Hours later - it was already early evening planetside-- members of the Enterprise crew stood in a large, elegantly decorated room. The wealth of this particular world was on restrained display: wall and ceiling panels decorated with abstract paintings in muted colors; exotic potted plants and large sculptures; jewels and rare metals shining on the clothing of the assembled dignitaries. Musicians performed at one end of the long room, sounding notes reminiscent of water rushing over stones.

The shantung-textured fabric of the dress jackets worn by male Enterprise officers was stark compared to the richness of the local clothing. Gold, blue, red: the solid colors provided an intriguing contrast, bringing the old adage about handsome men in uniform to life. Comfortable in his role as Captain, Jim Kirk basked in the glow of attention. He exchanged flirtatious looks with a few partygoers who boldly gazed back.

Nyota owned a dress jacket, but she'd chosen different clothing tonight. Instead she wore a long evening gown in dark Starfleet red and elegant silver earrings with a moderately sized drop. It was culturally acceptable to wear her hair down here, which was just as well. She'd worried more than she'd slept, and that left her without the mental energy for creative hair ideas for the party. Shoes were not typically worn inside here - not even at parties - so Nyota changed into a pair of flat, soft slippers at the front door.

The red gown wasn't new, but she liked its smooth, satiny fabric, flattering bias cut, and fairly high neck - her collarbones showed, but no cleavage. On four separate occasions, Spock had told Nyota that she looked very appealing in the dress. She would have liked to hear him say it again tonight, as they both dressed quietly in their small guest room with its minimalist decor.

Jim winked at her each time he saw her wearing the dress. Nyota usually told Jim to behave himself; if Spock wasn't looking she'd stick her elbow in Jim's ribs for emphasis.

Tomorrow was their anniversary. Spock still hadn't said a thing about it.

Looking up at Spock, Nyota observed faint shadows beneath his eyes; otherwise he appeared smooth, calm, professional. A rush of affection spiked with desire made her thoughts wander. For a moment she wished that the room were less brightly lit so that she could pull him aside and caress the side of his face, press a kiss to his mouth, and give his full, fine bottom lip the kind of little bite he liked.

Earlier she'd considered upgrading their on-planet lodging request from Basic Partners - Comfortable to Romantic Partners - Healing Package, only to read on her padd that no such rooms were available. Perhaps it wasn't too late - she could slip away from the party for a moment, contact the guesthouse to request a room change. Something else, anything else. Maybe Spock would like the change in routine enough to relax...or maybe he would prefer to spend their leave time meditating and she'd need to leave him by himself. Would her Enterprise crewmates take pity on her, take her along on a hiking expedition, a bar, shopping, anything to prevent her from feeling lonely and worried?

The volume of conversation rose as Federation and Starfleet representatives worked the room. Organizing a mental list of people to greet, Nyota stepped away from Spock, looking over her shoulder with a regretful glance, and began her rounds.

If only this were a real party! At a purely social occasion, she could rest her hand in the crook of Spock's elbow and pay more attention to the music. A few older people sat on upholstered benches away from the busiest areas of the party; not ignored, but not the focus of much attention either. Nyota eased away from the aggressive networking and greeted the elders, chatting with them about their lives on the planet before moving on.

Glancing around, she saw Spock surrounded by the usual cluster of diplomats curious about Vulcans. His facial expression - by now she could read him from near and far - hinted at displeasure. Vulcans were still a novelty on Punctilio-26. Nyota knew that although Spock was accustomed to being on display, he disliked it. She squared her shoulders, ready to prepare an excuse to extricate Spock from the conversation. Their mental bond opened far enough for her to know that the little group talked to Spock about science; he did not wish to be rescued, if only for the sake of politeness.

Please don't overexert yourself, sweetheart. Nyota let the bond close and kept to the perimeter of the room, chatting with a few people who looked shy without imposing upon their time. She asked the catering staff their opinion on the popularity of unfamiliar local foods resembling cheese. When she began walking again, Spock had vanished.

Nyota suddenly felt overwhelmed by the size of the party; the Communications Officer couldn't communicate any longer without a break. She leaned against the wall behind a sculpture shaped like an enormous abstract bush, hiding.

"Hey there, Ny," Dr. Leonard McCoy was always a welcome sight, and she smiled.

"Hi, Len. I should have known that a gentleman who appreciates art would find me here."

McCoy looked down at the cup of water in her hand. "Want to add some kick to that? I brought my flask with me. Sometimes these bureaucratic parties benefit from the addition of distilled beverages."

"Oh, Len. As diplomatic parties go, this one's fine. Most people are probably having some fun mixed in with all the professional networking. Everyone's been very polite."

"Yeah, and I cain't take another doggone minute of it. Light conversation here involves weather patterns, rock formations, the efficiency of their transportation system, and other stuff unlikely to lead to a good time on a Saturday night." He rolled his eyes.

"Try talking about food instead," Nyota suggested. "I just had an interesting discussion about non-dairy cheese production methods with some nice people working the catering table."

"Do tell. The fun just don't stop around here," he drawled. " Say, where's your man?"

Nyota glanced around the room. "I'm not sure. He was making appropriate conversation. Len, Spock's been very quiet, almost moody, since he returned from that mission. I'm afraid that this big party might be too much for him after that bad experience you three had."

McCoy shrugged. "It was a mite scary, but that's Starfleet for ya. Spock's probably gonna spend a few more days analyzing it." He smiled sympathetically at Nyota's audible sigh. "Don't worry, sugar, he'll come round eventually. You come tell me if he doesn't." McCoy discreetly pulled out a silver flask and fortified his own drink. "How about you, Ms. Uhura. Are you all right?"

"Those three days were...difficult. Bad for all of the crew, we wanted to get you all aboard safely.  I'm so relieved that everyone survived, but even with Spock back, I'm worried."

McCoy touched her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't wait to ask for help if you need it. Use this shore leave to rest. Could be a few more days of quiet will help both of you. Try not to stay in the guesthouse; go out walking, do something easy. Listen, you've made an appearance at this party, so don't feel an obligation to stay. I'll cover for you. I'll just tell folks you had to check staff messages or somethin'. Ever'body knows you're a workaholic so they'll believe me."

Nyota gave his arm a fond, grateful squeeze. "Thank you, Len. You're so thoughtful; what would the Enterprise be without you?"

"Helluva lot quieter, probably. Go on, make your escape." A trace of affection softened his gruff tone.

Three broad corridors led into to the large room; Nyota chose to walk into the one with the fewest people near it, hoping to find an alcove or room away from the light and activity.

The corridor's walls were decorated with large paintings; two party guests strolled past, admiring the art. Slowing her pace so that she didn't look as though she were fleeing, Nyota exchanged greetings and kept walking. She passed several closed doors. Finally she saw one that stood open, and carefully looked inside.