Pathways: Part 2/10
A/N: See below.
Enterprise
"Be well, Spock. Live long and prosper."
Spock repeated the customary words of farewell to the female Vulcan displayed on the screen. The comm unit then went black.
He stood staring for several seconds, outwardly focused on the sleek silver Starfleet insignia which had replaced her serene image. Per usual, he was considering the implications of the conversation as well as their previous ones with a fair measure of guilt. It didn't come from lying--theoretically, it was something he could have done, quite dishonorably, though he never had and wouldn't start to. Perhaps the guilt came from evasion. He decided that if Uhura ever asked him for the truth about T'Prel, he would tell her everything.
Logically, how would she know to ask?
Pushing the errant thought aside, Spock made his way back into the sleeping area of his quarters. He shed his long-sleeved thermal before throwing it into the laundry shoot. As he walked towards the lavatory unit, his gaze drifted to then settled on her.
Uhura was so perfectly still in her unconscious state, he was certain she had scarcely moved the entire night. He was accustomed to this: she worked as hard as he did and only required more sleep due to her human physiology. It also meant there was a good chance her earlier pain hadn't disrupted her rest.
Her svelte form was sprawled in a normal, human fashion. Unremarkable. Because she was in his bed, he found the sight unusually striking--vaksurik.
When Spock leaned down and lightly pressed his lips to hers, he immediately felt her smile against his mouth. Her response was gratifying to him because it was so reflexive, without a second thought.
He broke their kiss to lay down beside her, trailing long, unhurried fingers through her loose hair, down the elegant expanse of her back and underneath the sheet draped over her lower body. He continued kneading her thigh even as Uhura used the same leg to pull his hips into hers. They both shifted until their faces were only inches away on the pillow. She was now wide awake.
"What time is it?"
"Not yet 0500 hours. It was not my intention to disturb you, Nyota."
She tangled the hand that wasn't cradling her own head in his glossy black strands and let her eyes drift half shut. "Too late."
Her words were softly spoken, but she was lying close enough that he could actually hear the rhythmic beat of her carotid vein. He slid his free hand around her neck and let his thumb rest on the warm pulse point, soon beginning to give in to the sleep he'd foregone all night.
"Not so fast, Spock," Uhura whispered, raising an eyelid, "you need to finish what you started..."
Half an hour later, he savored the final few quakes which flowed through her as she released a heavy sigh. The long legs which had held him in a vice grip loosened, and Spock opened unfocused eyes to see Uhura staring up at him with a mixture of satisfaction and remorse.
"You know I didn't mean to, baby," she said, massaging his throbbing temples with gentle fingertips.
"An illogical woman, will be my end," was his succinct reply.
Uhura's quiet laughter coupled with her ministrations sent another cool stream of pleasure winding through his body. He lowered his forehead to hers, sensing nothing except adoration, slight worry, amusement... and the tiniest glimmer of pain, this time an echo of his own. It was the first time this had happened when their link was supposedly closed.
"Nyota--"
"Don't. I'm the one who should be sorry, not you," Uhura interrupted with a small frown, laying a hand on his cheek.
Spock knew she hadn't literally read his thoughts—because they weren't bonded, neither of them were able to do it. She had deduced them from the direction of his mental prodding and emotional impressions, through his touch alone. It would've been comforting to him if it was not so unsettling at the same time. Like her response to his touch, the uncanny compatibility of her mind with his own was something that had existed long before their accidental link developed.
Before I forced it on her.
Spock disentangled himself from her without a word. He heard her exit his quarters right before stepping into a steaming, blistering hot shower.
* * * *
Uhura stood in front of the fogged mirror of her own lavatory unit as she smoothed lotion into her bare arms. She was concerned, confused and pissed at the same time—Spock had always shown a talent for bringing out extremes in her personality. She just wished he wouldn't be so quick to shut down on her.
While he could close their fragile link on demand the majority of the time, it became stronger during physically or emotionally intense moments: often too strong. The mutual cephalalgia was one of the consequences and his involuntary attempts to meld with her were another. Those urges were much rarer than the headaches, but Spock had long before told her to stop him whenever he tried. It was something she would have done anyway.
She turned away from her reflection and stepped through the door.
After the discreet year they spent together at the Academy and an even closer ten months aboard the Enterprise, the idea of spending the rest of her life with him remained distant; an abstraction. Both of them had focused on their professional duties rather than addressing the issue of a permanent bond and everything it came with. Sometimes, she wondered if the unconscious transference of their emotions that awful day hadn't irreparably damaged their relationship.
I know that he does.
When Uhura knelt to zip up one knee-high black boot, the movement looked softly blurred to her.
Deep down, she recognized their shared complacency for what it was. Spock could teach a seminar on advanced avoidance techniques, but it was an unnatural place for her to be--it went in direct opposition to everything she believed in as a communications specialist and a straightforward woman in general. But she didn't feel right forcing the issue when they weren't even a year past the trauma which had induced their accidental connection in the first place.
Losing all that he had--and so violently—had crippled something in Spock. On the outside he was as controlled as ever, placidly, exotically handsome, never letting an errant flicker of whatever he was thinking or feeling affect his efficiency. After his altercation with Kirk on the bridge no one did or could have accused him of being compromised again. She didn't need the faint echo of his emotions through their link or his direct touch to see the truth in him, or his human eyes.
Spock's healing had barely just begun. For now, she was willing to let things be.
She tried not to wonder who T'Prel was as she finally left her quarters.
* * * *
Uhura had barely exited the fourth-level turbolift when a pretty Filipino woman intercepted her halfway down the bright corridor.
"Good morning, Lieutenant. Sir," the fellow communications officer said with an effervescent grin.
"At ease, Ensign Gui. I'm never going to get used to saying that to you, by the way," Uhura added with a smaller smile, swiftly falling into step with her.
One of the small consolations of losing two-thirds of their class in the battle of Vulcan was the fleet's decision to make the temporary postings of the surviving cadets permanent. Isabella Gui was twenty-four—only a year and a half older than Uhura—and they had both been active members of the Linguistics Club. Their schedules had precluded them from spending much time together elsewhere, but their friendship had flourished in the months after graduation.
"What brings you to the bridge?" Uhura inquired after taking a sip of her replicated latte.
"Actually, I was just leaving. Captain Kirk forwarded special orders from Command to the comm lab—we're definitely going to need you down there the rest of this week. I wanted to clear your absence with him in person."
Uhura groaned at the flush which had stained the other woman's ivory skin.
"In person? Really? Isa, please tell me you haven't given in to Jim Kirk's tired game. Just do it: tell me I'm wrong."
"Do you really want to know?"
"No," Uhura admitted, because she already did. They headed past the entrance to the bridge and proceeded to the turbo lift.
"So what were the orders, Ensign?"
"Part of the Tau Klith project was temporarily handed to the Enterprise—the medical and linguistic cataloging," Gui clarified, grinning herself at the Lieutenant's glowing excitement.
"Brilliant! I thought we might get a shot at it, but considering that the Olympian handled the first and second contacts I'm surprised they were willing to turn it over."
They entered the turbo lift and rode it down to the lower levels of the ship.
"My first year roommate is on the Olympian. Take it with a grain of salt," Gui said quietly, tapping a stylus against her chin, "but according to her their communications team couldn't handle it. Between deciphering such an oddly structured language and trying to interpret for the other officers they burnt out."
Uhura looked down into her empty coffee cup, her brow creased. She'd heard the same thing from a few different sources in the past four months since contact was made. "We'll just have to learn from their mistakes. Tau Klith is an incredible planet, though, with all that amazing plant life..."
She couldn't help but think of Spock's renewed energy whenever he returned from a particularly interesting away trip, dangerous or otherwise. His enthusiasm didn't need to be plainly evident—she had learned to recognize the subtle signs of his fascination long ago. She hoped this mission would have a similar effect on him.
They strode into the lab, where several officers were already accessing both written and audio reports sent from the Olympian.
"The only thing that worries me is the tactile portion of their speech, Lieutenant. There's no way we can equip the universal translators with visual interpreting capability on such short notice," Gui pointed out, scanning the rudimentary guide displayed on another Ensign's screen.
"Yeah, it's a bit like Terran sign languages. I've been studying Klith hand formations since the initial catalogs were published by the Olympian crew."
Ensign Gui looked over her shoulder at Uhura.
"Live translation it is. Are you going to be the one to break up the boy's club?"
"It's up to Kirk, but I wouldn't be surprised," Uhura nodded, trying not to look triumphant. "For now, we need to have Scotty send some of his guys down here. I want to get the other translator modifications started ASAP."
"Done."
Gui transmitted the request through the PADD in her hand then commented under her breath, "I can't believe how excited you are about basically being chained to this place. If I were you, I would never want to be off that bridge. Between Jim, Hikaru and our First Officer...oh yes. I bet there is plenty of visual stimulation to fill the boring moments."
"Unprofessional, Ensign," Uhura laughed as they sat down at the same multi-screened console and connected their earphones.
"Consider yourself hereby unauthorized to stare at Commander Spock."
"Whatever, Nyota. Looking is free."
* * * * *
Kirk stretched languidly in his chair, releasing a restrained yawn in the process before popping the kink in his neck with another sigh.
It was close to the end of alpha shift and they'd been busy poring over the information transmitted from the USS Olympian since that morning. Based on their fellow starship's preliminary findings, this mission would be a peaceful yet intriguing one—Spock's reaction to their impressive discoveries so far had been a series of raised eyebrows directed at his console throughout the day--but now Kirk was more than ready to make up for the sleep he'd been missing lately. He reached across his collarbone to scratch a fresh welt on the back of his shoulder.
Not that I'm complaining.
When he repeated the action seconds later he heard the quietest cough ever from behind him. He turned halfway in his chair, searching for the source.
"Are you well, Captain?" Spock asked, intently focused on the brightly lit screen of the science station.
Of course it was him.
"Oh yes," Jim Kirk said with an easy grin.
"I ask because you appear to be restless."
"Depends on your definition. If you think about it, restlessness can be a sign of all sorts of things," Kirk explained upon the first officer's inquisitive head tilt. "I'd like to say it was the result of commanding such an efficient crew. You guys make my job pretty easy, to be honest."
He could have sworn he heard a hushed snort coming from the direction of the navigation controls. Kirk met Sulu's skeptical glance with innocent, vibrant blue eyes.
But when McCoy sauntered onto the bridge and began discussing something with the half-Vulcan commander, he knew it was time to get serious. Those two had a strange way of tag-teaming him without even trying. He was lucky Uhura was needed in the lab, she probably would have shot daggers at him all day. Though looking at the back of Lieutenant Rookwood's balding head at the communications console was decidedly not as fun as the alternative.
"Alright, Sulu, give me an update on our status," Kirk ordered, crossing his legs. The helmsman drew the information to the foreground of his display.
"At our current warp we should arrive in Tau Klith's orbit in about three days. The ion storms in their upper atmospheres have been inconsistent for the past few weeks, so I can't say yet whether a shuttle would be better than transport for the landing party. Everything else is set."
"Keep an eye on that," Kirk pointed at Chekov, and the curly-haired teenager gave him a winning smile in return.
He was a good kid.
* * * *
After beta shift had relieved them of duty, Kirk found himself walking with McCoy and Spock to the officer's mess hall, thinking about the Lieutenant he hadn't seen all day. He had consciously avoided the topic with Spock while they were working—his first officer's sense of propriety would've kept him from saying anything, anyway--but he was genuinely curious.
"Hey Spock, I hope you won't mind Uhura's MIA status for the next few days. Her team is going to be working nearly around the clock until we beam down with our party," Kirk said, pulling a green apple from his pocket and taking a huge bite.
"On the other hand...she's coming with us. I'm sure you guys'll find a moment to reconnect planetside."
Both men in blue turned to face him as he managed to grin and chew in tandem, though McCoy's almost amused expression was in direct opposition to the Vulcan's even glare. The hands clasped behind his back fell until they gently swung at his sides as they approached the mess' coded entrance.
He eventually replied, "To be concerned about the issue would be wholly illogical. The Lieutenant is quite capable of handling her responsibilities whether in my presence or otherwise; the reverse is also true. I am confident this will never not be the case."
His dark gaze landed severely on Kirk. "And Nyota is not "missing in action." Her person is currently located in the communications lab, where she has been for the last 8 hours, 27 minutes, and 4 seconds."
"Such a sweet talker," McCoy interjected, clapping a hand down on the Vulcan's stiff shoulder, and said only loud enough for the three of them to hear, "It's no wonder Uhura couldn't resist your hobgoblin charm."
Spock's response to the doctor's ribbing was typical--silence counterpointed by a minor tilt of his head. Only Kirk noticed the pensive look in his eyes.
Days later, when he, Spock, McCoy and Uhura stepped out of the shuttle which had landed on the alien landscape of Tau Klith minutes beforehand, he also noticed the slim woman's sharp intake of breath. Kirk understood-- it was the same way he felt whenever he set foot on a new world, and it never failed to be thrilling and overwhelming all at once. But it was the Vulcan who expressed the sentiment out loud.
"Fascinating."
He discreetly placed two fingers against Uhura's.
A/N: The set up is done...things get shifty very soon. Thank you for the alerts/favorites and most definitely your reviews, they motivate me! This story is outlined to the end but I'm writing it as I go (I aim for a chapter per week) so every comment really is considered. That said, this will either remain a T or will go to M depending on reader preference--I'm a bit torn honestly. It won't change what happens, just the level of detail.
P.S. Even if you hate classical music, you might like the Lacrimosa dies illa, it's great.If you're ever bored, PM me for a link. :)