"Resentment is like drinking poison and waiting for the other person to die. "

- Carrie Fisher, 20th/21st centuries

...

Aboard the Enterprise

Twelve Standard Hours Before the Journey to New Vulcan

"Spock's hot, in a creepy way. I wonder how easy it would be to take him from that frozen bitch Uhura."

"I bet it's the ears. They're probably super sensitive. Maybe he doesn't use his dick at all."

"Eeew! Nah, he's humanoid, probably has the same plumbing. Maybe I could get him drunk, just to see. I'd show him a good time. I've heard Africans can be really religious and uptight, so he's probably desperate."

"Greetings, crewmates," Nyota said calmly, rising from beneath the communications panel where she'd been replacing a set of memory modules. She'd decided to perform the work herself instead of filing a repair request with the overworked tech crew.

Any humanoid could have heard one of the tiny connection pins of the modules drop onto the floor in the silence that followed.

"Do you wish to continue this discussion, Ensign?" asked Nyota.

"Listen, uh...hey, Uhura, kidding. Just joking."

"The proper form of address is Lieutenant." Nyota sighed. This ensign had seemed so promising, so knowledgeable; such a lack of common sense and caution was regrettable.

"Lieutenant," the two said, one defiantly. How interesting.

Steadying her voice, Nyota recited the standard reprimand. "I will remind both of you of the importance Starfleet places upon professional behavior in our workplace. This is a five-year mission, as I need not remind you. Please take time to review official ethics and personal standards policies, with particular attention to the case studies regarding personal privacy - that includes gossip - and personal security within Starfleet."

She turned her attention to the more aggressive of the two. "In addition, as your superior officer I strongly advise you to undergo cultural competency training, as you appear to be confused, ill-informed, or ignorant about African cultural customs, assuming that they are all the same. Need I remind you that the United States of Africa is comprised of different countries and that religious denominations, traditions, and the interpretations of same vary widely depending upon history, geographic location, and various localized factors?"

She shook her head, never breaking eye contact. "You work for Starfleet. Generalizing about cultures, or assuming that one group of beings is all alike, is not only disrespectful to your colleagues in an intergalactic, interspecies workforce; it could be dangerous to insult someone during an away mission."

Switching languages, she spoke in the colloquial style of the offender's home city, pleased to hear a surprised gasp in response. "Ya got potential, ya know? Knowledgeable, lotsa energy. But ya disappoint me as yer manager, talking behind my back. Iz dumb, get me? Don't do it again. I gotta report ya if ya do."

"Are you or aren't you going to report me this time, Lieutenant?"

"Can't tell ya that, I gotta think it ovah." She switched back to Standard. "Dismissed."

Apologizing with varying degrees of sincerity, the pair left.

Should she file a report, and how much should she say? She'd overheard so many similar conversations that it hardly seemed worth the time. Nyota couldn't always harden her heart against the whispers and rumors. There were too many nights when Spock could not lie with her and talk while they stroked the tension away from each other's muscles. Agitated, she walked the corridors of the ship late at night, unable to listen to music, or read, or knit, or sleep.

McCoy enjoyed a bit of distracting conversation during such times, if he were not working or deep in a sorrowful mood, refusing to open his door or respond to his communicator. Sometimes Nyota called Gaila, or sought out one of her handful of genuine, discreet friends aboard ship.

Occasionally she visited Scotty. Sociable at any hour, he would pause in his mysterious mechanical tinkering. Sometimes Nyota found Scotty retrieving oddly shaped, unmarked packages from the transporter room; when asked about their contents, he only smiled and laid a finger alongside his nose in a secretive gesture, revealing nothing. Anyone might suspect him of espionage if his utter devotion to Starfleet and adoration for the Enterprise were not so obvious. Only Jim Kirk loved the ship more.

On this night, with less than twenty-four hours to go before she and Spock visited Sarek on New Vulcan, Nyota's nerves would not calm down enough to let her meditate, pray, or ease her apprehension and excitement with music. Spock had two hours left before his shift ended; she had packed her bag and completed her work for the day. Normally able to entertain herself, she didn't want to be alone. She opened a channel on her communicator.

"Jonesy? Glad that I reached you. How are you?"

"Hey, Nyota," the other woman replied cheerfully. "Can't complain. I'm just about to go back on shift; I'm covering for Miranda while she's on leave. How are you?"

"Oh, I'm just a bundle of nervous energy, can't calm down about New Vulcan. I was going to ask if you wanted to walk a mile on the ship."

"Any other time,yes, but I had to take this extra shift, such a good opportunity to work with that team from Sciences again. Come and say goodbye before you leave for New Vulcan,okay?"

Nyota promised to visit and signed off. She tried a few other people; all were either asleep, eating, or working, so she began to walk the ship in solitude.

Somehow she found herself in Engineering, crossing paths with Scotty as he signed out of his shift for the day.

"Be strong, lass," he said with a wink as he walked with her, listening to her explain her anxiety-fueled wanderings and her distress at being the object of ship's gossip. She tried not to provide specific names or details, but the engineer heard and saw far more than many realized.

"Have ye got a padd with ye?" he asked.

She did, a small one, and held it out for him to write into.

Forte est vinum

fortior est rex

fortiores sunt mulieres

super omnia vincit veritas.

"Wine is strong, a king is stronger, women are stronger still, but truth conquers all"

(1 Esdras, chapters 3 & 4 - an ancient Greek version of the book of Ezra in the Christian Bible of Earth).

Look up and you'll find this quotation inscribed on an architrave connected to the Apprentice Pillar inside Rosslyn Chapel during your next visit to the village of Roslin (Midlothian), Scotland

Winking, Scotty handed the small padd back to her. "Think on that, Uhura. "

"I will, thank you." The engineer was full of surprises. Despite his gregarious nature, she realized that he revealed little of his inner self.

"Ignore the gossip. There are always some who complain of their own glass bein' half empty, while others will pour generously from their own glass to share a bit of cheer wit 'ye. That first lot wants others to share their misery. Truth is that Spock is happy with ye - as happy as Vulcans get, that is - and the pair of ye are well matched. Balance is just as important for lovebirds as it is for flywheels and rocket boosters."

"Have you got a companion somewhere, Scotty?" Nyota asked hesitantly. "If you don't mind my asking?"

"There are some things a man cannot tell...especially when there is no simple answer."

"In other words, there might be someone and 'It's complicated'?"

Scotty only blushed, shrugged, and changed the subject. Nyota knew better than to press for more.

"Come by my quarters, lass, see what I brought back with me from my last stop on Risa."

Mindful of possible misinterpretations of her presence in his quarters, the engineer discreetly requested that the computer leave the door to his quarters slightly open while Nyota was inside.

A enormous crate of fruit sat on the floor below a painted representation of the Scott coat of arms, a framed London International Ska Festival poster, a reproduction of an old whiskey advertisement, and various schematic drawings of the Enterprise.

Nyota made a nonverbal sound of delight, staring at the bountiful heap of fragrant, colorful fruits. Easily recognizable were papayas, breadfruit, pineapple, soursop, mangoes, oranges, grapefruit, limes, and guava. Other unfamiliar, non-Earth fruits looked just as appealing. Several coconuts were bundled tidily into a net and strapped to clamps on the wall as a safety measure in the event of turbulence or gravitational problems.

"You had a mighty fine time on shore leave! So many different kinds of fruit - it reminds me of home."

"There's no rhyme or reason to the variety," Scotty said. "I just asked every fruit vendor in the market what they had in stock that might travel well through the beam. Pick something out for yourself."

Nyota lifted a large mango with vividly shaded green and orange skin to her nose. It smelled too fresh, too sweetly ripe to be the product of a replicator, "Oh, real fruit grown outdoors is such a treat aboard ship. Thanks, Scotty. I've got to find people to share it with!"

"Be a glutton and eat it yourself, Uhura, I'll keep your secret. Take two mangoes, I'm feeling rich. I've already begun giving this all away before it gets too ripe. Might keep the coconuts for m'self, try to make something out of the shells. Take something different for Spock, if you like; I hope he won't call it contraband."

"Hmm...I'll try one of these, he likes tart flavors."

Scotty was tempted to make a joke, a play on words involving sourness and Spock's stern disposition or Nyota's use of the word tart. He decided against it as Nyota smiled at him and placed a grateful kiss on the side of his face.

"Well, thank you, Lieutenant. Glad Spock wasn't here to see that, I don't fancy having my nerves pinched. Go rest yourself and be well."

"I'm grateful to you, Scotty, both for the fruit and for listening to me; you're a darling. Good night."

"Off with you before that Vulcan sends out a search party. Goodnight, Uhura."

Scotty sighed as the door slid completely shut behind her. It was true that he'd already shared the fruit with his engineering staff, random crew members he'd encountered in the hallway, Sulu and other bridge officers, and the night cleaning staff. He hadn't shared it with one special person, however. Was it worth extending an invitation?

"Computer, dim lights. Contact the occupant of cabin number AE-443-98."

...

Spock carefully bent back the smooth green and orange skin of the mango; the little squares scored into the fruit's golden flesh spread apart, releasing a pleasant fragrance. Pressing steadily, he moved the shiny silver blade in a downward motion along the base of the cubes and the little squares dropped into a small bowl. Spock lifted the tiny, moist gold cubes from the pile, one by one, creating a trail from each of his bondmate's nipples to her navel. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have placed his hands directly on the surface of unpeeled fruit, but he did not intend to consume this fruit in a normal fashion. It was acceptable to break certain rules behind closed doors.

He leaned on one elbow, admiring his handiwork. Nyota's large, dark eyes gazed back at him. The golden cubes rose and fell as she attempted to keep her breathing steady.

"Mangoes are among my favorite fruits, but I never thought about serving them like this," she said softly.

"Consider it an experiment. It was very kind of you to share the first mango with me. Indeed, I found its scent and flavor so agreeable that I wished to experience the second mango in alternative ways, in order to satisfy my curiosity. It was wise of you to remind me that some people enjoy eating mangoes in combination with spices or salt. Although I do not wish to use sodium crystals, I would like to know what it is like to combine mangoes with the slightly salty taste of your skin."

He rose up and leaned over the little dip between her collarbones, where he had placed a single cube of fruit. "Shall we begin?"