U.S.S. Enterprise: A Linguist's Proposal

ACT III

To the degree that needs multiply, that affairs become complicated, that light is shed, language changes its character. It becomes more regular and less passionate. It substitutes ideas for feelings. It no longer speaks to the heart but to reason. For that very reason, accent diminishes, articulation increases. Language becomes more exact and clearer, but more prolix, duller and colder. This progression seems to me entirely natural. … A pattern that we have already encountered: it is need and not passion that substitutes light for heat, clarity for desire, precision for strength, ideas for sentiment, reason for heart, articulation for accent.

-Jaques Derrida, Of Grammatology

Part 1

The alarm pulled her from a dreamless sleep.

Nyota's eyes snapped open, and she called out for the computer to stop the buzzing. For a single moment, in the quiet hush of the morning, Nyota stared at the ceiling, and her mind was silent.

And the silence was welcoming, and then she thought of the day ahead with anticipation.

Placing her bare feet on the floor, her mind turned. She spread out the top sheet, pulling it taut. The Romulans were coming in three days. She snapped the blanket out and laid it over the bed. Kirk hadn't yet replied to her most recent message about the crew. She placed the pillows at the head. Covington was still in the hospital, even after a month. She ought to visit again this week.

In the bathroom, she turned on the sonic shower. Had it been a whole month? Time passed so quickly. Frank, another liaison on the station, needed to submit his report on the dinner procession for the second night of the Romulan visit. She stepped out of the shower and brushed her hair. The tangles pulled with every yank until finally it smoothed.

Two and a half months she had been on the station. One month since she had returned from Altamid. She pulled on underwear. Florence and Power were returning to the ship. Was it too soon? She grabbed her uniform from a hook in the closet. Placing her legs into the uniform, she pulled up the fabric to rest on her shoulders. Nine. Nine more people unaccounted for. Every message within her security clearance about Altamid, even the most tedious, passed through her work station, and none reported a change.

She zipped up her uniform. The Romulans were coming in three days, and Nyota still needed to finish her notes on the six hundred page, century old treaty between Romulus and Earth. She sectioned off her hair and tied the top with a band. Smoothing down the flyaways, she stared at her reflection in the mirror and quirked her lips into a smile. She could do this.

She would comb through every line, every word of that treaty. She would get this right.

After she took a pair of socks from her dresser and shined boots from her closet, she placed both on her feet. Then she looked around her room, seeing that everything was in its place, and headed for the door.

The train ran at all hours of the day, but at six in the morning at the end of summer, the platform was relatively clear of any life at all. Yet, that wasn't to say it was entirely quiet. The brush of the breeze, the hum of the track, the sound of her own breathing all played a familiar tune. Her most recent mornings had all started in quite the same way.

As the train pulled into the station, Nyota waited for the doors to open before entering. A pair of human men sat in the corner nearest to her, the only others in the train car, so she walked down a bit to give them privacy. When the train doors closed, they picked up a conversation that had probably trailed off earlier. At first, she couldn't make out what they were saying, which was just as well. Her mind still stuck on issues of the Romulans and of Altamid. The Romulans presented a short-term problem that would be over within the week. Altamid had implications that could last a lifetime or beyond.

But then their speech grew louder as the content of it became more fierce.

"Unbelievable, look at this article," one of the men said, an anger in his voice. "The blood of Vulcan on their hands, and Starfleet invites them here. I've got kids on this base, man. What the hell am I supposed to say to them?"

"I know," the other man agreed. She felt eyes on her uniform.

She could almost see before her the sight of Vulcan collapsing. Spock's distress, tears, anger, loneliness, and despair, and all of it silent.

So she turned and met their eyes. They both looked away, and then, she did the same.

The Romulans did not have the blood of Vulcan on their hands, as the man had said, because the one who had destroyed Vulcan came from the future. That future, which though it came with some inevitabilities, could still be partially avoided in their present, if only they could all work together. Such work would continue with the visit of the Romulan delegation, and though Nyota couldn't save Vulcan from destruction and couldn't save Spock from his grief, she could prevent another tragedy from occurring, and leave in it's place a kind of peace.

But then a stray thought crossed her mind, one that spelled out the near extermination of the Vulcans, and she remembered the shape of Nero's face, and as the men left at the next station, she fought against the feeling that their blame was not misplaced.

She knew it was, but blame always felt more enticing than the truth, and doubly so when suspicion and intrigue came with it.

Upon arriving to her department from her stop, Nyota forgot about the train ride and once again focused on the upcoming deadline. She was totally in her element. Frank had already submitted his report to her work station, and after going through it, she added it to the main one she had been compiling for Eilum and Commodore Paris. She and Daniela then continued talking through the treaty and tweaking the updated version in Romulan which would be signed at the end of the visit by the ambassador. The Federation had not had a Romulan ambassador until after the destruction of Vulcan, when the Alpha Quadrant's eyes were turned in accusation at the empire.

After all the years of work, finally a meaningful treaty on Federation-Romulan relations would be instated, and Nyota would be one of the people to help make it happen. This, she thought as she highlighted a section on mining rights in the neutral zone, this was what she joined Starfleet to do. She tried to hide a smile, as it seemed out of place, but she knew it shone through anyway. So what if it was out of place? Things were going her way, and she deserved some amount of self-pride.

"Commander Uhura, please report to Conference Room 1." Her computer dinged an alert noise as the overcomm called out the command. Leaving instructions with Daniela, Nyota left the department and entered the turbolift. She didn't know why she had been called to the conference room, but she felt no more anxious than before.

Windows lined the walls of Conference Room 1, and the mid-morning sun littered the glossy table with rainbows. Commodore Paris and Eilum sat together at the far end of the table and appeared to be struggling with the universal translator as the Romulan liaison officer Nyota had been talking with these past few weeks continued on in her native tongue.

"...assador Kovar sends his deepest apologies, of course." The sound of Nyota's boots clacking on the floor caused the attention of all three women to fall upon her. Nyota couldn't help the surge of pride she felt at seeing the relief flood both superior officers' faces as they stood. Useful, she was useful.

"Commander," Paris said, "tell me you can fix this. The translator's been malfunctioning since the start of the call."

Nyota's eyes flicked over to Eilum, who's encouraging expression caused her both irritation and a surge of confidence. "Of course, Commodore, though I'd be happy to translate between you for now. The repair program may require more than an hour." Paris agreed to let her stay in the room to translate, and so the three of them sat down to a rather impatient Romulan.

Sub-Commander T'Renn, Nyota's Romulan counterpart, had been difficult and downright suspicious of her from the start. It began with Nyota's fluency in the most common Romulan dialect, the one used in official capacities, as well as the more colloquial, common speech. T'Renn would constantly probe her knowledge of Romulan affairs, and Nyota suspected genuine curiosity, an attempt at superiority, and orders to find out just how much the Federation knew.

Simply put, T'Renn did not look happy to see her there.

"Commander," T'Renn greeted, her chin tilting up. "Your machine has broken."

Nyota smiled and clasped her hands together in her lap. "Yes. Would I be wrong in assuming the same on your end?" She knew that T'Renn could speak at least some Standard. And T'Renn knew that she knew, and it all seemed a long, silly game with no foreseeable payoff.

"Unfortunately so," T'Renn said, her tone mimicking Nyota's.

Paris interrupted their exchange. "Ask her why she called. She said there had been a change of plans before the translator went out." Nyota nodded.

"What prompted your call?"

T'Renn tilted her head ever so slightly. "As I was attempting to tell your superiors, the ambassador has fallen ill. We will have to reschedule our meeting."

The silence in Nyota's mind returned with a roar.

"What did she say?" Paris prompted, her voice strained. Impatient.

Ignoring Paris, Nyota leaned forward in her seat. "We have a renowned hospital on Yorktown, the best doctors in the Federation, surely -"

"Not possible," T'Renn countered. "Your people have little knowledge of Romulan physiology. We cannot risk the chance and neither can you."

"You are not so different from Vulcans, and we have so much medical experience to share. It could be an opportunity to share." Her heart beat in her chest as T'Renn appeared to consider her proposal

The sub-commander lowered her chin, and as she spoke, Nyota could swear she heard the smallest hint of genuine remorse. Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

"We will have to decline." Nyota's beating heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach, and T'Renn somehow straightened in her seat, despite already holding a perfect posture. "On behalf of Ambassador Kovar, I wish to extend our deepest regret at missing the meeting. Another time." Rescheduling, another time, Nyota knew what that meant. Would there ever be another opportunity? Who could say?

Nyota swallowed before offering a polite half-smile. Inside, the happiness she had been cultivating for the past month began to crack. "Another time, of course. It was nice working with you, Sub-Commander." The call ended on the Romulans' side abruptly, the screen turning black. Her whole body tensed as she remembered that neither Commodore Paris nor Eilum had understood.

"Why did the call end?" Eilum asked. Nyota turned to look at Eilum's pinched brow and pitched tone. Nervous. "What did they need?"

Nyota did her best to relax under the scrutiny. How had it happened so quickly, the weeks of preparation?

"They're not coming."

A pin could drop in the conference room, and it would echo like thunder. The quiet threatened to stretch on for eternity. Paris was the first to comment. "Why?" She was too calm, and it did not help the tension Nyota had been attempting to hide.

"The sub-commander said the Ambassador has fallen ill, and that they need to return to Romulus."

Before Nyota could even finish, Eilum had jumped up with a crash and exclaimed, "He's sick?"

"Sit down, Captain," Paris ordered, while Nyota tried to hide her flinch from Eilum's commotion with a subtle shifting in her seat. She had never thought the captain could look so furious. Was she mad at Nyota? Was it her fault? Should she have tried harder to convince T'Renn? "Call again, Uhura." With a steady hand, Nyota did as she was told and typed in the code to connect them. The sound of ringing flooded her ears. Once, twice ...

"No answer," Nyota said, though it was only redundant, and she immediately berated herself for speaking at all.

Irritation emanated from Eilum like heat from a broken computer, and Nyota found herself too afraid to turn and look. "Again," Paris ordered, so Nyota called again, and then a third time with no answer.

"Cowards," Eilum accused. She was now pacing the floor, and Nyota wanted out. She wanted out of the conference room, out of headquarters, out of her own head. "It can't be that he was really sick. There's something else. What exactly did T'Renn say to you, Nyota?" It felt like an interrogation, so Nyota put on her best mask of professional disinterest and recounted the conversation with exact detail. Inside, she wondered why she cared so much what Eilum thought of her. Who even was she to Nyota? No one. Just another captain, in another place.

Eventually, Paris dismissed her back to her duties, to announce to her team that they no longer needed to do any work on the Romulans. All of it, come to nothing. As Nyota walked down the corridor to the turbolift, a weak laugh escaped her lips. Why did it always come down to nothing at all?

Sounds of a short laugh, typing, and the tune of a background song came from behind the door. Nyota stared it down and took a steadying breath. She smoothed her uniform and her hair and her face. Entering the department, a circular room much like the one on Altamid, Nyota cleared her throat. Another unnecessary act, as it was only the other four people who worked with her. She didn't want to disappoint them. They'd all been getting on so well, and for a while, it sort of resembled her old crew on Enterprise. They fell silent, and Nyota looked at them all in turn.

Daniella, Frank, Gianni, and Klaus.

"The Romulan delegation has cancelled," Nyota said, and she could see the shock on their faces as though it had been written there in bold lettering. "They're not coming." Why was she repeating herself so much today? "We need to log all of our work. It could come handy in future encounters. When you're done with that ..." Nyota stared down at the floor. It shone with polish, and she wished to sink into it. "When you're done, just go home. Take a break. In the morning, we'll have new orders."

She half expected an argument, anger like Eilum or just a joking defiance like Kirk, but they all just nodded, expressed their disappointment, and went about their work. Nyota settled down at her station, more defeated than if someone had beat her down. Someone's hand connected to her shoulder. Nyota turned. Daniella patted her a few times and smiled. Sometimes, she would remind Nyota of her father, in the shape of her smile or the quiet way she conducted herself. "It's a setback, but it's not everything, Commander." Nyota's throat swelled with emotion. She nodded.

"I know."

Daniella nodded. "See you tomorrow, ma'am." Nyota waved her goodbye, and one by one, the others left in a similar fashion until only Nyota remained. Alone at last, Nyota let her head fall into her hands and slumped her shoulders. She was slouching.

She was slouching, for gods' sakes.

"Excuse me, Commander Uhura." This time, Nyota couldn't hide a flinch. She jumped up, straightening herself and tucking her hair back.

"Theus," Nyota greeted and relaxed, looking the young man down. As usual, his hair stood at all ends and his uniform creased at the knees and shoulders. His spots gleamed against his pale skin, and Nyota couldn't help but worry about him. It was all Eilum's fault for ever making him her problem in the first place. She had practically forced Theus to come into the liaison office every other day, and Nyota was helpless to stop the others from practically adopting him. "What can I do for you?"

He shifted in that nervous manner of his. "I'm supposed to look over the systems." His speech was clipped, and Nyota knew he preferred to do his work alone. Besides, she needed to go.

She smiled and nodded. "I'm sorry, I forgot you were coming in today. I was just heading out, think you can handle yourself?"

Theus nodded, but then asked, "If you don't mind my asking, Commander, where is everyone?"

Not here, Nyota wanted to say, but instead she grabbed her things and told him, "Our project's hit a brick wall. I thought we could all use a breather." Theus nodded in a solemn movement. "There's food in the fridge from Klaus," she suggested before approaching the exit. "You out to eat." Theus agreed, though she doubted he would take her up on the offer, and they exchanged goodbyes.

People passed by in a blur as Nyota made her way to the train. She couldn't seem to focus on any one thing for longer than a few seconds. Daniella was right that the Romulans' visit wasn't everything, but it had felt like it for a while, and Nyota wanted to show everyone that she could be what they all thought she was. Especially, she wanted to prove it to Eilum, who's face had paled with fury when Nyota had finally left the conference room.

She came back to herself fully as the train pulled into the station, and she decided she couldn't face her empty quarters. Covington had to be feeling lonely now that Power and Florence had left Yorktown. Familiar with the line that stopped at the hospital, Nyota switched platforms and made the most recent train with seconds to spare. There was a bakery on the street leading to the hospital, so Nyota stopped and picked up a few dozen donuts for the nursing staff before she made her way up a slight incline to the building.

When she got to Covington's room in the relatively subdued recovery ward, Nyota didn't see anyone inside, so she asked one of the nurses where he had gone. Swallowing the remnants of a chocolate glazed donut, the nurse pointed her down the hallway. "He's been walking again." Nyota nodded and ducked in a few mostly empty hallways until she found Covington struggling against the wall with a nurse supervising his progress. She allowed Nyota to take her place with a suggestion to get him should anything go wrong.

"Finally, some peace," Covington muttered as soon as the nurse was out of ear-shot.

Nyota leaned against the opposite wall and smiled, forgetting the stress of her work day. "Not likely." While they had both been on the Enterprise, Nyota hadn't spoken much to Covington. An ensign in Engineering, he was twenty-five years old with a surely disposition that was more appropriate of someone three times his age, and she had known him as someone who preferred his small circle of friends within his own department than speaking to anyone else. They didn't have many opportunities to get to know one another. But now, Nyota knew his mother was a tennis player, and not a bad one at that, and his older brother ran a mechanic shop on Gaius, a Federation colony not far from Risa.

"I'm sick of this place." He gripped the wall so tightly that Nyota could see the vein in his hands popping out.

"I'm sure they're sick of you," she joked. Covington waved her off with his left hand and continued on with unsteady legs. "Have they said how much longer?"

"Within the next century," he said. As though he could feel her impatient glare, he half shrugged. "Within the week. And another week of physical therapy, and then I'm cleared for a leave." The last part took her by surprise.

"You're not going back to the ship?"

Covington shook his head, still progressing. "I'm not crazy like the others. I'd rather see my family again, seeing as how I nearly died." He was so overly nonchalant about it. She worried.

"Fair enough," she agreed, and though he never fell once all the way back to his bed, Nyota watched and followed at the opposite wall. After he agreed to rest for a while, they sat in his hospital room and watched an old two dimensional film. They turned the lights off, and Nyota drifted off a bit in the middle. Covington didn't appear to care, but she wasn't surprised. He just wanted the company, regardless of who it was or how the time was spent.

When five o'clock rolled around, Nyota left and made her way home. She ordered tea from her replicator and let it cool on the bedside table as she changed into more comfortable clothing. She threw her crumpled uniform on the floor, along with her socks and boots. The way they sat there irked her, but she couldn't find it in herself to put them away. Grabbing her mug of tea, she sat down at her computer and scrolled through her new messages. Two were on official channels, and the other two were not. Theus sent her a notification that he had completed the repair, and another, which had been sent out to all Starfleet personnel on Yorktown, was from Paris. She had informed everyone of the Romulans' cancellation.

Her parents sent a short video message which featured mostly her father doing silly things, and the other message was from Kirk. She skimmed through it.

Uhura,

They made it back earlier today, and though of course I can't condone parties during Alpha shift, Spock and I made one of our regular check-ins to the docking bay and just so happenned to be there to greet Power and Florence. There was no alcohol, at least not until Gamma (or maybe Beta, listen I drew the line at on-duty officers, okay). There may or may not have been balloons. And cake. Bones says I'm getting fat, but he's moved from devastated to pissed in the last week, and it's only to be expected.

Jim

P.S.: Sorry, but I'm not actually getting fat right? Also, look, a holo of David! Carol's mom got his first steps!

Opening the attached file, Nyota saw a small holo that showed what she assumed were Carol's legs and hands, along with David stumbling with one foot in front of the other. He was bouncing as he did it, and her heart melted. He reminded her a bit of Covington, the way he had to retrain his atrophied muscles, and she laughed at the thought. She didn't think Covington would share the sentiment, but it cheered her all the same.

With Kirk on her mind, Nyota's thoughts drifted towards the box filled with his things that now laid in her the closet. She should tell him about it, send it to him, but for some reason she couldn't part with it. She'd tell him in her next message, and all would be fine. She flopped down into her bed. The neatly made ensemble turned into what resembled a bird's nest of blankets. She buried herself beneath them and called out for the lights to shut off.

It had been a horrible day, so she snuggled in the warmth of her bed and stared in the blue light at the ceiling.

It wasn't even dark outside yet. She should get some work done.

Theus looked pale. Had he eaten?

Kirk's box sat in her closet now. It was wrong to keep it from him.

Eilum hated her. Nyota disappointed everyone, and she could have tried harder to convince the Romulans not to return to their planet.

Makena hadn't spoken to her since she left Earth. It hurt her feelings.

Spock. How was he?

Her mind quieted, and though she hadn't intended to, Nyota's eyelids grew heavier and heavier until finally, she fell asleep.


A/N: Hi! I'm so sorry about the lack of updates lately. Hopefully I'll put out a few more chapters soon. As always, thank you so much if you've taken the time to favorite, follow, review, or just read my story. It means a lot, especially if you've been following it for a while, as you've been so patient with me this past, well, year basically. Thanks again, and I hope you're doing well.