Disclaimer: Star Trek and associated characters are not mine.
A/N: Thanks for all your comments.
'Clarity' and 'feel' connects past and present in this chapter. Credits are used in lieu of cash in this story.
Thanks to my newly acquired beta for assistance with this chapter. All mistakes are mine.
CHAPTER 2
NOW
Commander Spock's return to consciousness is by degrees. He likens it to coming up from the bottom of an ocean. Each level he rises through displays itself in perfect clarity. His internal clock tells him he has been unconscious for three hours, twenty-three minutes. The pain tells another story. He assesses the damage to his body and knows that he can function for sometime before requiring medical intervention. Breathing deeply, he suppresses the pain.
The shuttle interior is dark save for the red glow of emergency lights. He can see outside courtesy of the half-opened door. It is now almost pitch-black as there is no moon or nearby planet to light the night sky. Turning his head to the left, he sees Lieutenant Uhura kneeling beside Ensign Hartmann. She has cut away a section of the other woman's uniform and is cleaning the bloodied area.
"Lieutenant, please report," he says, slowly bringing his body upright.
With a quick look over her shoulders she responds to his question, "Shuttle is inoperable; planet is safe if you avoid most vegetation, no animal life unless you count the tiny organisms. The storm is still overhead and my last try at sending a signal failed." Hartmann's blood is mostly gone now and she drops the red stained sterile pad onto a disposable wrapper, applying a temporary derma seal. "Oh, and there's an active volcano south of us."
For a short moment, he is back to being her mentor and he is impressed at the clear concise manner in which she reports her findings. "Ensign Hartmann?"
"Head injury, damage to her stomach and right lung, there is only so much my basic field medicine training can do. She came to minutes ago and panicked when she couldn't breathe right. I gave her a sedative and tri-ox to increase oxygen intake." She shakes her head half in disgust, half in sadness. "I missed some of the bleeding; red on the red of her uniform."
Peeling off the messy gloves, she places them with the sterile pad and seals them away. "How do you feel physically? Are you in pain?"
"I can manage."
She sits next to him and places her cool hand over his. He immediately adjusts their fingers to form the Vulcan equivalent of a light kiss. She obliges, returning his unhurried caresses. Her touch brings him comfort and peace, even among the wreckage.
"You're not bullshitting me are you?"
He raises an eyebrow at her words, although he is use to her occasional colourful expressions. "No, Nyota, I am not."
"Do you need anything?"
"Just for you to remain where you are at the moment." He says the words gently into her hair as her head comes to rest on his shoulder. He can feel the tension radiate from her as she settles closer yet to him. He raises his arm and very carefully wraps it around her shoulders. "What of you, are you injured?"
"My legs and chest hurts a bit, noting as serious as you two." She sounds tired.
He senses that she is experiencing more pain than she would have him believe. He remains quiet, content to feel her press against his body; satisfied for now simply to listen to her breathe steadily, secure in the clarity of his feelings for her.
THEN
During the summer of 2257, Spock found himself with two projects, now that he was temporarily free from teaching. With his colleague from Psychology, Lieutenant Commander Balgobin, he worked on improving the Kobayashi Maru simulation. The night of their final test the Lieutenant Commander invited him out to celebrate. Spock politely declined the offer, noting with detached amusement that no one seemed surprised.
His second project was a survey of twentieth century Abstract Art. As a child, he was often exposed to early Earth masters because both of his parents appreciated those artists. Cadet Uhura suggested, in one of their conversations over brunch that he "broaden his horizons". He scheduled himself two weeks' leave and set out for New York City, his first of many destinations.
At the end of his two weeks, as he rode the autotrain into San Francisco, he had to admit that Uhura was correct. There was so much more to this genre of art than seen at an initial glance. He spent thirteen minutes, nine seconds lost in the horrific depression of one piece. Later that evening he returned to his hotel room and meditated on the image. He analyzed, and then deconstructed, each emotion it evoked. By the time he readied for bed, his mind was again a place of ordered calm.
When he returned to his instructor's quarters there were messages waiting for him. The first came from the Linguistics Department informing him that Cadet Uhura had accepted the offer to be his Advanced Phonology Assistant. The second was from the Chemistry Department Administrator, notifying him of a change in his Quantum Chemistry course. Three students had dropped it. He was sure after the semester began another seven to nine would also disappear.
Eight prompts later, he opened a message from his mother. A tiny smile touched his lips as he perused her text. Amanda had a quirk of never leaving visual or voice messages unless her time was limited.
My Dearest Spock,
I am aware that you are currently away and hope that you are enjoying yourself. I am well and so is your father. He will be away for the next few weeks negotiating a new trade contract between the Yavtik Consortium and the Federation. Next week, I will be presenting a short paper on Betazed about the challenges of teaching on a world alien to your own. It should've been the easiest thing to write; yet, I found it rather difficult.
I look forward to visiting the beautiful ringed world. I have heard so many interesting things about their matriarchal culture. There are not many such pure examples of these types of societies within the Federation. My intention is to tour as much as I can while there.
The weather has been cooler than normal. The last time I saw temperatures like these, you left for Earth and Starfleet. Sarek doesn't appreciate it but I do. It is a relief for me to have something resembling what I grew up enjoying. Please know that we are both proud of your accomplishments. I wish you would visit when he is here and end this insanity of not speaking to each other.
Until next time, stay safe and remember I love you, my son.
Your,
Mother
Even after all this time, Amanda always made sure he knew how she felt about his rift with Sarek. As much as he preferred pleasing his mother, he could not grant her this one wish. It would be illogical to apologise for his actions when they had been the correct thing to do. What he needed at the time was his father's support. Instead, he received rebuke and coldness. His mother, though, had accepted his decision and accompanied him to San Francisco. She claimed her trip was to make sure he properly settled in. It did not slip his notice that she remained on Earth long after he began classes or that she spent much of her time away from the Academy vicinity.
He filed her message and returned to the remaining few. The last one was from Leila Kalomi, the botanist he has found to be agreeable. Her trip to Starbase V had ended early. She wanted to know if he was available to dine. Spock contemplated denying her request, and then remembered that her presence helped in suppressing his intense and lustful attraction to Cadet Uhura. Ever since his discovery of these feelings, he found himself wanting her company, even seeking her out on occasions for no particular purpose. Leila was intelligent and not overly demonstrative. She helped take away the edge that remained after much meditation.
He accepted her invitation and the next evening found him at Japanese restaurant within walking distance of her home. With her hair hanging around her shoulders and wearing a simple blue dress, Leila was beautiful sitting across from him. Their meal was finished and they were lingering.
"You're kidding me, right?" She chuckled softly. He remembered her laugh was what caught his attention when they met a week after his graduation.
"Vulcans do not kid," he replied in his best monotone.
"How did your roommate react?"
"Fletcher was one of the most logical Human cadets I encountered as a student but all logic abandoned him at that moment."
"I can understand him losing his cool. It couldn't have been easy on him."
Spock tented his fingers and gazed at his companion. "I clearly explained that it was all a misunderstanding. Drina was too inebriated to differentiate between one dark-haired youth and another. She also appeared not to know left from right. Otherwise, she would not have crawled into my bed and tried to take advantage. On the verge of committing violence against each other, Fletcher and I heard loud snoring. Drina had moved over to his bed and fallen asleep."
She laughed outright. "What happened afterwards?"
"Fletcher began complaining about the ill effects of too much alcohol on his girlfriend, then joined her on his bed. I decided at that point to utilize other sleeping arrangements, specifically in the lab where I was a Research Assistant."
Their conversation switched to her work on the space station and plans for a long-range assignment. Eventually the inevitable happened and he found himself at her domicile. He was no stranger to the large studio, which she divided with rice paper screens.
As soon as the doors closed, she leaned up and kissed him. He placed his arms around her small frame and drew her into his body. Soon more kisses followed as clothing were discarded on the way to her bed.
Later while she slept and he breathed in their combined scent, he sorted out what had just happened. Leila had tried, to as Humans would say, to 'make love'. He had quickly changed their actions, attempting to reinforce that this was not such a liaison. True loving intimacy did not exist for them. Instead, theirs was a relationship based on the mutual satiation of lust.
It was now all so clear to him. An astonishing clarity he experience only twice in his life. The first time he was a mere child choosing to live life as Vulcan. The next time he stood before the Vulcan Science Academy and rejected their offer of admission. He could not give Leila what she wanted because he had given it to another. Not even the tenuous bond to his betrothed T'Pring, prevented Spock from making Nyota Uhura a necessary component to his life. He did not anticipate a pleasant conversation with Leila after she awoke.
NOW
Eight hours has lapsed since they have crash-landed on J7900. Lieutenant Uhura is once again checking Ensign Hartmann's external injuries. The head wound and the shallow cuts are all closing and clotting. Uhura sees the same cannot be said for Hartmann's major injuries. She wishes she could do more for her. They had taken standard weapons training together. They've never been friends, although they've acknowledged each other before this faithful trip.
After cleaning her hands, she finds an emergency nutrition bar and grimaces in anticipation of the damp sawdust taste. On second thought, she grabs another bar and steps out of the shuttle to where Commander Spock is standing under the few visible stars. He is taking readings on his tricorder. She offered him an analgesic earlier, knowing that every breath must cause pain. Not surprisingly, he refused. He told her he was consciously redirecting energy to his injuries.
"You've been at this for some time; anything interesting?"
She hands him the bar, smiles when even in the dark she sees the look that flashes across his eyes. "I do not require nourishment at the moment."
He is being stubborn and they both know it. She holds it out to him patiently. "You need it and since you're commanding this mission, I'm insisting."
Without another word, he takes the bar and they sit on a small boulder large enough to seat them comfortably. They eat, quietly contemplating the barren vista, chasing the taste of the bar with water.
"The storm has elongated. We may have to add another twelve to fourteen hours to my previous estimation."
She looks at him with concern; any delay will be dire for Hartmann. "You're not sure?"
"By elongating, it will weaken in certain sections, allowing us to get through a strong signal."
"I have boosted the emergency beacon to twice its normal power. You can tinker with it; who knows, you might get more juice out of the crystals."
"Has there been any change in Ensign Hartmann's condition?"
Readjusting her once carefully arranged bun, she responds, "Her external bleeding has eased and minor superficial wounds are healing. She's bleeding internally. We may lose her before help arrives."
"The Enterprise is aware of our flight plan. They will have begun a thorough search once we failed to rendezvous with them. Furthermore, they can pick up our shuttle's signature and trace it to the storm's energy."
"What if they're too late?"
"It is pointless to dwell on how long it will take for help to arrive. We can only prepare ourselves to face any eventuality."
"Spock, how could you be so dispassionate about our situation? You sound heartless." She stands, her eyes capturing his gaze.
As the words leave her mouth, she is terribly sorry. It takes all of her control not to cringe at her own callousness. Of course, he has compassion for Hartmann. She knows how much he is capable of feeling. She also knows that their overwhelming capacity for feeling is what forced the Vulcan race to suppress, and in some cases purge, emotions.
His lips tighten and she looks away from his now cold, empty eyes. "I suppose I do not exhibit enough empathy to please you, Lieutenant." He gets up and walks back to the shuttle, his back stiffer than usual. She doesn't think it has anything to do with his injuries.
Uhura sits back down and tries to calm herself. As guilty as she feels, she would like to think she deserves the human female need to vent and be a bitch for a little while before she goes to apologise.
THEN
Cadet Uhura had not been a student in Commander Spock's classes since the final semester of her junior year. During this semester, she worked as his assistant. A very prestigious opportunity, such positions usually went to doctorial or master's level students. Her efforts, which garnered the moniker "ice queen," had paid off and she was now taking mostly graduate courses.
The end of the semester sneaked up on her and now she was helping the commander grade finals. The only sound in the office was that of an old-fashioned wall clock, which hung there for decades, and the distant voices of others outdoors.
"Commander, do you have plans for the holiday break?" She asked, after a few moments of watching him work at his well-ordered desk.
The long fingers on his PADD stilled mid-movement and for a few seconds Uhura found herself captivated by their elegance. She thought of him strumming a musical instrument, better yet, she pictured him strumming her. When she raised her eyes to his face, he was watching her closely with dark eyes that missed absolutely nothing. It was, with great effort that she was able to suppress her blush.
"I will be taking over Captain Kruger's special project in light of her sudden illness."
"Nothing fun then?"
"If by 'fun' you mean an activity intended to provide satisfaction, then it should be fun throughout the spring semester as well."
"I meant," she replied, saw his raised eyebrow and sighed. "Oh, never mind. What is the special project?"
He placed the PADD on his desk and Uhura's eyes once again followed the movement of his fingers as he folded them. She wondered if it were possible for someone to develop a finger fetish. She was going to have to ask her roommate.
"Starfleet is developing a new subspace array. I consulted briefly with the captain on her project at its inception. Bringing it to fruition should prove rewarding."
"Sounds great," was all she could muster, given the fact that her brain was going to mush. It must be the pressures of finals and researching her thesis. What else could cause her mind to wander?
"I have requested to have you as an assistant on the project. Of course, the final decision is subject to approval by the Division and the Admiralty."
Uhura's brain quickly returned to its regular consistency and her eyes to his. "Oh."
The almost-smile he graced her with on four previous occasions, she was counting, was evident now. A teasing gleam also suffused his eyes. "Cadet, in view of your gift of communication, I thought your response would have been more verbose."
This time she did blush, then thanked her parents for gracing her with darker skin. It seemed that the evening called for rare occurrences. "Sorry; thank you, Sir. I am truly flattered."
"You have been an exemplary student with exceptional skills. I would not have chosen you otherwise."
The conversation changed to her plans to visit her parents and then they continued grading finals. Much to the disgust of her friends, she existed in a happy bubble for the rest of the week.
During the break, she went to Africa. Uhura enjoyed her father's cooking and caught up on neighbourhood gossip from Mellie, who was now happily engaged to her business partner. Her mother, a History professor complained that this freshman class was incredibly unprepared to deal with university academic life. Uhura laughed, her sister rolled amused eyes, and her father lightly patted his wife's arm in support. She'd made the same complaint every year for the past ten years and counting. The following week she received a communiqué from Starfleet, letting her know she would be Commander Spock's assistant on the subspace project.
On the early January night before she was to return to the Academy, her father joined her on the second floor veranda overlooking a well-kept garden. "Have you heard whether you'll get your wish to be on that fancy new ship you keep writing us about?"
Sipping warm red tea, she tipped her head to the sky and admired the stars. "Nothing as yet," she replied.
"What will you do if you don't get it?"
"No Daddy, I will get it. I've worked too hard to not get an onboard assignment."
"I worry about you sometimes."
"You know it has always been my dream. To go out there and explore." She walked over to where he sat and rested a hand on his shoulders.
"Space can be dangerous, Nyota." Therein lay the problem. He worried for her safety out there. She could never settle for a permanent planet-side assignment. It was never going to happen.
"I know it can be dangerous, which is why we have Starfleet."
"Exactly my point," he argued.
They watched the night for few more minutes before she went to bed.
**
Five graduate classes, a thesis, two TA positions, and Commander Spock's special project left her little time to sleep and socialise. Having to choose between Dance and Singing for artistic expression, she dropped Dance, besides Singing was easier on her body. She also debated dropping the Xenolinguistics Club, in the end choosing to remain with it.
She stood up from her perch and took off her headset. Her primary responsibility was to assist with testing the newly built subspace communications array. A great deal of credits and time went into creating it. Starfleet Command wanted to hear that their array was functioning at peak efficiency. Unfortunately, the array had glitches, which occurred when they attempted to use it for reasons other than communication within Federation borders. Captured sample signals were either distorted beyond translation or barely discernable among useless subspace noise. A problematic development because its' foremost purpose was to peer into subspace chatter going on outside Federation territory.
She yawned and stretched. Her back ached and she felt grumpy. It was close to midnight and she still had a thesis chapter to finish before she could get some sleep. "Ridiculous, Nyota; it's only mid-February, you can't be this overwhelmed," she muttered.
"Cadet, did you say something?"
Vulcan ears, they heard everything. "Nope, nothing, Commander," she grumbled.
She catalogued the sample of readings she had been listening to and placed them on file for further review the following afternoon. She took her jacket from the hook near the closed lab door and donned it. The nights this week were chilly with a touch of frost. She also wore a jumpsuit in lieu of her regular uniform for tonight's lab assignment.
Going back to her workstation, she adjusted the jacket zipper and picked up her bag. A loud clang disrupted the quiet of the lab. Her PADD, data disks and an assortment of other items fell from her bag and onto the tiled floor. As she bent to retrieve her things, she heard the Commander's voice. She could not help but ignore him for what she clasped in her hands.
No. This could not happen; there had to be a reason. Things like these did not happen to her. She had worked hard her whole life to get to this point and beyond to the best ship in the fleet. Dimly she discerned a pair of mirror-shined black boots next to her knees. When did she get to her knees?
The mental fog receded a bit and she finally heard Commander Spock's concerned words. "Uhura, are you unwell?"
She blinked; he was now kneeling next to her. Uhura did not think it was normal to miss seconds of time. She looked back at what was in her hands and there was no denying it. Her PADD was broken, the one that housed the most recent copy of her thesis.
"It's broken," she whispered, thrusting it into his hand. "I added a chapter today and hadn't backed it up. I was waiting until after tonight's edits."
"You are referring to your thesis."
"Yes," she hissed and the tears spilt forth. It was not a pretty sight since Cadet Nyota Uhura was not one to shed tears, a fact she prided herself on.
For a few minutes, the only sounds in the lab were the low humming equipment and her stilted sobs. On a final hiccup, she looked up at him and could read his discomfort at observing her minor breakdown. Great, she'd just embarrassed herself before a Vulcan. "I am sorry."
"Apologies are not necessary. Perhaps I can assist you with retrieving the data." He got to his feet and walked away. She heard him opening and closing a drawer; then, tiny noises.
Gathering the rest of her things, she wiped her eyes and walked over to where he sat taking apart her broken PADD. "You know; had I been thinking sensibly, I could probably be doing this right now."
"I do not doubt your capabilities, Cadet," he replied while placing the hard drive into a new shell and sealing the edges. "In the meantime, I will lessen your TA workload until the first draft of your thesis is completed."
He recognized her display as having more to do with the pressures of her schedule than her broken PADD. It finally dawned on her that he must care for her with something outside of his usual detachment and this was his logical way of showing it. "Mr. Spock, I hope I am not offending you, but it is good to know Vulcans have feelings."
His entire body stilled and she braced herself for a lecture on propriety. Slowly, he turned to her and she saw more than she had ever seen before in his eyes and face. It was not wildly blatant; nevertheless, it was shocking.
"Uhura," he said in a voice now deeper than normal. "We feel, felt so much we almost annihilated ourselves with our passions."
The fingers she had developed a bit of a fetish for reached out and brushed away the last trickle of tears clinging to her left cheek. Against her damp skin, they felt incredibly warm. With utmost concentration, he moved outward to caress along the curve of her ear. Now she was the one frozen in place, heart racing at dangerous speeds as her body registered happy feelings. The image of Gaila smacking her in the head for being a sissy and doing nothing when she had wanted his touch for so long, snapped her into action.
Her own slender brown fingers came up to meet his pale ones and she brought them to her lips. She placed delicate kisses along those graceful fingers and watched a light shudder pass through his body. With new wonder, she inched closer to him and his other hand moved to rest gently at her waist. It felt right having it there.
"I feel."
That was all. There were no declarations of love and promises of happily ever after; however, Nyota Uhura was perfectly happy.
He tilted her face upward and she hardly had time to whisper, "I can see." His lips touched hers in a tentative gesture that was more about curious learning than passion.
The kiss ended and their noses touched lightly, neither of them stepping away. She wondered if he would regret their kiss. "Commander, Sir, I…"
"Under current circumstances, I believe, 'Spock' will suffice."
"Well then, Spock, you may call me Nyota."
This time she initiated their kiss and nothing about it was tentative. She felt his lips part against her own. His hands found their way to her back and pressed her tightly into his body. Her fingers travelled along his arms and shoulders, coming to rest at his neck. It was glorious indeed, to feel him match her passion then add to it. Reality, she thought, was much better than fantasy.