Into the Wild Black Yonder

Chapter Two - Possibilities and Friends

On the Enterprise

Late June, 2258

Nyota

She sat at her station, control unit in her ear, her legs crossed, her foot swinging back and forth, her hands still in her lap, totally bored. There was no subspace message traffic! There was barely even any static. Everything on the ship was running normally, there were not even any minor injuries to report. Boring!

She heaved a sigh, rolled her eyes sideways to look at Spock. Even he looked bored! His eyes were unfocused though, which probably meant he was solving equations in his head or computing some big irrational number or something equally mathematical. His hands were resting lightly on the edge of his console. Too bad they weren't closer. She fidgeted a bit, feeling slightly too warm. Why did she feel warm? She glanced back at Spock, but he was oblivious.

She swiveled slightly in her chair, looking around the bridge. Kirk almost looked like he was asleep, one elbow braced on the arm of the command chair, his chin resting on his fist. There was almost no movement on the bridge, everyone standing slumped slightly against their work stations or sitting back against the backs of their chairs, not doing much of anything. Maybe that limerick contest yesterday hadn't been such a bad idea, after all.

How much longer did this shift have anyway? Surely it was almost supper time? Well, crap, no, it was only 1315. Sigh. Bored!

Spock

He sat at the science station, trying to find something to do. Since the ship had just come out of repairs, everything was working perfectly. And there was absolutely nothing around them in this sector of space. Just vacuum. He glanced over at Nyota out of the corners of his eyes. She had her hands folded in her lap, not even on her console. There must not be any message traffic at all. Maybe this was a good time to make an experiment. Assuming that what his father had said was true, then he should probably work at strengthening the bond to Nyota from his side. He wished he had had more time to spend with his father after that stunning revelation - and more courage, to ask questions. However, that had not been, so now he was more or less on his own. But from a small child he had been aware that the way to strengthen anything - muscle skill, memory, any sort of knowledge - was to exercise, to repeat, to keep using the new skill until it was so firmly engrained that it was never forgotten. Therefore, he needed to exercise the connection between them.

He rested his hands lightly on the edge of his console and went through a short relaxation exercise, slipping into an extremely light meditative trance, letting his eyes become unfocussed, but keeping them open. Next he searched within himself, finding that small bright spark that Nyota had placed there, feeding it love, admiration, joy. He felt it swell slightly, burn just a bit brighter. Excellent. Now he tried something else. He followed the tiny, faint thread that he had just discovered, running out from him towards Nyota from that bright spark. He sent a tiny, soft tendril of himself gliding along that thread until he found himself hovering on the edges of her awareness. Very, very carefully he opened up just the very slightest bit, letting just a tiny, tiny hint of his feelings for her through. He sensed her reaction, the very slight restlessness this induced, the slight elevation in temperature. Well! Carefully he withdrew, back into himself. Possibilities.

Jim

This had to be the most boring day of his life. There was absolutely nothing happening. There hadn't even been a yeoman with a report that needed to be signed in over two hours. Surely the next five years weren't going to be like this? He rested his chin on his fist, groggy. He needed something to think about, something to do. If only Uhura had not objected so strongly to that limerick contest yesterday - well maybe it had gotten just a tad raunchy there at the end. Sulu and Chekov weren't even chatting, just sitting there like two bumps on a log. He would even welcome one of Spock's long technical speeches about now. Sigh.

Scotty

When the intercom bleeped, everyone on the bridge started up and looked eagerly towards the speaker, hoping for something, anything to break the monotony. What they heard was the Chief Engineer. "Is there anythin' going on up there, laddies? 'Tis sae borin' down here. I dun even have a sandwich to cheer me up. Could we maybe get some dance music to keep us all awake?"

Jim

Scotty's last question caused a ripple of ideas. The crew did need to stay in peak condition. Something regularly scheduled that would give them something to think forward to during boring times like this. Wheels began to turn in his devious mind. Possibilities.

Nyota

At last the interminable boring shift was over and they were headed for the turbolift down to the mess hall for supper. Everyone was trying to stretch out the fatigue of sitting still with nothing to do. Spock was just ahead of her, stepping in the turbolift, moving slightly to give her room to fit in - the last one before the doors closed. She could feel his body heat radiating out to her. Strange, that was so similar to the unexpected, unexplained heat she had felt this afternoon. She shook her head. That had been so strange. She flexed her fingers, dangling at her side, and felt sparkly tingles as he touched them with his. Facing forward, where no one could see, she smiled at that hidden touch.

The turbolift doors opened, and everyone surged out into the corridor, eager to get to the mess hall and get in line before it got too long. They shuffled through the line and carried their trays to tables. Nyota saw Sulu and Chekov already at a table with several empty spots and headed that way, Spock right behind her. By the time they had their trays cleared, Bones had joined them. And not two minutes later, Kirk came and sat at the same table, Scotty trailing in his wake. The usual cast of suspects was now assembled. Why did she get the feeling that they would be eating many, many meals together during the next five years?

As she ate her supper, she watched Chekov, who was sitting directly across from her. He seemed nervous about something, and almost refused to look in her direction. She finally figured out that he didn't want to look at Spock. Her thoughts churned back over those horrible days. Chekov had always been the one at the transporter controls before Scotty had beamed aboard. Surely he did not consider himself responsible? No, it just couldn't be. She would need to talk to Spock about this.

Spock

It was a tremendous relief to get off the bridge after the total tedium of the day. The turbolift was packed enough that he was able to reach forward and caress Nyota's fingertips in total privacy. He loved those little sparky shocks that always occurred when they touched after several hours when there had been no opportunity to do so. He followed her off the turbolift, through the food service line, and to the table she selected.

The table quickly filled with people he knew, people that were Nyota's friends. These people talked to him like he was a normal person. He was not quite sure how she had managed that, but he was very grateful. It had occurred to him fairly recently that the only people he had ever had any sort of normal conversation with - normal from a human viewpoint - were Captain Pike and Nyota. And there had been that one with Cadet Gaila, when she brought him that book - although she had actually done most of the talking. He wasn't sure that he could call what had passed between himself and Doctor McCoy on the night of the fire in the message array lab a conversation - but even then, the doctor had not treated him like some weird being. Their conversations now were nothing like the ones he had with Nyota - there were subtle barbs thrown out - but they were conversations. And he kept getting the feeling that the doctor was warning him to take very good care of Nyota - without saying one word about it. Interesting. Now the captain, on the other hand - he was not sure how that was progressing. He was trying hard not to challenge him - but there was still a tremendous amount of prickliness between them.

He noticed that the young ensign seated across from Nyota seemed disturbed about something. He barely spoke this evening. Usually he was more animated than this - disturbingly animated at times. He would have to check with Nyota later to see whether she knew what the problem was. It would not do at all to let one of the bridge officers develop problems that might affect their concentration during a crisis.

He followed Nyota when she was ready to leave the mess hall, down the hall to her quarters tonight. He settled down in the center of the couch with his PADD to write his daily log, Nyota sitting with her back against the arm of the couch and her legs across his lap, her PADD also in her hands. They sat quietly like that until they had finished their logs and closed down their PADDs. He handed her his PADD to set on the small table at the end of the couch, and while she was stretched over backwards to set them down, ran his hands up her legs, from the ankles clear up to the bottom edge of her panties. He was pleased to note that his ministrations caused multitudes of small bumps to rise on her skin. He could also sense that her temperature had risen slightly. Not only that, but he could smell the changes in her body chemistry as she began to be aroused from his touch. Before he could go any further, though, she spoke up.

"Spock, there's something I need to talk to you about." At the barely concealed look on his face, she reached out and covered his hands on her thighs with her own. "It's not about us, okay? Don't get so concerned." She felt the tension drain back out of him and his hands relaxed again. She dropped her eyes from his for a moment, searching for words, trying to organize her thoughts. "I don't know whether you noticed or not, but Ensign Chekov was having a lot of trouble tonight."

"Yes, I did notice that. I meant to ask you if you knew what was bothering him. I would not want him to be distracted with a personal problem while on the bridge. It would be very inefficient at best."

"Yes, I think I do know what his problem is - and you are the one who can fix it."

He looked at her in surprise, brows rising high. "Me? How could I possibly fix a problem that Ensign Chekov has?"

"Because I think his problem is with you - or rather, concerns you. I don't even know whether you are aware that he was the one at the transporter controls when you beamed up from Vulcan." She paused, watching him closely.

He went very still. "No, I did not know this." His brows drew together, his face tight. Then he turned his face fully in her direction. "Nyota, he cannot think that what happened was his fault, surely."

"Yes, I believe he does. He does not seem to be able to look you in the face at all. He was quite perturbed tonight."

"But this is not logical. He could not possibly have prevented that ledge from crumbling. He was trying to lock onto six different signals - and when one deviated he could not spend all his attention on that one and lose the other five." He breathed deeply for a moment and continued in a slightly lower, slightly rougher voice. "It is unlikely that he would have been able to keep the lock even if that had been the only signal that he was trying to handle. She fell too fast." He shuddered. Nyota soothed his hands with hers, sending love and calm softly through the link to him.

"Do you think that possibly you could find some opportunity to speak with him privately soon and tell him that? I think it would help him heal."

Spock looked startled. It had not occurred to him that any human had any healing to do in connection with those events. Everyone on the crew of the Enterprise had done everything possible to assist the people of Vulcan - they had nothing to feel guilty about. "I shall do that. I will find a time to talk to him. He must not feel guilt." He was quiet a moment. "Nyota, if you know of anyone else to whom I should talk in this way, I would like it very much if you would inform me. I do not wish anyone to feel guilt on my behalf in this matter."

"Yes, I will. I promise."

He nodded, satisfied. He sat then for several minutes, his hands still under hers, then turned to her again. "Have you unpacked your music discs yet? I do feel that some music would be nice."

"Yes, I have unpacked everything I brought, you just haven't had a chance to learn where everything is yet. The music player and discs are in the bookcase, there beside the desk." She moved her legs so that he could get up off the couch.

He crossed the short distance to the desk, sat in the chair and pulled the rack of music discs from the bookcase onto the top of the desk. He was delighted to discover that many of the discs in her collection matched the ones in his. From the selections that she had often made in his quarters at the Academy, he had believed that this would be true, and now he had confirmation. He selected two discs and loaded them into the player, setting the rack back into the top shelf of the bookcase, behind the restraints.

Nyota recognized the music he had selected. And she knew exactly what he liked to do when he put that music on. She grinned at him as he walked back toward her, waiting for him to come and carry her off the bathroom. She was not disappointed.

***

They stood in the shower, water thrumming down all around them. The soap was all washed off and they were both panting, already very aroused. Nyota's eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open. She was swaying slightly on her feet. Spock looked down at her, so full of the feelings that he was trying less and less to control. She was so beautiful, so wonderful, and she was his! It was still hard for him to believe. He reached out, putting one hand on the back of her neck to pull her face toward him, the other hand sliding around her waist, down to the clef of her buttocks, pulling her hips against him where he was hard and hot. He kissed her, first gently, then with increasing fervor. She molded herself against him and moaned, her hands reaching up to caress his ears, rubbing the sensitive tips between her fingers until he was growling at her, aflame from head to toe. She tilted her head away from him, gasping for breath and he took advantage of this to fasten his mouth on her neck, sucking and nibbling at the places there where he knew her nerves were sensitive, biting her gently right where her neck curved into her shoulder. She shuddered against him, moaning louder, calling his name, pushing her hips against him. The hand he had on her buttocks slid down between her legs, catching the inside of one brown thigh and pulling it up and over to the side. She slid her foot around his leg, clinging to him, opening herself up. His hand slid back up her thigh to the sweet spot waiting there for his caresses. He stroked her softly, feeling how open and wet she was. She bowed her body up against him, moaning louder, then she turned her face into the side of his neck and bit him. She moved down his neck, across his shoulder, biting harder and harder until he could stand it no longer.

Both of his hands went to her bottom, pulling her up his body, spreading her apart. Her hands clung to his ears, her mouth still fastened to his shoulder, as he pushed her body back against the wall of the shower stall and plunged into her. He leaned against her, wanting as far inside her as he could get. He stood, panting, for a moment, savoring the feel of being enclosed by her, feeling then a hint of her thoughts, her feelings, of being so full, so stretched. He did not even have his fingers upon her meld points - this was the bond, growing stronger. He exulted. She moved against him, trying to get him started with the rhythm she wanted, needed now. She whispered his name against his shoulder. He began to rock against her, pulling out, thrusting in, meeting her own movements, flame running through him. A few more strokes and they were falling, falling, into that fire, bursting with it, so entwined they did not know who was who.

***

Went he had slept four hours, he carefully untangled himself from her, tucking the covers close around her to compensate for the loss of his body heat. He brushed a soft kiss on her forehead and dressed, letting himself out into the corridor after checking with the computer to be sure that it was empty. Swiftly he walked the corridors to his own quarters, where he finished his own unpacking, setting up his quarters to his satisfaction, creating a corner to meditate in. He still had time to read one technical journal before time to prepare for the day.

***

He was walking down the corridor towards the mess hall when he saw Ensign Chekov before him. Now would be a good time to talk to him. He matched his strides to those of the shorter man. "Good morning, Ensign. Would you be kind enough to share a breakfast table with me?"

Chekov gulped. "Me, sir? You vish to eat vith me?"

Spock turned his face down to look at the startled young man. "I would not ask if I did not wish it, Ensign."

"I..I vould be honored, sir. Thank you." He straightened up a bit, looked a bit brighter. They entered the mess hall together, proceeded through the line, sat down at a table.

Nyota

She entered the mess hall, looked for Spock, saw him sitting with Chekov, deep in conversation. Well, she would not bother them then. She would find someone else to eat with. But when she exited the line, she saw Chekov excitedly waving at her, his face alight. Maybe she would eat with them. And most likely she would find a way to express her thanks to Spock soon, too.