Uhura strapped her hair in a ponytail and surveyed her reflection in the mirror one final time, admiring her electric green California sunset dress, which had apparently made a come-back in Earth fashion since the Enterprise had set sail on her five-year mission. She sauntered out of the bathroom and and into the living-room, where Spock was engrossed in his pad. True to form, he was not relaxing on the couch but sat behind the desk by the window as stiffly as he did at his science station on the bridge of the Enterprise. There was even the customary deep crease between his furrowed eyebrows.

She smiled fondly. "Are you sure you don't want to come?"

He lifted his head and his left eyebrow. "Nyota, that would be illogical, as I do not engage in the consumption of alcohol and I have already declined both your and Jim's offer."

She moved to stand in front of him in order to press the joined index and middle finger of her right hand together and held them out to him. "I was kidding," she said. "I'll tell Jim and the others you said hello."

He reciprocated by pressing his own index and middle finger to hers. Her skin tingled at the contact. Brown eyes considered her carefully. "Thank you, Nyota."

She withdrew her hand. "Have fun," she added inclining her head in the direction of the pad in his hands.

# # #

Nyota strutted into the club, unconsciously adapting the rhythm of her steps to that of the latest brand of technolo to infest trendy clubs all over Federation territory. Normally she detested that repetitive collection of dull and conventional beats and wondered why Jim, the organizer of their outing, had picked this place after all. It skewed towards the fashionable and looked all too clean, pretending to be avant-garde with its kitschy mix of San Francisco colonial architecture and alien décor. It was also located in the Greater Area, close to Starfleet installations, and hence was brimming with off-duty officers and related personnel. As she made her way through the thongs of gyrating dancers and waiters balancing their drink trays, she even had to nod at a few familiar faces. For all his boisterous facade of a cocky hick on a roll, Jim had good tastes and something of a sentimental streak, and while they were in San Francisco, he usually lead them on a trek to smoky dives that had actual live music and non-replicated alcohol.

Perhaps it was a result of their diminished numbers. Their ship would remain in the Sol system for a few more days, taking this unexpected opportunity to have the impact of one too many ion storms erased from the hull in addition to a full technical overview and restocking of fuel and supplies. So Jim had given anyone not strictly needed for those tasks shore leave. The captain himself had all but strapped himself to the warp core to avoid leaving his beloved Enterprise alone in space dock and in the hands of strangers, but McCoy had gleefully used his authority as CMO to dispatch him to Earth. Speaking of which, Bones was in Australia, tending to Carol, who was not doing well. Sulu had also declined to join them tonight, lured to Mars by a botanical conference. So it was just Jim, her, Scotty – whom Jim had probably dragged away from their ship kicking and screaming – Keeser and Chekov, who was excitedly recounting something to his colleagues and enthusiastically waved her over to their table, the second he had noticed her.

Uhura squeezed on the narrow bench next to Keenser. "Since when are we so on trend?" she asked gesturing one-handedly to their surroundings.

"Why don't ya ask Captain Perfect Hair over there," Scotty quipped, jabbing a finger at Kirk over the table.

Jim just shrugged. Nyota flagged down a waitress and requested a shot of Jack. "Spock says hi," she uttered unconvincingly, prompting Jim to snort in his drink, Scotty to roll his eyes and Chekov to look like a deer in the highlights.

There was a heated conversation at the table right behind her, the nuances of which seemed to escape Pasha at first, as he had resumed his tale of great Russian inventions, both apocryphal and authentic. Her Jack arrived and she drained it in one gulp. Jim asked the server for a bottle, the words rolling off his tongue dry and stringent. The voices behind her grew louder, almost drawing Chekov's. Nyota felt a knot coil tight in the pit of her stomach, even as ear began to burn, unable to believe what she was hearing. Usually she had a firm grip on her temper, but this one hit too close to home. The name of Admiral Pike floated over in a clear shout and Chekov fell instantly silent, his eyes flicking to Kirk, a question written all over the younger man's features.

"Captain," Pasha started in a wary voice.

Jim cut him off with a curt shake of his head. Uhura licked her lips chasing the taste of whiskey off them. She had a feeling the discussion they were currently overhearing had been going on for a while now.

Scotty leaned over the table to murmur conspiratorially. "You picked one hell of a time to class us up, Jimbo."

A muscle clicked in Kirk's jaw but he offered no verbal response. The waitress came with their bottle and Jim took the opportunity to refill all of their glasses. It was probably not the wisest thing they could do under the circumstances.

Gossip was as common in Starfleet as everywhere else and the adventures and misadventures of Command were always a popular subject, but Admiral Pike tended to be less of a topic. He had never been involved in anything scandalous, his record was immaculate and he was generally well liked. Over the past year, however, that had gradually changed, as a the rumor of his spending his downtime with an augment from the Ceti Alpha V colony had started to emerge. Uhura had caught wind of it on a starbase, as nobody on the Enterprise would dare join in such impertinent talks. If they were, it wouldn't be Jim's wrath they would have to fear first and foremost, but hers.

The words "genetic freak", "wrong" and "impaired judgment" filtered through the incessant bass, the chatter and the laughter. Jim's knuckles around his tumbler were white. Keenser shot her a pleading look. She reached over the table and rested her palm over her friend's and captain's wrist. He gave her a tight smile. Thusly reassured, she let go and leaned back. The discussion conducted by the officers sitting behind them was becoming louder and louder, obviously fueled by the flow of alcohol. Someone at a nearby table had joined in, adding their own input to the debate over the appropriateness of how Admiral Pike was spending his off-duty hours. A memory of Spock talking about the prejudice surrounding his parents' marriage and the bullying he had endured as a child surfaced into her mind. Spock had only mentioned it once. Only once.

Her vision burned red and limited itself to a tunnel focus. No thought or hesitation tainted the buzz generated by the three shots she had ingested in quick succession. She got to her feet.

# # #

Carol had been prohibited by Kati to contribute in any way to the packing and the preparing for departure effort. Carol had initially wanted to resist but then realized it might not be such a bad idea and opted for lying down. She was plagued with uncertainties and felt weary, as the nightmares had not let her rest properly in the hospital. She had been considering telling Khan about the baby via subspace, however he deserved to vent his well-deserved anger at her in person. This was by no means a minor secret she had been keeping from him. To boot, she had brought politics back into their personal relationship by making a private choice from her position of authority on Menkar rather than as a wife and mother and hence, manipulated him for what she saw as the benefit of him, the colony and the people her father prospectively threatened. This was big.

Khan was not hurricane in a bottle. He was a planet-wide tornado during an ion storm in a bottle. He could be remarkably contained, more calculated on average than she was, but every now and then hints of that ferocious intensity within surfaced. However, the thing that was quintessentially him was his thinking predominately in military terms, which made sense, given that he had been at war his entire life. He even approached their relationship on the same terms. For instance, after her return to the colony, every step in her direction had been part of a choreographed strategy to win her back, a strategy he executed with great patience, waiting her out, apologizing again and again yet not so much that it could become stifling and presenting her with tokens of affections, rare enough not to be overwhelming or make him seem pushy. Carol did not begrudge him that; it was who he was and truth be told, she had found his abnegation rather endearing. Still she could not imagine how something so major would impact their marriage that had been finally on the mend.

There was a knock on the door and Carol invited Kati in. She did, carrying a tray of fruit and steaming tea mugs.

"Before you express any gratitude, you should know that this is a bribe," Kati said with a slight smile, albeit her face was all too serious.

"What kind of bribe?" Carol asked, as her friend arranged the tray on the nightstand.

Kati sat on the edge of the bed. "Khan commed me while we were still on the Enterprise, en route to Earth. He thought you were ill and keeping it from him for some reason. He ordered me to tell him what was wrong with you. I refused."

Carol froze, the enormity of what Kati was telling her hitting her full force. "Have you ever disobeyed one of his orders before?"

"No, none of us has. We swore to live and die at his command and in return, he never let us down. But I promised you I would be there for you."

Carol reached to squeeze the augment's hand, hoping her face conveyed at least a fraction of the gratitude he felt. "I don't know what to say. Thank you suddenly seems so meaningless."

"Say that you won't interfere but let me sort this out with him."

"Of course. It's the least I can do."

TBC