Author's Note: Chapter 28 takes place the first week of January during Uhura's second year as a cadet at Starfleet Academy. This chapter begins a storyline depicting how Uhura became Spock's Course Assistant. This episode features Uhura and Spock, as well as, the Vulcan's parents – Amanda and Sarek.

Your comments are always welcome.

Completing the tour of the Academy, Uhura spoke the final lines of her presentation before a group of 23 cadet family members and friends standing on the steps of the Student Activities Center. After conducting these tours on a part-time basis since her first year, she felt she had become so proficient at it that the tours had become perfunctory. She asked the group, "Are there any further questions?"

Uhura nodded as a thin and petite middle-aged woman raised her hand. The cadet nodded her way. The visitor spoke in a friendly, but firm manner. "If I haven't learned anything else today, you have certainly impressed upon me that life at the Academy is quite challenging in a number of ways. Between the demands of such a rigorous academic schedule and military training, how do you find time for yourself?"

It was not the first time Uhura had heard the question, so she accessed her ready-made answer and addressed the entire group. "Life at the Academy may be arduous for cadets, but not as difficult as it must be for family members and friends. As most of you probably already know, Academy life affords little time for cadets to spend with their loved ones. Then, after graduation and assignment to a Starship, it may be five years or more before there is any possibility for a reunion. That is why we call all of you the real heroes, since it is your sacrifice that gives us the privilege to pursue our dreams."

Uhura smiled as applause met her response. As she had seen her actress friend do so often on the stage, the cadet paused long enough for the applause to lessen, but not completely end. Amidst the background of fading applause, she added, "Well, that concludes our tour. I hope you have the time to visit a little longer before you begin your journey home." The group applauded, again, and several thanked her as others dispersed.

Still basking in the praise she received from the members of her tour group, the East African woman tossed her braids behind her and started to leave when she noticed someone from the group still remained. It was the middle-aged woman who had asked the last question. Uhura smiled and walked toward her, sure the woman also wanted to express her appreciation for the tour. However, her smile faded with the woman's frank statement.

"You didn't answer my question."

The facility with language Uhura had earlier displayed seemed to leave her. She thought, What did she mean by that comment? My answer seemed to resonate with everyone else.

"Do you care to answer it or not?" The woman continued to confront her.

"I thought I already did."

"I asked, how do you find time for yourself? Although your response obviously pleased the masses, it did not directly speak to my query."

To Uhura, the woman reminded her of one of her former undergraduate professors. Her voice carried an exacting scholarly tone, while her casual Terran attire seemed at least a decade behind the times. Although several inches shorter than Uhura, the visitor gave the impression of someone much taller in stature.

"Ma'am," Uhura addressed her, "When I committed myself to a career in Starfleet, I understood there might be aspects of my life that might be put on hold, while I pursued my chosen profession. There are, of course, times when I can get together with friends and have a drink or two, but Academy life does not allow for much more. Believe me, I doubt few would remain in the service if one did not believe the experience worth the sacrifices to one's personal life."

Uhura thought she had now passed the test, when the woman did not immediately offer a response. However, the cadet soon realized she was mistaken.

"Cadet Uhura, the tour is over. You are no longer on the clock."

"Ma'am?"

"You obviously have been trained well as a . . . what is your title?"

"Academy Ambassador, ma'am."

"Yes, of course. The title is quite appropriate. Like a diplomat you are trained to advocate for a particular perspective of military and reassure outsiders of the rightness of that point of view. Well done, your audience has departed."

"All, but one." Uhura tersely said.

"All, but one." The woman repeated.

Uhura wondered, Who is this woman with the disarming smile? The cadet observed while the older woman's tone was unwavering, her large brown eyes appeared kind and lively.

"You have not left me, yet." The visitor continued. "So, I'd rather believe you really would like to go off script and answer my question as though Big Brother were not listening."

Uhura hesitated, then finally decided the truth might be the best option after all. "I love to sing. During my first year, I sang with the Academy Chorale. I thought after I became acclimated to campus life, I would find the time to resume private lessons, again. However, private lessons are more than my cadet stipend can afford and more often than not I find myself using much of my so-called free time to study for my comprehensive exams."

"Are you in a doctoral program?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm studying xenolinguistics."

The woman nodded her head knowingly. "So, after you pass your comps, then you'll be tied up with years of research and the writing of your dissertation. You'll have to find a way to stay on top of this, while dealing with the rigors and distractions of your mandatory 5-year Starfleet term of service. Then, if you somehow manage to actually complete the dissertation and win the approval of your academic committee, you'll have to find a way to stay current in your field. So, you'll feel the need to take on more research projects, while enduring another 5-year service term. Or, perhaps, you'll accept a position at some university or institute, where the demands on your time will be even more onerous. Year pass quickly . . . then, you'll die."

On the defense, Uhura spoke quickly without the restraint of being a model representative of the Academy. "You act as if I'm some sort of automaton who exists, but does not take the time to enjoy life. Well, with all due respect, you don't know me. Perhaps, all is not perfect, but I am blessed with family, friends, faith and a passion for my work that enriches my life in ways I could not begin to explain to you."

Uhura readied herself for the woman's next remark; however, the visitor's sudden smile disarmed her. "Cadet Uhura, you're right. I don't know you, but I do like the fervor and strength of character you just displayed. For a woman in a male-dominated vocation, you've shown you have what it takes to thrive amidst all that entitled testosterone. I think you're going to be all right."

The woman's words rang sincere and reassuring. Strangely, this stranger's praise appeared to have more of an affect on the cadet than she would have expected. "Thank you, ma'am."

The women stood within an awkward moment. Neither one knew why the other remained or what should next be said. Finally, the visitor broke the silence.

"Well, I suppose I've taken enough of your time already." The woman held out her hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Cadet Uhura."

After the tour, Uhura had planned to get a sandwich from the cafeteria and then go to the language lab to practice her enunciation of one of the Troyian dialects. However, for a reason unclear to her, she was not yet ready to leave this woman's company.

"Ma'am, I don't know if you have any other plans at the moment. But, it's one o'clock and I'm ready for lunch. If you don't mind eating at the Student Activities Center, I'd like you to be my guest. The food is actually quite good or, perhaps, I'm so used to eating there I can no longer tell the difference."

The women shared a laugh. "All right." The visitor said. "I'll accept your invitation under one condition. No more calling me, ma'am. I didn't sign up for the military and the term just makes me feel old."

"Agreed. Then, what should I call you?"

"My name is Amanda."

Wearing a visor and sitting behind a protective shield, Ambassador Sarek watched another trial of a gamma rays experiment. After its completion, one of Spock's research assistants asked him, "Sir, would you like me to run the next trial at a higher frequency?"

Removing his visor, Sarek carefully reviewed the trials results. "No, I believe that will be all for today."

From his monitor in his office, Spock's ears picked up a collective sigh of relief from several research assistants with his father. Spock spoke through an intercom. "Cadet Banderas, please escort the Ambassador to my office?"

"Yes, sir."

When first told of the impending visit of Spock's father, the research teams did not expect such a grueling experience. After all, how vigorous could someone be so close to his 100th birthday? However, after three 12+ hour days in a row, they learned just how different the Vulcan and human physiologies could be. Taking advantage of only a few breaks throughout the day to meet basic needs, Sarek questioned each research team's methodology, experimental design and reviewed their progress reports.

Ensign Rutledge, Spock's operational coordinator, asked his supervisor, "Sir, I was under the impression the Ambassador's primary vocation was that of a diplomat."

"That is correct."

"Then, how does he know so much about everything, sir?"

Spock doubted if he could ever get used to the imprecision of human speech. "Ensign Rutledge, the Ambassador does not know everything. However, he is a lifetime member of the Vulcan Science Academy and would not dare shame such a position by taking the office lightly. The Ambassador is and always will be an avid champion of scientific inquiry."

"Yes, sir. And, may I ask you about another thing, sir?"

"What other thing do you believe should come to my attention, cadet?

"Well, sir, tomorrow is the last day we have before classes begin, again. After the last three days, I am sure the teams would appreciate some type of a break, sir?"

Spock realized such a request would be unthinkable at Vulcan Science Academy. However, he had learned long ago humans could not continue to work at peak efficiency under such conditions. His mother would have advised that allowing a day off would be the humane thing to do. But, Spock was more motivated by productivity concerns, rather than compassion.

"Ensign Rutledge, you may revise the schedule as you see fit, making sure critical functions are sufficiently covered by a rotating skeleton crew."

The Ensign nodded as he suppressed a relieved smile. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." The Ensign left Spock's office just as Cadet Banderas arrived with Sarek who carried a tricorder in his hand. Upon being excused, the cadet left the two men alone.

Spock rose from his seat. "Your assessment, father."

"If the Vulcan language possessed such a word as, revenge, I would say you have exacted such in regards to the Vulcan Science Academy. Over the last 10 years, you have almost brought Terrans into the 23rd century."

These comments from Sarek represented the closest words resembling a compliment Spock had ever heard from his father. Yet, Vulcan standards of decorum would not allow him to call attention to it with an expression of gratitude. As expected, Spock gave no response.

Sarek continued. "Of course, I did note errors in design, performance, and analysis with each of the research teams. Most of these errors could be termed minor and not out of line of what one would expect with groups comprised primarily of Terrans. However, most were not major in scope or significance."

"Will you be able to send me your notes before you depart for your conference in New York in the morning?"

Sarek's hand moved across the keys of his tricorder with quickness and agility. "Done." No sooner had the Vulcan sent his report did his tricorder begin to sound. "Message from your mother." He scanned the communication. "Today, your mother deviated from her itinerary and did not visit colleagues as originally planned . . . went on a tour of Starfleet Academy conducted by a cadet." Sarek stopped reading to address his son. "A tour of the Academy? It is my understanding such tours were for those associated with students."

"The tour may be taken by Academy candidates and alumni, as well as, acquaintances of any current cadet, faculty or staff member. I recall Mother had expressed wanting to elect this activity when I was a student."

"Ah, yes. That was the period when you portrayed yourself as an orphan, by asking us not to visit you."

"You exaggerate, father. I asked you not to visit, so not to give the appearance of favoritism. We discussed this matter before I left Vulcan. Please continue with Mother's message."

Sarek turned his attention back to his tricorder. "Your mother had lunch with the cadet . . . then went window shopping with that same cadet . . . " Sarek looked up to Spock. "I am not sure what that means? Surely your mother did not go shopping for windows. I doubt if they would meet the Vulcan standards."

"Father, I believe window shopping is a colloquialism. It is an activity most often performed by female Terrans who visit stores to review the current stock of merchandise without the intention of purchase. However, in practice, few are able to resist the urge to buy."

"Most illogical."

"Indeed."

Sarek returned to the message. "Apparently, your mother has invited this person to dinner." Looking back to Spock, he commented. "Most peculiar. She knows I will not be able to attend since I must review our strategy before leaving for the Federation Conference, tomorrow. Why would she not simply want to spend dinner alone with you?"

Spock knew his father's question to be rhetorical for this did not constitute atypical behavior for his mother. As a cultural xenologist, Amanda held an intellectual curiosity concerning all races of beings. Yet, her approach went beyond scientific study to genuinely engage her subjects within the context of that group's beliefs, knowledge, customs, knowledge and art. Since there were a number of cultures alien to Earth who now could be counted among the Academy's cadets, Spock wondered which one his mother had befriended.

"Did mother divulge the cadet's name?"

"I am not sure of the pronunciation. However, I believe it is pronounced . . . Ny – o – ta . . . Nyota?"

Uhura imagined if her mother had lived, they would have spent days like this. The cadet and Amanda quickly disposed of their lunch, but remained at their table at the Student Activities Center for several hours. Their conversation flowed easily from subjects ranging from the serious to the trite. And, there was laughter . . . so much so that at one point the manager of the cafeteria asked them to keep their voices down. The admonishment did little more than to propel the women into a round of giggles.

Amanda took Uhura's hand and whispered between chuckes, "I better take you out of here before I get you in trouble."

Outside the Center, Amanda surprised Uhura by wanting to extend their day together. "I feel like doing something girlie."

The cadet offered, "I know just the thing and it won't cost us a single credit."

At a department store, the two women went from counter to counter in the cosmetics section experimenting with various lipsticks, rouges, eye makeup, powders, fragrances and skin care products. After making up their faces to their satisfaction, they continued their excursion outside walking past windows of boutiques.

While on their outing, one particular item caught Uhura's eye – a strapless, teal cocktail dress with an empire waist. Amanda noted the object of the younger woman's focus and said, "Let's go into this shop to try on a few things." Although Uhura knew she could not possibly purchase anything at this high-end store, she reasoned it would be all right to pretend she could for a while.

As the two tried on various articles, Amanda became amused by Uhura avoidance of the teal dress. The older woman thought she would give encouragement to the cadet by trying on a few cocktail dresses and proudly paraded about the large dressing room. Although Amanda's exhibition garnered Uhura's enthusiastic cheers, the East African still did not attempt to try on the object of her desire. Finally, Amanda retrieved the article, herself, and told her, "I want to see what you look like in this one."

Uhura hesitated, and then asked, "How did you know?"

"I got a hint when we were outside staring through the window and I saw all that drool drip from your mouth as you looked at that dress." The women laughed. "Now, go on and put it on, so I can see you in it."

Uhura's emergence from the dressing room was met with Amanda's applause. In her bare feet, the cadet twirled about and gave an exaggerated strut like a high fashion model. "This is perfect! The teal color brings out the rich tones of your skin." Amanda exclaimed, still wearing one of the peach dresses she had chosen. "Now, we should pick out accessories to go with our dresses."

"All right. We should be sure to take a picture of the two of us, so we can remember what we looked like."

"We'll ask my son to do so, when we arrive at the restaurant for dinner." Surprised, Uhura looked to Amanda who quickly realized her error. "I'm sorry. We've had so much fun, today, I presumed you would want to have dinner with me, tonight." She waited for the cadet's reaction, but none seemed forthcoming. "Was I wrong, Nyota? I leave with my husband for New York in the morning and in two weeks we'll be headed to the Andorian system, before finally heading home. I don't know the next time I'll return to Earth."

Uhura hesitated, and then told her. "Amanda, of course, I would love to join you for dinner. But . . . " She cast her eyes downward. "I couldn't even afford a hair clip in this boutique."

"Nyota, I didn't ask you to pay for anything. It is my gift to you."

"Oh, no, Amanda, it's too much."

"When you asked me to lunch earlier today, did you give me a limit on how much I was supposed to spend? Did you remind me that you're only a cadet making subsistence wages, so don't order anything too expensive?'"

"Of course, not. That is not the way of my people. There should be no limits to generosity."

Amanda took up Uhura's hands and looked into her eyes. "Then let me be one of your people, Nyota."

Who was this woman with such a warm heart? Uhura thought. Whose mother is she? Then, she spoke these words, "Wewe ni watu wangu. Amanda, you are my people."

Author's Note:

In the next chapter, Spock has dinner with his mother and Uhura. It should be posted within the next few days.

Your comments are always welcome.