The blur of preparation swept Spock immediately into the role of assigning the newly field-promoted ensigns to the decks of the various ships. He had more than enough data to assign the cadets to posts, according to the available information in the database, but he hesitated when he arrived at Ensign Uhura. She had not completed the Officer Candidacy Examination, which would normally be a formality for a cadet of her caliber, but this placed her below another cadet in the computer-generated list assigned to the Enterprise. While he had the authority to make whatever substitutions were necessary to balance the fleet's resources, he could hardly base his decision on highly improper personal feelings. When she appeared, assigned to the Farragut as the algorithm had suggested and as angry as she had ever been in his presence, he saw her elegantly composed posture, the fire in her eyes, and the confidence in her step and had second thoughts.

Lieutenant Morris was highly qualified to be assigned to the Enterprise, but there was no communications officer in the roster, with or without a personal attachment to him, who exceeded her abilities. It would be a disservice to the fleet to deny her the opportunity to serve on the Enterprise. He had used these arguments before, in an entirely different context and to different ends, but they remained true and logical. "I wished to avoid the appearance of favoritism," was his weak response to her hard glare. He had already reassigned her to the Enterprise before she was done enumerating the reasons why he should do so.

"I am assigned to the Enterprise."

It was already a fact, and she stated it as such. It was the only logical conclusion. He could barely restrain a small smile as he confirmed the change. "Yes, I believe you are." Even if he had not cared for her as he did, he would have had to make the same decision given the available information. It would have been an illogical choice, based on flawed personal motives, if he had allowed her to ship out on the Farragut.

The triumph in her brisk "Thank you" was enough to assure him that she considered the conversation concluded. She would not reproach him for this. He felt the rush of blood to his ears and suddenly the seriousness of the situation was the sole focus of his consciousness. They were going on a mission, and duty must preclude all else.

* * *

Underway, with everyone as tense as she had ever seen them, Ensign Uhura (damn that test she ought to have gotten out of the way months ago!) scanned every frequency known to the Federation and kept an eye, and ear, out for anything. She occasionally glanced up at Spock, imagining his vexation at the small errors that were occurring on the bridge as the new officers acclimated to their posts. "Learning curve" was concept unknown to the Vulcans. Just as she had done during her tenure as his assistant, when she wanted to discuss something in private with him, she quietly asked for his opinion as the science officer on a "likely insignificant anomaly" she had picked up on a subspace frequency. He quietly responded that he would like a debriefing immediately following her shift, his eyes meeting hers in a plea for more than just a few moments alone together.

He was feeling the stress, she understood. He would never show it in front of anyone else, but she could faintly feel the tension in his mind. Was that what it was like to be bonded? Each would know the other's thoughts, no matter how far apart they might be. She had already experienced a little of this when they were apart during her leave, but she imagined that the feelings would be but a ghost of those two fully bonded mates experienced.

Uhura ceded the communications console to her second, a classmate of hers in a number of linguistics courses who performed admirably in simulation training. It was rare that she felt she could trust others to take the job as seriously as she, herself, did. The other side of an adrenaline rush was hell, however, and she needed an hour or three away to recharge. Spock took notice of her shift's end and turned his post over as well, briefly making eye contact with Captain Pike and receiving an approving nod. Both of them had pulled double duty today, for good reason, and while Spock could make do with considerably less rest, he knew that Nyota would not be able to sleep until they finished the conversation that they had begun.

Before the lift door could close, Spock slipped in and they descended to the crew deck. He followed her to her quarters, arms locked behind his back as if he were on his way elsewhere on the ship. Only once the portal had closed and she had commanded it to secure did he allow her to grasp his hand and draw him toward her.

"We were discussing something, before we were interrupted, and I wish to continue that conversation, if you are in agreement," Spock stated simply. Eyes filled with emotion, she brought her face closer to his. He sank to his knees on the floor. He believed that this was customary in some Earth communities, and at least it gave her the physical advantage in what, in many cultures, was a conversation dictated by the males of the species. She must make the decision, as Pike had advised.

"Among my people, it is customary to ask for my consent three times. You have asked me twice and I have agreed twice."

"Just as friendship lasts a lifetime, so does the bonding, Nyota. Even if we part, we will always be connected in some way. I will understand if you wish to wait until you possess more information before making this choice."

"I choose a lifetime with you, Spock. I give you myself freely and without reservation." Those were the human words she ought to say. In Vulcan, she added, "Let our be minds and thoughts be one." She slipped to the floor to kneel before him.

"My heart to your heart," he smiled, touching her chest and placing her hand over his own abdomen. This brought forth a soft peal of laughter from Nyota and she leaned in to kiss him. There was no formula that was right for them, but perhaps improvisation would be the most delightful part of their relationship. Whereas he had always been focused on making the logical decision, she had shown him that it was acceptable to allow for a few intangible, affective variables.

She brought her free hand to his brow, softly tracing the line of his hair as they knelt together, silently now. He returned the gesture, placing his hand over the pulsing at her temple, and they remained so, looking into each other's eyes until Spock felt their consciousness touch.

He pressed more firmly against her face, establishing the connection that only death would sever.