To be honest, I'm not too thrilled with how this chapter came out. I think the other chapters were stronger. Hopefully, you lovely readers will enjoy it regardless.

Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek. Also, I do not own the dialogue used in Lieutenant. That was taken (albeit, abridged) from the novelization of the movie.

Lieutenant Nyota Uhura

Names, once they are in common use, quickly become mere sounds,
their etymology being buried, like so many of the earth's marvels,
beneath the dust of habit.
-Salman Rushdie

Everyone calls her Lieutenant.

She wasn't supposed to be on the Enterprise.

"Was I not one of your top students?"

"Indeed you were."

"And did I not, on multiple occasions, make it clear that my dream and the reasons behind four years of hard work was to serve on the Enterprise?"

"Vociferously and repeatedly, perhaps even to the point of obsession. Your ability to communicate in that regard was the equal of any of your classroom efforts."

"And yet I was assigned to the Farragut?"

"I was simply trying to avoid the appearance of favoritism."

"I'm on the Enterprise."

"Yes, I believe you are."

She wasn't even supposed to be on the Bridge.

"What about you? Can you speak Romulan, Cadet…"

"Uhura. All three dialects, sir."

"…Uhura, relieve the lieutenant."

"Yes, sir."

When the Enterprise dropped out of warp, debris littered the dark space, suspended ghostly in a standstill manner. The obliteration had been so thorough that none of the floating pieces could be distinguished from one another. It was childish to think so, but Uhura could not help but feel as though every piece had been blasted from the Farragut.

She wasn't supposed to be alive. But she was.

Even months after the tragedy, she acted with a sense of professionalism unparallel to anyone else. She threw herself into her translations and transmissions, working later hours than nearly anyone on the ship, on the Bridge. Unlike her co-workers and friends, she did not bring food to the Bridge for fear of crumbs settling under her keyboard. She refused to allow herself even a glance at Spock, too focused on watching her screen for any new transmissions.

She had worked her entire life to be in space, had aspired to be on the Enterprise for years, and had narrowly escaped death to do so. She had no choice but to work hard enough to convince herself that she was worth the saving.

Kirk calls her Betsy-Lou.

"Hey, Mary!"

Uhura cringed, hearing Kirk before she saw him. He came up behind her at the desk she sat at, and his grinning face filled her vision.

Uhura said nothing.

"Okay, it's not Mary then. That's too common anyway. And you are clearly not a common woman," Kirk flirted annoyingly. He paused for a moment, thinking, before carrying on annoyingly. "Anastasia? Like the princess? You look like you could be royalty." His voice adopted a silky tone, one he clearly thought to be seductive.

Uhura said nothing. Seriously, why would she be named after a Russian princess?

"No? Alright. Juliet! Isn't that who all girls want to be? The most famous of all females! And reportedly, the most lovely as well." His eyebrows waggled.

Uhura said nothing. Not all girls want to be the fourteen year-old silly girl who kills herself unnecessarily for some boy who claims to love her.

"Too English? Too Shakespearian?" Kirk questioned, although even he by now knew she wasn't going to answer. "Something African then. Is your name Penda? It means loved, I looked it up." He spoke like a five year old who just learned how to read a new word and wants attention for his success.

Uhura said nothing. And actually, it means beloved. So he is, once again, wrong.

Silence followed for a few moments before he leaned in closer to her cheek, his breath hot against her skin.

"Rumpelstiltskin?"

Uhura said nothing, but spared him her most dangerous glare.

"No, too long," Kirk remarked, clearly unfazed by her deathly glower. "Well, Betsy-Lou, I'm never gonna give up until you tell me. And eventually, I always get what I want." His face was still too close to hers as she finally whipped around to stare at him.

"Oh, my God, Kirk! Betsy-Lou? Really?" She was going to kill him.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have a reaction!" Kirk threw his arms up victoriously, a cocky grin annoying spread across his face. His blue eyes sparkled as he winked at her.

"Until next time, Betsy-Lou," he drawled, drawing out the vowels.

Uhura said nothing.

Chekov calls her zolotoi.

She spoke Orion with Gaila.

She spoke Vulcan with Spock.

She spoke French with Christine Chapel.

The best way to learn a language is to speak with a native. They teach the proper pronunciation, the inflection, and the subtle nuances between dialogues. It was a common practice for Uhura to seek out others who were bi- or trilingual in order to further her own xenolinguistic knowledge.

Ensign Chekov was more than happy to oblige, often indulging her in everyday conversation while speaking in fluid Russian. Uhura quickly found him to be cheerful and engaging, and their conversations soon expanded beyond Russian-based topics. They shared opinions and stories from their childhood. She would tell him the latest gossip she had heard from Christine as he rolled his eyes at her girlishness.

When she learned that his sisters called him lapochka, she laughed gleefully and immediately began addressing him as such regardless of his halfhearted pleas for her to desist. The nickname soon lost its teasing quality and became one of genuine affection.

In return, he began to call her zolotoi. Unsure of its exact meaning in his native dialect, she asked him to translate. His grin brightened as he brushed her comment aside, telling her it meant friend.

But something in his wide eyes made her suspicious, though she could not put a finger on it. Had his face tightened when she asked the meaning? Had he licked his upper lip just to moisten it or out of a nervous habit? Was that relief flickering across his face when she wordlessly accepted his translation? Months with Spock had taught her to catch shifting degrees of expression.

Searching through her computer's database, she soon realized that friend was not its proper translation. Zolotoi meant precious, and when directly translated, gold. More than a term of endearment between friends, it was meant for someone whom one cared for deeply.

Scotty calls her lass.

He had dirt under his fingernails. It was the twenty-third century and they were in space. How could he possibly have dirt under his fingernails?

This was not a mark against his character, something that warned her against him. She had never been a girly-girl and was not at all offended or appalled. If anything, it greatly interested her. Uhura would glance down at her own nails: long, tapered, manicured with black nail polish.

When he caught her looking too closely at his hand one time, she did not respond with embarrassment, nor did he respond defensively. She only asked him how on Earth he could have dirt under his nails when they hadn't had shore leave in weeks.

"Well, o' course there's dirt, lass," he exclaimed amusedly. "Been workin' on th' Enterprise. She's been havin' a bit o' ah problem. Her pipes were greasy, and ah had to handle all those slippery bits me self."

If Kirk had ever spoken that way, she would have smacked him in honor of all womankind. But Scotty was sincere, and there was something highly endearing about his dedication to the ship. She can understand that sort of adoration and devotion for the Enterprise.

After that, Scotty and Uhura bonded over their shared (almost borderline obsessive) love for the Enterprise. He even taught her the basics of repairing minor problems in the tubes until she had the same amount of dirt and grease under her own painted nails.

"Aye, lass, you got ah bit o' smudge there," he informed her, tossing over a spare semi-clean cloth. She wiped away gently at the line of dirty that she had trailed across.

"Thanks, Monty," she told him warmly. "You know, my friends call me Uhura."

"Ah, no," he said without moving away from the pipes laid out before him. "You're ah lady. An' ladies are lasses."

He did not look away from the Enterprise's Jefferies tubes to see the happy smile that quickly spread across her still dirt-smudged face.

Her family calls her Nyota. Spock calls her Nyota.

Nyota. Star.

Considering her life passion, it was a fitting name. Such a shame that she hated it.

Begrudgingly, she allowed her parents to call her Nyota. They were, after all, her parents and in charge of whether or not she could eat dessert after dinner. Her family could call her Nyota, but that was it.

It was bland. She knew at least four Nyotas off the top of her head. Yes, it had a pretty meaning, but it was just so cliché.

That all changed when she met Spock. She had dreams that his deep voice could even make her name sound special.

They sat in their prospective seats in his office. He, by the computer. She, by the window. His deep voice resonated through the room, she could hear his vibrations against her skin, thrumming against her heart.

"Spock?" she asked suddenly without any professional pretext. She did not face him, but could feel his eyes on her back, imagined one eyebrow raised in confusion. If he were to comply, she did not want a visual imprint. Just an aural imprint.

"Yes, Uhura?"

"Could you do me a favor? Could you say Nyota?"

"My apologies, but I do not know what it means.

"It's just my name."

He paused. She worried. But then, his voice broke across the limited space between them.

"Nyota."

Deep. Smooth as silk. Filled the air. Warmed the air. Her eyes closed in contentment. Perhaps she suffered from an overactive imagination, but had there been a trace of tenderness? Of caring?

"Please continue to use my first name, Spock."

"If you insist, Nyota."

She turned around just in time to see his lips move familiarly, lithely over the syllables. Special. Finally.

Penda, mentioned in Kirk's section, was one of the names that fans guessed was Uhura's name before the 2009 movie came out and canonized Nyota as Uhura's first name. According to babynames dot com, it means beloved.

I meant to put this in the previous chapter, but if anyone notices any translation errors (mpenzi, zolotoi, etc.), please let me know. I've researched, but you can never be too sure.

Anyway, thank you all so much for reading. Your reviews, alerts, and favorites are really encouraging! That being said, please review! Let me know what you liked or didn't like! Chekov's chapter is next. I'll probably post within the next day or two.