A Time for Change

by Sensara

It was bad enough that the government gave her the grumpiest Vulcan alive as an exchange partner. But Genie has to survive a year with Soval, and she's certain the Vulcans are hiding something. Why are the Vulcans acting strangely, and if love gets in the way of her quest for answers, will everything fall apart? Rated T for safety, some chapters may be M. 1st-person POV.

5. The Party

Disclaimer: See Chapter 1. Thank you so much to dinopoodle, Laura 2468 and the anon reviewer for reviewing!

I deposited my bag of wrapping paper, scissors and tape on the clean table and put my backpack in my room, and I shrugged off my jacket, throwing it casually across the bed. Soval inspected my purchases as he set our gifts on the table, and I stretched languidly, reaching as far as I could from side to side. The bus ride back to the Consulate had been cramped and uncomfortable, and to top it all off, a cold wind was blowing off of the Bay; the sky outside the window was dull and dark, and it looked like we might get rain that night. However, weather forecast predicted clear skies tomorrow, and warmer temperatures – just in time for Dad's party.

Soval set our gifts on the table: mine was simply a hexagon base made of durable plastic, but when I asked about it, he pressed a button on the side, and a jumble of rods appeared attached to the base; he called it kal-toh. His gift was a Vulcan puzzle that looked as if a Rubik's cube and a miniature 1960's duplex had made a child together. Squares and rectangles of all sizes jutted out from its center, and I tried to comprehend the purpose of the odd cube. He explained its use as a meditation aide and logic puzzle, and I noticed now that symbols were painted on each visible side of each block. The user had to put these in a certain order to align them, and the puzzle would light up when they got it right.

"So it's basically a Rubik's cube on steroids?" I asked, turning the puzzle sideways to examine it from another angle. Soval raised an eyebrow. "It is akin to a Rubik's cube, but far more complicated?" I revised, and he nodded.

"As for this kal-toh set," he murmured, then paused as I measured the wrapping paper for the boxes he had found.

"What about it?"

He blinked slowly. "I ordered another one from Vulcan, so I might teach you how to play...if you wish it."

I glanced sidelong at him and noted his tense shoulders, his fixed gaze (not on me), and his lips, turned slightly downwards. I smiled.

"I'd like that, ambassador."

He relaxed and glanced at me, and I thought I saw relief flash across his face before he hid it away.

…

As promised, I arrived a little early to help my parents set up the party, and where I went, Soval followed on my heels. My mom asked him to help her move some tables out, and to my surprise, he seemed more than willing to assist her. But what surprised me even more was how effortlessly he lifted the tables when my mother was struggling just to handle carrying three chairs. Even Dad stopped mixing the punch to watch Soval out on the deck, moving the furniture around as my mother commanded. I shot a glance towards my dad, and he grinned wickedly at me.

"So how have things been?" he asked gently as my mother set about arranging tablecloths and securing them against the slight breeze.

"They've been fine," I replied, impaling a few more peppers and onions on the skewer. Kabobs were on the menu today, and although my father usually burned everything he touched, my uncle Christopher (Max's younger brother) was a skilled cook, and he would be manning the grill. The party didn't start for another hour or so, but Chris had promised to come early, along with his wife, his children, and his wife's cooking, which was equally as good as his, if not better.

"Come on," my dad said. "I meet with the man every week...you're a friendly woman, pumpkin, but I find it hard to believe that it's been a cakewalk for you, living with him."

I sighed and pierced a piece of onion. "It wasn't easy at first. We argued all the time about the stupidest crap...we still do. Timok says he likes to argue because he's a diplomat and he's trying to keep his negotiating skills honed. Excuse me for living, but I don't like being used as anyone's whetstone."

My father snorted. "I don't blame you...but what about now?"

"It's gotten easier," I replied after a long pause. "He still gets on my nerves sometimes, but we might have struck an unspoken truce. I practically begged on bended knee that he not argue with me or you or anyone today, for my sanity."

"And he agreed?"

"Yeah."

My dad patted me on the back. "That's more than I can say for me. Half the time, I can't even win an argument with him, let alone get him to do anything for Starfleet."

Our conversation was cut short by Soval and my mother's return, and my dad went back to mixing the punch, adding another jug of juice to the bowl. My mother took over my job of skewering the kabobs, and I washed my hands thoroughly, eying the other fare my parents had laid out for the party. A crock of spinach artichoke dip bubbled away on the counter, and Mom had made bruschetta with olives and tomatoes; four pineapples had been dismembered as well, and I popped a piece of the sweet yellow fruit into my mouth.

"These look good, Mom," I told her. "Anything else I can do?"

The doorbell rang, and she gave me a pointed look. "Answer that."

It was Uncle Christopher and Aunt Mikayla, with their three children, plus one: Zak and his fiance Veronica (they would be married next fall), Hester, and Emilia. Zak and Veronica both were twenty-seven, two years my senior, while Hester had just turned twenty-one, and Emilia was only seventeen. My uncle wrapped me in an enthusiastic bear hug, but before Mikayla or Zak could even get a "hello" in edgewise, Hester was embracing me as if I had been gone for a thousand years.

"Hey, strangers!" I exclaimed, and after giving everyone else a hug, I led the family into the kitchen, and more hugs were exchanged between my parents and Max's relatives. While they eased into conversation about traffic and the weather and who all was coming to the party and wedding planning, Hester and Emilia slipped out of the circle of older adults and came over to chat with me. I led them to the corner where Soval lingered, seemingly unsure of himself.

I put my arm around Hester. "Loves, this is Ambassador Soval, your uncle Max's friend, and my roommate."

"Uncle Christopher told us about that," Emilia said, tilting her head slightly as she examined the Vulcan. He swallowed thickly.

"Ambassador, these are my lovely cousins, Hester and Emilia Forrest."

He bowed his head respectfully to them, and Hester squirmed beneath my grip. "I've never met a Vulcan before," she muttered, and Soval raised an eyebrow.

"A Vulcan scientist came and spoke to my class last year," her sister chimed, and the ambassador's gaze flicked over to the teenager.

"Dr. Senak," he stated, and she nodded.

"I think he said he was a microbiologist."

Soval quietly agreed, and I noticed for the first time that Emilia's wrist was in a cast.

"Broken or sprained?" I asked, and she sighed.

"Only sprained. Thankfully."

"And what was it this time? Land wrong on a back-flip?"

"A cartwheel," Emilia replied with a sigh. "I'm sidelined from the squad for six weeks."

The ambassador looked thoroughly confused, so I explained that my cousin was a cheerleader at her high school. Just as I was about to explain further, the doorbell rang again.

"Emilia, you explain. I'll get the door."

Max and his daughter Callie were at the door this time, and I smiled brightly at them, glancing around for my sister-in-law. "Where's Emily?"

"She had to work," my brother said. "Are we early? And is that Uncle Chris' car?"

"Yes to both questions. Hi Callie!"

Callie, a young, boisterous blonde girl of four, attached herself to my leg and shouted her greeting loud enough for the entire house to hear. "Aunt Genie! Aunt Genie! You'll never guess what we got Grandpa Max for his birthday!"

"I can guess, but you have to keep it a secret," I said, lowering my voice and leaning forward conspiratorially. "That way, Grandpa will be surprised when he opens his present."

"Will there be cake?"

"Yes, Aunt Mikayla brought cake for Grandpa Max. And brownies, if I'm not mistaken."

Callie looked up at her father with the most endearing expression of hope, and Max smiled indulgently. "You can have one piece of cake, Callie Mae. No more."

She cheered loudly and bounced into the living room, tripped slightly, caught herself on the ottoman, then ran into the kitchen to greet her relatives. Max slipped inside and handed me his gift, then shut the door quietly behind him. "Dad told me about this arrangement with the Vulcans," he whispered, drawing me aside to the base of the staircase. He took his gift back (it was rather heavy; I suspected he had placed bricks in the box to make it seem heavier, just to trick Dad). "Two of my colleagues were sent off. We still haven't found some decent replacements."

"That must be frustrating for you," I murmured. I glanced down at the package in his arms. "I assume that's your usual fare?"

He offered me a wry smile. "You know exactly what this is. Maxwell always brings the party."

I smirked and rolled my eyes, but sobered when he set the package down and leaned forward. "Genie, tell me truthfully...are you doing ok with the ambassador? You're happy and safe there?"

"Happy?" I shook my head. "I'm ok, but I'm not exactly happy. But I do know I'm safe."

His gaze drifted to the kitchen, where Soval was absorbed in Emilia's explanation of cheerleading. She was extrapolating on the finer moves of the sport, and the ambassador seemed to hang on her every word. No doubt he found such a foreign concept fascinating, and he asked question after question, and Emilia was on a roll. Hester, to my surprise, was also engrossed in the conversation, occasionally offering her own opinion when Emilia paused, and Soval drank in every word they said.

"Something about this exchange program doesn't sit well with me, Genie," Max whispered. "It came out of nowhere and seems incredibly inconvenient for everyone involved, and yet they're going through with it anyway. Doesn't it all seem odd to you?"

"Yes," I admitted. "It does seem strange, and Soval...well, I have no idea what Vulcan normal is, so I can't exactly say he's been acting odd. But sometimes...I just don't get him."

At that moment (Emilia and Hester were arguing over the rules of football), Soval tore his eyes from my cousins and set his gaze on me and Max. I sighed and shrugged, looking away, but Max held the Vulcan's gaze, staring at him with a look that almost frightened me.

"If he gives you a hard time, you call me, and I'll set him straight."

I sighed again and left Max to deal with his present, returning to the happier task of talking with Emilia and Hester.

…

In the end, about thirty people attended Dad's birthday party, relatives, friends and colleagues all, but only his family and closest friends brought gifts. He was pleasantly surprised at my present, and even more surprised with Soval's.

"What is this, Soval?" he asked as the small crowd passed it around. The ambassador straightened.

"A Vulcan puzzle. I included the instructions on its purpose and how to solve it."

"Thank you!" he exclaimed, taking it back from Uncle Christopher. "Both of you, thanks!"

I smiled at him. "No problem, Dad."

Soon all his presents were opened, but the afternoon was warm and fine, the early autumn breeze rustling the upper eaves of the oaks and pines and California sycamores; the guest lingered, sipping punch and slowly eating the spread of snacks my mother and Aunt Mikayla had set out for them. Hester stayed almost constantly by my side, which I didn't mind so much since I hadn't seen her since last Christmas, and Soval didn't mind her so much either. She whispered in my ear as we refilled on punch that she would dearly love to see the Consulate gardens and study Vulcan flora if at all possible, and since I was living there, could I possibly convince my reserved roommate to let her come over, if only for a few hours? I promised her I would ask him later and pass along his answer when I was able.

She traipsed over to her Uncle Max to give him a warm hug (she had aided her mother in making the cake, which everyone was still eating with great enthusiasm), and I wondered back over to where I had last seen Soval. However, Max Jr, who was passing, said the ambassador had gone inside to fetch something for my mother. So I leaned against the railing, waiting for his return.

"I'm surprised to see you here, all things considered," a gruff voice said in my ear, and I turned with a frown to face my father's colleague, Admiral Gardner.

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused. "It's my dad's birthday party, it's not like I'd miss this."

He sighed, taking a sip of his beer. The smell of it was thick in my nose, and I hastily sipped my own drink to mask the stench coming from the can in his fist.

"Oh, I told Maxwell the other day that Leonard's girl hadn't answered his calls for ten days straight," he groused, taking another quick swig. "Worried sick about her, the poor man...she finally returned his call looking like all hell had broken loose on that planet...bruises, bumps, dark circles under her eyes...she said she'd been through a tough Vulcan ritual with her host."

"And you don't believe her?" I asked, suddenly uncomfortable. "I've argued with the most cantankerous Vulcan of them all, and I know the planet and the people are harsh. And why does this have anything to do with me showing up to this party?"

The admiral shrugged. "I was hoping you hadn't gone through any Vulcan rituals up at the Consulate. Are they treating you right, Genie? Max has been worried about you."

"I assure you, Ms. Forrest has been well treated during her stay. Your concern is commendable, admiral, but unnecessary."

I turned to my roommate; his gaze was fixed on Gardner, his eyes cold and harsh, making the warm afternoon feel suddenly chilly.

"Unless arguing over petty nonsense is some secret Vulcan ritual I'm not aware of, no, admiral, I haven't gone through any such thing at the Consulate," I said, turning back to Gardner with an assuring smile. "Certainly nothing to warrant bruising. The dark circles I can understand. I didn't get but maybe three hours of sleep the first night in the Consulate, it was so hot...I'm sure it's much worse on Vulcan."

"Indeed, it takes several hours for the heat of the day to dissipate, and the coolness does not settle until nearly 0100 Vulcan time."

"But what about the bumps and bruises?" the admiral countered, his ice-blue eyes narrowing at the Vulcan. "I guess sleeping is hazardous on your planet?"

"No," Soval said calmly. "You mentioned she endured a ritual with her host. Several of those include sleeping in the wilderness and braving rough terrain. Her injuries do not surprise me, and she will be healed of them soon. Medical technology on Vulcan is far more advanced than yours."

Gardner still wasn't convinced. "But why didn't she return her father's calls for ten days straight? And why won't she tell him more about this ritual? She only mentioned something in passing about caves, but no details. This is her father, for God's sake."

"Admiral, many Vulcan rituals are highly private, and she is obviously respecting her host's culture. You should be commending her for that. As for not answering her father's calls, did it not occur to you that he might be calling in the dead of night, perhaps? There is a time difference to consider when arranging communiques to other worlds."

I smiled wryly at the admiral. "I'm with the ambassador on this one. I'm sure Leonard's girl is just fine."

"Tell yourself what you wish, Genevieve," he said, and I frowned. He walked away to the other side of the spacious deck, and I glanced at Soval. He was watching Gardner's retreat with narrowed eyes, and I sighed as he disappeared around the corner of the house.

"You think this girl is ok, don't you?" I implored. He tore his gaze from where the admiral had disappeared to regard me with dark eyes. His expression did not soften.

"I do not know," he admitted, and I raised an eyebrow. "Most likely yes, but my planet is, as you said...harsh."

I gave pause to his quiet admission and pondered privately if Leonard's daughter would truly be all right. After all, I had been fortunate, free from adjusting to a new gravity and climate, or a longer day and shorter, hotter night. Whatever had happened to this young woman, she was braver than me.

"She will be tended to," he assured me, as if reading my thoughts. I glanced at him. "Her host will look after her. Just as I look after you."

I opened my mouth to attempt a reply to that statement, but Hester's return stilled my tongue. She gave me a pointed look and raised her eyebrows expectantly, and it took me a moment to realize what she was asking.

"I'll ask him later," I whispered. She frowned, and Soval blinked slowly.

"Ask me what, Ms. Forrest?"

"I said I'll ask you later," I insisted with a pained smile. I knew Hester better than most, and Soval's bluntness wouldn't sit well with her sensitivity and gentleness. If the ambassador refused her a visit (which I had a strong feeling he would), then I wanted to let Hester down gently.

As the day waned on towards the 4 o'clock hour, the party began to dissipate, and just as I was bringing in the empty punch bowl from the deck, I heard my father bidding Admiral Gardner a fond farewell.

"I'll see you Monday, John," he said with a grin, shaking the man's hand. Gardner smiled, his gaze straying to me. I paused and nodded, then continued on my way to the kitchen. The punch bowl was glass and rather heavy.

"You take care of yourself, Genie," he called after me, and I backed up. I noticed a strange gleam lighting his icy blue eyes. "If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask your father or me for help, ok?"

"I'll keep that in mind, admiral," I said politely, then hurried to the kitchen.

Uncle Christopher and his family had to return home to Menlo Park (as Zak and his fiance worked Sundays, and Hester had homework to catch up on), but Max and Callie would be staying to go out to dinner with us. It would only be the seven of us (Emily would be coming after she got off work), and as Soval and I took care of the dishes, I passed along Hester's request.

"She only wants to stay for a few hours and look at some flowers. I know you said I can't have visitors, but I am asking you...please make an exception for her. She would absolutely love to see the Consulate garden, and I don't know anyone else who would appreciate it more than her. Would you please consider letting her come over?"

"Am I to expect this every time one of your friendswants to pay you a visit?"

I glared at him. "No. This isn't about Hester coming to see me, it's about her coming to see alien flowers that she's never had access to before. She wants to study them, to expand her knowledge...this is for her edification, not because I want to disobey your rules about having friendsover. Surely you can understand that."

I thought surely a plea for Hester's continuing education would make him relent; Timok had told me that Vulcans held education and learning in high esteem. Soval, however, only sighed.

"While I admire Ms. Forrest's desire for learning, I must refuse. She would be a distraction to my staff, and that will not do."

"She wouldn't bother anyone! I'll tell her not to talk to any of your staff and to stay quiet in the Consulate halls! She doesn't want to make a bad impression on you, so she'd obey any of your rules that you lay down." No matter how ridiculous they are, I thought to myself.

He shook his head. "That is not enough. Her mere presence would be a distraction to my staff."

"How?" I insisted. "She wouldn't talk to anyone or make any noise. If it's her smell you're talking about, that can't really be helped. You'd think Vulcans would have gotten used to us by now. One human wouldn't cause that much of a disturbance among your staff."

He closed his eyes before I was even finished with my sentence, and I frowned at him as he flared his nostrils. "I forgot about the human scent..." he muttered to himself, then fixed his dark gaze on me. "Tell me, Genevieve, how old is Hester Forrest?"

"Twenty-one."

"And is she attached to any male?"

I blinked. "You're asking if she likes anyone? I don't think so..."

To my surprise, he frowned slightly, and I realized he was confused. "To like someone in this context..."

"I'm sorry, forgive the slang. She is not romantically attracted to anyone, not that I know of, anyway."

"That makes her visit even more unwise."

I put down the scrub brush and stared incredulously at him. "What does this have to do with anything? You're not making any sense!"

He flared his nostrils. "Hester Forrest is far too young and pretty to be visiting the Consulate."

He raised his voice a little, his tone harsher than he probably meant it, however, the minute the words exited his mouth, his eyes widened just so. If I didn't know better, I'd say he was regretting his statement and wanted to take it back.

In any case, this did nothing to alleviate my confusion, in fact, it compounded it. But I rallied my thoughts and raised my eyebrow.

"So that's why you keep me at the Consulate."

I continued my scrubbing with a wry smile, internally patting myself on the back for my clever retort, but that victory was short-lived; I felt his fingers grip my chin and turn me to face him, and I stared at his dark eyes with apprehension.

He leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Hester is very pretty, Genevieve...but you are beautiful."

Soval did not drop his fingers, nor loosen his grip, and his grip was firm, grasping me tighter than anyone had any right to grasp. His eyes were intent on mine, dark and glittering, and for the life of me I could not think of a retort to his comment. Nothing came to mind. I felt trapped by his gaze, and the longer I stared at him, the harder it was to look away. His thumb shifted.

His fingers were warm, as if he were feverish, and the heat of his touch seeped into my skin. Suddenly I was very aware of my fingertips and lower back: my fingers were tingling so hard they almost hurt, and a strange sensitivity was building right above my jeans. I summoned my willpower to tell him that I didn't believe him for an instant, that he was lying, that no Vulcan would ever look at a human woman and think she was deserving of the title beautiful; I didn't mean it in a sense that our two peoples couldn't respect each other, but I found it hard to believe that any Vulcan man would find an Earth female attractive.

He furrowed his brow. "I will not accept that, Genevieve," he growled before I could speak. "It displeases me that you think so low of yourself."

I came to my senses and gently shoved his hand away. Something about his touch was making it hard for me to think. "I don't have low self-esteem, ambassador, I think it's ludicrous that you think I'm anything but ordinary."

He stared at me, his gaze boring into my skin. "So it is me that you think so low of, not yourself."

"You're irritating as hell sometimes, but I don't necessarily have a low opinion of you. Are you not listening to what I'm trying to say? I just find it hard to think that your sense of aesthetics would lead to believe I'm anything but average!"

Soval opened his mouth to retaliate, but a voice stopped him.

"Am I interrupting anything?" my brother asked, and I shook my head at him.

"Just a friendly discussion about how our species differ," I said simply. "Can we help you?"

"Yeah...I need to talk with the ambassador for a second, Genie. Mom needs help in the laundry room."

"But I'm doing dishes."

Max gave me a pointed look and gestured to the door. "Let me have a private talk with your new roommate, ok, sis?"

"Whatever," I grumbled, setting aside my scrub brush. "Have your man talk."

My brother patted me on the back as I passed him, and I sighed, leaving the two most stubborn men I knew alone together. Perhaps it wasn't the best idea, but it was too late to turn back now. Max was already launching into a lecture about pecan trees, and I didn't even want to consider what his final point would be. If there was anything I had learned in my twenty-five years of living, it was that men were utterly confusing creatures, and trying to decipher their motives gave me a headache every time.