Title: In Single Words

Author: Wildcat

Series: TOS/TNG

Rating: T

Codes: S/U

Summary: Spock and Uhura go undercover on a Romulan colony world when a Federation operative is reported missing.

Disclaimer: Paramount owns Spock and Uhura. I have just borrowed them for a while, and I will not profit from this.

This story is part of my S/U Trekiverse. It takes place between The Secret Gate and A Roll of the Dice.

Thanks to Jungle Kitty for beta reading this story years ago. It took a long time, but I finally polished it up and posted it.

Feedback is desired.

All great things are simple, and many can be expressed in single words: freedom, justice, honor, duty, mercy, hope. – Sir Winston Churchill

In Single Words, Chapter One

They walked together down the narrow cobblestone lane, moving to the shoulder for the occasional ground car or horse-drawn cart, or at least what passed on this planet for a horse-drawn cart. She felt his eyes on her, and she knew that he was studying the exquisite point of her ear and the delicate upsweep of her eyebrow. Her clothes were made of a rough, homespun cloth, but she felt beautiful and exotic. Elegant. Aristocratic.

And more than a little self-conscious.

When he narrowly avoided stepping in a rut, she finally couldn't stand it any longer. "Spock, I'd hate to report back to Captain Kirk and tell him that our mission failed because you couldn't stop staring at me."

"Forgive me, Nyota, but your appearance is rather unsettling."

She reached up to run her finger from the point on top of her ear down to the dainty chain that dangled from her lobe. "Oh, come on. You can't tell me that you don't like it. At least a little."

"I will admit that it is much more aesthetically pleasing on you than it was on Captain Kirk when we confiscated the cloaking device."

She chuckled. "Heavens, I certainly hope so."

They both glanced up at the sound of a horse-drawn cart creaking over the rise of the hill, and she quickly checked to make sure that the frayed cloth bag holding her equipment and forged travel records was tucked securely under her arm. Switching from Standard to the southern dialect of Colonial Romulan, she spoke to the elderly man who drove the cart when he passed.

"Ejonel'ru tra."

The man gave her an odd look and flicked the reins to urge the beast to move faster. When he was out of earshot, Spock leaned close and murmured, "You just told him that his shoes are happy."

"Damn it! I meant to tell him pleasant day. At least I got it partially right. I could have told him that his shoes were sad." She shook her head. "I'm worried that I won't be able to pull this off. I know that one of the reasons Starfleet chose me for this mission is that I'm quick to pick up new languages, but I really need to be immersed in it for a while before I'm comfortable with it. I could handle Romulan, and even Colonial Romulan, but this dialect is new to me."

"Which is not surprising, given that this dialect is new to everyone in the Federation. I have confidence that you will quickly become fluent. In the meantime, we must remain faithful to our story of having recently immigrated to this area, and others will be tolerant of our mispronunciations and limited vocabulary. At any rate, I have found that one can often gain more information by listening than by speaking."

"True. Even if we don't speak it well, we should be able to understand it without any problems. I have high hopes for these new universal translators, although I'm going to have to take mine out soon and check it. It's making my ear ache a little."

"Perhaps it was not refitted properly after Dr. McCoy operated. Between the two of us, we should be able to adjust it."

As they walked over the hill, Uhura saw another cart approaching. Deciding that she would remain silent this time, she instead looked beyond the cart to a palatial estate that could be glimpsed in the distance. She pointed at it with a question in her eyes, and Spock nodded. So. That was their destination. She had been excited when she learned of their assignment — few in the Federation knew anything about the inner workings of Romulan society, and even fewer had ever been witness to it — but now she felt butterflies begin to fidget deep in her stomach.

Their assignment was simple. A highly trained Starfleet operative, Elena Markovitch, had been undercover on this remote Romulan colony world for almost three years. Her mission had been to purchase land in this area and establish herself as someone with new money and ambitions to be accepted by those with old money. If it meant that she needed to fund the political aspirations of the Talan family, which owned the largest estate in the area but happened to be cash poor, well, then all the more convenient for everyone, right? And she had been very successful. She had infiltrated the highest echelons of Romulan society and was learning the sort of secrets that were discussed only in dark corners, whispered gossip that came from tongues loosened by alcohol, or romantic entanglements, or both.

Markovitch had sent reports via subspace squirts without ever missing a communication window, once every Romulan week until they had abruptly stopped seven weeks ago. Since then, nothing. Had her communications equipment failed? If so, Uhura could fix that. Was her mission compromised? If so, they were to find her and get her out. But if something more sinister had happened to her... Well, she was valuable to the Federation, and the Federation needed to know what had happened to their investment.

She and Spock were to find a way to stay on or near the Talan estate, not as members of the upper class but as common workers who belonged equally in the house and the field, and who could find reasons to visit the neighboring estates without raising any suspicions. There was a huge gulf on this planet between the haves and the have-nots, and no one in the position to cause trouble would remember or even notice a couple of have-nots. It was the perfect disguise.

The man passed, and when Uhura was sure he couldn't hear her, she said, "Let's rehearse our backstory."

"Very well. Your name is Ota and mine is Tayok. We are natives of Teret, which is on the southern shore of Olanda. Olanda has been subject to a severe drought, and this has caused a mass exodus as people search for employment. Most are traveling north, but we chose to cross the sea and move inland to the south so the competition would not be so great."

"Do you think that we should be open about the fact that we're married?"

"It would be logical because it would increase the odds of our being employed by the same source."

"Good point. We probably shouldn't admit that we're newlyweds, though. People would remember that if they found out, and we don't want to be memorable."

"I agree. I do not anticipate that the subject will be raised, but if it is, we will tell them that we have been married for twenty-two years."

Uhura did some quick math. "I like it. That's how long we've known each other."

"Yes. It will be easy for us to remember."

"It will be easy for me to remember, you mean. Do we have any children?" she asked.

"Their existence would complicate our story, so it would be better if we did not."

"That sounds good. I know that this is a dangerous assignment, but I'm enjoying it. You and I don't get to do this sort of thing together very often."

"I must admit that I am finding this assignment rather enjoyable, myself," he said. "We must not deceive ourselves into thinking that the risk is small, however. We have successfully completed the first stage by making it here undetected and finding a place to hide our shuttlecraft, but once we determine what has happened to Markovitch, we must be able to return to it and depart. It will be a tremendous challenge."

"But one that we're more than capable of meeting."

"Agreed."

A ground car could be heard approaching from behind. They both fell silent and ducked their heads when it passed so that their faces could not easily be seen. Soon, they would reach their destination, and they would have to begin formulating a plan for finding out what had happened to Markovitch.

…..

Spock followed the field overseer, nodding occasionally at the man's discourse while he studied his surroundings. The property was large, but not so large that the neighboring properties would be out of reach. He could even see another rooftop over the orchards to the west. This was good. Until they could find an excuse to borrow transportation, he and Nyota would have to rely on footpower to investigate.

To the east were fields with row after row of the cash crops that were so important to the Romulan Empire. Although it was not visible from here, he knew that he would find the same to the north, where a field of quadrotriticale was bisected by the curving lane that had brought him and Nyota here.

He and the overseer were walking south, and it was immediately clear that this was the center of operations. Through the doors of large barns, he could glimpse well-kept equipment, on which the owners of the estate had obviously lavished more funds and attention than were devoted to the people who kept the machines running. He reminded himself that this was a feudal society, and the workers, while reasonably intelligent and for the most part healthy, did not question their lot in life. So it must be for him and Nyota while they were here.

The overseer stepped into one of the barns, and Spock quickly glanced at the house before following. He could not see through the windows from here, but he knew that Nyota was being taken through the same sort of introduction in the house. She had been hired to work in the kitchen, and he was concerned. Obviously, she would not be familiar with the dishes she would be expected to prepare, but she was resourceful. He must trust her to find a way.

The man stopped at a mechanized cart and began to explain how it operated, so Spock forced his attention back to the matter at hand. He had been assigned to work in the orchard, and his task would be to fill the cart with fruit and send it back to the barn, where the fruit would be inspected. If he picked fruit that was not ripe, it would be noted in his records. If he allowed fruit to become overripe, it would be noted in his records, as well. He nodded with the appropriate degree of gravity when the overseer informed him of this, but he knew that a mindless task such as this would not be difficult.

He started the cart as directed and steered it out of the barn toward the orchard. He was expected to become productive immediately, so he headed toward several workers who were already up in the trees, and before long he was picking the fruit as if he had done it all of his life.

…..

Walking along the front of the rowhouses, Uhura counted the doors twice to be sure that she had found the right one, but she was still glad to find Spock already there when she entered. He was stretched out on his back on the floor. She collapsed onto her own pallet and draped her arm across her forehead. She had no idea if the adjoining apartments were occupied, so she kept her voice low in case someone was there.

"Whew!" she said. "When they told me that I was going to be sleeping on the floor in this shack, I couldn't believe it. It feels pretty good now, though. Who ever thought that cutting up vegetables for ten straight hours would be so exhausting?"

"Indeed. I have a new appreciation for orchard workers. My back is quite stiff from reaching over my head all day, and the spines on the fruit have caused countless small punctures on my hands despite the gloves I was wearing."

"Oh, great. With my luck, tomorrow I'll have to peel all of that fruit. I was surprised that we found jobs so easily, but now I know why. They work us so hard and pay us so little that they don't lose anything by hiring us." She rolled onto her side. "Were you able to learn anything?"

"Not a great deal. According to the overseer, estates that have been in their respective families for generations border this farm. I cannot say whether he meant it literally or if it was a generalization. The workers in the orchard had nothing to add. Did you have more success?"

"I'm not sure. I overheard two of the women who work in the kitchen gossiping about something that took place at about the same time Markovitch went silent. There was a big party at one of the nearby houses, and evidently someone caught 'that senator from Romulus' canoodling with 'that new woman.'"

"Canoodling?"

"Having a romantic rendezvous."

"Ah. That does sound promising. Markovitch could certainly qualify as a new woman, and it's reasonable that she would target someone of importance from the home planet. Did they supply any names or locations?"

"No. I moved close in hopes of hearing more or even joining the conversation, but the head cook caught them loafing and scolded them. They shut up and got back to work. I'll try again tomorrow."

"Very good. In the meantime, I believe that our time would be well spent exploring the area. It will be beneficial if we already know where the neighboring farms are situated when we start reconstructing Markovitch's actions."

She nodded, so he stood and moved to the door. Opening it just a crack, he peered out and motioned to her. They slipped out the door and closed it quietly, and then jogged to the orchard where they would be hidden by the shadows. It would be a long night.

End chapter one