Disclaimer: Star Trek and all associated characters are not mine.

A/N: First, I must apologise for the very long gap in posting. This was the result of three things: my interest wandering to other stories, real life and my not being happy with the initial version of this chapter. It took months to have something viable enough to send to my beta, the amazing Spocklovescats, and another month and half to make the needed changes. If you need a refresher in the dynamics of this universe, please read the Author's note in the prologue and chapter 2.

Main characters: Uhura, Kirk, Spock, Mara (OFC), Terrence Mayweather (OMC) plus an assortment of minor characters.

Much thanks to those of you who enquired as to when I would update. Your comments and PMs offered incentive to get cracking.

Chapter 7

Icy winds howled around him, slapping at his face with stinging fingers. Mayweather adjusted his scarf and continued along the ice-crusted dirt road on Abiri. His trip from Deneva had been uneventful and he was grateful for it. Sometimes he found himself dodging raiders from the Orion Syndicate, the occasional Klingon or Vulcan patrol ships. It wasn't exactly easy being Human when space was filled with predators, and you were now regarded as prey.

Mayweather's first priority upon touching down at the docking site had been to offload his goods. Now he headed for the complex that housed the offices of Starfleet and United Earth Government. Not much was left of either, especially Earth Gov, which ran without a legislative branch. All decisions came from an executive office comprised of a president, a Starfleet representative and five civilians, remnants of the UE Council still willing to govern.

A number of people bustled by, some Human, others alien. When the first shuttles had landed here, only two structures stood on the moon. The larger was a giant research facility and dormitory. The other had served as a power generating station. Together they had provided a great starting point for Earth Gov. The first thing the government had ordered was the building of temporary shelters reminiscent of refugee camps Mayweather had seen in history holos. These structures had provided protection from the winds and snow, but left the settlers vulnerable to temperatures. A good deal had changed since those days; real buildings now dotted the landscape.

Mayweather arrived at the headquarters of a radically altered Starfleet, entering the well-heated main lobby with a sigh of relief. Formerly, Starfleet had operated as a separate entity that dealt with threats from outside the UE, while internal security fell under the jurisdiction of municipal level agencies. But months into the war, Admiral Richard Barnett had used his considerable influence—and some rumoured blackmail—to push through legislation necessary to consolidate all security and intelligence matters under Starfleet.

Fifteen minutes and two security checks later, Mayweather found himself at the admiral's office. The man some revered as the saviour of Humanity sat behind a cluttered desk of metal and plastic. Even seated Barnett cut an impressive figure, an archaic pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. He was almost sixty yet looked about fifteen years younger. Mayweather often wondered how he did it, especially since the admiral didn't strike him as the kind of person who favoured cosmetic enhancement. The most significant difference between the man before him and the one he'd met as a teenage recruit was what emanated from Barnett's eyes. They used to hold an inviting warmth. Now they were cold with an almost suffocating desperation.

"Good afternoon, Admiral."

"Commander Mayweather, I trust your journey was without incident."

Mayweather winced inwardly. The Admiral was the only one who insisted on using his Starfleet rank. "Yes, sir, it was." He reached into his pocket and retrieved a data crystal. "The latest from Deneva."

Barnett took the crystal, placed it on his desk and leaned back in his chair. "How is my daughter?"

"She was well the last time I saw her."

"And my son-in-law?"

"Jim seemed somewhat improved, sir." Mayweather clasped his hands behind his back and observed the rather pleased look that settled on the older man's face. Uhura's words from the Deneva dockyard rang loud in his mind and he felt his anger build. "It's what you wanted, wasn't it?"

Barnett folded his arms then replied, his voice edged with traces of ice, "You presume to question my motives?"

"When it involves those I care about, yes sir, I do."

"Be careful, Commander"

Holding the Admiral's gaze, Mayweather decided that if he were to speak his mind he might as well cover all the bases. "We aren't chess pieces to be played as you see fit, not Jim, not Mara and most certainly not Uhura."

"What about Ms. Uhura?"

"After all that she gave up at your request, why would you ask her to whore herself to the enemy?"

A muscle tic beginning at the side of his face, Barnett replied, "I will not tolerate your lecture of me, Commander."

"She was your lover."

Mayweather watched the interesting interplay of emotions on Barnett's face. His parents had always said he could never leave well enough alone. Feeling the rise in tension within the office, he knew this to be one of those times.

"How did you find out?"

"I caught a glimpse of you two together before you left Deneva."

"She is young and attractive, and when she offered solace during such a difficult time, I did not refuse." Barnett picked up the data crystal and palmed it. "I saw an ideal opportunity for her to use her skills in our behalf and she agreed. Ms. Uhura is more than capable of taking care of herself."

Hearing those words, Mayweather struggled not to think about what Barnett would require of him before the war was over.

"Breathe one word of this and I'll have you court martial."

"On what grounds, sir?"

"There are many options already open to me, Commander." Barnett waved a hand. "You're dismissed. Have a pleasant evening."

Dumbfounded, Mayweather stared at the Admiral for a moment longer, then nodded in resentful respect and stormed out of the office. In his anger, he hardly paid attention to the Paaragan woman who hurriedly stepped out of his path.

***SUSU***

Following his encounter with Barnett and a number of errands, Mayweather felt the need for either alcohol or a woman. He liked having drinks with his friend and fellow Enterprise survivor, Montgomery Scott. It remained a mystery as to how the engineer procured his stash, but he always had the best stuff.

He debated the issue for a few seconds and decided he could see Scotty another day, opting instead for female company. Now he lay in a bedroom surrounded by cigarette smoke.

He took a shallow breath and hoped the tiny apartment did not have an upgraded smoke sensor. Over the last few years, smoking had become a crime punishable by forced rehab or incarceration. It did not matter whether the guilty party was addicted to the stuff or not. Earth Gov was rather serious about protecting the 'genetic integrity' of all citizens of childbearing age, except most of those people refused to have children. Some were circulating the idea of mandating each adult to produce at least one offspring.

His companion seemed content to ignore the law. He watched her taut pale back in the bright light that flooded in from the bathroom. She stood at her narrow slash of a window, blowing smoke in careful puffs. Nostrils irritated, Mayweather wanted to ask Ruthie Bonaventure to put it out or crack open the window. He remained silent. It might be looked upon as bad form, to make such demands of her when she had just given him mindless sex for free.

Ruthie was a legal prostitute from Proxima colony. She had left home for Earth at eighteen to train under Madam Calita Sar, an Orion. The Sar School, one of the few alien-owned businesses had prided itself on thoroughly teaching its male and female students in the arts of seduction and ultimate satisfaction.

The one time Terrence asked why she chose her profession, Ruthie had bluntly told him, "It was an enjoyable way to make a comfortable living." So, why did he receive rate free sex from her when they were not romantically involved?

He had saved her life on Deneva. It would have been nice to think he saved her from a Vulcan attack, but it was from a Human thug. The creep had noticed the swirling Orion script tattooed on her right arm and realised she was a Sar graduate. Apparently thinking that her profession meant she had no choice, he attacked. Mayweather had come upon the violent altercation and saved Ruthie's life. A few days later, over drinks and she mentioned a willingness to see him off the clock. It took him almost three years to collect on her offer.

Ruthie crushed the butt of her cigarette in a nearby ashtray and returned to the bed. Slipping partially under the covers, she asked, "When do you ship out?"

"In a week."

"Am I going to see you again before you leave?"

Odd: she never asked such questions. "I don't know."

"I'm leaving the business."

Mayweather rolled to his side and gazed at her. He knew how proud she was of what she did, so he was curious. "What changed?"

"It's the same old story," she said, running a hand down his chest. "I met someone who wants me to quit."

"So you won't be...around the next time I'm here."

"No, I won't."

It struck Mayweather that he actually cared more for her than he thought. "You love him?"

Ruthie smiled up at him. "I never said it was a man."

"Ah." What else could he say?

They remained quiet, as she idly stroked his skin. Her warm touch was so very welcome to him. After a few minutes, a twinkle entered her eyes and she asked, "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Mayweather hesitated. This might be one of those trick questions women used on men. He decided to pretend she hadn't asked it by making an enquiry of his own. "What are you going to do job wise?"

"I'll be working with her. She runs cargo between here and the Andorian System."

That was one of the most dangerous routes. "That system borders Vulcan space."

"And it's oh, so profitable."

True. Andoria and Vulcan had gone to war twice during the last two hundred years. They had achieved a tense peace almost a century ago, which evolved into a cold war with the Vulcan/UE conflict. The mistrust between the two could be downright hostile. As part of their 'sticking it' to the Vulcans, the Andorians were willing to trade with Human ships, offering their merchandise at enormous discounts.

"You're willing to take that risk?"

"Terrence, you and I both know there are always other routes that can be utilised."

He knew those routes intimately. They had risks of their own, which was why any sane person avoided them and Andoria. "What's her name?"

"Eve McHuron." She poked a finger into his navel. "Don't forget my question."

"What question?"

Ruthie rolled her eyes. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Mayweather realised he had no choice. He had to answer. "You're not pretty Ruthie. Pretty are those girls who catch the eye and then are forgotten. Pretty fades." He let his eyes linger on her lush features. "You my friend are what my eldest brother use to call dangerously sexy. Once seen but never forgotten."

"That's what I like about you, Terrence, truth wrapped in silk."

"I aim to please."

"You know I once thought I was in-love with you."

Where had that come from? "When did you change your mind?'

"Soon after. You have much to offer someone and she is definitely not me."

"You think there is hope for me?"

"Have faith and you'll manage just fine."

Deep down in the small dark place where the last bits of his hope remained, he silently prayed she was correct. Because the rest of him was of the opinion, that love was not in his future. He had tried it once only to witness to his fiancée's death. He did not know if he could survive another such ordeal.

Later as he left a sleeping Ruthie and headed out into the dark, Mayweather could not begrudge her what happiness she might find with Eve, the cargo ship captain.

***SUSU***

Deneva

His hands shook as he headed home from another midnight meeting. He pushed them deep into his pockets and willed them to stop. Either the Vulcan bitch was diluting the corillan acid or he was developing a tolerance. Knowing their mutual contempt, he was sure she had diluted his last batch. Usually the stuff lasted a month.

This time around, he'd gone through the vials in two weeks. What a coincidence—she had wanted to meet at just about the time he ran out of juice. Luckily, he had some useful intel for her. The name of the man, a Human posing as low level Vulcan technician, who'd hacked the modulating shields around the largest Vulcan storage facility using a base code created by Adam and Uhura.

A few more steps and he reached his building. With a sigh, he entered through the clear-steel doors and took the stairs to his fifth floor apartment. Once inside his sanctuary, he flipped the lights on and came close to losing his composure. Seated on his sofa was Suzan Bell, his sometimes girlfriend. Finding her like this in the dark unnerved him.

"How can you live with yourself?" she accused without preamble, her features twisting in disgust.

He did not pretend ignorance of what she asked. "How ...?"

"You hurried out of here without shutting down your computer. God, how can you stand to be next to the woman who led the assault on your region of Earth?"

"Suz, you don't understand."

She got up from the chair and came to stand next to him. "Oh, I understand that you've sold our people out to those green-blooded sons of bitches."

"What gives you the right to talk to me like that?" he yelled, gripping her arms. "You're not even part of the resistance. You just sit back and leave us to fight for your freedom!"

"Marking you as someone truly despicable," she yelled right back.

Her words burned hot like lava. Guilt and pain dug at his insides and he shoved her away. Watching her stumble in an attempt stay upright, he said, "We're over."

"So what?" she asked and laughed in a highly hysterical manner. "Is that supposed to make me sorry? Do think I want to keep fucking a traitor?"

Suzan might not be resistance but she knew at least one other member. She could jeopardise everything. He could not return to being that man who sat in an alley waiting to die. "You can't tell anyone," he begged.

"Do you think I can live with keeping silent? You must not know me."

She was forcing his hand and it was the Vulcans' fault. They had destroyed everything. Now he had to kill her. Although some would quibble over him having Human blood on his hands, this was the first time he was pulling the trigger. Trembling with fury, he watched her collect her handbag and jacket.

He swiftly reached into his side holster, grabbed his phaser and shot Suzan point blank in the chest. In seconds, she lay dead on his floor. Standing over her, he stared into her hazel eyes frozen forever with her surprise. She had underestimated him. He turned the phaser to maximum setting and fired once more at her. He took no pleasure in watching her body turn into black ash.

Trivia question: Do you recognise Ruthie Bonaventure and Eve McHuron? They are two of three female characters featured in a famous TOS episode.