She is uncertain as to just how much time excruciatingly passes by, crawling along with her equally slow drift through space. Until, that is, she makes a glance at her suit's display.
And, according to that miniature screen, a mere forty-three minutes have since passed her. Forty-three minutes of her being so dismally adrift. Forty-three minutes since Spock had freed her from him. Forty-three minutes, which might possibly mean –
'No,' she dare not let her mind conjure such dreaded thoughts. So, she shuts them out with a quick shake of her head and a closing of her eyelids. 'He'll make it,' Uhura forces her mind to alter, to disregard her previous thought, 'he's not going to die.'
And yet, it now seems more and more difficult to keep those thoughts in her mind, to concentrate...to stay conscious. Her oxygen level, according to her panel, is dangerously low; so low, in fact, that it's near depletion, and its subsequent effect has begun to take hold on her.
In a battle to remain conscious, her eyes soon begin to roll back and her breaths now become strained gasps. And as she grapples, her beacon is activated one more time – perhaps for the last time – before that which took him also takes her. This small battle now lost, her light begins to fade and everything morphs into a blurred scape. The last sounds that meet her ears are the blips of the beacon, and the pounding of her heart...and a faint crackle of her suit's communicator.
And now, there begins light made anew, oddly familiar in its twirling rings of luminescent yellow. No more is her body afloat, untethered in a black vacuum; now, there seems the familiar heft of her limbs, her head, all encompassed by the suit of course.
And then, the twirls are gone. Hazy as her vision may be, even the ambience is a welcome piece of familiarity to her eyes. That white glow that she knows oh so well. It feels like...home. Yet, still she can't focus, still she feels faint with the cloud of unconsciousness looming over her. The very moment her eyes are all but closed, her helmet is removed with such haste that the feeling is barely registered by her brain.
Then there comes a sensation of an object being placed upon her face, and a rush of something in her mouth, her lungs. At last, with a gasp, she finally takes in that vital oxygen, with voices muffled around her.
"We got her, Jim", she is, despite her haze, certain that this voice belongs to McCoy, with the good doctor now redirecting his attention to her. "You're going to be okay, Lieutenant."
At last, her fog begins to clear, and shapes and sounds become less muddled, more distinct. And as her brain seemingly reboots itself, an attempt at speech is soon made, and words slowly begin to form. Starting with a name.
"...S-Spock..."
Slowly, but progressively, more words emerge, whilst her vision and mind clear further.
"...I need to find Spock..."
Her form begins to rise from her position on the transporter pad, its surface sporting that familiar gloss. Yet, the medico's concern and dedication to his duty causes him to halt her, with his hands gently placed upon her shoulders.
"We've already started the search for him, alright? I need to take you to the Medbay – "
"There's no time." Her mind takes her to the last time she had glimpsed him, that figure who vanished into the debris field. And of how little time he has left, if he even survived at all. "I have his last coordinates in my suit. Please...this is our only chance to save him."
The medico can't fully ignore the plea in her eyes, the sheer desperation. Initially, McCoy had wanted to bring her to the Medbay, to treat her deprived lungs, and a search for their comrade – which, with scanners working overtime and a shuttle being prepared, is already underway – was going to begin post-haste. Yet, with the information Uhura carries within her suit's meagre computer, that search might just have a head start.
"The debris field is very extensive," begins the Lieutenant as she is hoisted onto her feet, a tad unsteady but otherwise fit to stand. "Navigating through it will be delicate."
"We'll need someone who really knows what they're doing." Of course, only one crew member comes to the doctor's mind. "Is there a shuttle ready?", he queries through his communicator.
"[Yes, sir.]" The reply from a junior officer is quick and steady.
"Have Sulu meet us in the shuttle bay."
As the doctor's final order is heeded, he glances into the ever-worrying eyes of his mildly oxygen-deprived patient. "I'm coming with you."
And so, they depart the transporter room to make for the shuttle bay. There is no time for them to squander, so they move with the best speed their limbs can take them.
The helmsman of course heeds the medico's summons, with Sulu at once making his way to the shuttle bay. There, he soon rendezvous with his comrades; there, they hastily board their chosen vessel. Within moments, the trio embark on their mission: to save the one they fear may be lost...forever.
"We'll get into our suits on the way," begins the helmsman. "You have the coordinates?"
"Yes." At once, the Lieutenant takes the shuttle controls, frantically tapping the screen.
Whilst her commands tell the vessel's computer where she needs to go, her two crewmates take this time to don EV suits of their own. There is, seemingly, no time for Uhura to change her own airless suit and place herself into a new one; in minutes, the debris field is reached, and the all-important coordinates therein.