Girlfriends, Part Three
The next morning, she's just beginning to wake when something rocks the ship. In a smooth blur of movement, Spock drops a kiss on her shoulder, eases her body off of his own, gets ready and dressed, and heads out the door. She hasn't even realized what's happened until he's gone: It's taken him three minutes, tops. His part of the bed stays warm; and although a tiny part of her brain is telling her to hurry, hurry, the majority suggests it might be good for her to lie still and actually wake up, first, before she manages to accidently do something stupid.
Fifteen minutes later, she makes it to the Bridge. Well, seventeen-and-a-half, really - but who's counting? Commander Spock and the Captain are deep in conference, standing half-way between the Science Station and the Command Chair. The Captain looks a little rumpled. They are talking in an undertone, and it's obvious that something is up – and that they don't quite agree.
Uhura keeps her eyes averted from them, and steps to her own station. It isn't until she taps the person working there on the shoulder - and he turns with a look of surprise – that she realizes she's more than two hours early for her shift.
Oh, well. Too late now.
As she takes a seat and plugs in her earpiece, she tells herself that, surely, that's not so odd: The First Officer and the Captain both responded at the first sign of something unusual: Surely – logically - the Communications Officer might do so, too?
The Captain and Mr. Spock finish their conference. They turn toward her, and the Captain draws breath; but she reads him before he can speak. She is already calling for someone to man the Science Station. She nods as he finishes his orders, and she follows them promptly, without comment. It is only afterward that she pauses to reflect that, clearly, Spock won this one: The First Officer will lead the boarding party, and the Captain will remain safely on the Enterprise.
Sometimes she wishes he didn't always pose such logical arguments.
Moments later, Spock is standing at his station, next to hers, synching a tricorder with the latest information they have been able to glean from the craft that fired upon them.
He has told the Captain that he believes it is automated, un-manned, and has suggested both place and date of origin.
She is, once again, amazed at how much information he has been able to not only read, but extrapolate from the readings, in such a short period of time.
He knows exactly how loudly he needs to speak for her to hear him clearly, as he lists personnel to be notified, equipment to be readied, information to be disseminated - and to whom. She keeps her eyes on him, and nods to let him know that she hears him, even as her voice is relaying some of what he says, and her hands the rest.
His hands are busy, too: He's issuing his own instructions to the various Departments in the Science Section.
When she's done, she waits for further orders; she listens, meanwhile, to confirmations coming in.
When he looks up again, she relays the confirmations. He nods, and his voice is cool and even as he says, "Thank you, Lieutenant," but the "Uhura" he adds may be slightly warmer. Only she would hear the difference.
And it's the only 'good-bye' she gets.
When Spock and the team beam away, she is glued to her chair. She has put a relief on standby, but she intends to stay.
The Captain returns from the Transporter Room, striding rapidly toward his seat, already asking for a report. He stops at the side of the chair, before stepping up; and turns to face her. She smiles in sympathy, and shakes her head: Nothing, yet.
He nods, steps up, sits.
He's about to ask again, when the first word comes from the team away on the other ship. As she's answering, she turns to nod at the Captain. He indicates that she should patch it through to him, and she does.
The Captain doesn't do anything to signify that the conversation is private, so Uhura doesn't feel too badly about listening in. In fact, after the initial report is received, Kirk raises his voice a little, so that they all can easily hear. She continues to monitor the other communicator frequencies, but there is nothing; and she can still focus on Spock's voice.
She tells herself he sounds okay. His voice is cool, level. A little part of her brain wonders when it isn't. Another part sounds like Gaila: It answers wildly inappropriately… and she shakes off the brain-voices, and much of her tension with them.
Spock sounds okay.
When the conference is concluded, she efficiently flips through the other frequencies one after another, the ship's comm sensors tuning in on each one sharper with each pass. It's become a habit through long repetition, and, listening, she can almost calculate the likelihood of something coming through. She checks the background noise, incoming channels – switch, switch, switch.
The Science Officer is sending information, now, in a feed directly to her station. She reports this to the Captain; and Hannity takes over the other frequencies.
Uhura focuses on Spock, and the work he has sent for her.
The Captain steps down to see what she's got. Some of it doesn't look perfectly straightforward: She sends part of it down to Cryptography, and concentrates on the rest.
There is some noise on Spock's background feed. It does not sound good. She pauses to focus, but there is nothing direct. Jim can tell that she's listening: After a moment, he rests his hand on her shoulder, squeezes gently. When she glances 'round and shakes her head, an unspoken 'No, sir, nothing,' he removes his hand with a last little pat.
He steps away, his hands behind his back.
She is still working on the translation when Commander Spock requests the assistance of Chief Engineer Scott, and Emerson from the Chemistry Department.
She tells the Captain, passes on his orders, notifies Spock. She calls him, again, when she knows they are on their way.
His voice is cool, unhurried – not quite what she had expected it to be.
Cryptography deciphers what was given them, and it correlates well with what Uhura had concluded. She informs the Captain of those findings, and sends them to Commander Spock. When she finishes the translation, she sends that, too.
The Commander issues a status report. She relays it to the Captain, sends his response.
Routine.
Routine in a crisis – but still, just routine.
After that, it is a matter of waiting.
She tries not to wonder what he – what they - could be doing.
At lunchtime, she shakes her head when the Captain asks if she needs a break. She is still listening to Spock's frequency, as well as intermittently running through background and standard channels. She has been trying to trace back through this craft's probable travel path, as well, in case there is anything to be found there.
Half an hour later, more or less, she feels a hand on her shoulder. With her fingertips on her earpiece, she glances back to see the Captain standing there. He smiles, just a little, and nods toward the starboard doors. "C'mon, Lieutenant. Time for lunch," he says.
She starts to protest, but then nods and calls for her relief.
The Captain smiles again, and this time he looks relieved, as though he'd been preparing for a fight. He squeezes her shoulder once more before going over to have a word with Sulu.
When her relief comes, she stands, and stretches. She hadn't realized how tense her neck is until she turns to look for Kirk. He passes the con to Sulu, and she moves with him toward the corridor doors. He stands aside to let her precede him – as Spock has done, a thousand times.
Jim's smiling, a little, as she passes him: She can tell he's trying to be relaxed, take this in stride. He's being the perfect Captain Kirk.
They head to the Officers' Mess. (He lets her set the pace, easily matching her, step-for-step.)
As they move down the corridor, she expects him to ask about the translation, about her impressions – about anything.
He doesn't.
Once inside, they grab trays; and looking at the order-processing equipment, Uhura has a hard time deciding what she wants. She stands looking at the equipment far longer than she should; and decides, more-or-less at random, when the man beside her shifts his weight. The two of them find a small table; and they sit, and start to eat. She wonders how Spock is doing, over there; and part of her mind starts to wonder whether he's hungry - when the rest of it very sensibly says 'No, of course he's not.' She hopes he's being careful, and her sensible brain sniffs, 'Of course he is.'
She looks up to see Jim watching her. He takes another bite and finishes it before saying, "I imagine that's hard."
She looks around, and swallows; answers before the silence becomes too obvious. "Excuse me?"
He shrugs a little, and looks away. "I was just thinking it must be really hard, if there's somebody you care about - you know, off-ship doing whatever." His voice is very casual.
Poor Jim.
Like it was yesterday, she can hear Gaila saying, so earnestly, "C'mon, Nyota, you have to go for it now." The Orion girl had reached over and adjusted Uhura's neckline – pulling the zipper a little lower, flaring the collar out wide to frame her throat and collarbones. "You never know when you'll get a chance again." Friendly, eager hands had reached to release her hair… "You do realize, don't you, that he's a Starfleet officer? Like, a real one? When he doesn't show up for a lecture, and he's suddenly gone – He's on a super-secret mission somewhere. You know that, right?"
And Uhura had nodded, and been irritated, batting those hands away. "Yes, Gaila, you're a big help," she had said sarcastically, "I get it: Commander Spock is in Starfleet. Thanks."
But she hadn't known, not really; and now she doesn't have Gaila to tell, when he is injured - or to cry to, when she is terrified that this time he might not come home…
She takes a sip of her drink and is glad to note that her hand isn't shaking too obviously. Her voice is reasonably even, "Yes, sir. I suppose that must be difficult."
Jim nods, and glances at her another second, before leaning back with elaborate carelessness and propping his feet on the other chair there. "Of course - me - they all know I'm worried, right?"
All she can do is look at him.
He's nodding again, and his tone is still that deliberately casual one. "Yeah, I'm the Captain: Everyone is my responsibility, so I get to be worried, all the time." Blue, blue eyes look deep into hers for a moment, before he blinks, and looks away. "But I think that must be different. I mean, it's not that one person – you know, that one person – who matters. It's everybody. Right?"
A few months ago, this little speech would have made her want to strangle him. But, now, in spite of that casual tone, the arrogant words, the backhanded commiseration, she knows he's really trying to tell her something, something that matters.
She says nothing.
He puts his feet flat on the floor and picks up his drink. He's leaning toward her. "Because I'm the Captain," he salutes her, a little, with the glass, takes a hearty arrogant swig, "it's allowed: The whole crew knows."
She can't say any of the things she's thinking; but she's glad, anyway, that he made her come for lunch.
They are in the Starboard corridor, ten meters from the Bridge doors, when he pauses, turning to her, his body awkward. "Most of the crew don't know which of the people on this ship really matter to me... I mean, they all matter, as people, but I can't get too involved, you know?" He's looking very uncomfortable; and she wants to hug him, and tell him she really does understand.
But, of course, she won't. She can't.
He glances at her face, then back at the toe of his right boot. "…but sometimes I think it just must be easier."
She's looking at his right boot, too, but finally raises her eyes to his. "I think that must be very hard." Looking into his vulnerable eyes, she blinks – and is horrified to feel her own start to fill. She stares up at the ceiling, blinking repeatedly. She sighs - at least, in part, in exasperation.
When she can safely look at him, she does. She smiles. "Thanks, Captain," she says.
He smiles, too, and shrugs that familiar Jim Kirk shrug. "No problem, Lieutenant. Gotta feed the lady who's gonna bring back my First Officer."
She nods, and they walk up the corridor. He starts talking again, just before the doors 'swoosh' open. "Gotta get you back to monitoring frequencies."
She laughs the tiniest bit – just an exhale with a smile. "Yes, sir," she says. She feels his hand grasp her elbow just for a second before he moves off to take the Command Chair from Sulu and to receive the latest status report.
She taps her relief on the shoulder and reaches for her earpiece.