Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated character are not mine.
A/N: There are two words connecting past and present within this chapter: falling and despair.
No beta review, all mistakes are mine.
Falling
CHAPTER 1
NOW
Falling.
Descending nose first, the shuttle hurtles uncontrollably through the ionosphere in a nimbus of heat. It pierces into stratosphere then atmosphere of an unimportant Class M planet with the alphanumeric designation, J7900.
Spock's frantic fingers work his console, trying in vain to even out the small craft. To his right, Lieutenant Uhura, calm except for the mild frown marring her brow, works at breaking through the furious ion storm swarming their location. Her attempts are futile as the signals refract backward to its source. Ensign Hartmann of Stellar Cartography, suffering a bloodied lip offers her support at boosting their distress call to the Enterprise or any friendly vessel within the area.
Seconds seem like hours, as the twilight wrapped, rocky grey surface rushes up to meet them on their deadly trajectory. For the first time in his life, he dislikes his innate ability to sense time to the precise second. He has one minute, forty-eight point eleven seconds left to level the craft and try to buffer their impact. However, given their current entry velocity and gravity, the landing was going to be unpleasant.
"Ensign, Lieutenant, secure yourselves." These are Spock's final words as he is able to change their angle from the sharp ninety-degree plummet to something closely resembling normal. Six point three seconds later, curse his internal clock, they crash and he is falling.…
THEN
Falling. The sensation surrounded him the first time he realized his feelings for Cadet Uhura went beyond that of a proud mentor and instructor. Spock had heard of her months before her appearance in the first class she was to have with him. He ignored the comments from her previous instructors, deciding he would judge her brilliance per his assessment. It was by no accident that his curriculums were demanding or that he was a difficult grader. His students often employed inventive adjectives while describing his classes. He regarded their reactions as highly illogical. He was simply demanding of his students, the performances essential for careers within the fleet. Besides, he had generous office hours, which less than twenty-five percent of his students utilised.
Spock was pleasantly surprised by her prodigious nature and absolute devotion to her studies. Additionally, the symmetry of her features and the pleasing curves of her slender figure did not escape his keen vision. He had noticed these details the first time she sat in one of his classes. During the lecture, he mentally filed the information away for later analysis and proper placement.
On this day, during the second week of the final semester of her third year, Spock's awareness of his student changed into something improper. It was early evening and they were sitting in his small junior faculty office. Their discussion focused on a change to her already busy schedule. It affected the hours with which they could work on her personal project. She wished to improve her conversational proficiency of an obscure lower caste Romulan dialect.
She had decided join the Academy's Dance Ensemble. "I was not aware of your interest in dance, Cadet."
The happiness in her dark brown eyes reached her lips, and she graced him with one of her rare complete smiles. "A woman does not divulge all her secrets. She should always remain a mystery."
Spock wondered what else he might not know about the Cadet. He also speculated on whether it was wrong to indulge the mild trill caused by contemplating how he could learn her additional secrets.
Images of her graceful frame moving across a stage, long legs executing each move tantalised his mind. With a mental sigh, he focused on resurrecting his inner calm. It was difficult. "How long have you practiced this art?"
"I studied modern dance and ballet for most of my childhood," she replied, most of her smile slipping away. "I need something else outside of languages, linguistics and academia to occupy my time."
As he reviewed her demanding schedule, Spock into account what he knew of students as driven as Uhura. If she were not careful, she could end up with what humans called 'burnout'. He understood that this new activity could provide her with a necessary physical release; however, caution was required.
"Are you certain this addition to your schedule is wise?"
"I believe it is manageable. If trouble arises adjustments can be made."
He decided that he would monitor her stress level during the remainder of the semester. "We could change Wednesday evening meetings to Thursdays, although it would have to be thirty minutes earlier. My other commitments preclude any other changes during the work week."
She glanced at her own copy of the schedule. "I would have to cut back from three days to two." She frowned, then looked up at him and asked, "Can we work on Saturdays, if it isn't an imposition?"
His Saturday morning routine had a degree of flexibility and he did not mind having her in his company. He was never bored in her presence. "The mornings are acceptable."
The brilliant happy smile was back. "Great, we can meet for brunch. There's nothing like conversation over a good meal."
Odd, he had not thought that far ahead. Nevertheless, he found himself agreeing with her, arranging to meet at an off campus café. They both stood, and he followed her to the door, as she turned to say her goodbye the back of her hand grazed his. The falling sensation returned with sudden force pushing at his carefully constructed psyche. Not once in his almost twenty-seven years could he remember being affected in this manner.
NOW
There is a tremor below her feet and a horrible pain in her chest. Her legs throb from smashing into her console but the pain is tolerable. In fact, the pain is a good thing. She can also taste blood in her mouth and her tongue feels sore. She surmises that she must have bitten it when they crashed. Lieutenant Uhura inhales deeply, fighting the panic that threatens to overwhelm her.
The dim, red emergency lights and the shrill whir of the emergency alarm are all that she senses. With shaking fingers, she unhooks her safety belt, glancing to where Commander Spock should be. She only sees the edges of black boots. Scrambling from her seat, she goes over to his area and finds him on the floor. His body is sprawled at an uncomfortable angle. Dropping to her knees, she checks that he is breathing. A harsh sigh escapes her lips as she feels breath leave his nostrils. He is merely unconscious.
Still on her knees within the mangled shuttle, she crawls around and over debris to where Ensign Mariah Hartmann is located. She too is alive and unconscious. Her injuries appear to be severe. Uhura is not sure the woman will survive.
Back on her feet, she returns to her console, checking the communication board. She allows herself another sigh of relief when she sees that it suffered minimal damage. She tries again to send another signal but the storm continues to disrupt her attempts. Prior to their crash, Spock estimated hours before they would be able to leave this system.
She tries to scan their outside surroundings, except the smoking and hissing board refuses to cooperate. Grabbing a tricorder, Uhura uses the emergency handle and a few swift kicks to get the door open. Once she steps outside, she starts scanning, first for potentially hostile animal or humanoid life. There aren't any. The only life she detects is a tiny organism that should not affect her health or those of her injured crewmates. Adjusting the tricorder tells her there is drinkable water. The vegetation is poisonous with the exception of a weed like plant. There is also an active volcano twelve miles south of their location. It could blow today or next year, judging by the seismic readings and the tremor she felt minutes ago.
Satisfied with her readings, she steps back into the shuttle and goes to Spock. She scans him as best as she can without an actual medical tricorder. He has injuries to his chest and head and a cracked rib. Most worrying is the head injury. There is no telling how it will affect his mind.
Gently, she touches his face, her fingers feather light before they ghost over his meld points. She hopes that after multiple melds between them, he would somehow sense her. Although, they have not bonded, they can sense each other during extreme emotion or stress. When she feels nothing the calm evaporates and she feels frustration and building despair.
"Damn it Spock, I know you're in there."
She leans forward, presses her forehead against his fingers never leaving his meld points. "Please, I need you."
THEN
Despair was not something Cadet Nyota Uhura had ever truly experienced in her short twenty-one years of life. Growing up, her happy childhood was marred briefly by the death of her bibi. The subsequent sadness that followed her for months, eventually faded into the background of her memories. Intellectually, she recognized it to be a coping mechanism. The following year at age seventeen, thinking she knew all there was to know of the universe, she fell in love. Marcus was a dark-eyed young man who talked of the stars and seemed to have the same ambitions she did.
Three months into their relationship, she gave her virginity to him. The next week, he left her for another girl. She spent one day in denial followed by feelings of inadequacy. The day after that, she felt outraged. She knew a long line of males who could have received her gift. Instead, she chose him to be the first. She thought he cherished and respected her. Apparently, she was wrong.
Uhura found Marcus that night at a club they'd previously visited together. She proceeded to hit him viciously in places on his autonomy guaranteed to hurt. Mellie, her older and fairly wiser sister dragged her off Marcus. On the way home, she lectured her on the proper conduct of an Uhura in public. One did not embarrass oneself in such a manner over the likes of Marcus. Too angry at the time, she simply shrugged off her sister's words. The next day she took them to heart. She also promised herself never to fall in love again.
A year later, she headed off to StarfleetAcademy. Following her new philosophy, she shied away from romantic relationships, only having a few one-night encounters. She used her partners to scratch her itch when it became too bothersome to suppress. This existence gave her the freedom to delve deeply into the cerebral aspect of being a student. She thrived, excelling at almost everything she did. Some courses were easy for her while others required the extra effort. Therefore, it was of no surprise to anyone, including herself that she would seek out Commander Spock as a mentor. That he accepted raised an eyebrow or two.
By the time they agreed to meet over brunch every Saturday, an amicable almost-friendship had developed. Most of their meetings took place at cafés, although on occasion she joined him at his quarters. Those meetings she considered the best because there he relaxed, as much as he would allow himself. She always looked forward to his company and his extremely dry sense of humour. Yes, she was shocked to find out he had one.
At the end of the semester, the Dance Ensemble prepared to put on their annual end of season production. Of course, she invited the commander to watch her perform a short modern solo piece written by a fellow cadet from Denobula and excerpts from SwanLake.
Amidst the backstage bustle, she adjusted her white swan costume while scrutinizing her appearance. Gaila, who demanded to lurk among the dancers made sure Uhura's hair was properly secured. "You know, I wasn't sure you would continue with this hobby."
"I do have fun, Gaila." At her roommate's mock surprise, she laughed and added, "Well, sometimes."
"I really thought you'd form a band when we talked about you adding another activity to your schedule."
"It crossed my mind. With this, I got to see if I could still be a dancer." She smiled at her friend who was also a talented dancer and applied kohl to her eyelids. "Besides, I am already a part of the Chorale."
Gaila gave her another critical glance over. "I think you're just about ready."
And, she was ready. On stage whether alone or in a group she forgot about her roommate, her classes, her stresses, even Commander Spock. She let the dance and the music carry her across polished oak floors, pouring every emotion into her performance. It was exhilarating to derive so much freedom whilst entertaining an audience with the results of her hard work.
After the show and all the applause ended, Uhura spotted Commander Spock. She was elated that he attended tonight's performance. Moreover, she liked that he was out of uniform. The dark muted colours of his outfit accentuated his broad shoulders and drove home what she had known from the first day she sat in his class. He was handsome. Even with his awful haircut and stoic expression, there was no denying genetics had made him gorgeous to anyone who had eyes to see.
She smiled when he congratulated her on a job well done. Her night could not have been any more perfect that is, until a beautiful, fair-haired woman came to stand beside the Commander. "I was wondering what kept you." She looked at Spock with a possessive gleam only another woman would notice. And then she turned those eyes on Uhura.
"Leila, may I introduce Cadet Uhura. Cadet, this is Doctor Leila Kalomi."
Leila Kalomi smiled at Uhura and extended her right hand. Frozen in place, Uhura almost forgot her good manners. She pasted a false smile onto her face, as she felt her insides froze and then shattered into jagged shards. "A pleasure to meet a friend of Commander Spock," she said, scarcely managing to keep her smile while they shook hands.
"I enjoyed your solo piece at the end of the show Ms. Uhura. You were simply breathtaking."
"I concur, Cadet."
In the face of such polite words, she felt even worst. "Thank you both. I must say goodbye now, the others are waiting."
They bid their goodnights, and she slowly walked back to where Gaila and the others waited. Leonard McCoy hugged her with gruff congratulation, while James Kirk for old time sake attempted to figure out her name. Tonight they were both Gaila's date, although she knew blue-eyed boy wonder was going to be the Orion's next target.
At a bar hours later, she downed her fifth whisky shot, then proceeded to dance with an engineering Cadet whose first name was Hunter to match his perfect green eyes. For some reason, tonight his surname eluded her. When a slow song started, she wrapped her arms around him, leaning into his solid frame. She wanted this tonight, needed to forget the despair that threatened to consume her.
Hunter's hands caressed her back and she pushed her body closer into his feeling his arousal. As a second slow song began, she raised her head to kiss him. When he responded, she deepened their kiss. Yet the pieces inside remained shattered; Leila Kalomi's self-assured gaze taunting her. Desperate, her fingers reached up to caress Hunter's neck. She would have continued had she not felt a firm tap on her shoulders.
With some effort, Gaila separated her and Hunter. Uhura thought he should have reacted badly at having his plans dashed. Instead, he smiled dazedly, nodded and agreed to Gaila's every suggestion. Distantly, she wondered at the true potential of her roommate's pheromones.
In silence, they left the bar, walking the short blocks back to the Academy. It was only after they were safely within their room, Uhura on her bed with a glass of water, Gaila standing with arms folded next to her that sombre words were spoken.
"As much as I am for you getting laid, and really you should, considering the length of time you've gone without. I had to stop you."
"I never asked you." Uhura felt a nasty headache beginning to form at her temples. Maybe the drinking age should not have been lowered to eighteen. Twenty-five might have been a more suitable age.
"Something was wrong about tonight. I know you and I definitely know sex." Gaila sat beside her and continued, "This was sex for all the wrong reasons."
Dredging up a deep sigh, she asked, "What do you want?"
"Just for you to share, if you want to," she replied.
Uhura stood abruptly. "I don't," she bit out, which was unfair to Gail who only had her best interest in mind.
In the bathroom, she heaved the contents of her stomach, cleaned up and returned to her bed. In silence once more, they got ready for the night. The lights were switched off and she finally let the feelings that were bubbling under the surface come forth.
"I think I love him." To realise much less admit to such feelings was a very hard thing for her to do. She had after all sworn never again to fall in love.
More silence before her roommate responded carefully, "Commander Spock."
"Was I that obvious?"
"No, but like I said, I know you and I know about sex. You've been attracted to him for some time."
"Attraction does not equal love. I have felt attraction for others, not love."
There was rustling of sheets as Gaila changed position on her bed. "True, but your attraction has grown steadily at which point it was bound to change from simple lust. I'm guessing the woman with our hot Vulcan instructor is what brought about your realization."
"They did look like a couple, didn't they?"
"Maybe they're just friends who were out to share a mutual appreciation of dance or whatever it is Vulcans do at dance performances."
Uhura did not answer and eventually she could hear Gaila's soft snores. She allowed the ugly despair to wash over her because in the morning she will rise as usual and go about her Sunday routine. She was here to be the best communications officer and only the Enterprise would do. Nothing will stand in her way. Nothing.