Spock stood in the middle of the Starfleet Academy work space on the second day of the Invitational, methodically reviewing his answer to the sixth and final question of the official solo round, a difficult translation based on an audio sample of Sho'jt Sampi, an extinct language from the Uransu system, that was the basis for half the questions that day.

However, key that provided both the phonetic guide for the audio and the examples and translations of the written form of the language had been limited in scope, and it was necessary to draw conclusions based on what little information had been given. This was further complicated by what Spock suspected were deliberate ambiguities regarding the grammatical categories affecting declension and conjugation, including verbal and non-verbal agreement.

He appreciated the irony that the same issue had caused Uhura difficulty with the final question during the informal pub challenge the night before. When they had compared their answers to that question, there had only been one difference, a simple point of grammar that was logically subject to two interpretations. His approach had been correct, and hers had not. Although her reasoning had been sound, in the end, she had misinterpreted one of the more subtle cues within the passage itself. But Uhura had refused to accept that his was the more logical approach.

The human female had become increasingly agitated in the face of his calm and rational explanation until she had forcefully taken his PADD, made an entry on the screen, and shoved it back into his hands. She had then stalked off the stage to where her female teammate was in intimate conversation with Cadet Schroeder.

Only when Uhura had reached them had Spock been able to turn his attention away from her to what she had written on his PADD. Based on her reaction, he had expected some form of critical tirade, but her message had both surprised and elated him, much to his dissatisfaction. He had needed several deep, centering breaths before trusting his emotional control enough to read the note. Uhura had given him her comm code with instructions to contact her if he was "willing to have an open-minded discussion" about the next day's round, and she had signed her message with her given name, Nyota.

For the second night in a row, he had been unable to quiet his mind sufficiently for meditation. Sleep had eluded him as well as he had not been able to focus on anything other than repeatedly attempting to parse her meaning.

Today, despite his lack of sleep, Spock was again confident that he had worked through each ambiguity in the translation and had reconciled them not only with the provided key but with his work on the prior questions in the set, ensuring his answer was internally consistent, one of the expectations for this series of questions. While there were still three places where the correct verbal agreement was subject to multiple equally logical interpretations, he felt certain he had considered each variable and was satisfied with his response. He uploaded his submission to the server which immediately powered down his work screen and lowered the perimeter barrier.

As the opaque, soundproof field retracted into the floor, the silence of the shielded work area was replaced by the low-level hum of the spectators, equipment, and the officials circulating throughout the room. He looked over at the Oxford work area. He had hoped, although it was not logical to expect, that Nyota would finish before he was released, but the barrier around her team's space remained in place. Spock determined to contact her as soon as he had access to his personal comm and arrange a meeting, perhaps over the evening meal, if she was amenable.

Martin, who was holding his personal effects, was pacing back and forth along the edge of the competition floor, his eyes trained on Spock as he waited for the proctor to verify his submission codes, check his equipment and then excuse him. When Spock was released, he exited the work area, and Martin fell into step beside him, easily keeping pace despite Spock's long strides.

"How was the round?"

"Were the questions not displayed on the main screen?"

"They were."

"Then as you are knowledgeable as to the content of the problems posed and are familiar with my capabilities, I presume you are requesting my assessment of my performance, given that you already possess sufficient information to answer your own query."

Martin stared at him for an extended length of time and then handed him his comm and PADD. "I'm meeting Sophie and her roommate for drinks tonight. You're going, no arguments."

"I require further explanation."

"I have it on good authority that if you play your cards right, you could be very lucky tonight."

Spock puzzled over Martin's statement, working to break down the idiom. Phrases that depended on culturally agreed upon but unstated meaning continued to elude him despite his human mother and even after living and working with humans in close quarters for several years. He stopped when he deduced Martin's meaning. "You are referring to sexual relations."

"Bingo."

Not bothering to request clarification of how a game of chance related to their conversation, Spock resumed his retreat. He changed course in an attempt to separate himself from Martin so that he could contact Nyota, but the other cadet continued to follow him. Martin's tendency to interfere in his private concerns was one of their primary areas of friction despite repeated requests to the contrary. "Martin," he began when he was certain his tone would not betray the too-familiar irritation that threatened to upset his emotional balance, "you have made your arguments regarding the advantages of casual sexual activity on numerous occasions and with considerable conviction. However, I agree with neither your premise nor your conclusions in this matter."

He exited the hall through a rear door into the cool, overcast afternoon. Martin trailed him down the street leading back to their hotel but remained silent, so Spock continued.

"You have also failed to consider whether I am available. It is my intention to seek other company this evening."

"I'm pretty sure ponytail already has plans tonight."

Spock stopped again and turned Martin's statement over in his mind. It had been late when Nyota had left him on the stage the night before. Given her message, it was unlikely that she would have made other arrangements before allowing him a reasonable amount of time to respond, particularly since she had been on the competition floor for the majority of the morning and had still been there when he had been released.

"Explain."

Martin grinned in the manner Spock associated with his being pleased with himself. "Who do you think Sophie's roommate is? I met her at the apartment yesterday."

He considered the improbability of Martin having anticipated his intent, and when he did not respond, the other cadet resumed his attempts to persuade him.

"I watched you with her last night. The handshake. Leaning over her. Getting close to her by working from the same PADD? Is any of this ringing a bell? There were plenty of clues, and I know what to look for. Anyway, girls like that aren't available forever, so I decided to do you a favor by taking the matter out of your hands. Now, are you in?"

Spock thought about the possible alternatives to Martin's plan. He could refuse to attend, but then Nyota might interpret that as disinterest. He could contact her himself and suggest other arrangements, which had been his intention, but what if she had meant her invitation to only extend to the discussion of the competition and was not an expression of personal interest? Perhaps his teammate's precipitous act in arranging a group "date" was preferable to a more private meeting. The presence of other humans, Nyota's roommate in particular, would also allow him to engage her as was most natural and give him the opportunity to determine her intent towards him. Both of these were favorable factors given the brief duration of their acquaintance. He could then decide whether to make his own interest clear. Although it had not been his plan, the evening orchestrated by Martin appeared to have several desirable advantages.

"Affirmative," he answered and turned and again began to walk back to the hotel.

"You're welcome," Martin called after him, but he paid little attention as he mentally structured his afternoon to better prepare for the evening's activities. He had researched running routes before arriving in Oxford and one in particular promised to provide a suitable challenge. Attending to his physical conditioning was warranted, as were several hours of meditation to center himself and reinforce his emotional controls. And if time allowed, there were substantial sections of code in the training simulation program he was rewriting that required attention. As he approached the hotel, Spock was satisfied that his afternoon would be productive.

-oOo-

When the barrier dropped around the Oxford work area, Nyota was surprised she'd used nearly all of the allotted time to complete the round. She'd been inside the questions so deeply, she hadn't really noticed the passage of time. That happened a lot when her mind was fully engaged.

As the proctor checked her out, she looked over to where Starfleet's work area had been moved from the day before. It was open and deserted. She'd expected Spock to finish early, but she still felt a little emptier when she saw he wasn't there. Maybe her display last night had cooled whatever interest he might have had in her.

The proctor seemed to be taking forever, and she shifted from one foot to the other nervously. More than once, she had to stop her herself from drumming her fingers against the table, from tapping her leg, from rubbing her arms. But given the look the proctor gave her as she verified her codes and checked her equipment, she'd failed miserably at keeping her impatience hidden.

After what seemed like a small eternity, particularly when compared to how time had disappeared during the round, she was excused, and she headed to where she'd arranged to meet Sophie. Nyota sped up until she was practically running through the hall to retrieve her comm and check her messages.

Her flatmate waited at the bottom of the wide, turning stone staircase that led from the entry lobby into the hall holding her coat and bag. "I watched the whole thing, and you were brilliant!" Sophie engulfed her in a sloppy, loose-limbed hug.

"I think you're right."

"Well, look who's full of themselves."

Nyota wobbled when Sophie released her and shoved her things into her arms. "I thought you said I was brilliant." She fumbled with her coat, nearly dropping it as she dug for her comm which was buried at the bottom of her bag where she'd tossed it that morning when her message queue had been disappointingly empty.

"When I say it, it's a compliment, but when you say it, it's pure ego," Sophie told her airily. Nyota ignored the scowl the other girl aimed at her and scrolled through her messages. And then Sophie poked her. "Anything exciting?"

"You mean more exciting than you telling me I'm an egotist?" The emptiness in Nyota's chest burrowed deeper as her fingers skimmed impatiently over the small screen of her comm.

There was the usual collection of announcements and updates from her college, a message from Jasper suggesting they get together so he could "study" her curves and angles, and another from her friend Candace who was having a bunch of girls over that night for wine and holovids. But there was nothing from Spock. She told herself that it couldn't have been more than a half hour since he finished, and he just hadn't had a chance to contact her yet, but it did nothing to reassure her.

"Anything exciting?" Sophie repeated, peering over her shoulder.

Nyota snapped her comm closed. "Jasper's on the prowl again, and Candace is having people over tonight."

"Well, you'll want to let them both know you're not available." Sophie grinned. Her smile was just a little too wide, and her eyes a little too bright. "I've figured out what you're going to do to make yesterday morning up to me."

"You mean my, and I quote, 'brilliant' performance wasn't good enough for you?"

"Please, you only did as expected." Sophie walked out onto the street, and Nyota hurried after her, becoming tangled up in the long strap of her bag as she tried to sling it over her head and pull her coat on at the same time. "Yesterday's queen bitch routine is still unrepented for."

"I hesitate to ask." She didn't like the look Sophie was giving her or the smile that was only growing more self-satisfied.

"Would I ask you to do anything you didn't want to do?"

"Do I even need to dignify that?"

"Ha, ha." Even though her tone was flat, Sophie's innocent. gleeful expression didn't waver. "It's nothing. It's practically less than nothing. Martin's bringing his Vulcan along on our date, and you're coming as our fourth."

"No." Nyota stopped in the middle of the pavement and twisted the strap of her bag around her fingers. She'd given Spock her comm code hoping he might contact her, even if it was just to talk about the round. She had no interest in being forced on him like an arranged marriage.

It took Sophie a few steps to realize she alone, and when she did, she spun around and stormed back to Nyota. "I don't recall giving you a choice. And I also don't see why there's a problem. You two seemed pretty cozy last night."

Nyota didn't answer. She only tugged the front of her coat closed and folded her arms over her chest.

Seeing that she was getting nowhere, Sophie dropped her high-handed manner. "I think this could be really good for you. You like him. I can tell, and you haven't actually liked anyone in a long time. But it's your decision. If you're in, I need you ready for drinks at half after six. If you're not in, give me some warning, so I can rearrange things."

Sophie turned and walked away, and Nyota stared after her until she disappeared around the next corner, not certain what to do. She looked around, noting how relatively empty the streets were since the University was between terms. At least she was near her college. She walked the few blocks to Balliol with a vague idea of having lunch. Maybe food and the quiet of the library would help her figure it out.

-oOo-

Three hours later, Nyota was hiding in the Balliol Library stacks. She loved the beautiful, old building with its elaborately carved bookcases, decorative plaster ceilings, and paned and leaded windows. The dry, clean smell of the old-fashioned paper and leather-bound books reminded her of her grandfather's study back home. That she had access to the library 24 hours a day only made it better.

She'd become well-acquainted with the building her first year when her roommate at the time started sneaking her boyfriend into their room. Although she hadn't been sexually inexperienced when she left home, the live sex show on near-constant rotation some nights was beyond her comfort zone, and she'd pulled at least one all-nighter in the library almost every week.

In a way, Nyota was glad because when she started at the Academy, she knew sleep deprivation wouldn't be anything she couldn't handle. Even when she'd started seeing Charlie after her first term, she'd sneak away from his flat hours before dawn to hole herself away with the books, immersed in languages or numbers.

At least living with Sophie, she had her own bedroom and damned good sound-proofing. But that first year, the library had been her sanctuary.

Today, she was tucked away in a narrow aisle in front of a window overlooking the Garden Quad. At first glance, she looked like she was studying the network of complex figures on the PADD she was bent over, but her mind was somewhere else. Nyota turned the problem of Spock, and Sophie's grand scheme, over and over and examined it from every side until she was mentally exhausted and tempted to just chuck the whole thing and go to bed. She'd almost decided to do just that when her comm buzzed.

It was probably some contrite, funny message from Sophie. Maybe something with pornographic animation backed by an Orion technobeat. She tapped the PADD screen to transfer the message and opened it.

But it was only Jasper why wondering she hadn't responded to his earlier text, and she deleted the message. He was partly responsible for her current dark mood because he'd positioned himself near the door of the Junior Common Room. She'd been trying to avoid him, and there'd been no way to get lunch without passing right by him. The only reason she hadn't walked right into him was because his voice carried, and she'd heard him well before he could see her.

Bed was seeming like a better and better idea, but she had to figure out this thing with Spock. And before Jasper started combing the library for her, which was usually the next step in his ritual stalking. Maybe she could just ask Sophie to get Spock's comm code from Martin ,and she could ask the him if he was interested in coming over and joining her between the sheets.

That thought slammed down in front of her like a wall, and she could almost hear her mind come skidding to a stop. God, Sophie was such a bad influence.

There couldn't be any other reason she'd even think about going to bed with someone she'd just met and didn't know. Even if Spock was tall, and lean, and really handsome. And intelligent. He was probably really interesting, too. And he smelled good.

Nyota shook herself and redoubled her efforts to focus on her notes, but now that she had imagined him in her bed, she found it hard to think of anything else. Anything except for the heat she felt when he looked at her and his calloused fingertips scraping over her skin. What would he do if she asked?

With a groan, she buried her face in her hands, and she stayed there, frozen, her breath warming the hollow created between her palms and her lips. She was only going to make herself crazy trying to figure out what he was thinking. She'd given him her comm code, and he hadn't used it. That was that. Even if he was only interested in her on an intellectual level, he would have contacted her by now. Wouldn't he?

Except, he'd agreed to drinks, and if he already knew he was going to see her that night, there'd be no need. And what if Martin had railroaded him into it the way Sophie had with her? In that case, she'd be in exactly the same fix.

Maybe if she spent a little more time with him, she could figure out whether this thing she felt around him was completely in her head. If it was, they could still talk. He was probably really interesting, growing up on a different planet, in a culture she'd only had a very narrow, peripheral exposure to up until now. The news media never talked about him, either, which was puzzling since he was the first Vulcan to enlist in Starfleet since its inception. That would be fascinating to hear about. If nothing else, she could ask him about the Academy. And it couldn't hurt to wear nice knickers, just in case.

She looked out the window. It was starting to get dark. If she was going, she had to get moving. Nyota grabbed her PADD and was shoving it into her bag when she heard footsteps behind her.

"Uhura," Jasper stage-whispered from the end of the aisle. "Thank god, you're consistent. I hadn't heard from you, so I thought we might discuss this face-to-face."

Nyota pulled her jacket on and squared her shoulders. "I'm sorry, Jasper. I already have a date tonight." She brushed past him and started towards the exit before he had a chance to react. If she was lucky, he wouldn't follow her.

-oOo-

"I know, I know. I'm late. Jasper cornered me in the stacks and I had to get rid of him." Nyota shed her hat and coat and kicked off her shoes at the door.

Sophie glanced up at her from her perch on the sofa where she sat painting her toenails. "You should have never kissed him that one time. And you're too nice to him now. That's why he keeps coming back."

"I finally had to be blunt with him, so we'll see if it takes." Dealing with Jasper had taken even longer than she'd thought it might, and he'd followed her halfway home before she'd convinced him to let her alone. "I'm going to take a shower and wash my hair."

Nyota shut her bedroom door behind her, stripped off her clothes, and wrapped her dressing gown around her. She had just pulled her hair down from the ponytail she'd put it in that morning and was rubbing her scalp to try and get the blood flowing back into her head when her door swung open. Sophie stood framed in the doorway, her toes flexed away from the floor to keep from smudging her toenails.

"You're going?"

"Of course," She slipped past her roommate and hurried down the hall to the bathroom. Sophie hobbled after her as quickly as her varnish-wet toes would let her, but Nyota shut herself in programmed her shower cycle. "Why wouldn't I go?" she called through the door.

She stepped under the nozzle and let the hot water soak her from head to toe and chase off the chill from her short walk home. This might have been her favorite part of living with Sophie. The showers at the college were sonics, and they never made her feel truly clean. She scrubbed herself down and then carefully washed her hair, working from her scalp to the ends to avoid tangling the dark, heavy strands.

At the end of the water cycle, the dryer hummed to life and evaporated the moisture from her skin and hair as quickly as she'd drenched it. When she stepped out of the stall, she wrapped her hair around her hand, piled it on top of her head, and studied her reflection in the mirror. She liked her hair up. It kept it out of her face while she was working, and her mother always told her it let the world see how pretty she was. But all mothers said things like that, and her scalp still ached from how tightly pulled she'd worn it all day. Down would have to do.

Returning to her room, Nyota found that clothes had been left out for her across her bed. "Sophie, what's this?"

"Your wardrobe's hopeless. You dress like a student." Sophie's answer was muffled by the wall that separated their bedrooms.

"I am a student."

"Don't worry. It's mostly your own clothes. I just added something slightly more grown up. It's a little obvious, but not slutty."

"So nothing you'd wear."

"Precisely."

Nyota inspected the small pile of clothing and immediately spotted what didn't belong, a puddle of wine red silk just thick enough to be opaque. "There's no bra," she yelled through the wall.

Sophie appeared at the doorway wearing a one-shouldered, skin-tight, sheer dress in navy blue. The fabric was shot through with silver, and it sparkled like the night sky. Under the dress, she was completely naked, bare to the world except for the almost completely transparent cloth.

"You wear a bra with that shirt, and I'll have to kill you," Sophie told her. "Speaking of slutty, what do you think?" she asked, gesturing to the dress she wore.

"Please tell me you're going to wear something under that. That's too much nipple for drinks."

"I was afraid of that. Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"More than those star-shaped pasties from last month."

"You're no fun," Sophie pouted and retreated to her own room, leaving Nyota to inspect the clothes she had picked out for her.

The knickers were black and lacy and barely effective as underthings. They had been a gift from Sophie for her 19th birthday the past December, but at least they were hers. The jeans were hers, too. The metallic gray denim that hugged her leg from hip to ankle like a second skin and generally reserved for nights out. Which this was. The soft suede ankle-high boots were low-heeled and steady on the sometimes uneven streets in the oldest parts of town.

And then there was the scrap of red silk. Which she didn't want to touch because her palms were suddenly clammy and damp. Besides, she didn't need to pick it up to see why Sophie hadn't left her a bra.

Nyota stood rooted to the floor while she stared at the almost sheer fabric. It was, of course, only a suggestion. Sophie wasn't going to force her to wear it. After all, it was only drinks. But she really wanted it to be more than drinks, and her heart skipped ahead of her as she fingered the soft material. It almost seemed to glow. God, she hoped she wasn't about to make a fool of herself.


AN: As per usual, I own none of this. Except the parts that I made up myself. I also do not make a dime from this. Or any other denomination, for that matter.

I'd like to apologize for how late this installment is. I had originally planned to post this a week ago, but two things came up. One, I finally wrote what we've been calling the infamous chapter 13 (at least I think it's chapter 13, my numbering is so off). Up until now, it's only been an outline, but since I'm up to posting chapter 7, at this point, it was time. You'll understand when you get to it. The second thing that happened was that the second and third and fourth drafts of these next three chapters are taking a lot longer than I'd thought. I think there's a lot to be said about putting something down long enough to forget that you wrote it because I cringed at points, and I'm hoping that I've managed to fix the most glaring problems. Anyway, thank you all so much for hanging in there. I appreciate each and every one of you.

From here on out, batten down the hatches. Things are starting to ramp up, and they're not going to slow down.