Chapter Text
“Doctor Grayson? We are landing in ten minutes.”
Startled, Amanda lifted her head from her padd. Her copper-red hair fell over her face, and she fumbled to brush it aside to answer. The co-pilot, a young Cardassian with startling blue eyes, just smiled at her.
“Nervous, Doctor?”
She returned their smile. “Would you be, if you were the first to be granted a research mission on Vulcan?”
They shrugged. “I’ve been on plenty strange planets before, Doctor. Vulcans are stubborn bastards, but why should they be any different than the other stubborn bastards of the galaxy?”
She cocked her head. “Given that I chose to study Vulcanology, I am sure you will forgive me if I disagree.”
“Sure.” Their smile grew wider. “If I were you, I wouldn’t be too nervous. You’ll charm them in no time.”
The pilot cleared his throat and patted the Cardassian on the arm. They gave Amanda a last wink before they had to turn around again to face the control desk.
Amanda bit her lip. She really hoped the Cardassian was right.
Of course she had been on Vulcan before - she had met Vulcans - she had studied their language for literal years and had edited the first Vulcan-Standard dictionary, for God’s sake. Still, the idea of living on her own among them for two years unnerved her. Not because she did not know what she was getting herself into - but precisely because she did. Vulcans were a tough nut to crack.
With a sigh, she pulled out a small mirror out of her handbag. If she was to make a good first impression, she should at least try to pin her hair up the way Surak suggested for Vulcan women - long, flowing hair was still seen as a marker of pre-Reform times. For a second she cursed herself that she had not set time aside for this earlier. Instead, she had gotten distracted over records of the first anti-Surak uprising in the third quadrant of the planet. But it was no use - with a few practised strokes, she combed her copper hair and began braiding it up into a bun. At least she had found time to change on the five-hour flight.
Her dress, a pastel turquoise with long sleeves, would, she hoped, appeal to the Vulcans. After all, green was their colour of affection. It was a Starfleet uniform cut, but she had taken the liberty of adding a more flattering neckline and a pencil skirt - small advantages she more than enjoyed as an affiliate researcher for the Federation.
She took one look out the window. The endless red planes of the Vulcan desert stretched out below them, only occasionally broken up by the straight lines of inter-city routes or the perfectly circular shapes of the Vulcan cities. The sky was of a reddish hue as well, as if the entire planet was trapped under a cloud of desert smoke. That’s because it was.
No matter how often Amanda saw this sight, it always amazed her. The transporter shuttle made a hard turn to the right, bringing the slowly descending Vulcan sun into view. Underneath them, Amanda could make out the small, glittering outline of the shuttle port. In a few minutes, they would touch ground.
She took one last look in the mirror. Her braided hair was pinned up in what could pass as a hairdo, even though two untameable curls still fell into her forehead. At least a tiny bit of makeup had reasonably covered the dark circles under her eyes. She straightened the top half of her dress again and took a deep breath.
All would be well. She knew Vulcans. She was as prepared for this as anyone could be. Still, her heart was beating in her throat.
“Touch down in 60 seconds,” the co-pilot announced. “The Vulcan Science Academy has just informed me that their welcoming committee is already at the platform.”
Amanda stilled in trying to tuck her curls behind her ear. “Welcoming committee?!”
The Cardassian shrugged. “You weren’t informed?”
“No!”
“Oh. Well, there will be - uh…” they tapped on their padd, “...two officials from the Vulcan Science Academy, two Vulcan admirals of the Federation, and one ambassador, plus his attaché, I guess, they never put these guys on the lists - that, and your research aides, of course.”
Amanda could feel her heart picking up pace. Fuck. “My research aides?”
The drawn out whirring sound of the engines powering down alerted her that they had landed. The Cardassian opened their seatbelt and spun their chair to look at her. Their eyes were truly strikingly ice-blue. “Supplied for you by the VSA, if I read my briefing correctly. And all of them are waiting just behind that door.”
Before Amanda could protest, they had already pressed the button.
Other than the desert heat, the shuttle port - once the dome over it was closed - was pleasantly cool and clean. Chromium surfaces and glass clicked under her heels as she descended from the shuttle ramp.
The welcoming committee was standing at the other end of the dock. It relieved her to see Professor Sovan among them - the older scholar had already been a kind mentor to her, and crucial in getting her case of a research proposal to the high council of the VSA. Next to the stern, ascetic older man stood another Vulcan man in academic robes with graying hair and heavier set features. Two young Vulcans, a man and a woman, huddled behind him - apparently, these were to be her research aides. On the other side, she could make out two Vulcan women in Starfleet uniforms. One she already knew - T'Pau, high-ranking admiral and politician, with the reputation to hold Vulcan traditions in especially high regard. Amanda was glad she had taken the time to do her hair, seeing how T'Pau taxed her appearance the second she emerged from the shuttle craft. Behind her was another woman she did not know. In her head, she went through the list the young Cardassian had given her - two professors, two researchers, two admirals, and one-
“May I assist you, Dr. Grayson?”
The dark, firm voice startled her. Whipping around, her foot slipped on the chrome tiles of the ramp. She yelped, and fell straight into the Vulcan man who had waited next to the shuttle door. Strong arms caught her before she could hit the ground. With incredible presence of mind, he had caught her with only one arm, her face pressed into his shoulder. He stiffened.
“My apologies, Doc-”
“I am terribly sorry, Mister-”
They both paused. Amanda raised her head. The man who had caught her was a tall, broad shouldered, handsome Vulcan man, with a round jaw and straight nose, and eyes so dark she feared to get lost in them. Her heart skipped a beat. Then he cleared his throat and she scrambled to let go of him.
“Thank you,” she murmured, pressing his hand in gratitude. He only pursed his lips.
“I hope you are not hurt?”
She gave him a little smile, twisting her foot from side to side. “No, I don't think so. Thank you.”
“There is no need to express gratitude for my assistance.”
He let go of her and raised his hand into a ta'al.
“Diplomatic officer Sarek, Miss. It is a great honour for Vulcan to welcome you here.”
It was only when she had already formed the ta'al in response that Amanda realised that she had just held - pressed - the Vulcan's hand.
God, what must he think of her?
Yet before she could apologise, Sarek had already turned around to walk over to the rest of the welcoming party. All she could do was scramble to follow.
T'Pau greeted her surprisingly heartily - as heartily as Vulcans could. Her jet black eyes still taxed her entire silhouette, yet there was an ever so faint air of approval when she returned Amanda's greeting. Professor Sovan, too, seemed pleased to see her, and introduced her to the two VSA students who were to support her project. They were T'Pali, a girl with striking grey eyes and accent-free Standard, and her fellow student, Solik, who apparently knew more about Vulcan and Terran history than a ship computer. Even Sovan’s companion seemed to be impressed with her flawless pronunciation of the Vulcan greeting which she had learned on the flight.
“I assume Ambassador Sarek has already introduced himself?” Sovan asked after the formal greetings had been exchanged. “He has expressed the greatest interest in your project.”
That surprised Amanda. The ambassador had seemed so distant - his dark eyes still rested on her, his expression entirely illegible.
“Then I hope you will pay me a visit in my office?” she asked. Sarek, of course, did not reciprocate her smile.
“If you deem it necessary,” he replied instead. Her smile faded. Maybe she had offended him more than he let show. She could feel a blush rising to her cheeks.
“Ahem,” she very eloquently replied instead.
The Vulcans, deaf to anything that humans perceived as awkward silence, remained politely stiff until Amanda spoke again.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” she said, desperate to make up an excuse, “but it was a rather long journey. I’d be happy to see the office that was prepared for me, though. I will just fetch my-”
“Your luggage is already being transported to the apartment assigned to you,” Sarek replied. “I hope you will find accommodation in the Starfleet headquarters suitable. It provides all amenities Terrans are accustomed to. We feared that you would find a more traditional accommodation… uncomfortable.”
“Oh.” Yes. Of course that made sense. She swallowed hard. “Thank you.”
He raised an eyebrow and exchanged a glance with T’Pau. If Amanda read her Vulcans correctly, it was because whatever he said, the two of them did not see it as a compliment. Luckily Sovan cleared his throat before her discomfort could become too visible.
“If you do not mind, Doctor Grayson, there’s a shuttle waiting for you outside. T’Pali, Solik and I would gladly accompany you and Ambassador Sarek to your office-”
“You may leave without me,” Sarek interrupted. Sovan furrowed his brows at T’Pau, who nudged Sarek with her elbow.
“I must insist, Ambassador-”
“Dr. Grayson has already expressed that she is feeling exhausted from the journey. I believe adding another person to this process would only unnecessarily tire her. I therefore deem it more logical that only the strictly necessary people accompany her. I fail to see why she would enjoy my company.” His dark, cold gaze fixed on her. “Doctor Grayson.”
Amanda could only swallow hard and nod in agreement. “Oh, yes,” she replied, quietly. “I am sure you have important matters to attend to.”
A simple nod. “I do.” With a sharper tone, he added, “I know your customs and ours differ. Still, I’d ask you to accept my welcome.” He pointedly raised his hand. “Live long and prosper.”
With only half a mind, she requited the ta’al. Then Sarek whirled around, his long cape billowing around him like a dark storm cloud, and strutted away to the exit. T’Pau, her companion, and the older Vulcan professor followed suit.
Amanda’s heart sank in her chest as she watched them go. How long had it been since she set foot on Vulcan? Twenty minutes? And already she had lost one supporter - surely Sarek was offended by her tactlessness. As he approached the door, Sarek stopped to let T’Pau and the older scholar through. Behind his back, he flexed the hand she had taken, his long, pale fingers trembling against the rich fabric of his dark robes.
The view down over the Vulcan cities never ceased to amaze her. After the fashion of ancient Vulcan villages, their layout was strictly circular, with roads extending from the centre like a spidery web of straight lines. The holoport, in one of the outer rings of the city, slowly descended under them as their shuttle took off. Amanda suddenly wondered how Sarek was going to get back - after all, he was most likely also going to the Vulcan Starfleet office. They could have shared a shuttle, if he had such important business to attend to. Then again, he had been in a hurry-
Under her, she could make out the grey, shimmering streak of a maglev train whizzing into the heart of the city. Yes. Sarek probably had taken the train.
The shuttle took a hard left and the skyscrapers of the city centre came into full view. In respect to the scorching Vulcan sun, they did not glitter, but were painted in matte white. The wind whistled through the many gaps left in the high ventilation towers that provided at least a semblance of cool air in the heat. It had always fascinated Amanda how cultures - Terran and alien - could thrive in such harsh conditions. Surely the Vulcans were made of sterner stuff than most humans; stronger, faster, and-
“Doctor Grayson, look out!”
T'Pali, the Vulcan girl, pointed at the window on the other side of the shuttlecraft with only barely concealed pride. When Amanda followed her outstretched hand with her eyes, she gasped.
The building of the Vulcan Science Academy, directly opposite to the Starfleet headquarters, stood out against the red sky like a giant, blindingly white monolith. Groups of smaller towers rose to a pyramid-like structure in the middle, with a high tower forming the peak. The roof of each individual building was a terrace, connecting it with the other cells of the building complex. The blue rectangle of solar panels covered every terrace to shield it from the sun. Only the highest three towers were tipped with blue half-domes that, Amanda knew well, encompassed three different astronomical observatories.
As the afternoon sun slowly descended, a wave of light swept over the front of the building, setting it into an even harsher outline against the colour of the sky which was slowly bleeding into crimson red. On some of the terraces, Amanda could make out tiny figures - students on their way to their afternoon lecture, maybe, or professors enjoying some refreshments in their break. She wondered whether one of them was Sarek.
Minutes later, the hover shuttle landed on the roof of a smaller teaching building. The wind immediately blew into her face as soon as she stepped out of the shuttle, this time more careful not to fall over. While she covered her face against the millions of red grains of sand that were being blown into her eyes and hair, the Vulcans showed themselves unimpressed. Of course. Second eyelid. Yet, noticing how she squinted against the onslaught of wind, Sovan quickly ushered her and the two students inside.
The building itself was cooler and thankfully much quieter. Amanda immediately breathed a sigh of relief. The white corridors belonging to the sociology faculty were lined with Vulcan artefacts - fabrics, beautifully woven carpets and pre-Surakian totem figures. Even the tiles on the floor shimmered with an inlaid geometrical pattern. Despite the exhaustion settling in her bones, she had to try very hard to not squeal with excitement when she saw a pre-reform mask mounted onto the wall next to what would soon be her office.
Someone had even made the effort to fix a neat plaque with her name on the door: in both standard and Vulcan, it said “Dr. Amanda Grayson, Sociologist.” The Vulcan translation of her name made Amanda squint. T'gai - that literally meant “daughter of the gray one.” Maybe whichever Vulcan had made this translation had decided that a mere transcription of the English sounds did not go far enough. It endeared her more than it should.
They had even already calibrated the door lock to her voice profile, fingerprint and biometrics (although the Vulcans still insisted that physical keys and keycards were the safest options - Amanda admired this about them too. They were technological geniuses, but they were not blindly following scientific progress.)
It was almost even more endearing to see how the two students tried very hard to mask their excitement from her as well as from their teacher.
Obviously, both of them belonged to the brightest and best students of sociology - otherwise they would not have been chosen for a project so controversial and complex. Yet, it was hard not to be excited, even for a Vulcan, when the doors to the office slid open with a satisfying whoosh.
The room was quite spacious, with large floor to ceiling windows on two sides. T'Pali and Solik had two desks, facing each other on the east side. Amanda's larger desk, all chrome, glass top and holo display, was on the north side, with a beautiful view over the centre of the city, the high plateaus of the Vulcan mountains emerging on the horizon. A long-necked lamp extended from its base in the corner to the spherical shade directly over the desk. In the corner without windows, there was even a small tea table, close to the floor as was Vulcan fashion, and two enormous bookshelves. They were still mostly empty, save for a couple of Amanda's own publications and three rolled up meditations mats.
It was a completely different world to the closet-esque, cramped space that Amanda had worked in for two years at the Starfleet Academy University.
“Is everything to your liking, Doctor?” Sovan asked after several seconds of stunned silence. The two students stopped fiddling around with the remote for the ceiling fan and dropped back into parade rest. Amanda suddenly was keenly aware that she had been staring at her new space with wide eyes and open mouth.
“Yes. Thank you, it’s perfect,” she stammered, still overwhelmed with the view out over the Vulcan desert.
Sovan only lowered his head slightly. “We had hoped you would deem it so, Doctor,” he said. “However, if you notice that there is anything lacking, you can always notify me and we will do our best to accommodate your wishes.” He bowed slightly into her direction, the faintest impression of a smile dancing around the corner of his mouth. “No matter how cold our manners might seem to you, the Vulcan Science Academy is very honoured to have you here.”
“Thank you.”
Motioning Amanda to follow him, he already turned to leave. “Now, since you mentioned that you are tired, let me show you to your apartment.”
“What about you two?” Amanda asked when she noticed that the two students, still standing with their arms folded behind their back, did not stir. The young man, Solik, furrowed his pointed brows.
“We will remain here to sort your books and other materials, Doctor,” he replied matter-of-factly. His pronunciation was slightly more accentuated than T’Pali’s, yet entirely flawless in grammar. “It is the most efficient way to ensure that you can start your research as soon as possible.”
T’Pali exchanged an approving glance with him. Their faces gave still no sign of disapproval or enthusiasm. Amanda immediately shook her head.
“No,” she answered. “When I am calling it a day, so can you. We’ll start tomorrow.”
Solik’s face tensed up for a second, then he and T’Pali nodded in perfect unison.
“If that is your preference, Doctor,” she replied. “Then Solik and I will use our free time to go over the extended readings for our phonetics class. If you would excuse us.”
And with another almost scarily synchronous ta’al, the two of them turned towards the door and disappeared into the hallway. Amanda wondered for a moment whether they were androids.
As soon as they were gone, Sovan switched off the lights and closed the door behind them.
“You must excuse them,” he said, again with a tint of amusement at the back of his tongue as they turned around the next corner. “We selected them not only because they are two of the best students the sociology department has, but also because T’Pali and Solik are growing to be more and more compatible. I am sorry to meddle your research with such private business, but it is the wish of their families that they are to face challenging experiences together to realise the full potential of their katric bond.”
Oh. That would explain the meaningful glances.
“So they have already been bonded?” Amanda asked, now growing more curious. The Vulcan tradition of bonding was still one of their best kept secrets - in all her years of studying the Vulcan culture, she had not come across a single record of what a bonding ritual required.
Sovan must have noticed her sudden interest. His eyebrows quirked up in response.
“Not in the same way as you Terrans would consider an engagement or a marriage,” he explained calmly. “They were deemed compatible as children and were betrothed to one another. This bond has proven to be fruitful, even as they are still quite young. It is likely that they will be fully bonded once the time comes for Solik.”
“What time?”
They had reached the glass door leading back up on the roof where their hover shuttle was still parked. With a practised flick, Sovan motioned to let the glass panels slide apart. A gust of wind hit them, and whatever evasive reply he gave was blown away. Apparently Amanda would just have to find out what it meant to share an office with two newlywed teenagers.
The Starfleet building was of newer design - industrial metal and exposed natural stone gave it a much more universal appearance than the VSA, the pride and joy of Vulcan culture. Even the signs in the hallways were in Standard as well as in Vulcan, although - and Amanda sighed - some of the translations were more than imperfect.
Her apartment was located in the residential wing of the building, where diplomats and other officials from all parts of the Federation would be housed. Her heart skipped a beat. Was it possible that the Vulcan ambassadors were also living here?
But that was ridiculous. Surely they could have their own place in the city. She allowed herself a frustrated sigh.
The man probably despised her, and even if he didn’t, he was probably also bonded to someone he had known since childhood. She had not even checked whether Sarek was wearing a betrothal medallion or not. Maybe he had a family somewhere in the city - and regardless, what would that change? And what would it change if he was single, if he was living in the same building, and if she could potentially run across him in the mess hall? Nothing. Still, the very thought of bumping into Sarek in the hallway made her thoughts freeze.
“Doctor Grayson?”
Fuck.
Sovan’s look was growing a little concerned. “I do start to believe that you would benefit from some light meditation,” he said mildly. “You seem very tired.”
“Yeah.” Amanda straightened her shoulders. “A nap would be great.”
If Sovan was unfamiliar with the term, he did not let it show. Instead, he handed her a keycard and pointed towards a solid black door at the end of the hallway.
“Then I will leave you for today. Tomorrow we could meet around midday to discuss your plans. Would that suit you?”
It would. With another “live long and prosper,” Sovan bid her goodbye and disappeared down the corridor in an extremely dignified ruffle of academic robes. Amanda put the keycard through the scanner, slipped through the door and breathed a sigh of relief.
Upon a sudden twist of her gut, she realised that she was homesick.
With one hand, she undid the braided bun that held her hair together. Her scalp had started itching. Her curls fell down over her face, featherlight touches against her face and neck. With a sigh, she brushed them back over her head. Maybe a shower would help clear her head.
Raising her head, she could see her apartment for the first time. The hallway led to a small living room, complete with bookshelves and a nook in the windowsill, and a very well equipped kitchen with a Terran table and chairs. Someone had even had the presence of mind to supply Terran silverware - forks, knives, spoons, but also a variety of chopsticks and other utensils were lined up neatly in the first drawer she opened.
The bedroom, however, took the cake: a large bed was set into an alcove directly under the large floor to ceiling window. It was surrounded by gauze netting, a feature that was more traditional than necessary, since no one in their right mind would open the windows to let any dust or insects in. Plush pillows and a light blanket were fluffed up on the mattress. Opposite to the bed was a large wardrobe with a full body mirror. For some reason, most of her luggage had already been unpacked, her dresses and other clothing neatly folded and hung up. Her fingers trailed over the exactly ninety degree angles in which her blouses had been folded. That was a trick the Vulcans had to teach her, she decided. But not today. She took one of her sleeping gowns and panties and went to the adjoining bathroom.
Given that Vulcan had to use water very sparsely, Amanda was not surprised that she had to make do with a sonic shower. As much as she yearned to just strip and submerge herself in a bathtub of warm water - in the hope that this would drown out her thoughts - she would have to settle for standing still in the humming cabinet in the corner of the room. With a sigh, she shucked off her dress and underwear and stepped into the glass cylinder. A click of the button, and the sonic started to hum lowly.
Amanda tried her best to relax her muscles and leaned her forehead against the pleasantly cool as the warm breeze caressed her bare skin. Her hair was falling around her face, frizzed by the sonic hum of the shower. She would have to brush it out later - or maybe tomorrow - she was feeling more tired by the minute.
She had been so foolish.
With sudden certainty, all the exhaustion and confusion of the day came crashing down on her. As kind and gentle as Sovan had been to her, and as delighted as the two young Vulcans seemed to work with her, the cold look in Sarek’s piercing, dark eyes still stung, and she could still feel T’Pau’s disapproving glare on her back.
But Sarek - Sarek she had offended, more deeply than she could tell yet, and in the eyes of everyone on the hangar deck she had made clear that she was not yet ready to study the Vulcan culture. She was alone, exhausted, and stuck on a stranger’s planet, with not a single human soul in a lightyear radius.
When a tear caught on her bottom lip, she realised that she had started crying. God. Foolish, hysterical girl.
The image of Sarek’s hand flexing would not leave her mind - his long, lean fingers, his strong arms that had so protectively held her. His chest had been warm. For a moment she indulged herself with the memory of his steady breath on her face, the softness of his hands, the low timbre of his voice saying her name, those eyes tracing every inch of her bare body, hands running gently through her loose hair-
The humming noise stopped. Apparently there was a time limit to avoid someone actually passing out and falling asleep amid warm air and pleasant white noise. Perfectly logical.
Amanda stepped out, towelled herself off out of pure habit, and slipped into her evening gown.
When she stepped back into the bedroom, she could not help but shiver - her gown opened over her chest in a low vee, her arms only covered at the shoulder by a strip of lace. She could feel the goosebumps pricking up on her arms and chest. The AC was still cooling the room to a temperature perfectly pleasant when one had spent the entire day in the scorching sun, but now that the outside temperature was dropping, she felt a chill. Maybe the Vulcans overestimated Terran tolerance to temperatures.
A glance out of the window assured her that the sun was slowly descending in the distance. It was by no means too early to go to sleep. With a long yawn, she switched off the light in the bathroom, drew the semi-transparent blinds over the windows, and slipped under the warm covers of her bed.
Her padd had been placed on her night table and gave a chirping noise just when she was about to put her head onto the incredibly inviting pillow. Trying to blink her way through the creeping sleepiness, she opened it.
It was a couple of messages from her colleagues and friends, most concerned with whether she had landed safely. She typed a few short responses, one little note to her parents and sister, but when she had to retype the same sentence two times over, she decided that she was too tired for anything like this and dropped her padd onto the night table again. The picture frame next to it fell over with a clattering noise.
Amanda had to smile when she propped it up again and saw the picture some gentle Vulcan hand had inserted in it: it was an antique photograph of the first Terran mission to Luna, over 300 years ago. The grey horizon of the moon surface was set against the dark, glimmering vastness of space. Fixed in the middle was the oval image of earth, a bright blue marble adorned with white swirls of clouds. She looked small, fragile even, enveloped in that pitch-black background. Her fingers danced over the blue outline for a moment until they hit the cold glass.
Home. So far away, yet someone on this strange, emotionless planet had reasoned that she would miss her Earth.
She put the frame closer to the edge of the night table and laid her head onto the pillow.
“Good night,” she muttered. Then sleep swept her up like a gentle wave.