Fresh from their showers and a leisurely morning spent enjoying each other's company, Spock and Nyota finally came down to the main floor and entered the kitchen.

"And here they are," Allen announced dramatically, "Mr. & Ms. Popularity."

Margaret laughed at the pair's confused expressions. "He's not joking. The family is closing ranks. We've already had three invitations to dinner tonight. If we didn't already have plans with Norah, Alaina, and Safi, we could go on a gastronomic tour."

Nyota touched Spock's hand and sent him a thought. See? What did I tell you?

Astonishment. He had not expected this.

"We would have loved to have spent more time with them as well," Nyota said. "Maybe next time?"

"Yes, next time you better plan on seeing everyone. We'll have to create an appointment calendar or else they'll all be fighting over you," Margaret laughed. "Want some tea? How about some breakfast?"

Margaret noticed Spock eyeing the food and quickly set a plate with two mini spinach-mushroom quiches in front of him. She realized that he had not eaten much at the party the night before, just a few selections. Perhaps he had been too busy listening, talking, or carving his pumpkin. Or, she theorized, maybe the food had been too strange. She supplemented the quiche with a small bowl of fruit sections.

"Nyota, what about you? How much would you like?"

"I'll take one to start."

Allen plated it and set it before her. "Fruit?"

"Yes, thank you."

"The tea's done," said Margaret, pouring each of them a mug of an orange spice herbal selection. "Eat up and drink up. After we're done, I'm putting everyone to work. We have veggies to chop for the lasagna. Guess who's in charge of that!" She looked pointedly at her nephew expecting some protest, but he surprised her.

"I would be honored to assist you," Spock said.

Allen laughed. "Putting that top-notch Starfleet training to use?"

More teasing. Spock knew it. "No, Allen, basic skills. Everyone must eat," he stated plainly.

Margaret lightly bumped Allen's arm. "Yes, basic skills that you somehow refuse to master. Listen to our young man! You're lucky I'm here, otherwise you'd starve or die of replicator malnutrition."

"Hey, we all have our talents…," Allen defended himself.

"Ha!" sniffed Margaret. "You can set the table then."

"How can I help? " Nyota asked, amused at the feud.

"Have you ever made lasagna noodles?" Margaret raised her brow with her inquiry.

Nyota shook her head. "No, but I'd love to learn."

"It's easy," said Margaret cheerfully. "If you can boil water, you can do this."

The foursome finished breakfast, cleared the table, and went to work. Margaret blanched and peeled tomatoes for the sauce while, under her supervision, Nyota mixed the noodle dough and began running it through a pasta machine. Allen went to the dining room to clean, set the table, and prepare the serving wares. Between tasks he found a couple bottles of wine, setting the Chardonnay selection to chill in a wine cooler and the Merlot on the buffet table.

Knife in hand, Spock surveyed the selection and quantities of vegetables next to his cutting board. They looked familiar. "Margaret, are you using Mother's recipe?"

"Yes," she said. "She made it for us one of the times she and Sarek were here. It's been one of our favorites ever since."

He had looked forward to this meal since Margaret mentioned it a few days ago. Most foods did not trigger anything other than a momentary acknowledgment of the taste. This lasagna was an exception. His human acquaintances often said that food could evoke recollections and emotional responses, so he suspected that his own response was one borne of his human side. In his parents' home, lasagna was one of his favorite Terran meals. As a cadet, he had had to suppress his disappointment with the Academy cafeteria's version of it.

"May I have a copy of the recipe?" he asked.

"Of course," said Margaret, happy to provide him another tie to his mother. "I'll give you copies of her other recipes, too, if you'd like. She sent me several over the years."

Spock continued preparing the various vegetables as Amanda had taught him in his childhood. He neatly lined up the uniformly chopped carrots, zucchini, yellow squash, scallions, and basil leaves in order.

Nyota stood over the stove breathing in the scent of a bubbling pot. "Mmmm, this sauce smells wonderful! Maybe we can bribe the galleymaster into making this."

"Bribery is ill-advised," Spock said as Nyota rolled her eyes at his literalism, "and I do not believe that our galley is equipped with a pasta machine."

"One could always roll the noodles out the old-fashioned way with a rolling pin," said Margaret.

"I don't think we could talk our cooks into it, not with a crew of 400," Nyota answered. "Maybe they'd let us use their facilities if we volunteer to cook for one of our senior staff lunches." She had already returned to her work table, sending another ball of dough to be flattened through the machine. A long noodle streamed out the other end. She adjusted the machine and sent the thick noodle through again. The machine flattened it into a thinner, longer strip, which she cut into lasagna pan-sized lengths. Nyota found the process satisfying. "Spock, we have to get one of these," she said, pulling the last of the noodles through.

Margaret smiled. "I'm glad you're having fun."

They finished their prep work, then Margaret shooed them out of the kitchen. "I can take it from here," she said. "Go see if Allen needs help with anything."

"No, I don't," said Allen, entering the kitchen. "Everything's ready to go. We could get out of Margaret's way and sit in the living room."

"I have just a few more photos to scan," said Nyota. "Then I'll be done. How long before Norah, Alaina, and Safi arrive?"

"A couple hours," Margaret answered.

"That will be plenty of time. Maybe I could start on my month-end summary. Spock, have you done yours?"

"No. This is an opportune time to do so. If I am not needed, I will work in my room. Excuse me." He started upstairs while Nyota and Allen entered the living room.

Allen's eyebrows rose. "Writing reports on leave? You two sure are busy."

Nyota shook her head. "We're the department heads, and paperwork goes with the territory."

Allen grinned. "Understood." He waited until Spock had disappeared. Allen heard Spock close the door to his room behind him, then leaned over to Nyota. "How's he doing?"

"Very well," Nyota said softly, touched that Allen asked. "I think he's finally relaxing, as much as he ever does."

Allen settled into his chair while Nyota took her customary spot on the sofa. "What did he think of the party last night? Were the relatives too much for him? They can be overwhelming."

"No, not at all. The party was a new experience, but he found it interesting. I don't think that he'd turn down another invitation." Nyota's tone warmed. "Everyone was so nice. He would like to get to know them better."

"Good. They'll be relieved to hear that. They were worried about making a good impression."

"Oh, they definitely did, every one of them." Nyota paused, then the words tumbled out. "Allen, they were so accepting. It was so wonderful. You have no idea."

Allen was not surprised to hear that. "That's important, isn't it?"

Nyota nodded. "More than you know."

"I thought so. That kid's gone through more crap in his life than anyone should," he said tightly. "It's a wonder he hasn't gone insane or turned into some kind of criminal. Instead he saved a world. I guess we can thank Vulcan mind disciplines..."

"…Or a supportive mother."

"Yes…Spock was lucky to have her," Allen agreed. "This whole getting-to-know-each-other thing was her idea. I have to admit that when I heard that you two were coming here, I did not know how we were going to get along. But Margaret insisted that we were going to, one way or another. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that we did—she's as stubborn as her sister was. We're sorry that this didn't happen sooner."

Nyota shook her head. "It couldn't have happened sooner. Spock wasn't ready. It took him awhile to get to this point."

"That could be.… Say, I'm about to go all mushy on you, so don't hold it against me, OK?"

Nyota laughed. "Go ahead."

Allen continued. "Now that he's met everyone, he understands that he has people to turn to, right? Even when I tease him?"

"Teasing? He understands that it's an 'illogical' human expression of affection in most situations." Nyota rose one eyebrow playfully and tilted her head. "You notice that he teases back? You notice that he teases me?"

"I've noticed." Allen laughed. "Sarek is also an inveterate teaser. He and Amanda could go back and forth all day. I think Sarek found it to be an intellectual challenge. Speaking of Sarek, we heard from him a couple months ago…any word on how he's doing now?"

"All his news is about the new colony, of course," she sighed. "He's an elder, so he's working on the organization of government and preservation of culture, but you probably already knew that. Spock has been sending him Vulcan cultural records and artifacts for the new archive whenever we encounter them."

"How's he doing personally?" Allen asked.

"From what Spock says, he works non-stop. There's so much to do, and he's got the Vulcan work ethic, but I think he may be trying to distract himself. He misses her.…" Nyota paused again, wondering if she should bring this up. "You and Margaret realize that he will have to marry again…?"

Allen sat back into his chair. "Yes, we realize that. It's hard for us, but we have no right to object, and we never would. He has to do what he has to do, and we only wish him well. We knew that he would outlive Amanda, but who expected that he would have to find someone so soon? We hope that he finds a good woman." Allen shook his head sadly. "When Spock saw Amanda that last time…Sarek was there, too, right?"

"Yes."

"That's what I thought. Poor man. I haven't been able to get it out of my head since you told us about it."

"Maybe I shouldn't have."

"No, it's all right. It helps me walk a mile in their shoes," he said sympathetically. "What happened to them would have happened to us if Spock, Captain Kirk, and the rest of you hadn't stopped it. It has put life in perspective, and it makes me appreciate everything we have here. But back to my original point: If you wouldn't mind, Nyota, could you pass along a message?"

"Sure."

"Remind Spock and Sarek that they have family here willing to help them in any way we can. And that includes Sarek's new wife, whoever she turns out to be. I'd tell them myself, but though I've known Sarek for years, I don't know the best way to approach him about something like this, and I'm just getting to know Spock and don't want to mess it up. There's Vulcan pride, and I don't want to offend, so…"

Nyota patted his arm. "I'll tell them in an appropriate way at an appropriate time."

Allen squeezed her hand in return. "Thanks, Nyota. I'll let Margaret know that I talked to you. Our offers are genuine."

"Spock will understand. I think Sarek will, too."

-o0o-

All four of the household's occupants sat conversing in the living room when the door chime sounded.

"I'll get it," said Margaret. She ran to the foyer and opened the door. "Norah, come in!"

"Hi, Mom," said the tall, brown-haired woman. She looked past her mother to her father and the two approaching guests and smiled. "Hi, Dad…and hello…Spock, it's been a long time."

Spock walked up to his cousin and looked at her from head to toe as she did with him. "Indeed. Greetings, Norah. May I introduce you to Nyota Uhura. Nyota, this is Norah Markham."

Norah and Nyota shook hands. "It's great to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you," Norah beamed.

"About me?" Nyota's eyes widened, her head tilted forward in question. "Has Margaret been telling stories?"

Norah shook her head and laughed. "No, Amy and Kathryn have. Don't worry—they sang your praises up and down. One thing I'll warn you about: Lightning is slower than family news around here".

Margaret folded her arms. "Norah, hush. You're making our family sound like a bunch of old gossips."

"No, we're just close-knit," Norah assured. "We like to stay in touch, and since I couldn't make it to the party because of that awards dinner I had to go to, Amy and Kathryn got me caught up. I would rather have been at Janelle's, trust me." She looked up at Spock. "I'm glad you came. It's been, what, 17 years since your last visit?"

"It has been 17.6875 years," Spock replied.

"Some things never change," Norah said affectionately as the rest of them laughed.

Something outside caught Allen's eye. "Looks like Alaina and Safi just arrived. We might as well wait for them before moving to the dining room." He walked up to the door, opened it, and called out. "Come on in! We're all standing here waiting for you," he teased.

Alaina, who took after her mother and Aunt Amanda, walked in first followed by her tall East African companion. "Spock!" she called cheerfully. "Whoa, how did you get to be so tall, Big Brother?"

Nyota caught a flicker of warmth behind Spock's eyes. She half expected him to answer Alaina's rhetorical question with a lecture on the pituitary gland and growth hormones, but he remained quiet.

"Big Brother?" Allen asked, confused.

"Well, at the time I wanted a big brother like my friend Emily and—sorry, Norah, you didn't cut it. Although Spock was younger, he was taller and smarter, just like a big brother should be. Do you remember, Spock?"

"I do," he replied. "You persisted with that moniker despite being informed otherwise—repeatedly. After a time, it proved easier to accept it than debate it."

Alaina laughed. "You earned your title. No one else ever defended me from bullies as well as you did."

"I think there's a story there, and I need to hear it," said Nyota, eyebrows raised in surprise, but intrigued at what she might learn about Spock, who simply stood in that dignified way he did when something embarrassingly unVulcan might be revealed. She smiled and turned to the new arrivals. "Hello, I'm Nyota. You must be Alaina and Safi."

"Where are our manners?" said Margaret. "Yes, Safi, this is our nephew Spock and his friend Nyota Uhura. Spock, Nyota, this is our soon-to-be son-in-law, Safi Afua. Safi, Nyota is also from East Africa. I'm sure you'll find plenty to talk about."

"I have no doubt," Safi replied amiably. "This is a pleasure."

"Let's hang up the coats and move to the dining room," Allen prodded. "I don't know about everyone else, but I'm ready to eat, and I don't intend to stand on ceremony. The smell of that lasagna is driving me crazy."

Everyone who was not Vulcan laughed. But the Vulcan among them made his way into the dining room as eagerly as everyone else. Margaret sat at the head of the table, Allen at the foot. On one side Norah, Safi, and Alaina took their seats. Spock and Nyota sat opposite of them. Soon Margaret cut everyone a generous square of the lasagna and a slice of garlic bread as each person passed his or her plate to be served. Everyone served themselves from the bowls of spinach salad and fruit passed around the table. Finally Allen poured the wine.

"There, I think we're ready to begin," Margaret said, lifting her fork, signaling to the rest that it was time to dig in.

Spock took his first modest forkful, barely waiting for the morsel to cool before biting down through the layers of noodle, cheese, vegetables, and sauce. The tang of the tomato sauce and seasonings combined well with the fullness of the cheese and noodles, and the sensation prompted a pleasant recollection. Although this lasagna was slightly different from his mother's—and Spock suspected that the flavor differences stemmed from the different flavors produced between tomatoes grown in Terran soil and those grown in Vulcan soil—it was still very good.

"How does this compare to your mother's?" Margaret asked.

"Quite favorably," Spock replied, sinking his fork into another morsel.

Margaret proved to be a good facilitator, easing each guest into conversation. She had Norah talk about her role as a sociology professor. Alaina talked about her work in rehabilitative therapy. Finally Safi talked about his research as a pathologist. Everyone already knew about Spock and Nyota's careers and backgrounds, except…

"How did you two meet?" Norah asked.

"At Starfleet Academy," Nyota replied. "We worked together in the linguistics department." Spock and Nyota usually evaded providing too many details whenever anyone asked them this question. They always chose general terms to obscure their instructor-student aide relationship. Spock pulled the "reserved Vulcan" routine while letting Nyota do the talking. To deflect probing questions, Nyota went on the offensive. "Alaina and Safi, how did you two meet? And how long have you known each other?"

"We met at work," said Alaina. "There was a staff mixer. The idea was to meet people from other departments to build interdepartmental relations."

"It worked," Allen mused.

"Yes, it worked very well," said Safi, looking at Alaina, who smiled in return.

"Watch out, here comes the mush," Allen warned.

"Dad!"

Norah threw her head back in a deep laugh. "Hey, he was asking for it!"

"Yeah, see if I invite you to the wedding," Alaina teased back.

"Girls!" huffed Margaret, but with a sparkle in her eye. "We have guests…"

"Even Klingons have better manners," said Allen.

"Oh, as if you should talk, Dad," Norah sniffed. "How have you survived this week?" she asked Nyota and Spock sympathetically in a loud stage whisper.

Spock noted her obvious playful tone and narrowed his eyes slightly. "It has been enlightening," he said slowly, echoing Nyota's tonal modulations whenever she wanted to leave a statement open to several layers of interpretation. His aunt's reaction indicated success.

"Oh, look who's talking!" Margaret exclaimed, plugging into the mood. "Let me tell you about 'enlightening.' Norah, did Kathryn or Amy tell you what he pulled at Janelle's party?"

"The costume thing? Yes…"

"It was Margaret's suggestion," Spock stated, falling into the cadence of the conversation.

"Oh, here we go again." Nyota rolled her eyes, then shoved her index finger into his bicep. "You are not blaming Margaret for that."

"It was an experiment," Spock continued, innocently ignoring Nyota's comment.

"Only a Vulcan could justify being a wiseacre as an experiment," Allen pointed out, faking his irritation.

"A non-standard implementation, perhaps," Spock suggested.

"Yeah, Spock, dig it in deeper," Allen said.

"I do not understand, Allen."

No one believed him, no matter how much Vulcan dignity he mustered. Nyota gave him the evil eye. He stared right back at her. It was going to be a stalemate.

"All right, that's enough of that!" laughed Margaret. "No wars tonight. Anyone need anything more to eat?"

"No, thank you, that was great," said Nyota, echoed by assents from the rest of the table. "Now I have to hear, Alaina, how did Spock get to be your 'big brother'?"

Alaina smiled. "Did you know that he can throw a mean snowball?"

-o0o-

[17.6875 years previously]

The February snowstorm left plenty of fresh snow, followed by a warm weather front and bright sunshine that created the ideal conditions for making a snowman.

"Come on, Spock," Norah and Alaina beckoned, eager to show their Vulcan cousin something new. "We'll show you how!"

Spock did not see the point of making something that, in a month's time, would melt. In fact, he did not understand the impetus behind creating snowmen at all. But Amanda insisted. "You are on Earth, and the activities are different. Respect that, Spock. See what you can learn from participating."

She helped him bundle up, carefully covering his ears and most of his face. Spock, like all Vulcans, was not used to the cold, even with the aid of the special cold-weather wear for off-planet use. Only his eyes remained exposed to the elements.

Once outside, Spock decided that the experience of working with snow was worthy of study. He had heard of Inuit igloos, so he knew that historically humans had used snow for shelter. However, in his mother's books, he had also read that the snow was cut into blocks for such purposes out of existing snowpack, not rolled into boulder-like masses as it was for snowmen. The physical exertion in rolling the boulders kept him warm, though, so he was content to assist his cousins in this endeavor. Although he was 8 years old, Vulcan physiology blessed him with twice the strength of his 10-year-old and 12-year-old cousins, making him capable of rolling a truly big base for the snowman, which delighted the girls. Spock did not say much, but he was cooperative.

Then it hit—literally. An exploding mass of snow to the side of his face.

Norah ran out in front of her younger sister and cousin. "Tommy Grabowski, you get out of here!" she yelled.

"Who's gonna make me?" Tommy jeered.

Norah and Alaina hated 13-year-old Tommy Grabowski, the neighborhood bully. He turned otherwise pleasant school days into days in Hell. It was bad enough that the girls saw him in school. What was worse was that he lived just down the street, so their paths crossed often. He was the kind of kid who wore a perpetual frown, whose brows hung over his eyes in a permanent scowl. Backed up by equally disagreeable toadies Nolan Sigstad and Kai Morganstern, his mission was to disrupt and annoy—at least it seemed that way.

"Are you gonna cry?" Tommy sneered. Nolan and Kai stood with snowballs in their hands, ready to throw at the slightest provocation.

Spock simply stared back. What was this? Why had they done that? Why did they expect him to cry? Illogical.

"Spock, can you throw snowballs?" Alaina whispered.

"Why would I do so?" Spock asked.

"Because they are going to throw them at us," she replied. "We have to defend ourselves."

"That is illogical," he said. "It serves no purpose."

"Why do you keep talking about that 'logical' stuff?" Alaina asked. Alaina had never heard the word "logic" during her entire life as much as she had heard it in the week since her cousin's arrival.

Suddenly two snowballs flew—one into the side of Alaina's head, the other against Spock's arm.

"Knock it off!" Norah yelled, hastily making a snowball and throwing it back. She missed all three of her targets, who laughed and taunted her more.

"They'll keep doing it if we don't fight back," said Alaina, who scooped up and packed her own snowball. She wound up and threw, glancing her snowball off Nolan, but Nolan had another one ready and sent it directly toward Spock's face.

Spock now understood the nature of this engagement and easily ducked out of the way. This situation was annoying and unnecessary. Disengaging himself and returning to the house was the most logical course, so he turned to begin walking there.

"Heh! What are you, chicken?" Tommy yelled. "Hey, Grayson, who is that anyway?"

"None of your business, you big poophead!" Alaina yelled back.

"Oooo, poophead…she called me a poophead," Tommy mocked. But Alaina had angered him. He wanted revenge, and he got it with the next snowball. Adrenaline aided his throw, and the densely packed snowball that was almost as hard as a rock hit Alaina squarely in the face.

For some reason, Alaina could not breathe. When she wiped the snow from her face, she also wiped the blood from her nose.

Spock had heard the snowball's loud impact, and he turned. Red human blood trickled to Alaina's upper lip, and she seemed stunned. Before he could tamp it down, indignation rose within him. This was unacceptable. This would not continue.

"You creep!" screamed Norah, now incensed. This went beyond the bounds of decency, even for bullies. "Look what you did. She's bleeding!"

Alaina remained in shock. She did not feel any pain—yet—as the snow's cold numbed any sensation. But it was going to hurt once they went back inside and her nerves reawakened with the warmth. The boys simply laughed.

"Ha, you big babies!" Tommy yelled back, scooping up some more snow, his palms ready to pack it into another frozen sphere.

He did not get the chance.

The second he looked up, his world went white as a well-aimed snowball hit him between the eyes. Two seconds later another hit Nolan in the mouth. A second later Kai's forehead was wet with the remnants of yet another. Then Tommy got another one on his chest.

"What the hell?" Tommy griped.

His companions had barely recovered from the first round when they were pelted in their faces with another round. In the half-seconds between rounds when they could see, they saw that it was the other kid, not Norah or Alaina, who delivered the frozen ballistics.

"Stop!" Tommy yelled.

"You will cease," Spock ordered, his voice firm and calm as he had been taught. "Leave us in peace."

Tommy's pride got the better of him. Who was that kid with the weird accent anyway? "Are you going to make me, Kid?"

His answer was another snowball to the face, followed quickly with another one to the chest, followed by another one to the stomach. The kid was fast, effortlessly scooping snow, packing it, and throwing it in one fluid motion after another.

"Stop!" Tommy yelled again.

More snowballs hit Tommy. Nolan and Kai had already retreated several meters back. Tommy was forced to do so as well, but the snowballs kept coming at regular intervals. No matter how he tried to evade, somehow the next snowball met its target. He backed away, and still the snowballs came. He ran to the street, and still they came. He ran down the street, and still they came, timed and aimed precisely. Tommy and his companions found no relief until they retreated behind a physical barrier, the fence around his family's home at the end of the block.

After resting a minute, rubbing all the places he had taken hits (he was sure that he would see several bruises before the end of the day), he poked his head around a corner post. Up the road in the middle of the street, the mystery kid stood, black eyes staring back intensely, another snowball in his hand.

Tommy, Nolan, and Kai did not dare emerge. That kid had a serious throwing arm and aim. He did not pursue them, but he was not backing down either. Perhaps it was time to go do something else.

-o0o-

Nyota sat with her mouth open. "You were in a snowball fight? You?"

Norah sat back in satisfaction. "It wasn't much of a fight. He pelted them good. Tommy never bothered us again."

"And we threatened to sic our cousin on him if he ever did," Alaina added. "Not bad for someone who had never thrown a snowball before. Spock, did you ever tell Aunt Amanda about it?"

"No." Spock kept details of his altercations to himself whenever he could. "The matter was best forgotten."

Nyota smiled at the typical Vulcan reply. She had never seen Spock start a fight, but once engaged, he always finished them decisively.

"Spock, I never knew…you could have pitched in the Major Leagues," said Margaret. "And what's this about a bloody nose, Alaina?"

"It stopped bleeding. It was no big deal. We finished our snowman."

"You should have told me!"

"Mom, it was almost two decades ago. I think I survived."

"Makes me wonder what other secrets they're keeping from us," Allen mused.

"Secrets? Us?" Norah asked innocently, but pointed to Alaina.

"Secrets, huh? Well, who broke the bed that same week?" Alaina asked, indicating Norah.

Margaret and Allen exchanged confused expressions. "What do you mean 'broke the bed'?" Margaret asked. "Are we adults, and are we really having this conversation?"

"Norah was jumping on her bed to show Spock a somersault, and the frame broke," Alaina snickered.

"Tattler!" Norah laughed.

"I don't remember the bed frame breaking," Allen said, leveling a disapproval parental gaze at his daughters, then turned to Spock. "I suppose that you didn't tell your mother about that one, either."

"There was no need to do so. I repaired the damage," Spock confessed.

"Apparently your repair has held all these years. How did you fix it?"

"I replaced a broken peg with sections of two styluses."

Allen was impressed. "You're kidding! I bet they're still there. I have to go look. Spock, do you mind?"

"No," Spock replied.

Allen jumped up and quickly ran up the stairs. Moments later peals of laughter bounced down the stairway from Spock's room. Norah and Alaina giggled. Margaret smirked. Safi, Nyota, and Spock tried to keep neutral expressions. Only Spock succeeded. Soon they heard Allen's footsteps as he came back down the stairs.

Allen's eyes met Spock's merrily. "You used hot pink styluses?"

"Yes," Spock said. "Norah supplied them." He had never encountered pink styluses before or since. Inexplicably, many young Terran females found items in that color appealing.

Alaina laughed harder. "We couldn't just ask you for a new peg without getting into trouble."

Allen put on his more serious parent face, still with a twinkle in his eye. "And who says that the three of you are not in trouble now?"

Nyota, Safi, and Margaret laughed. Spock looked confused. Alaina, and Norah tried to bat their best "Daddy's Little Girl" eyes, but could not finish their ruse without giggling in embarrassment.

"Young Man, were there any other repairs in this house that I should know about? Anything else you care to confess?"

Spock tilted his head forward toward Allen, and one eyebrow rose.

Allen shook his head. "Uh-oh, that's what I thought…"