Hey all. Just a note: tutaonana apparently means goodbye with the acknowledgement the people will see each other again. At least, that's what I gathered from this Kamusi project thing, which is a Swahili-English and English-Swahili dictionary. If any of you speak Swahili and I have horribly misused this term, please let me know. Thanks! For those of you off this coming week, have a wonderful winter break. Safe travels to all of you. SpockSnapeStephen; 12/23/11
Uhura lay awake in her bed. No matter what she did, there was never a time she had felt less like sleeping. Her body was a live wire, nearly trembling. Uhura had faced things like this before but hardly ever with as much time to wait. She'd had nearly a week to get used to the fact that she was going to enter a large arena with children, some of whom were trained to kill. Traps lurked at every corner. The only people Uhura could trust were Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy, and Mister Spock. But could she trust Spock? Despite all his displays of being unemotional, Uhura knew Spock wanted to get back Enterprise very badly. But would he kill a fellow crewmember to get back to the ship? What would the crew's reaction be? With those happy thoughts floating around her instead of sugar plums, Uhura drifted off somewhere. Not quite awake; not quite sleeping, but somewhere in between.
A blue stripped snake slithered ominously across the floor after a frightened rabbit. The snake's jaws opened wider and wider, swallowing the red bunny to the applause of President Flint. They disappeared and a golden lion flickered on the wall like it was projected by one of those old time projectors they had at the movies. Two small orphan children in rags shambled through the image up to Uhura's bedside, eyes piteous and hands outstretched. Uhura tried to reassure them but she had lost the use of her voice.
Panem was the word written on the small, stunted girl's forehead.
Circenses read the boy's. His chest wheezed in and out, ribs showing from behind his tattered clothes.
They're trying to keep me from the Hunger Games! Uhura thought, panicked.
She sat up quickly, wide awake, the slimy feeling of sweat all over her body.
"Uhura! Uhura!" Jove slammed on the door.
"I'm up! What's wrong?" Uhura said sleepily as she stumbled to the door.
"Get up! Get up!" Jove waddled to the curtains and threw them open, letting blinding sunlight illuminate the room.
"We overslept. The train to the arena will leave soon! Get dressed. I'll dress you for the Games later. Hurry, hurry, don't be late; there is no time to hesitate!" Jove cried. They rushed to the train and jumped on before it began to move.
"Whew," Uhura smiled at the little man beside her.
"You can't cut it closer than that," murmured Jove, perspiring slight.
"Would the train really have left without a tribute?" asked the lieutenant.
"I don't know; a tribute's never locked their door from the inside before! I don't even know how you did it," Jove said and Uhura frowned.
"I didn't." Jove just frowned back at her.
"Don't worry about that. There are other, more important things to think of. Like the arena," he pointed out, "Right. Your tracker. This way." His face transformed to a look of total business. He led Uhura to a white sterilized room where a man in a clean, white coat met them.
"This is a tracker. It's so we don't lose you in the arena. Just stand still," he said, lips barely moving. In fact, almost none of his face moved. It was like he was wearing a mask, perhaps the effect of too many unneeded surgeries. Uhura flinched a bit when the long metal needle bit into her skin.
"Alrighty. You're all set. May the odds be ever in your favor." The man smiled without crinkling his skin at all. Uhura smiled somewhat uneasily back before Jove put his hand on her lower back and steered her into a dining room. Uhura felt queasy at the sight of all the food, especially when she remembered the starving children.
"Where are Spock, Doctor McCoy, and the captain?" she asked. Uhura was barely paying attention to what she was piling on her plate. She knew that since she was nervous it would all taste the same anyway.
"Kirk and McCoy are working out last-minute strategies. Spock is doing the same thing you are. In a few minutes you'll speak with your mentors a last time. I'll get you dressed and the Games start at ten," Jove informed her, looking down at his cereal, stirring it with his spoon.
After a few minutes of Uhura picking at her food, attempting to eat, and the two of them sitting in awkward silence, Jove pushed back from the table.
"Ready?" he asked. Uhura just nodded. Her stylist led her to a room where Captain Kirk and Doctor McCoy were sitting, fiddling with their pens and paper. Kirk stood up once Uhura entered. The three looked at each other for a moment.
"Okay. Last advice?" Uhura made herself sound nonchalant.
"Yes. You and Spock will be working together. Make sure you don't ally with anyone who will stab you in the back. Grab whatever you can at the Cornucopia but then get out. Find Spock and water. Stick together. Don't go anywhere alone. That's mostly how people get hurt," Kirk finished.
"Anything else?"
Doctor McCoy cleared his throat as it had tightened up, "No. Good luck Nyota." She nodded.
"Hope to see you again. Tutaonana." And with that, Uhura left. Spock, dressed in the arena clothes, waited with Makaria outside.
"Live long and prosper Lieutenant," he said solemnly.
"And to you Spock."
0o0o
Jove ripped open the brown cardboard box tied with cream string to reveal Uhura's clothes in the arena. The first item Jove pulled out was a short-sleeved maroon tunic. Also in the box were fairly sturdy gray capri pants, white underclothes, and black, calf-high, running boots.
"Good. Good shoes. Those are important. Often they make sure those are included but not always. One year they threw in the tributes without any shoes! These clothes seem to be made for warm and sunny or hot weather but that hardly gives any clue as to the terrain. Overall, it seems to be a pretty good outfit. These things won't fall apart on you easily," Jove analyzed, "It's a good thing you have short hair; long hair can sometimes get in the way and they haven't included a holder."
Uhura dressed quickly.
"When the call comes I'll point you to the launch plate. Does everything fit?" Uhura's answer was interrupted by a happy female voice.
"It is time to report for launch. Please have your arena clothes on. No regular clothes allowed. Thank you and may the odds be ever in your favor," the recording said in an adult-talking-to-baby voice.
Jove showed Uhura to a metal disk in the corner of the Launch Room.
"Good luck. A word of advice, find food right after you find water. There's a reason this is called the Hunger Games, not the Killing Games," Jove said. There was nothing Uhura could do but nod sharply. She was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she might scream. Or worse, not be able to do anything.
"Ready?" the same female voice said, "Launching in ten… nine…"
"Oh! One last thing. Uhura, always look behind you," Jove said, his eyes serious.
Uhura nodded again.
"Thank you," she managed to get out. Jove pressed his three middle fingers on his left hand and reached them out to the lieutenant. A glass tube descended from the ceiling and the disk rose, taking Uhura up to the Hunger Games. Dazzling sunlight glinted off the Cornucopia. After adjusting to going up in the dark shaft, Uhura could barely see. All she could tell was that the air was warm around her and the sun beat down. Hard. Claudius Templesmith cleared his throat on the speaker, causing it to whine.
"Ladies and gentlemen, let the 124th Hunger Games… begin!"