own place settings to the cleaning unit. They had run out of reasons to delay. It was time to have that talk.

-o0o-

Mbaruku and Faizah led Nyota and Spock to the far end of the living room, to an alcove surrounded by windows overlooking the gardens outside. A short couch abutted the longer wall. Two chairs flanked either side of the couch. In the center of this U-shaped arrangement, a low houseplant, in its wide-based pottery bowl, occupied the center of a low table. Low pedestals on either side of the couch held brass pots with ferns.

Faizah gestured to the couch. "Nyota, why don't you and Spock have a seat there. Your father will, undoubtedly, want his chair."

The chair against the left wall offered the best view of Faizah's gardens outside. This spot had become Mbaruku's favorite, and he sat there quite often. Nyota took the spot on the couch nearest her father, Spock sat closer to Faizah's seat.

So, now with everyone in place, it was time to begin. Spock sat impassively. Nyota steadied herself. Faizah simply sat back—she appeared the most relaxed of all of them. But her eyes remained vigilant.

Finally, the time for explanations and revelations had come. With that moment now upon them, Mbaruku suddenly could not decide which scenario formulated over breakfast he should initiate. More awkward seconds passed. The four remained silent, waiting for someone to begin.

Finally, impatiently, Nyota straightened. "I need to say a few things… Baba, Mama, I am sorry that I did not tell you about us earlier. I couldn't. Telling anyone would have risked discovery, so Spock and I had to keep this secret. I know that you have been hurt, and I am sorry, truly sorry for that. I love you. I wanted to tell you, but the risk was too great."

Mbaruku could understand that as his daughter now turned to him.

"Baba, I know that you have questions. I hope you understand that we may not be able to answer all of them for personal, cultural, or security concerns. But we will answer what we can."

Mbaruku acknowledged her comments with a nod, then watched Nyota steel herself for an uneasy onslaught. Her lips thinned. She sat up ramrod straight, almost as straight as Commander Spock did. Her chin jutted out just a bit—defiantly maybe? This was not good. Despite her words, she was bracing her defenses for a confrontation if this conversation became that. He worried that she would erect a wall between him and her, though she never had before. Even during Nyota's adolescence as she vied for the independence that those of that age sought, she and Mbaruku had managed to maintain a loving parent-child relationship as they weathered their disagreements. But as an adult now choosing a life companion, she could very well choose to make a final break and walk away if this went badly.

Commander Spock had indicated his readiness for this conversation and sat there patiently. Faizah seemed concerned for the Vulcan's well-being as she eyed Mbaruku, beseeching him to be gentle.

It was his move. Was he truly ready for this?

Relaxing his upright posture, settling back into his chair's cushions, he tried picturing the Vulcan as less of a Starfleet officer, but as the "nice boy" that Faizah had seen, the "boyfriend" who now sat closely to Nyota.

The commander, in turn, continued to examine him while waiting for the first inquiry. The mind behind those dark, intense eyes… Mbaruku felt the commander anticipating Mbaruku's every possible volley, calculating dozens of possible responses and potential outcomes.

What was wrong with him? Why could Mbaruku not start this conversation? The others would soon see through his façade of calmness. The truth was, his mind raced. The pressure of selecting the right approach nearly paralyzed him. Faizah now looked concerned.

Then it hit him. Funny how the mind worked, he mused, as an old poem from childhood, a verse taught in his school's Standard class, inserted itself suddenly into mind:

A wise old owl sat on an oak
The more he saw, the less he spoke
The less he spoke, the more he heard
Why aren't we like that wise old bird?

Momentarily amused, he laughed to himself. His subconscious was trying to guide him with the same advice that Faizah had given. Restrain the screaming father-warrior. Be the historian, the academic. Listen and gather information first, analyze and come to conclusions later. It was fair. It was rational. The father-warrior continued to protest, but Mbaruku reminded that part of himself that even a warrior had to carefully consider whether he had cause to fight.

So, it was his move. Time to make it. He adopted his most professorial bearing, breathed in, and made his request calmly.

"Tell us your story."

His words hung over them.

Nyota, who had been braced for an interrogation, blinked. "What?"

"Your story, of the two of you, from the beginning. Tell your mother and me about yourselves."

Faizah's expression softened. She approved.

Nyota and the commander looked at each other, Nyota plainly surprised. The Vulcan looked back at Mbaruku, narrowed his eyes, and tilted his head. Oh, yes, they had been prepared for battle, and Mbaruku had caught them off-guard. He relaxed further into the chair's cushions, more satisfied than he had been in weeks.

Author's Note, May 18, 2011: Thank you for returning to this tale. Dealing with a death in the family took up a great deal of time and mental energy. On a happier front, helping a couple friends with a project for their wedding also took up a great deal of time and mental energy. I'm ready for more stability. Who's all with me on that? (LOL!)

This is another shorter, transitional chapter that began as part of a much larger chapter. I broke it out because I've kept you all waiting long enough and thought that you'd enjoy this "meeting of bull elephants" (T'Soy's words), and I wanted to balance the chapter sizes as best as I can. If I had posted this with the rest of the original chapter (which I'm still writing, by the way), it would have been HUGE! This seemed like a natural breakpoint before Nyota and Spock (mostly Nyota) start telling Mbaruku and Faizah about themselves.

Thanks for reading. And, again, thanks to T'Soy for her inquisitive nature and insightful questions. I am so lucky to have her as a resource!

May 21 Addendum: I forgot to mention this, but I came across this story in the TOS section that I think does not get much attention, but it should: Crossing the Line by Helena Fallon. Description: The Enterprise is sent, with a skeleton crew, to the furthest most reach of the Federation. It is a turning point for all concerned. Rated: T - English - Drama/Friendship - J. Kirk & Spock. It's a well-thought-out, well-written story about a mission to far-flung worlds settled by Vulcan dissidents who adhere to Surak's teachings, just not as dogmatically as the mother world might like. There is political intrigue and an interesting look into Vulcan psychological motivations. If you like detail, you might like this one. And, if you do, be sure to let the author know!