The fast paced and bold tones of Beethoven's Ode To Joy blared victoriously from the motel room's speakers. The volume was turned to its highest setting, the static and worn notes of the century old piece of music pulsing and pressing insistently against the wire mesh speakers.
The room was small, a simple unsymmetrical square furnished with only the basic necessities. A small slender bed pressed against the furthest corner of the room, almost unnoticeable behind a thin plaster wall.
A worn sofa lay pressed horizontally against the plaster wall, the cushions stained a dark green within the glow given by the five large computer screens placed strategically on the living room table.
A man stood in front of the computer screens. His entire body moving and twisting in sync with the music that filled the room. His arms rose high above him as the tempo increased, falling downwards rapidly as the drawn out notes hit their peak.
On two of the brightly lit screens before him, a recorded video played on loop. The angle of the footage had been recorded from a high viewpoint, pointed at a slight bend towards several clustered tables and a large expanse of white wall. The multi-colored uniforms of star fleet cadets filled most of the screen. They sat in small groups around tables, or walking in and out of view of the camera.
The recording device had been turned from its original line of sight. Usually the camera faced the main doorways - the area of the canteen that experienced the most human traffic during the day. The heads of Star Fleet security had noticed this change, but had not thought it was important. They did not pay much attention to the goings on in the eatery. After all, there were more important areas to keep under observation upon the academy grounds.
Had those same security officers decided to investigate the change of the camera's position, then perhaps the following events of that day would not have happened. After all, the initiator of those events would not have found his deliberate carnage as satisfying if he had not been able to see it happening.
The recorded video had been looped at a certain moment. Standing in front of a certain section of the wall, a young woman with a long dark braid was the focus of the video. Her frame partially blocked the machine in front of her, yet it was evident from her posture that she was agitated. She stood straight, her spine perfectly in line as she spoke silently. One hand hung at her side, the other pressing a single thumb forcefully against a flashing button. The clear yet static image flickered slightly, the tables and colorful shirts becoming ever so slightly contorted.
Once more, the woman spoke out her order – the hand that hung beside her curling into a fist. The image contorted again, before the woman moved forwards. The palm of her hand colliding with the sensitive buttons adorning the partially hidden food dispenser.
Even through the distance lens of the camera, the results of her violent action were visible. The replicator sparked, shown as nothing more than a sudden flash of white light upon the screen. The accompanying smoke was invisible, yet it was obvious by the startled step backward the woman took that something was very wrong.
The cadets began to panic. Some running from the hall out of the view of the camera, others leaving at a slower pace.
And then the video disappeared. The screen became engulfed in smoke – before the camera shut off completely, only to reappear with the smallest of glitches. The red-clad back of Nyota Uhura once again in view.
The music faded into silence from the in built speakers. Still standing next to his computer consoles, Bado let out a deep relaxed sigh.
It was almost pathetic how easily his plan had worked. Hacking into Star Fleet was becoming something of habit. An easy and humorous habit.
Obtaining a digital copy of Uhura's fingerprint was child's play. The dactylogram recognition system that the academy used to identify and allow access to certain areas, was both the organization's biggest defense and most idiotic weakness. If he so wanted to, he could waltz happily right into the academy most private areas. None would stop him. No one would even know he was there.
The federation should consider themselves lucky he was on their side. Once they accepted his application and Uhura's permanently removed, he would bring the obvious breaches in their security to their attention. His actions may seem extreme at first, but as soon as the academy realised how much they needed him, Uhura's 'disappearance' would be considered collateral damage.
This he was sure of.
Relaxed and calm, Bado leant forwards to pick up the touch-screen remote has had placed on the table. Looking through the available options for a moment, he pressed his index finger against a small button. Within seconds, the bold tones of Prokofiev's Dance of the Knights filled the room.
It had been a productive three and half months. He had been forced to wait until Uhura had started her first term to set his plans in motions. Of course, he had also had to wait for her to start submitting essays. She was an exceptional student, that he would admit.
Her written work was precise and very well structured. Her understanding of languages was also highly impressive. It really was a pity she was such a harlot...
Rewriting her essays was a surprisingly enjoyable task. He had intentionally made only small mistakes. Errors that could be missed by the less observant, but noted and frowned upon by others. To an outsider, it would seem as though the stress of the academy was effecting her – thus resulting in a drop in the standard of her work. He had hoped she would remove herself voluntarily from the academy, or perhaps have the suggestion recommended by the campus psychologist.
All he had to do was wait.
Then her submitted work had completely disappeared. No trace of it could be found within the main servers. She had even stopped using her student login on the academy's computers.
Bado has searched desperately for her within the system. He knew she was still on campus. He had seen her, hurrying across the grounds.
He had even passed her, twice, and the stupid bitch hadn't even noticed.
It had taken him three days to realise why he no could no longer access her work. Someone (Bado had a very good idea who this 'someone' was) had erected a virtual wall around Nyota Uhura. This wall was impenetrable, even with his skills. As soon as he thought he had maneuvered past the obstacle, another barrier would appear - stronger than the last. Whomever had put this guard around her was a highly skilled individual. And a fucking irritating one.
He had been left no choice but to become violent. Yet, he had to be careful.
For over a week, Bado had followed Uhura around the campus. Memorising her habits, the times of her lectures and the most important – when and where she took her lunch breaks.
He realised she had a pattern. On Mondays and Wednesdays she would eat her lunch alone in the small quad that sat behind the long-range communications laboratory. Tuesdays she would not eat on campus at all. She would skip the midday lunch break and dine at a restaurant after lecture hours with her green-skinned friend. Thursdays and Fridays were spent in the campus canteen.
On Thursday, he had donned the uniform of a maintenance crew member and simply walked into the canteen before the midday rush. There had been two members of staff present at that time. They had not even blinked an eye when he had removed the replicator from the wall and hidden the small compact explosive inside. He had then programmed the machine to recognise Uhura's fingerprint, hiding a small PADD inside a compartment at the back of the replicator to make sure the software identified Uhura correctly.
The explosives would not ignite if another used the dispenser. He really did not want to kill his futures classmates. It would not be a good first impression now would it?
Scoffing lightly at his own thoughts, Bado lowered himself into a seated position, starting at the monitors in front of him. The three remaining screens were broadcasting a live feed. The canteen itself was nothing but a black expanse, yet the automated clock on the bottom left of the screen assured him the camera was still operational.
The monitor directly opposite him was positioned at the end of the wide corridor that lead to the canteen. This was filled with the running and writhing bodies of cadets and officials trying to vacate the area. Or perhaps they were trying to help those still inside? It was a little difficult to tell.
A flash of white and grey caught his eye.
Frowning, Bado leant forwards – staring intently at the animated display. A tall figure dressed in the grey uniform of a lecturer was pushing itself through the crowd. Tall, pale skinned, dark hair.
A feral growl ripped from Bado's throat.
"NO!"
Snapping his head to the right, Bado leaned very close to the monitor that balanced precariously on the edge of the table. On the screen, a slouched form was slightly visible. The vivid red of her uniform clearly perceivable through the smoke. This camera was his own. A small wireless device he had planted upon the edge of a circular light fixture, almost directly opposite the small table he knew Uhura always chose when she was in the canteen.
She was leant over a body. Gender and age indiscernible. Her arms were wrapped around the unconscious stranger's head, one of her hands placed over his or her mouth. As Bado watched, Uhura's back began to heave. She was coughing, violently. She had inhaled too much of the smoke. It would be only minutes before she died. Or at least passed out.
Growling, Bado turned back towards the middle screen.
The Vulcan stood in the doorway of the canteen. Unperturbed by the bodies rushing past him. His eyes were focused upon the smouldering blackness inside the eatery. Bado knew that Vulcan eyesight was far superior to humans, but it was impossible, even for Spock to know where she was... wasn't it?
Bado snarled in frustration, his fist flying forwards to collide with a shattering force against the computer monitor. His fist went through the thin screen with a hissing crack, emerging on the other side bloodied and cut, wires straining against his knuckles and cutting harsh dents into his skin. The other three screens popped, seemingly in surprise, before they too lost power.
That green blooded bastard was making things difficult for him. He had saved Uhura in Kitui. Bado was positive the Vulcan was also responsible for the god damned virtual guard around her too. Now he planned to swoop in and rescue the girl again?
No...he had far too much at stake for this not to work! Nyota Uhura was going to die in that canteen. Even if he had to go there and choke the life out of her himself.
"Somebody HELP!"
The scream echoed. Bouncing from unseen wall to unseen wall. A desperate plea from somewhere in the middle of an impenetrable wall of black and smoke.
Spock had only intended to assess the situation. Should any cadets be trapped inside the canteen, it would be a foolish and possibly life threatening option to attempt to retrieve them. There were Star Fleet protocols to follow. It was the duty of senior personnel to cordon off the area, make sure emergency and medical staff would be able to easily reach any injured individuals with the minimal amount of delay.
Fortunately, only 38% of the overall mass of students remained in the hallway. Many were supporting their classmates, forcefully removing them from the canteen.
Spock stood in the center of the main doors, his eyes narrowed and calculating as he looked carefully at the writhing wall of smoke. A dark shape blurred into focus - a tall and staggering silhouette.
Spock took a large step to the left, almost leaning against the door frame as the uneven shape stumbled closer. It was a male. He had the limp form of a woman in his arms. As they came into view, Spock recognised the female as Cadet Galia – Uhura's Orion room-mate. Her skin was almost black with smoke, her hair slightly singed and clinging to her face.
The pair stumbled passed him, the male almost losing his footing. As they passed, Gaila's eyes slowly slid open, her breathing heavy and labored. She focused upon him, and her arm snapped outwards to grip hold of Spock's sleeve.
"Commander...she's still in there!" The woman wheezed. Her eyes had widened, desperate as they filled with tears. Spock looked at her impassively, before gently removing her hand from his clothing. He looked at the exhausted male cadet.
"Are you able to take her to the medical wing?" He asked carefully. The cadet wheezed and nodded. He took a heavy step forwards, and his knees buckled. Spock moved to catch him. Despite his aversion to physical contact, it would be illogical to allow the two students to endure further harm whilst he was physically capable of supporting them.
An older man dressed in the deep blue uniform of a medical trainee suddenly lunged into view, his arms outstretched. The male cadet fell into them, Gaila almost crushed between the two men.
"I've got you Jim. C'mon lad, stand up," The newcomer said quietly. Spock stepped away from the trio, and turned towards the canteen once more. The two injured students were in capable hands.
"Commander..." Galia's voice wheezed from behind him. Spock turned to glance over his shoulder. She now stood weakly next to the medical student, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist.
"It wasn't an accident...I was watching and-" Her sentence was cut of by a violent cough, her entire body shaking with effort. Spock frowned slightly, eyebrow raised.
He said nothing however, inclining his head slightly.
"She requires immediate medical attention" He said, looking towards the medical student. The man let out a strange noise, his face contorting. He had the male cadet's arms wrapped around his shoulder, trying to support his weight and keep Galia upright at the same time.
"Thanks for that Commander...I would never have gue-"
"SPOCK!"
The desperate scream had varied effects upon the individuals who stood in canteen doorway. Gaila gasped, her hand reaching towards the smoke filled room. She stepped forwards weakly – only to be pulled backwards by the medic. The male cadet whipped his head violently towards the direction of the scream, his eyes wide with shock.
Spock moved without any conscious thought. The strained notes of her cry had not yet left the air, yet his entire body had already taken three wide steps into the burning smoke.
Spock forced himself to a stop, pulling against the muscles in his legs.
His actions were illogical. The situation had not changed...he already knew Cadet Uhura was inside the canteen. Gaila had confirmed this – even though the 'she' the Orion cadet had mentioned not been personally identified.
His familiarity with Uhura should not have any effect upon his behavior. Admittedly, he was more aware of her presence and achievements within his classroom – this simply because of her remarkable adaptation to alien languages.
As he observed the swirling darkness around him, a peculiar tugging began from the vicinity of his heart. It was a sensation he was familiar with. Concern. His concern for the cadet's well being was attempting to override logic and force him to act rashly.
It was not his responsibility to initiate search and rescue within the canteen, yet he knew that extended exposure to the possible toxic smoke would result in her death.
This he would not allow.
Holding himself still, Spock thought carefully. Given the amount of time that had passed since the initial explosion, it was probable Uhura was now unconscious. If she was not, then her mental state would be considerably weakened. She would be terrified.
A soft memory focused in the center of his mind. Uhura's terror filled eyes looking at him, her face smeared and filthy with grass and mud. The sheer intensity of her emotions, flowing through him from her cold skin.
Those memories were old, yet he felt her fear as clearly as though he still had his hand wrapped around her wrist.
...Find me...please...
"Commander Spock!"
Paying no attention to the startled shout behind him, Spock rushed forwards, disappearing into the dense smog.
His back bent, frame crouched as he moved. He kept his eyes open (his secondary eyelids protecting his vision from the harmful vapor). He knew where she was. Huddled against a wall 7.8 feet away from his current location. How he knew this, he did not allow himself the luxury to ponder upon.
Her slouched silhouette faded into view, bent over the body of an unidentifiable human. Spock closed the distance between them at a brisk jog.
Stopping next to her side, he lowered himself until he was crouched beside her.
"Cadet Uhura" He spoke her name clearly, placing one hand upon her back. He felt the muscles underneath her uniform stiffen slightly, and her breathing increased in tempo.
"Spock?"
Her whispered question emerged as a gasp. Keeping his hand on her back, Spock leaned forwards to place two fingers against the neck of the unmoving cadet lying upon Uhura's lap.
There was no pulse.
Frowning, Spock pressed his fingers more firmly against the unresponsive vein. He slightly raised the telepathic block his had erected around his mind – trying to find any evidence of conscious brainwaves within the man's mind. There were none.
He was dead.
Internally cursing, Spock removed his fingers and focused upon Uhura. Given her position, it seemed likely that she had refused to leave the male cadet's side. Her left hand was placed limply over his mouth and nose, as if she had been attempting to use her own skin as a mask against the smoke.
They did not have time to remain here. He needed to move her. Quickly scanning what was visible of her body, Spock concluded she did not have any restricting injuries, such as burns or broken bones. He was familiar with her weight (having carried her once before). It would require no effort on his part to physically remove her from the canteen.
Moving forwards, his back angled slightly against the painful heat washing over them, Spock slid his hand from her back to her shoulder, applying a gentle pressure.
"Cadet, we must evacuate immediately"
Her head began to rise. Slowly. Head turning until her glazed eyes focused upon him. For a few elongated seconds, her eyes connected with his.
They were distant, clouded and uncertain.
Lowering his weight until he balanced upon one knee, Spock gently placed his fingers under her chin, tilting her head upwards.
"Are you injured?" He said slowly. Those brown eyes focused upon his face, and behind the stained and burnt material covering the lower half of her face, her mouth dropped open.
"You came..." She gasped.
Spock nodded slowly, and leaned backwards onto his heel. He removed his hand from her shoulder and offered it to her, intending to pull her to her feet.
Uhura continued to look at him with wide eyes, tears spilling freely down her face.
"Cadet, we really must leave" Spock said, his voice showing only a minimal amount of haste. Uhura lowered her gaze to the offered hand before once more fixing her eyes upon him.
Something seemed to click within her mind, and her body gave a sudden shudder. Her eyes clamped shut for a precious second. When they opened, the passionate brown gaze he had become accustomed to stared back at him. Her hand slid onto his, fingers wrapping around the skin on his wrist.
With his shield slightly raised, her emotions once more invaded his mind. Yet it was not terror that assaulted him. It was guilt.
Pure and unadulterated guilt.
A few feet away from them, an overturned table ignited – the heat emerging from the replicator so extreme the plastic coverings on the nearby furniture melting onto the tiled ground. Pulling his mental walls firmly together, Spock wrapped his fingers around Uhura wrist and pulled her to her feet, tugging her towards him and bending to slip his arm under her knees in the same movement.
She gave a startled gasp, her arms gripping hold of his shoulders reflexively. Spock turned, walking quickly in the direction of the doorway.
"Wait, what about him?" Uhura asked, her position allowing her to look over his shoulder, her gaze fixed upon the body of the male cadet. Spock did not alter his pace.
"He is dead" He said simply. Skirting around the facts would not benefit their situation. There was nothing he could do to for the male cadet. His body would be retrieved when the area was announced safe and cleared. Once a full investigation had been launched, he would be given a honorable burial.
"I tried to save him..." Uhura whimpered, her face pressing into the hollow of his neck.
"...I really tried"
Her sadness washed over him. Her pity, her grief. Even with his shields shut as tightly as he was able, he could still feel her. A strengthening string of gold reaching from his mind to connect with hers.
Spock forced that link to the furthest part of his mind. His pace quickening as the wide doors of the canteen bloomed into view.
His sudden appearance from within the smoke caused a small moment of panic among the several star fleet personnel filling the doorway. Many of them stepped backwards in alarm, some calling out or hurrying away to find medical assistance.
The dark haired trainee who had assisted Gaila and the other male cadet stepped forwards. A small circular scanner held in his hand. This scanner moved along Uhura's body quickly, bleeping and flashing slowly as it brushed over her skin.
"Nothing broken. But her lungs seem in pretty bad shape. Pass her over to one of the lads down the hall. Nice heroics Commander" The man said wryly. His eyebrow raising as he took a step backwards, his attention already focused upon the medical bag attached to his hip. Uhura's fingers curled around the shoulder of his uniform, wrapping around the fabric tightly.
Spock titled his head to look at what was visible of her face. Her eyes were tightly shut, breathing heavy and labored. Handing her over to the nearest medical officer would be the quickest way to ensuring her recovery. However, given the stiffening of her body when the suggestion had been made, it was clear she wished to remain with him.
It would not be an inconvenience for him to take her to the medical wing himself. Yet her refusal was illogical. He was not trained within the medical profession, his presence would not quicken her recovery. His presence would offer her emotional support...
When they passed the row of medical staff lined along the walls, Spock did not stop. His grip on her frame tightened slightly as they turned to avoid the bodies of those rushing past them. His left arm raising to pull her torso more firmly against his chest - making sure she was not jarred or accidentally hit as they made their way down the long corridor.
"Spock" Uhura's voice was quiet against his neck. He inclined his head slightly to indicate he was listening.
Her hand reached upward, fingertips gliding across his skin until she cupped the side of his face. Startled, Spock slowed to a stop, head turned and eyebrows raised. He felt a surge of uncertainty and hesitation from the woman in his arms, before she pulled herself upright and placed a soft yet firm kiss upon his cheek.
"Thank you"
AN: Fluffiness! Oh god, get it off! Get it off! Its clinging to me...get back you feels inducing pile of spyota-ness! Ugh...Where on earth had that come from? I wanted drama, terror, desperateness!
As usual my hands refuse to listen, and I shower you all in glitter. X(
I keep forgetting previous chapters...the interaction that Spock and Uhura have already had. I hope im managing to keep up with the flow of their relationship – although I do think this chapter has given that relationship a purposeful kick up the butt, don't you agree?