"Buffer overflow, sir. Comm circuits are down again."
"What's the estimate, Ensign?"
"Unknown, sir. These systems are only rated for 100 million message per hour. Lieutenant Uhura might be able to repair it faster, sir."
Kirk sighed, the thumb and index finger of his right hand stroking the migraine headache pain line riding just on top of his occipital ridge above his eyebrows.
How could any idea suggested by Komack ever turn out right?
The *whoosh* of the turbo lift doors did not reveal the person Kirk most wanted to see - his communications chief. Instead, her newly minted Vulcan "stud muffin" husband made his way to the communications station and took over from the visibly befuddled ensign.
"Where's Uhura?"
"Sickbay. She developed acute nausea after the most recent meeting with Mr. Trumpe."
Which meant Kirk might never get his ship's communications back since no one but Uhura could intimidate that damn console into behaving itself AND figure out how all those groupies got the direct comm access codes to the Enterprise in the first place.
Sulu choked on his own saliva, stumbling into the adjacent corridor for water and a private place to laugh his ass off.
"Spock - I want a meeting in your quarters at 1400. We're going to have to dump these messages and get some kind of a content filter up and running fast."
"Yes, captain."
"Kirk to McCoy"
"McCoy here."
"Is Uhura still in Sickbay?"
"Affirmative."
"Any estimate on when she'll be fit for duty?"
"Oh, I don't know," McCoy drawled in pure sarcasm, "maybe when she stops throwin' up? McCoy out!"
"Spock! Make sure Uhura attends the meeting. I think I can cure what ails her, assuming it's not your fault."
"Sulu, you have the - where the hell is Lieutenant Sulu!?"
"He had a choking fit and left zhe bridge, Captain," Chekov cheerfully volunteered.
Komack must have SF Intelligence operatives on board for things to go this wrong..., Kirk decided.