[Disclaimers/warnings at top of Part I]
A/N: This chapter rated NC17.
Part II
McCoy, Kirk, Uhura and Spock
In Sickbay, McCoy is patching up the team, at Uhura's insistence, junior members first. There are no serious injuries, but one of the ensigns – Hong, Kirk remembers – looks really scared. Spock goes right to Uhura. What a pair, they say so much to each other with just their eyes. They're doing that subtle little finger-touch thing that they seem to think no one around them notices.
A stricken expression on his face, Ensign Hong watches Uhura, who's talking with Trinh. Kirk stops next to Hong and touches his shoulder. "How are you doing?"
"I froze, Captain, I froze – Lt. Uhura was yelling at me to get down and I just kept staring at the shooters –" He looks at his feet. "She got hurt because she had to pull me down behind cover."
"She took care of you – that's what the leader of an Away Team does. Dr. McCoy's taking good care of her. And you're alive," Kirk smiles a little, "…embarrassed, maybe. Get some rest and tomorrow we'll practice some Away Team assault scenarios. Lt Hendorff and I'll join you. Sound good?" He raises his eyebrows at Hong, who nods hesitantly.
"You'll do fine next time. This happens to almost everybody at some time or another." Kirk pats the kid's shoulder and looks around.
McCoy has finished examining the other team members with minor injuries and Dr Chaulong is dermaplasing each officer's cuts and scrapes. Uhura is watching over them. Kirk nods to them with a small smile ("good work getting back mostly unharmed") and looks his Comms officer over, as does Bones. Uhura's left arm and neck have nasty phaser burns; her forehead is bruised and cut, and her leggings, worn for the planet's cool atmosphere, are torn open at her right knee; it looks as if she's fallen on sharp rocks.
"Sit down," McCoy commands, and she lights on the edge of a biobed, Spock standing by her, holding her right hand. For a long moment they look at each other.
After giving her a topical spray of anti-infective pain reliever on the arm burn, McCoy finds tiny foreign objects in the dermal and subdermal layer of her knee and dematerializes them with a tight-beam instrument Kirk has forgotten the name of – I should know it, Bones uses it on me after I've done some recreational fighting at those spacer bars on shore leave and somebody's planted my face in the ground. McCoy is just starting to sutureseal the wounds when Kirk says, "Report, Lieutenant."
Spock keeps watching her, as if ensuring she is strong enough. She flashes a reassuring smile at him and he lets go her hand to come stand near Kirk.
Uhura sighs. "We finished preliminary negotiations with Al-Rugh's planetary government. They've agreed to our offer in exchange for mineral rights, by the way. They expect you tomorrow at 1400 hours."
Kirk nods and gestures at her arm. He has to step to one side to keep eye contact; McCoy has sprayed the wound on her forehead and is now working on her left arm. "So," she continues, "we left the capitol buildings and walked into the streets just off the palace plaza – that was a mistake. I don't think we should repeat it tomorrow."
"What's going on?" Kirk doesn't want any Prime Directive problems if he can avoid them.
"Some internal squabbles, from what the bystanders were yelling. Before we left, the officials told us about some dissent within the government, and that certain groups in their population were protesting the government's decisions. They warned us away from a 'crime-ridden' section of town – but they didn't tell us there were dissenters who might be armed." An ironic look flits across her expression. "Our attackers were inside the 'safe zone,' by the way; they found cover right at the shopping area."
Kirk frowns. "Lucky you found cover, too." He turns toward Spock. "What the hell?"
Spock looks unusually solemn. "I understood that there was some dispute among elements of Al-Rugh's population regarding dilithium mining rights, but they were being worked out in Council."
"We should be able to pick up more info from news broadcasts," Uhura says. "I got a couple of reports from 'underground' narrowcasts originating in the capitol before we beamed down. There weren't any official reports on the dissent."
Kirk looks at Spock. "Have you heard of any of this?"
Raising one eyebrow, Spock gives Uhura a look. "I had not heard of any armed groups."
"They're probably just scattered factions. There's not an organized force of rebels – they're disparate groups, acting for different reasons. According to the officials, one is an environmental group concerned about dilithium mining. The group that attacked us is opposed to dilithium sales to the Federation. There's another opposed to the idea of their government treating with the Federation – they fear dilution of their traditional religious beliefs."
Kirk says, "But Al-Rugh has been negotiating with the Federation for months."
"The planetary government got a majority to approve the petition to join the Federation; it wasn't unanimous. Now groups who don't agree with the government's decisions are trying to make themselves heard," Uhura says. She hisses in a breath as McCoy begins treating the phaser burn on her neck.
"Apparently." McCoy's voice is acerbic.
Uhura gives him a friendly but quelling look. McCoy rolls his eyes and keeps working. She says, "In our meeting, I got the idea the people opposed to dilithium sales may be trying to make a deal with some non-Federation traders."
"Well, I'll contact the government, find out what the hell's going on."
Kirk looks at Spock. "With your permission, Captain, I will direct the Bridge crew to monitor all communications and activities in the capitol and surrounds."
You read my mind, Spock.
The commander steps over to the room's communicator panel, presses the button for the Bridge, and Kirk hears him talking softy to Lt Sivahn at Comms. "Search for any signals that may be communications among non-governmental forces." He comes back to stand by Uhura.
McCoy, holding up Uhura's dermaplased arm, glares at Spock and Kirk. "Don't you think the non-governmental forces have given us a signal already?"
Spock and Uhura.
"Thank you for meeting me in Medical, mpenzi," Uhura said, touching her two fingers to Spock's just before they exited the turbolift. They headed to their quarters.
"The captain invited me, having noted my … concern." Spock punched the entry code and they stepped inside.
She turned to him as the door closed behind them. Spock stroked her face with the back of his two fingers. Nyota's expression changed as he looked at her. Her eyes were troubled, her brow wrinkled with fear remembered and her eyes overflowed. "I was so … I was scared I would screw up the mission."
"I do not think that is what you were going to say, Nyota." He moved his hand softly around the back of her neck. He had detected her fear when holding her hand in Sickbay. She was good at covering her emotions in front of others, but not him.
"I was – " She smoothed his hair and laid a hand on his cheek. "I was so scared I – I thought I'd never see you ag—" She moved in and clung to him, squeezing him tight, her head pressed against his chest. He put two fingers under her chin to raise her face to his, kissing her forehead, grateful for the taste of her, the feeling of her face and her body warm against him. Weeping, she kissed him on the mouth and he kissed her wet face all over, wrapping his arms snugly around her. He lowered his head to her shoulder. Her hair caught on his damp face.
She slipped her right hand between them to the fly of his trousers. Surprised, he felt his lok growing erect and tipped his head back, inhaling sharply; Nyota's left forefinger slipped into his open mouth then moistly traced his lower lip; her eyes met his.
He realized how desperate for intimacy she felt. Her eyes were huge, commanding with need. Nodding at her, he stripped off his tunic and undershirt. By the time he turned back to her she was down to her underwear. She tugged on his hand and lay down on the floor and as he knelt by her she undid his trousers and pushed them past his hips. He had never seen her so urgent; she pulled down her underpants, kicked one foot out of them, spread her legs, and pulled him by the hips onto her with her ankles – she pulled her breasts out from the cups of her bra, put her hand behind his head and lowered his mouth to one nipple.
"Suck," she begged, and as he complied, "Hard .…" She impelled his hips farther up toward her; his lok brushed against her pubic hairs and there was slippery wetness within them; he slid into her and her hips thrust up against him. He raised his face to see hers and tears still streamed down her face; she tipped her head back, baring her throat, and whispered harshly, "fuck me hard, fuck me," and he frowned – she had never spoken this way to him – but he drove into her with strength and she raised on her toes to keep her legs flexed hard so she could smack her hips against his, stroke for stroke, and she cried out with a strangulated sound, grinding into him, biting his lip as he kissed her and said, "Again, again, harder," and he fulfilled her request, feeling a rushing physical pleasure from the biting, puzzled by her suddenly wanting this and the forceful, pounding rhythm.
His instinctive Vulcan sexuality asserted itself, and he nipped her all over; she asked him to bite, not just nip, her breasts – she asked for more, until she bled. She climaxed on a scream, and panting, turned, rising to kneel on the floor and present her rear, and said, "Fuck me from behind." He gripped her hips, positioned himself and drove in – "Slam it," she said, and their rhythm became harder, with liquid noises, and Nyota began groaning and scratching him – he nosed through her wild hair to the back of her neck, still slamming into her from behind, and nipped and bit until he tasted blood from the skin at her nape – "Yes, yes, hurt me," she commanded, straining against him, grunting in orgasm, "Unh … uhnh … UNNGH"and he came hard and quickly.
Spock.
Starlight illumined only the edges in the room, indicating the massy shadows of the bed, the couch, the table. Spock, raised on one elbow, studied his adun'a. He had always been pleased with their sexual life together. After his short experience with Vulcan girls in the year before he'd left for Starfleet Academy, and the exposure to human women which followed, he had opted for the softer way, appreciating gentle stroking, tonguing, kissing, and prolonging pleasure. This was enhanced, but not rushed by, mental contact. Biting, however, provoked him to respond too quickly – harshly, bruisingly – and ended prematurely what could be an hours-long, mutually enjoyable and sometimes spiritual experience.
He and Nyota also enjoyed vigorous sex, sometimes needing to hurry because of work, sometimes rushing through with physical brio to release the pressures of the day, or as a prelude to the slow tease and explosive climaxes at the end that they both enjoyed, but tonight … Nyota had used crude words to him, and begged to be "fucked," bruised, gripped and nipped hard, she had bitten him to bleeding and shouted hoarsely in orgasm; they had violently copulated four times – thrice on the floor and once against the wall – before she felt easy enough to sleep. Now she seemed unconscious, not merely sleeping. He had released in climaxes too fast to fully experience them; he disliked that he'd been physically harsh to her – he was disturbed by her behavior – and his own intensity and roughness – in the instance.
He now recalled that the desire for forceful, repeated sexual engagement was sometimes the human response to fear, and a near experience, of death.
He understood Nyota's behavior then, cradled her gently, and, raising himself to one knee, adjusted her in his arms and stood to carry her to the bed, covering her with the sheet, kissing her forehead with great tenderness. He left her there and in the sanitary cubicle, took a shower, squeezing shut his eyes, letting the water pound on his face and body.
With a hot moist cloth from the shower and an antibacterial for her wounds, he went out to gently cleanse her body; she slept on.
Uhura.
In the middle of the night he woke her, or his grip woke her. She blinked awake to see him, his body rigid, shaking – he was asleep and obviously having a bad dream. At the Academy she'd never known him to have sleep disturbances; these nightmares had started the night after Vulcan was destroyed.
"Spock," she called softly. She touched his face. Her legs and loins hurt. In fact she felt bruised everywhere and her breasts and the back of her neck really hurt. She remembered coming in here after returning from the mission yesterday – under fire on Al'Rugh, she had thought she would never see Spock again. She remembered the phaser beams from old weapons and bolts from newer ones hitting all around her – she'd raised her arm so she could grab Ensign Hong by the hem of his tunic to get him down behind cover – he hadn't heard, or hadn't attended, to her call, "hit the deck!" – and a phaser had burned her. Her skin was all better now, thanks to Dr McCoy, but her psyche was lagging a little behind that.
And now she had bruises all over from … from what she'd told Spock to do. She was embarrassed over how she'd acted but she'd been desperate to feel alive. She'd used words she had never used before with him – or with any other man. She'd urged him to use force, which was easy for him compared with the holding back he usually did with her, to keep her safe, the holding back he'd told her was far more pleasurable than Vulcan-style sex was for him.
"Oh, Spock." She felt sad for having done that, demanded things of him that they did not normally do, for having sullied in some way the sweet lovemaking they had always done before. She felt sad that he had feared for her life when she was on the Al-Rugh mission; it was supposed to be safe but wasn't.
Didn't all hairball Starfleet missions start out the same way? You went down, expecting the usual things, maybe something slightly out of the ordinary, and suddenly an innocuous situation built up to a nearly unbearable degree – thus the term "hairball" – and you dealt with it or failed to live. This was the first Away Team mission she'd supervised that had gone badly. She kissed Spock's bare shoulder, so glad to be back here with him, in this room, in this bed, so warm, so safe … so loved.
His eyes snapped open and he turned to her, and pulled her on top of him, parting her legs; his erection pressed against her center.
"I'm not rea—" she said, surprised at his swiftness. He didn't usually approach her without making his intentions known first. But she realized she was ready, ready as earlier, and slid onto him, and they pounded together again for a few strokes, then, as he fully awoke, they slowed, really slowed, into making love. He held her close for the rest of the night, and she treasured his heat.
To be Continued
A/N: Please take a moment to review – let me know what you enjoyed and/or if anything raised a question in your mind. The best way for a fan writer to improve is constructive criticism from readers!
/\ Glossary /\
Asenoi: fire-bowl [used for incense]
FAS: Fleet Admiral [chief] of Starfleet
Hir: 'him or her'
Loshirak: lotus position
Masa: mother [ki-Swahili]
Ozh'esta: the touch of the first two fingers of each partner's hand, a "Vulcan kiss"
Pakuv vil-yai: "odor flame," incense coil [author's construction from Vulcan words]
Plebe: an Academy midshipman/cadet just reported for the summer before the first academic year; one who hears constant swearing at and condemnation of, hirself, the better to get hir to conform to all the new rules; one who engages in constant swearing with hir fellows in private moments; one who is obedient to all above hir; the lowest life form at the Academy.
Zero hundred hours: midnight