Uhura fic: Not Soon Recovered From
My second and even more insane entry for the Uhura is Awesome Fest, that is now going on at the where_no_woman comm. Enjoy!
Title: Not Soon Recovered From
Rating: All audiences.
Summary: #67. Uhura/Spock a la Jane Austen's Persuasion.
Notes: For the Uhura is Awesome Fest. Austen reboot: I tried to cram Persuasion into 5700 words. Um, go me?
Not Soon Recovered From
“You were right to say no.”
Nyota started at her station. She
realized she’d been staring at the turbolift door- the turbolift into which
Commander Spock had just disappeared. She dragged her gaze the opposite way
toward the man who'd just addressed her.
Captain Kirk was perched on the
station beside her, his arms crossed and a look of sympathy on his face. Nyota
turned away.
“Listen.” Kirk kept his voice low so
it wouldn’t carry. "You had your career to think about. With your drive,
it’s going to be a great one. You don’t want to tie yourself down this early. I
have every sympathy with what the Vulcans are going through, but that tragedy
shouldn't outweigh every other consideration. I think it was unfair for him to
have asked you.”
“It's not that. It's…” Nyota’s voice
trailed off.
“Look.” Kirk leaned down so he was
even closer to her. His voice was so soft, Nyota doubted that anyone a meter
away would have heard him. “I’m your commanding officer, but I’m also your
friend. I can see how you’ve been suffering these last two weeks but, believe
me, it will pass. Spock’s a great guy. I like him; I really do. But he’s...
alien. Part alien, anyway. You don’t know-”
“You don’t know!” Nyota’s
retort, though sharp, was hushed. "Don't project your insecurities and
prejudices onto me."
Kirk shrugged. “Fair enough. But
when you came to me a couple of weeks ago, and asked for my opinion about you becoming
his mate… I mean, doesn’t that bother you? Mate? Like you’re not
even your own person any more, but an extension of him?”
Nyota’s mind flashed back to that
night. Spock’s eyes had glinted eerily in the reduced light of her quarters,
his deep, soft voice chanting the litany: “Parted from me and never parted,
never and always touching and touched…”
Nyota cleared her throat. “A Vulcan
union is more than a human marriage. It’s a mental bond.”
“A mental bond… to a guy who’s not
entirely stable. Don’t look at me like that; you know it’s true. Anybody would
be: his planet gone, his mother murdered… All I’m saying is, I think no one
should make that kind of decision under stress, and he’s definitely under
stress. I know he's got this idea that it has to be immediate, but... wait a
while. See what happens. I think he needs the time as well as you do.”
Wait. The truth was, the more Nyota
thought it over, the more she didn’t feel she needed to wait. Spock definitely
didn’t. He didn’t say where he was going when he left the bridge just now, but
she knew. He was going to the rec room. He’d never gone to the rec room
while he and Nyota had been dating, but he’d been going there regularly ever since
her refusal. To see her. Them. Christine Chapel and Janice Rand. The
blondes. Is this what Vulcans did when they were disappointed- ran off to seek
comfort in the arms of some blue-eyed blonde? If Spock was that shallow, why
was she regretting him?
But he wasn’t shallow. There was a restlessness
in his eyes, a need. He had to bond with someone, and soon. He’d told
Nyota that much. And she, after an evening of rational consideration and an
uncomfortably personal discussion with Jim Kirk, had refused him. Because of
her career. Because it was too soon. Because Spock was emotionally
damaged, as Kirk had said. Yet she couldn’t see herself bonding with any other
man. He needed her, and she’d turned him away. The pain she was feeling now was
the direct result of her own actions.
Beside her, Kirk said softly, "Why
don't you take a little walk? Get your mind off things."
And perhaps run into Spock in the
hall. "Maybe later."
"Suit yourself." He gave
her a companionable squeeze on the shoulder and walked over to the Engineering
station.
Nyota sat in a stew of unresolved
emotions. Much she hated to admit it, Kirk was right. She should move; get her
mind off things. Unfortunately, Kirk's idea of getting her mind off things
probably involved jumping her in the arboretum. That she couldn't face.
Unable to sit still, Nyota jumped up
to deliver her communications report to Chekov personally. She didn't get many
steps before she realized her preoccupation had caused her to block out what
had become an all too common occurrence-Sulu and Chekov, arguing.
Their bone of contention this time
seemed to feature an arboretum as well. "I've never been right since you
gave me those mushrooms," Chekov complained. "In Russia, ve know
mushrooms. Vhat you gave me vas not a mushroom."
Sulu was patient. "It was a
variety of noble mushroom-"
"No. The noble mushroom was
inwented in Russia. This vas something else."
Sulu noticed Nyota. He looked
relieved at the interruption. "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"
Nyota held out her data stick
self-consciously. "No, I just wanted to deliver this."
"Ah, my data." Chekov took
it with entirely too much satisfaction.
"I didn't get much," Nyota
explained. "Just a few bursts of noise between regular
communications."
"I vill look it over
immediately." He pressed his hand to his side. "That is, vhen I'm
through being ill."
Sulu rolled his eyes. "You're
not ill."
"I'm wery ill. You don't
appreciate how sensitive I can be."
"I think I have a pretty good
idea."
"Oh, insults! We've moved on to
insults. Vell..."
Nyota backed away. "I have to
get back to my station."
"I understand." Resigned,
Sulu turned back to his panel. "In fact, I'm envious."
Chekov pounced immediately.
"Oh, are my troubles so trying for you? Poor Hikaru. Of course, I vould
be analyzing these undefined energy bursts... if I veren't so wery ill."
Nyota turned away. Kirk was still
hanging around near her station; at her motion, he gave her a compassionate
look. Nyota wished he wouldn't; although his intentions were good, Kurt just
couldn't pull off being disinterestedly kind.
"I think I'll take a
break," Nyota said to him across the bridge.
Kirk nodded. "Good idea. We'll
cover for you."
Not that there was much to cover, here
between systems, but Nyota thanked him anyway. She entered the turbolift, and almost
instantly felt her heart rate increase. Why did she keep doing this to herself?
Yet, she refused to let Spock scare her away from other parts of the ship. She
had just as much right to walk down the hall as he did. She would be brave, and
follow through on what she'd set out to do.
All these bold intentions underwent
a quiver when the turbolift stopped and deposited her on deck five. Briskly, she
started toward her intended destination. But to get there, she had to pass the
rec room. The room that was now coming up on her left. The door was open, and
she could hear music wafting from within. She stopped, her throat closing.
It was a Vulcan lyre. One of the
three remaining in existence, and it was at this moment being strummed into
beautiful and poignant life just beyond the doorway.
Softly, Nyota approached despite herself,
until she could peer into the room. A small audience had gathered. In the front
row, gazing raptly, were (naturally) Christine Chapel and Janice Rand. Most of
the rest of the audience was female as well, with the notable exception of the
chief engineer. Scotty stood in the back row, hovering over Janice's shoulder.
As intently as Janice was focused on Spock, so was Scotty on her.
"I play the fife, you
know," he was telling her. "Not to be singing my own praises, but I
make a fairly good job of it."
"That's nice," Janice crooned,
her eyes following the hypnotic movements of Spock's hands.
"It's a bit much for
starship," Scotty continued. "It's made for the open moor. Piercing,
it can be. That's why you dinnae hear me play it very often." He
straightened, as if struck by a thought. "I could play it for you on our
next shore leave. They say Dividian eight has some bonny hills. Playing out
there would be a grand experience."
"Grand," Janice murmured.
Nyota could see all too clearly what
Janice found grand. Spock was perched on a table, head bowed toward his
instrument, his pointed ears seeming to emphasize the line of his body and the
angle of the lyre. His eyes were closed in concentration, his look almost
peaceful. His hands moved effortlessly over the instrument, comfortable in
their motion through long practice. His hands flexed as his fingers flew, the
muscles flickering under the thin skin. His choice of composition was unusual
for a public venue. It was brooding, arresting-emotional. Yet some internal
force had apparently overcome his normal reserve. This was Spock at his most
vulnerable; the man without a heart, putting his heart on display.
Tears sprang to Nyota's eyes. How could
she not go to him, when he looked like that-so defenseless, so alone. The
entire cant of his body seemed to call to her; his listening face, the contours
of his body, his restless hands. How well she knew those hands-those strong
fingers with their deftness of touch, his inhumanly warm skin.
Not for her. Not any more.
Swallowing hard, Nyota forced herself to walk on. Her footstep wasn't quite
steady; it caught as she started to move. Hurry up; go! She hastened
down the hall, hoping to escape notice. The music continued uninterrupted, yet she
couldn't help wondering if Spock's sensitive ears had heard her light misstep,
had identified it as hers-whether he was even now aware that she was hurrying
away, not even stopping to listen to his heart-rending performance. What would
he think? How could he not feel it to be another rejection?
She burst into Sickbay in a cloud of
emotion. At least Christine wasn't there; Nyota couldn't have faced Christine in
her current state. The head nurse's relentless pursuit of Spock over the last
two weeks had put her in a prime position for filling Nyota's role as Spock's
mate. Nyota shook her head. Christine Chapel and Spock. No, she couldn't see
that working. Christine was all flattery and rapacious eyes. Spock didn't need
that; he needed a partner, someone who could stand up to him and for him when
he needed someone to be strong. There were plenty of times when he needed that,
especially lately. There was more to love than simply liking what you saw.
There was the hard bit, too; the iron and the fire. Spock was iron and fire.
Christine was a soft pillow. You couldn't put hot iron on a pillow.
Distressed by her thoughts, she
hurried through to McCoy's office. To her relief, the doctor was in. He was so
deeply absorbed in what he was reading on the screen, it took him a moment to
look up. As usual, he didn't look at all put out to be interrupted. Instead, a
smile split his face and he rose with those never-failing old-fashioned
manners. "Well, if it isn't my favorite bridge officer. Have a seat,
darling. Or are you here on business?"
"I'm here to get away from it
all."
"You've come to the right
place! That's what I'm doing at the moment." McCoy patted the monitor he'd
been reading. "Technical journals. Best thing in the world for getting
your mind off what ails you."
Nyota chuckled. "I've been
reading a few of those myself lately. Well, more than a few."
"Yes, there's nothing like
losing yourself in a good dose of 'the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone'
to make your troubles disappear." McCoy's smile faded. "Rough day?"
Nyota felt her throat close.
Nodding, she sank into the nearest chair.
McCoy came around his desk and
pulled up a chair next to her. He sat a moment, collecting his thoughts.
"When Jocelyn left me and I lost Joanna, it felt like the world had
ended." He paused. "It still does."
"When will it be over?" Nyota
whispered.
"I don't think it ever is. I
think people just go on as best they can."
Nyota tried to smile. "By
reading technical journals."
"That's one good outlet. Synthehol
is another." He reached out and took her hand. "Friends are the best
of all."
Nyota bit her lip. Hesitantly, she
squeezed back.
"This is new," McCoy said
kindly. "This rupture with Spock. Where do you turn, when the person you
always used to turn to for comfort is the one who's causing your pain?"
Nyota couldn't accept that. "I caused
this."
"Well, let's call it a joint
effort. It will feel like shit for a long time. But don’t forget that you have
friends. People who really do care about you."
"I haven't forgotten that for
one instant."
"Good." McCoy relaxed his
grip. "Good."
Suddenly Nyota couldn't bear to be
there. Dr. McCoy was so good; she could almost see herself falling for him. But
McCoy had done his 'work'; he'd had time to process his separation from Jocelyn.
Her rupture from Spock was an open wound. Whatever was stirring here between
them, it was far too soon for her to act upon it.
Gently, Nyota disengaged her hand
and rose. "I'd better get back to the bridge."
McCoy nodded. She could see his
understanding in his eyes. "Any time you want to drop by, you know I'd love
to see you."
"Thank you, Leonard."
His smile made her feel giddy and
unsettled. Flustered, she hurried down the hall. McCoy was right; work was the
remedy. Work would see her through. In time, perhaps a great amount of time,
things would feel bearable again.
Fueled by ruffled emotions, she nearly
catapulted onto the bridge, determined to bury herself in whatever scans she
could manufacture in this void between the stars. Her momentum carried her a
few steps from the turbolift toward the front screen. Kirk was absent; good. She
started to turn toward her station, when the words of Sulu and Chekov's latest
quarrel reached her ears.
"... going to be Janice. She's
vonderful at helping people who are, you know, under stress."
Sulu's soft voice rumbled in reply,
"You're only saying that because you think Janice is more likely to invite
you to their estate than Christine, wherever they end up settling. But I think
Christine is the better match. She's in a technical profession, closer to his
age-"
"Spock is a Wulcan,"
Chekov interrupted. "He'll live longer, so he'll need a younger vife."
"The difference in their ages
won't amount to anything when they're all up around 100. No, you have to
consider the personalities."
"I have! Janice's personality vill
suit Spock better."
"But Scotty loves Janice. He's
had a thing for her ever since the Academy. And she wasn't averse to him either,
until Spock suddenly came onto the market. No." Sulu shook his head
decisively. "Christine should marry Spock, and then Scotty can have
Janice. Everyone's happy."
"Everyone except-" At that
moment, Chekov looked up and met Nyota's eyes. His cheeks flamed red.
At Chekhov's pause, Sulu looked over
his shoulder. Seeing Nyota, the blood drained from his face. He tried to rally.
"Lieutenant..."
Nyota waved her hand. "Don't
worry about it," she said in a thick voice.
She walked back to her station,
feeling an utter fool. Of course people would be speculating about whom
Spock would choose. After all, she was the one who had thrown him 'onto the
market' again. People like Sulu and Chekov weren't worrying about whether
Janice was too young for marriage or whether Christine was hurting her career.
No, they were looking at the situation in the obvious way-that someone of
Spock's personal attractions and capabilities would not be single long, once
he'd decided to marry. Nyota was to blame for the entire situation. Every
phrase that wounded her heart was the result of her own doing. She seated
herself at her station, calling up scanning routines with a vengeance.
As if to make her misery complete,
the turbolift doors opened, and Spock stepped onto the bridge. Before Nyota
could turn away, she saw who was following him: Christine and Janice, both.
Apparently, they had decided Nyota had completely retired from the field,
because there was no trace of worry or self-consciousness in either of their
expressions. Instead, they trailed Spock like ducklings, so obviously flirting
that Nyota wondered how Spock could bear it.
"I think it's only right,"
Christine said, "that an important bridge officer should have medical
backup ready to serve him at any time."
"Your first duty is to the
crew," Spock replied. It was his logical voice; he wasn't engaging with
Christine, he was simply quoting regulations.
Christine apparently failed to
realize that. "I don't think that's an absolute rule. After all, Dr. McCoy
is often on the bridge. He has no excuse to be here, except that he has a
personal friendship with Captain Kirk."
Spock touched the controls to bring
his station to life. "It's true. Dr. McCoy is often on the bridge at
inappropriate moments."
"Whereas I," Janice
said, with a triumphant look at Christine, "have a duty to be on the
bridge."
"Your duty," Spock
clarified, "is to assist the captain with his administrative obligations."
"Which often take place on the
bridge," Janice said stubbornly.
"Actually, I have calculated
that 82.3% of your duties can be most optimally performed within your own
quarters. You only require Captain Kirk's presence for certain matters of
immediate importance or clarification."
"So in an emergency," Janice
continued, "the optimum place for me to be is on the bridge. That way,
Captain Kirk can communicate his important matters to me that much more
quickly."
"The optimum place for anyone
to be during an emergency is their assigned station," countered Spock.
"Historically, communications via intercom are 98.6% reliable, barring
accidental or intentional damage."
"Which always occurs during an
emergency," said Janice.
"Which occurs during an
emergency approximately 42.3% of the time."
"So when the captain needs me
the most," Janice concluded, "I should be right here, so he can be
certain he can communicate with me."
"Extraneous personnel always
pose a difficulty on the bridge during crisis situations. It is more difficult
to keep people safe when they are away from their designated posts."
Janice blushed, apparently
interpreting this entire conversation to mean that Spock was concerned over her
welfare. But Christine did not mean to be outdone.
"You're absolutely right that extraneous
personnel wandering around the bridge pose a hazard," she said strongly.
"But trained personnel who are used to handling emergencies can
only be an asset."
"Emergencies do not take place
merely on the bridge, however. Sickbay's location has been chosen both to
provide central access for all personnel, and to position it within the most
shielded area of the ship. By bringing our trained medical personnel away from
that area, we are jeopardizing their safety, as well as potentially
delaying care to other crew members who may need them."
It was Christine's turn to shoot
Janice a look of triumph: See? Spock wants me in the most shielded area of
the ship. So there.
Before any of them could carry this
nauseating conversation any further, Captain Kirk swept onto the bridge. He
glanced at the trio hovering around Spock's station, and then over at Nyota. He
resumed his purposeful stride toward the command chair.
"Is there some reason for you
to be on the bridge, Nurse?"
Christine looked flustered. "I
was just... checking our emergency status."
"We don't have an emergency.
Yeoman, would you come here, please?"
Janice was forced to go. Christine
stubbornly held her place, leaning over Spock's shoulder and getting in his way
as he tried to do a routine systems check.
Suddenly Chekov cried,
"Keptain! Deflector screens snapped on."
"Incoming object-" Sulu
started to say, before there was a boom and the Enterprise lurched. Everyone
tumbled sideways.
Nyota kept her seat by gripping the
edge of her workstation. Engineer Lo, beside her, was not so lucky, and slipped
to the floor. The lights flickered, went out, and then gradually powered up
again at half intensity.
"Shields!" Kirk yelled,
jumping out of his seat to assist Janice, who had fallen to the floor during
the impact.
"Shields up," Sulu
responded.
Chekov was busy at his station.
"I can't track it, Keptain. I think it was a rogue, demolished on
impact."
Kirk helped Janice to her feet.
"Spock, analysis!"
Nyota looked at Spock's station, and
started. Spock was not there. Instead, he was crouching on the floor beside his
station, holding an unconscious Christine Chapel in his arms. A bright stream
of blood ran down the side of her face. Spock looked up, straight into Nyota's eyes;
his own were dark with concern. "Can someone help me?"
Nyota was out of her seat before she
thought about it. She slid to the ground, right up against Spock's side, to
relieve him of his burden. Gently, she wrestled the woman into her arms. "I've
got her. Now, go! Find out what hit us."
Spock jumped up to comply. Janice saw
her fallen companion and screamed-startling poor Kirk, who was still holding
her up.
"Christine!" Janice
wailed. "Oh, God. What do we do?"
Nyota reached up and, with some
groping, managed to locate by touch the intercom switch near Spock's wrist.
"Sickbay. Medical emergency on the bridge."
McCoy's response was almost
immediate. "On my way."
Nyota became suddenly aware of the
proximity of Spock's leg, his Vulcan heat pouring into her back as he stood
over her checking readings. She desperately tried to redirect her thoughts.
"Janice," Nyota said, in what she hoped was a calm voice. "Come
here. Give me a hand."
"Is she dead?" Janice
babbled. She stood frozen in place. "I didn't see-did something hit
us?"
"The object was a filament of
dark matter," Spock reported, studying his instruments. "Ensign Chekov
is correct in that the object was destroyed. I am scanning for additional
occurrences." More quietly, he added, "Nurse Chapel hit her head on
the edge of my workstation."
"Where?" Nyota answered,
as the communication seemed to be directed to her.
"Here, near the radiation
sensors. I believe some of the controls broke the skin."
"Yes, that sounds right. I can
see the marks." Carefully, Nyota ripped off a piece of her hem and applied
it gently to Christine's bleeding temple.
"Can she die from that?"
Janice sounded frantic. "I've heard that people can die from that."
"She's not going to die,"
Kirk said authoritatively, stepping around her and stooping to Nyota's
assistance. Softly, he asked, "How bad is it?"
"She's not responsive, but her
breathing's regular." Nyota shrugged. "I'm not a doctor. I don't
know."
"Bones will be here soon."
Kirk rose and looked at Janice, still fidgeting in horror near the captain's
chair. "Yeoman, sit down. If we hit another one of those things, I don't
want more people flying around."
She sank down onto the dais that
held Kirk's command chair and gripped it with both hands. Even Janice Rand in a
fit would never think to sit in the captain's chair.
Kirk leaned over Spock's shoulder.
"Anything?"
"Negative."
"Starfield reads clear,
Captain," Sulu reported.
Kirk turned. "All right. I want
damage assessments, all decks."
The turbolift door opened, and McCoy
hurried out of it. He looked relieved when he saw Kirk standing. "Who is
it?"
Kirk jerked his thumb toward Spock's
station. McCoy took two steps in that direction, and froze.
"Lieutenant?"
"I'm fine," Nyota answered,
as McCoy ran to her. "Christine hit her head."
"You're sure?" He hurriedly
dug his scanner out of his bag. "This blood-"
"It's Christine's blood. I'm
fine, really."
"Thank heaven for that."
He ran the scanner over Christine's bloodied hair. "It's a soft injury. No
damage to the bone."
"She hasn't moved. Should
I-"
"You're fine just the way you
are. Don't move her." McCoy said over his shoulder, "Jim, I'm going
to need a stretcher team."
Kirk gestured toward Chekov.
"Call that in, would you, Navigator?"
Over the sound of Chekov calling in
the request, McCoy said, "You did very well, Nyota."
Nyota laughed self-deprecatingly.
"I didn't do much."
"You kept her still and applied
pressure to the wound." He didn't look at Janice for the comparison case;
but then, he didn't need to. "Not to mention keeping your head."
Spock interrupted unexpectedly from
above. "Few humans match Lieutenant Uhura's competence in an emergency
situation."
Nyota looked away, uncertain how to
interpret this sudden statement. It was almost the first voluntary thing he had
said to her since... that night.
"She gets my vote," said McCoy
cheerfully, striving to make light of the situation.
"Whereas I have been quite
remiss."
Kirk frowned. "In what
way?"
Spock was stern. "I allowed
Nurse Chapel to remain on the bridge, despite her having no legitimate business
here. Had she been at her assigned post, she would not have been injured."
"I know you like to think the
world revolves around you, Spock," McCoy said, running an instrument over
Christine's injury, "but you can't be responsible for someone falling over
in response to a sudden jolt." He gently pushed back his patient's hair.
"Accidents happen."
"Accidents can be minimized,"
said Spock, "if one takes the proper precautions."
McCoy grumbled, "Precaution
yourself out of this conversation."
Spock raised his eyes toward Kirk.
"I request that you put a reprimand in my file."
Kirk didn't even glance at him.
"If I started reprimanding people just because other people followed them
onto the bridge, Admiral Pike would ridicule me for an hour, then bust me down
to ensign. Denied."
Chekov reported, "Minimal
damage to decks one through six, Keptain. Minor injuries among the crew, mostly
the result of falls."
"Thank you, Navigator."
Kirk turned toward McCoy. "It sounds like you're in the right place,
Bones."
He gave Nyota a smile. "Well, I
was bound to be in the right place sooner or later."
Nyota tried, but she couldn't return
his smile. She was worrying about Spock's excessive guilt over Christine's
injury. Perhaps... was Sulu right after all? Did Spock think that Christine was
in fact the woman for him?
The turbolift doors opened and the
medical team rushed in. McCoy guided them through the process of transferring
Christine from Nyota's support to the stretcher. As soon as she was loaded and
the team started guiding the anti-grav propelled gurney away, McCoy gave Nyota
a worried look. "You're sure you're all right?"
Nyota got to her feet, carefully
avoiding further physical contact with Spock. "I'm fine."
"You aren't shaken up,
or-"
"Really. I'm not hurt." Nyota
felt her face warming. McCoy's sustained interest in her well-being, right in
front of her former lover, was uncomfortable. Of course, Spock didn't react in
any way-but Nyota could tell he was listening intently.
"All right." McCoy hurried
after his patient. "Take it easy for the next few hours. If you want to
relax after your shift, feel free to stop by."
"I will. Thank you."
McCoy and his team disappeared into
the lift. Janice, looking shaken, went with them. The bridge seemed very quiet
after they had gone.
Kirk sidled up to her.
"Lieutenant?"
Nyota jumped. Her thoughts had been
so absorbing, she realized she'd been standing there, unmoving. "Yes,
sir?"
"Would you like to return to
your quarters? Freshen up a little?"
Nyota noticed the blood dappled over
her hands and the front of her uniform. "Yes, I would. Thank you,
Captain."
"It's our loss, you know,"
he added, as she started to walk away.
"Your loss?"
"Absolutely. You might not be
able to notice it from your viewpoint, but from where I'm standing I can see
that your uniform skirt is almost 2 cm shorter on the left-hand side." He
grinned. "I can only say that it was a truly noble impulse on your part that
led you to try to tear something off of that skirt to use as a
bandage."
Nyota set her face. "You could
have torn a strip from your uniform shirt instead."
Kirk's smirk widened. "Why, Lieutenant!
What a request to make, in front of the entire bridge crew. Is there anything
else you'd like for me to tear off?"
Nyota rolled her eyes. "Thank
you for paying such close attention to my needs, Captain. I'll go to my
quarters now."
Spock straightened abruptly from his
station. "May I accompany you?"
Everyone on the bridge went quiet.
Kirk said, uncertainly, "She's going to her quarters to change,
Spock. Something tells me that she might not want you to help with that."
"Although scanners showed
clear," Spock said, "we are not yet assured that no follow-up impact
might occur."
"In which case, I need you
here."
"Ensign Chekov reported that
most of the injuries were due to falls. Lieutenant Uhura should not be left to risk
a fall on her own."
Kirk looked irritated. "She's a
big girl, Spock."
"Agreed. And extremely competent.
Nevertheless, I request permission to escort the lieutenant to her
quarters."
Kirk looked as if he wanted to
intercede, but held his tongue. He looked at Nyota. "Lieutenant? It's your
call."
Every head on the bridge had been
moving from Spock to Kirk to Nyota in turn as they spoke. Nyota felt everyone's
eyes on her as she replied, "I would be most grateful to accept the
commander's assistance."
Kirk looked deflated. Nyota imagined
he'd get over it in time. She turned toward the turbolift, her pulse pounding
in her throat.
Spock glided up next to her. There
was absolute silence on the bridge as the door closed behind them.
"Deck six," Nyota said.
The turbolift started to move.
Spock shifted. He's uncomfortable,
Nyota thought. Spock was never uncomfortable, not that he ever allowed to show.
But he was uncomfortable now.
"You handled the medical
situation with admirable proficiency, Lieutenant."
Nyota smiled wryly. "Christine
could have handled it twice as well, had she not been the one who needed the assistance."
"I do not follow your
reasoning."
Nyota was surprised. "She's a
trained medical specialist."
"It takes more than training
for a person to exhibit such competence as you habitually exude. Training can
condition, but it can never instill qualities which are missing from the start.
True excellence comes from within."
Nyota's heart was racing so rapidly
she felt lightheaded. How quickly would she turn around Spock's opinion of her,
if she were to faint on the turbolift floor?
After a moment, Spock spoke again. "I...
have been illogical."
Yes; fainting was a definite
possibility. "You?"
"I did not respond correctly in
the face of your rejection."
"Spock-"
"I needed a mate. That... drive
was my excuse."
"It's not an excuse. You told
me, with the reduced numbers of Vulcans-"
"It was a lie-one that I told
myself, and that I did not know was a lie until this hour. I thought-" He
stared at the wall, then touched the control to halt the turbolift. "I
felt the drive, and feel it now. So that is true. Like a shadow, I can feel the
minds of my fellow Vulcans reaching desperately for one another, and that also
is true. Yet I overlooked the most important aspect of this drive, the reason
for the need: the bonding. The bond mate."
Spock fixed her with his eyes. She
could feel his raw need pouring into her. "The marriage bond is the Vulcan
heart. It is the Vulcan soul. It is the illogic upon which all our rigid and
elegant structures of logic are built."
Nyota's mouth was dry. "I don't
understand."
He took her hand, clasped it firmly
in his own. "I tried to be inconstant, but I could not accomplish it.
Throughout all of my ill-judging attempts to replace you, my attachment to you
was undeviating. And so it must be. The link must be true. Otherwise,
our minds will bond imperfectly. How it logical it is for me to have risked
imperfection, when the perfect bond is before my sight?" He shook his head
minutely, his burning eyes fastened on hers. "Will you forgive me, Nyota? Through
your innate excellence, can you bring yourself to pardon one who, however
incorrect his outward actions, was ever true to you in his heart? You are the
one I seek. To you alone, I offer myself. If you find that, again, you cannot
accept me, know that I will not bond elsewhere, whatever it costs me-for you
will ever be bonded to me in my heart." He dropped her hand.
Straightening, he looked straight ahead. "I will not bring up this subject
again. One word, one look from you, will determine the course of my fate
forever."
Nyota couldn't speak. She had never
seen so much of his naked soul, not even on that terrible evening when she, in
her own display of ill-judgment, had turned him away. Slowly, she took his
hand. Gently she squeezed, then more firmly.
Spock looked at her, a question in
his eyes.
"Spock of Vulcan," Nyota whispered.
"I will bond with you, now and forever."
Spock grew absolutely still. But
between them, she could feel a quickening in the air, like a shout of triumph, yet
contained within that disciplined stare. Putting his fingers under her chin, he
tipped up her head to gaze into her eyes. His voice was a growl. "Parted
from me, and never parted. Never and always touching and touched."
Nyota kissed his hand. "Until
death do us part."
The End
Cast:
Nyota Uhura = Anne Elliot
Spock = Captain Frederick Wentworth
Captain Kirk = Lady Russell
Dr. McCoy = Captain Benwick, with a
dash of Cousin William Elliot
Sulu = Charles Musgrove
Chekov = Mary Elliot Musgrove
Christine Chapel = Louisa Musgrove
Janice Rand = Henrietta Musgrove
Scotty = Charles Hayter
"Like other great men under
reverses," he added, with a smile. "I must endeavour to subdue my
mind to my fortune. I must learn to brook being happier than I deserve."
-Captain Frederick Wentworth, Jane Austen's Persuasion
Title: Not Soon Recovered From
Rating: All audiences.
Summary: #67. Uhura/Spock a la Jane Austen's Persuasion.
Notes: For the Uhura is Awesome Fest. Austen reboot: I tried to cram Persuasion into 5700 words. Um, go me?
Not Soon Recovered From
“You were right to say no.”
Nyota started at her station. She
realized she’d been staring at the turbolift door- the turbolift into which
Commander Spock had just disappeared. She dragged her gaze the opposite way
toward the man who'd just addressed her.
Captain Kirk was perched on the
station beside her, his arms crossed and a look of sympathy on his face. Nyota
turned away.
“Listen.” Kirk kept his voice low so
it wouldn’t carry. "You had your career to think about. With your drive,
it’s going to be a great one. You don’t want to tie yourself down this early. I
have every sympathy with what the Vulcans are going through, but that tragedy
shouldn't outweigh every other consideration. I think it was unfair for him to
have asked you.”
“It's not that. It's…” Nyota’s voice
trailed off.
“Look.” Kirk leaned down so he was
even closer to her. His voice was so soft, Nyota doubted that anyone a meter
away would have heard him. “I’m your commanding officer, but I’m also your
friend. I can see how you’ve been suffering these last two weeks but, believe
me, it will pass. Spock’s a great guy. I like him; I really do. But he’s...
alien. Part alien, anyway. You don’t know-”
“You don’t know!” Nyota’s
retort, though sharp, was hushed. "Don't project your insecurities and
prejudices onto me."
Kirk shrugged. “Fair enough. But
when you came to me a couple of weeks ago, and asked for my opinion about you becoming
his mate… I mean, doesn’t that bother you? Mate? Like you’re not
even your own person any more, but an extension of him?”
Nyota’s mind flashed back to that
night. Spock’s eyes had glinted eerily in the reduced light of her quarters,
his deep, soft voice chanting the litany: “Parted from me and never parted,
never and always touching and touched…”
Nyota cleared her throat. “A Vulcan
union is more than a human marriage. It’s a mental bond.”
“A mental bond… to a guy who’s not
entirely stable. Don’t look at me like that; you know it’s true. Anybody would
be: his planet gone, his mother murdered… All I’m saying is, I think no one
should make that kind of decision under stress, and he’s definitely under
stress. I know he's got this idea that it has to be immediate, but... wait a
while. See what happens. I think he needs the time as well as you do.”
Wait. The truth was, the more Nyota
thought it over, the more she didn’t feel she needed to wait. Spock definitely
didn’t. He didn’t say where he was going when he left the bridge just now, but
she knew. He was going to the rec room. He’d never gone to the rec room
while he and Nyota had been dating, but he’d been going there regularly ever since
her refusal. To see her. Them. Christine Chapel and Janice Rand. The
blondes. Is this what Vulcans did when they were disappointed- ran off to seek
comfort in the arms of some blue-eyed blonde? If Spock was that shallow, why
was she regretting him?
But he wasn’t shallow. There was a restlessness
in his eyes, a need. He had to bond with someone, and soon. He’d told
Nyota that much. And she, after an evening of rational consideration and an
uncomfortably personal discussion with Jim Kirk, had refused him. Because of
her career. Because it was too soon. Because Spock was emotionally
damaged, as Kirk had said. Yet she couldn’t see herself bonding with any other
man. He needed her, and she’d turned him away. The pain she was feeling now was
the direct result of her own actions.
Beside her, Kirk said softly, "Why
don't you take a little walk? Get your mind off things."
And perhaps run into Spock in the
hall. "Maybe later."
"Suit yourself." He gave
her a companionable squeeze on the shoulder and walked over to the Engineering
station.
Nyota sat in a stew of unresolved
emotions. Much she hated to admit it, Kirk was right. She should move; get her
mind off things. Unfortunately, Kirk's idea of getting her mind off things
probably involved jumping her in the arboretum. That she couldn't face.
Unable to sit still, Nyota jumped up
to deliver her communications report to Chekov personally. She didn't get many
steps before she realized her preoccupation had caused her to block out what
had become an all too common occurrence-Sulu and Chekov, arguing.
Their bone of contention this time
seemed to feature an arboretum as well. "I've never been right since you
gave me those mushrooms," Chekov complained. "In Russia, ve know
mushrooms. Vhat you gave me vas not a mushroom."
Sulu was patient. "It was a
variety of noble mushroom-"
"No. The noble mushroom was
inwented in Russia. This vas something else."
Sulu noticed Nyota. He looked
relieved at the interruption. "Can I help you, Lieutenant?"
Nyota held out her data stick
self-consciously. "No, I just wanted to deliver this."
"Ah, my data." Chekov took
it with entirely too much satisfaction.
"I didn't get much," Nyota
explained. "Just a few bursts of noise between regular
communications."
"I vill look it over
immediately." He pressed his hand to his side. "That is, vhen I'm
through being ill."
Sulu rolled his eyes. "You're
not ill."
"I'm wery ill. You don't
appreciate how sensitive I can be."
"I think I have a pretty good
idea."
"Oh, insults! We've moved on to
insults. Vell..."
Nyota backed away. "I have to
get back to my station."
"I understand." Resigned,
Sulu turned back to his panel. "In fact, I'm envious."
Chekov pounced immediately.
"Oh, are my troubles so trying for you? Poor Hikaru. Of course, I vould
be analyzing these undefined energy bursts... if I veren't so wery ill."
Nyota turned away. Kirk was still
hanging around near her station; at her motion, he gave her a compassionate
look. Nyota wished he wouldn't; although his intentions were good, Kurt just
couldn't pull off being disinterestedly kind.
"I think I'll take a
break," Nyota said to him across the bridge.
Kirk nodded. "Good idea. We'll
cover for you."
Not that there was much to cover, here
between systems, but Nyota thanked him anyway. She entered the turbolift, and almost
instantly felt her heart rate increase. Why did she keep doing this to herself?
Yet, she refused to let Spock scare her away from other parts of the ship. She
had just as much right to walk down the hall as he did. She would be brave, and
follow through on what she'd set out to do.
All these bold intentions underwent
a quiver when the turbolift stopped and deposited her on deck five. Briskly, she
started toward her intended destination. But to get there, she had to pass the
rec room. The room that was now coming up on her left. The door was open, and
she could hear music wafting from within. She stopped, her throat closing.
It was a Vulcan lyre. One of the
three remaining in existence, and it was at this moment being strummed into
beautiful and poignant life just beyond the doorway.
Softly, Nyota approached despite herself,
until she could peer into the room. A small audience had gathered. In the front
row, gazing raptly, were (naturally) Christine Chapel and Janice Rand. Most of
the rest of the audience was female as well, with the notable exception of the
chief engineer. Scotty stood in the back row, hovering over Janice's shoulder.
As intently as Janice was focused on Spock, so was Scotty on her.
"I play the fife, you
know," he was telling her. "Not to be singing my own praises, but I
make a fairly good job of it."
"That's nice," Janice crooned,
her eyes following the hypnotic movements of Spock's hands.
"It's a bit much for
starship," Scotty continued. "It's made for the open moor. Piercing,
it can be. That's why you dinnae hear me play it very often." He
straightened, as if struck by a thought. "I could play it for you on our
next shore leave. They say Dividian eight has some bonny hills. Playing out
there would be a grand experience."
"Grand," Janice murmured.
Nyota could see all too clearly what
Janice found grand. Spock was perched on a table, head bowed toward his
instrument, his pointed ears seeming to emphasize the line of his body and the
angle of the lyre. His eyes were closed in concentration, his look almost
peaceful. His hands moved effortlessly over the instrument, comfortable in
their motion through long practice. His hands flexed as his fingers flew, the
muscles flickering under the thin skin. His choice of composition was unusual
for a public venue. It was brooding, arresting-emotional. Yet some internal
force had apparently overcome his normal reserve. This was Spock at his most
vulnerable; the man without a heart, putting his heart on display.
Tears sprang to Nyota's eyes. How could
she not go to him, when he looked like that-so defenseless, so alone. The
entire cant of his body seemed to call to her; his listening face, the contours
of his body, his restless hands. How well she knew those hands-those strong
fingers with their deftness of touch, his inhumanly warm skin.
Not for her. Not any more.
Swallowing hard, Nyota forced herself to walk on. Her footstep wasn't quite
steady; it caught as she started to move. Hurry up; go! She hastened
down the hall, hoping to escape notice. The music continued uninterrupted, yet she
couldn't help wondering if Spock's sensitive ears had heard her light misstep,
had identified it as hers-whether he was even now aware that she was hurrying
away, not even stopping to listen to his heart-rending performance. What would
he think? How could he not feel it to be another rejection?
She burst into Sickbay in a cloud of
emotion. At least Christine wasn't there; Nyota couldn't have faced Christine in
her current state. The head nurse's relentless pursuit of Spock over the last
two weeks had put her in a prime position for filling Nyota's role as Spock's
mate. Nyota shook her head. Christine Chapel and Spock. No, she couldn't see
that working. Christine was all flattery and rapacious eyes. Spock didn't need
that; he needed a partner, someone who could stand up to him and for him when
he needed someone to be strong. There were plenty of times when he needed that,
especially lately. There was more to love than simply liking what you saw.
There was the hard bit, too; the iron and the fire. Spock was iron and fire.
Christine was a soft pillow. You couldn't put hot iron on a pillow.
Distressed by her thoughts, she
hurried through to McCoy's office. To her relief, the doctor was in. He was so
deeply absorbed in what he was reading on the screen, it took him a moment to
look up. As usual, he didn't look at all put out to be interrupted. Instead, a
smile split his face and he rose with those never-failing old-fashioned
manners. "Well, if it isn't my favorite bridge officer. Have a seat,
darling. Or are you here on business?"
"I'm here to get away from it
all."
"You've come to the right
place! That's what I'm doing at the moment." McCoy patted the monitor he'd
been reading. "Technical journals. Best thing in the world for getting
your mind off what ails you."
Nyota chuckled. "I've been
reading a few of those myself lately. Well, more than a few."
"Yes, there's nothing like
losing yourself in a good dose of 'the knee bone's connected to the thigh bone'
to make your troubles disappear." McCoy's smile faded. "Rough day?"
Nyota felt her throat close.
Nodding, she sank into the nearest chair.
McCoy came around his desk and
pulled up a chair next to her. He sat a moment, collecting his thoughts.
"When Jocelyn left me and I lost Joanna, it felt like the world had
ended." He paused. "It still does."
"When will it be over?" Nyota
whispered.
"I don't think it ever is. I
think people just go on as best they can."
Nyota tried to smile. "By
reading technical journals."
"That's one good outlet. Synthehol
is another." He reached out and took her hand. "Friends are the best
of all."
Nyota bit her lip. Hesitantly, she
squeezed back.
"This is new," McCoy said
kindly. "This rupture with Spock. Where do you turn, when the person you
always used to turn to for comfort is the one who's causing your pain?"
Nyota couldn't accept that. "I caused
this."
"Well, let's call it a joint
effort. It will feel like shit for a long time. But don’t forget that you have
friends. People who really do care about you."
"I haven't forgotten that for
one instant."
"Good." McCoy relaxed his
grip. "Good."
Suddenly Nyota couldn't bear to be
there. Dr. McCoy was so good; she could almost see herself falling for him. But
McCoy had done his 'work'; he'd had time to process his separation from Jocelyn.
Her rupture from Spock was an open wound. Whatever was stirring here between
them, it was far too soon for her to act upon it.
Gently, Nyota disengaged her hand
and rose. "I'd better get back to the bridge."
McCoy nodded. She could see his
understanding in his eyes. "Any time you want to drop by, you know I'd love
to see you."
"Thank you, Leonard."
His smile made her feel giddy and
unsettled. Flustered, she hurried down the hall. McCoy was right; work was the
remedy. Work would see her through. In time, perhaps a great amount of time,
things would feel bearable again.
Fueled by ruffled emotions, she nearly
catapulted onto the bridge, determined to bury herself in whatever scans she
could manufacture in this void between the stars. Her momentum carried her a
few steps from the turbolift toward the front screen. Kirk was absent; good. She
started to turn toward her station, when the words of Sulu and Chekov's latest
quarrel reached her ears.
"... going to be Janice. She's
vonderful at helping people who are, you know, under stress."
Sulu's soft voice rumbled in reply,
"You're only saying that because you think Janice is more likely to invite
you to their estate than Christine, wherever they end up settling. But I think
Christine is the better match. She's in a technical profession, closer to his
age-"
"Spock is a Wulcan,"
Chekov interrupted. "He'll live longer, so he'll need a younger vife."
"The difference in their ages
won't amount to anything when they're all up around 100. No, you have to
consider the personalities."
"I have! Janice's personality vill
suit Spock better."
"But Scotty loves Janice. He's
had a thing for her ever since the Academy. And she wasn't averse to him either,
until Spock suddenly came onto the market. No." Sulu shook his head
decisively. "Christine should marry Spock, and then Scotty can have
Janice. Everyone's happy."
"Everyone except-" At that
moment, Chekov looked up and met Nyota's eyes. His cheeks flamed red.
At Chekhov's pause, Sulu looked over
his shoulder. Seeing Nyota, the blood drained from his face. He tried to rally.
"Lieutenant..."
Nyota waved her hand. "Don't
worry about it," she said in a thick voice.
She walked back to her station,
feeling an utter fool. Of course people would be speculating about whom
Spock would choose. After all, she was the one who had thrown him 'onto the
market' again. People like Sulu and Chekov weren't worrying about whether
Janice was too young for marriage or whether Christine was hurting her career.
No, they were looking at the situation in the obvious way-that someone of
Spock's personal attractions and capabilities would not be single long, once
he'd decided to marry. Nyota was to blame for the entire situation. Every
phrase that wounded her heart was the result of her own doing. She seated
herself at her station, calling up scanning routines with a vengeance.
As if to make her misery complete,
the turbolift doors opened, and Spock stepped onto the bridge. Before Nyota
could turn away, she saw who was following him: Christine and Janice, both.
Apparently, they had decided Nyota had completely retired from the field,
because there was no trace of worry or self-consciousness in either of their
expressions. Instead, they trailed Spock like ducklings, so obviously flirting
that Nyota wondered how Spock could bear it.
"I think it's only right,"
Christine said, "that an important bridge officer should have medical
backup ready to serve him at any time."
"Your first duty is to the
crew," Spock replied. It was his logical voice; he wasn't engaging with
Christine, he was simply quoting regulations.
Christine apparently failed to
realize that. "I don't think that's an absolute rule. After all, Dr. McCoy
is often on the bridge. He has no excuse to be here, except that he has a
personal friendship with Captain Kirk."
Spock touched the controls to bring
his station to life. "It's true. Dr. McCoy is often on the bridge at
inappropriate moments."
"Whereas I," Janice
said, with a triumphant look at Christine, "have a duty to be on the
bridge."
"Your duty," Spock
clarified, "is to assist the captain with his administrative obligations."
"Which often take place on the
bridge," Janice said stubbornly.
"Actually, I have calculated
that 82.3% of your duties can be most optimally performed within your own
quarters. You only require Captain Kirk's presence for certain matters of
immediate importance or clarification."
"So in an emergency," Janice
continued, "the optimum place for me to be is on the bridge. That way,
Captain Kirk can communicate his important matters to me that much more
quickly."
"The optimum place for anyone
to be during an emergency is their assigned station," countered Spock.
"Historically, communications via intercom are 98.6% reliable, barring
accidental or intentional damage."
"Which always occurs during an
emergency," said Janice.
"Which occurs during an
emergency approximately 42.3% of the time."
"So when the captain needs me
the most," Janice concluded, "I should be right here, so he can be
certain he can communicate with me."
"Extraneous personnel always
pose a difficulty on the bridge during crisis situations. It is more difficult
to keep people safe when they are away from their designated posts."
Janice blushed, apparently
interpreting this entire conversation to mean that Spock was concerned over her
welfare. But Christine did not mean to be outdone.
"You're absolutely right that extraneous
personnel wandering around the bridge pose a hazard," she said strongly.
"But trained personnel who are used to handling emergencies can
only be an asset."
"Emergencies do not take place
merely on the bridge, however. Sickbay's location has been chosen both to
provide central access for all personnel, and to position it within the most
shielded area of the ship. By bringing our trained medical personnel away from
that area, we are jeopardizing their safety, as well as potentially
delaying care to other crew members who may need them."
It was Christine's turn to shoot
Janice a look of triumph: See? Spock wants me in the most shielded area of
the ship. So there.
Before any of them could carry this
nauseating conversation any further, Captain Kirk swept onto the bridge. He
glanced at the trio hovering around Spock's station, and then over at Nyota. He
resumed his purposeful stride toward the command chair.
"Is there some reason for you
to be on the bridge, Nurse?"
Christine looked flustered. "I
was just... checking our emergency status."
"We don't have an emergency.
Yeoman, would you come here, please?"
Janice was forced to go. Christine
stubbornly held her place, leaning over Spock's shoulder and getting in his way
as he tried to do a routine systems check.
Suddenly Chekov cried,
"Keptain! Deflector screens snapped on."
"Incoming object-" Sulu
started to say, before there was a boom and the Enterprise lurched. Everyone
tumbled sideways.
Nyota kept her seat by gripping the
edge of her workstation. Engineer Lo, beside her, was not so lucky, and slipped
to the floor. The lights flickered, went out, and then gradually powered up
again at half intensity.
"Shields!" Kirk yelled,
jumping out of his seat to assist Janice, who had fallen to the floor during
the impact.
"Shields up," Sulu
responded.
Chekov was busy at his station.
"I can't track it, Keptain. I think it was a rogue, demolished on
impact."
Kirk helped Janice to her feet.
"Spock, analysis!"
Nyota looked at Spock's station, and
started. Spock was not there. Instead, he was crouching on the floor beside his
station, holding an unconscious Christine Chapel in his arms. A bright stream
of blood ran down the side of her face. Spock looked up, straight into Nyota's eyes;
his own were dark with concern. "Can someone help me?"
Nyota was out of her seat before she
thought about it. She slid to the ground, right up against Spock's side, to
relieve him of his burden. Gently, she wrestled the woman into her arms. "I've
got her. Now, go! Find out what hit us."
Spock jumped up to comply. Janice saw
her fallen companion and screamed-startling poor Kirk, who was still holding
her up.
"Christine!" Janice
wailed. "Oh, God. What do we do?"
Nyota reached up and, with some
groping, managed to locate by touch the intercom switch near Spock's wrist.
"Sickbay. Medical emergency on the bridge."
McCoy's response was almost
immediate. "On my way."
Nyota became suddenly aware of the
proximity of Spock's leg, his Vulcan heat pouring into her back as he stood
over her checking readings. She desperately tried to redirect her thoughts.
"Janice," Nyota said, in what she hoped was a calm voice. "Come
here. Give me a hand."
"Is she dead?" Janice
babbled. She stood frozen in place. "I didn't see-did something hit
us?"
"The object was a filament of
dark matter," Spock reported, studying his instruments. "Ensign Chekov
is correct in that the object was destroyed. I am scanning for additional
occurrences." More quietly, he added, "Nurse Chapel hit her head on
the edge of my workstation."
"Where?" Nyota answered,
as the communication seemed to be directed to her.
"Here, near the radiation
sensors. I believe some of the controls broke the skin."
"Yes, that sounds right. I can
see the marks." Carefully, Nyota ripped off a piece of her hem and applied
it gently to Christine's bleeding temple.
"Can she die from that?"
Janice sounded frantic. "I've heard that people can die from that."
"She's not going to die,"
Kirk said authoritatively, stepping around her and stooping to Nyota's
assistance. Softly, he asked, "How bad is it?"
"She's not responsive, but her
breathing's regular." Nyota shrugged. "I'm not a doctor. I don't
know."
"Bones will be here soon."
Kirk rose and looked at Janice, still fidgeting in horror near the captain's
chair. "Yeoman, sit down. If we hit another one of those things, I don't
want more people flying around."
She sank down onto the dais that
held Kirk's command chair and gripped it with both hands. Even Janice Rand in a
fit would never think to sit in the captain's chair.
Kirk leaned over Spock's shoulder.
"Anything?"
"Negative."
"Starfield reads clear,
Captain," Sulu reported.
Kirk turned. "All right. I want
damage assessments, all decks."
The turbolift door opened, and McCoy
hurried out of it. He looked relieved when he saw Kirk standing. "Who is
it?"
Kirk jerked his thumb toward Spock's
station. McCoy took two steps in that direction, and froze.
"Lieutenant?"
"I'm fine," Nyota answered,
as McCoy ran to her. "Christine hit her head."
"You're sure?" He hurriedly
dug his scanner out of his bag. "This blood-"
"It's Christine's blood. I'm
fine, really."
"Thank heaven for that."
He ran the scanner over Christine's bloodied hair. "It's a soft injury. No
damage to the bone."
"She hasn't moved. Should
I-"
"You're fine just the way you
are. Don't move her." McCoy said over his shoulder, "Jim, I'm going
to need a stretcher team."
Kirk gestured toward Chekov.
"Call that in, would you, Navigator?"
Over the sound of Chekov calling in
the request, McCoy said, "You did very well, Nyota."
Nyota laughed self-deprecatingly.
"I didn't do much."
"You kept her still and applied
pressure to the wound." He didn't look at Janice for the comparison case;
but then, he didn't need to. "Not to mention keeping your head."
Spock interrupted unexpectedly from
above. "Few humans match Lieutenant Uhura's competence in an emergency
situation."
Nyota looked away, uncertain how to
interpret this sudden statement. It was almost the first voluntary thing he had
said to her since... that night.
"She gets my vote," said McCoy
cheerfully, striving to make light of the situation.
"Whereas I have been quite
remiss."
Kirk frowned. "In what
way?"
Spock was stern. "I allowed
Nurse Chapel to remain on the bridge, despite her having no legitimate business
here. Had she been at her assigned post, she would not have been injured."
"I know you like to think the
world revolves around you, Spock," McCoy said, running an instrument over
Christine's injury, "but you can't be responsible for someone falling over
in response to a sudden jolt." He gently pushed back his patient's hair.
"Accidents happen."
"Accidents can be minimized,"
said Spock, "if one takes the proper precautions."
McCoy grumbled, "Precaution
yourself out of this conversation."
Spock raised his eyes toward Kirk.
"I request that you put a reprimand in my file."
Kirk didn't even glance at him.
"If I started reprimanding people just because other people followed them
onto the bridge, Admiral Pike would ridicule me for an hour, then bust me down
to ensign. Denied."
Chekov reported, "Minimal
damage to decks one through six, Keptain. Minor injuries among the crew, mostly
the result of falls."
"Thank you, Navigator."
Kirk turned toward McCoy. "It sounds like you're in the right place,
Bones."
He gave Nyota a smile. "Well, I
was bound to be in the right place sooner or later."
Nyota tried, but she couldn't return
his smile. She was worrying about Spock's excessive guilt over Christine's
injury. Perhaps... was Sulu right after all? Did Spock think that Christine was
in fact the woman for him?
The turbolift doors opened and the
medical team rushed in. McCoy guided them through the process of transferring
Christine from Nyota's support to the stretcher. As soon as she was loaded and
the team started guiding the anti-grav propelled gurney away, McCoy gave Nyota
a worried look. "You're sure you're all right?"
Nyota got to her feet, carefully
avoiding further physical contact with Spock. "I'm fine."
"You aren't shaken up,
or-"
"Really. I'm not hurt." Nyota
felt her face warming. McCoy's sustained interest in her well-being, right in
front of her former lover, was uncomfortable. Of course, Spock didn't react in
any way-but Nyota could tell he was listening intently.
"All right." McCoy hurried
after his patient. "Take it easy for the next few hours. If you want to
relax after your shift, feel free to stop by."
"I will. Thank you."
McCoy and his team disappeared into
the lift. Janice, looking shaken, went with them. The bridge seemed very quiet
after they had gone.
Kirk sidled up to her.
"Lieutenant?"
Nyota jumped. Her thoughts had been
so absorbing, she realized she'd been standing there, unmoving. "Yes,
sir?"
"Would you like to return to
your quarters? Freshen up a little?"
Nyota noticed the blood dappled over
her hands and the front of her uniform. "Yes, I would. Thank you,
Captain."
"It's our loss, you know,"
he added, as she started to walk away.
"Your loss?"
"Absolutely. You might not be
able to notice it from your viewpoint, but from where I'm standing I can see
that your uniform skirt is almost 2 cm shorter on the left-hand side." He
grinned. "I can only say that it was a truly noble impulse on your part that
led you to try to tear something off of that skirt to use as a
bandage."
Nyota set her face. "You could
have torn a strip from your uniform shirt instead."
Kirk's smirk widened. "Why, Lieutenant!
What a request to make, in front of the entire bridge crew. Is there anything
else you'd like for me to tear off?"
Nyota rolled her eyes. "Thank
you for paying such close attention to my needs, Captain. I'll go to my
quarters now."
Spock straightened abruptly from his
station. "May I accompany you?"
Everyone on the bridge went quiet.
Kirk said, uncertainly, "She's going to her quarters to change,
Spock. Something tells me that she might not want you to help with that."
"Although scanners showed
clear," Spock said, "we are not yet assured that no follow-up impact
might occur."
"In which case, I need you
here."
"Ensign Chekov reported that
most of the injuries were due to falls. Lieutenant Uhura should not be left to risk
a fall on her own."
Kirk looked irritated. "She's a
big girl, Spock."
"Agreed. And extremely competent.
Nevertheless, I request permission to escort the lieutenant to her
quarters."
Kirk looked as if he wanted to
intercede, but held his tongue. He looked at Nyota. "Lieutenant? It's your
call."
Every head on the bridge had been
moving from Spock to Kirk to Nyota in turn as they spoke. Nyota felt everyone's
eyes on her as she replied, "I would be most grateful to accept the
commander's assistance."
Kirk looked deflated. Nyota imagined
he'd get over it in time. She turned toward the turbolift, her pulse pounding
in her throat.
Spock glided up next to her. There
was absolute silence on the bridge as the door closed behind them.
"Deck six," Nyota said.
The turbolift started to move.
Spock shifted. He's uncomfortable,
Nyota thought. Spock was never uncomfortable, not that he ever allowed to show.
But he was uncomfortable now.
"You handled the medical
situation with admirable proficiency, Lieutenant."
Nyota smiled wryly. "Christine
could have handled it twice as well, had she not been the one who needed the assistance."
"I do not follow your
reasoning."
Nyota was surprised. "She's a
trained medical specialist."
"It takes more than training
for a person to exhibit such competence as you habitually exude. Training can
condition, but it can never instill qualities which are missing from the start.
True excellence comes from within."
Nyota's heart was racing so rapidly
she felt lightheaded. How quickly would she turn around Spock's opinion of her,
if she were to faint on the turbolift floor?
After a moment, Spock spoke again. "I...
have been illogical."
Yes; fainting was a definite
possibility. "You?"
"I did not respond correctly in
the face of your rejection."
"Spock-"
"I needed a mate. That... drive
was my excuse."
"It's not an excuse. You told
me, with the reduced numbers of Vulcans-"
"It was a lie-one that I told
myself, and that I did not know was a lie until this hour. I thought-" He
stared at the wall, then touched the control to halt the turbolift. "I
felt the drive, and feel it now. So that is true. Like a shadow, I can feel the
minds of my fellow Vulcans reaching desperately for one another, and that also
is true. Yet I overlooked the most important aspect of this drive, the reason
for the need: the bonding. The bond mate."
Spock fixed her with his eyes. She
could feel his raw need pouring into her. "The marriage bond is the Vulcan
heart. It is the Vulcan soul. It is the illogic upon which all our rigid and
elegant structures of logic are built."
Nyota's mouth was dry. "I don't
understand."
He took her hand, clasped it firmly
in his own. "I tried to be inconstant, but I could not accomplish it.
Throughout all of my ill-judging attempts to replace you, my attachment to you
was undeviating. And so it must be. The link must be true. Otherwise,
our minds will bond imperfectly. How it logical it is for me to have risked
imperfection, when the perfect bond is before my sight?" He shook his head
minutely, his burning eyes fastened on hers. "Will you forgive me, Nyota? Through
your innate excellence, can you bring yourself to pardon one who, however
incorrect his outward actions, was ever true to you in his heart? You are the
one I seek. To you alone, I offer myself. If you find that, again, you cannot
accept me, know that I will not bond elsewhere, whatever it costs me-for you
will ever be bonded to me in my heart." He dropped her hand.
Straightening, he looked straight ahead. "I will not bring up this subject
again. One word, one look from you, will determine the course of my fate
forever."
Nyota couldn't speak. She had never
seen so much of his naked soul, not even on that terrible evening when she, in
her own display of ill-judgment, had turned him away. Slowly, she took his
hand. Gently she squeezed, then more firmly.
Spock looked at her, a question in
his eyes.
"Spock of Vulcan," Nyota whispered.
"I will bond with you, now and forever."
Spock grew absolutely still. But
between them, she could feel a quickening in the air, like a shout of triumph, yet
contained within that disciplined stare. Putting his fingers under her chin, he
tipped up her head to gaze into her eyes. His voice was a growl. "Parted
from me, and never parted. Never and always touching and touched."
Nyota kissed his hand. "Until
death do us part."
The End
Cast:
Nyota Uhura = Anne Elliot
Spock = Captain Frederick Wentworth
Captain Kirk = Lady Russell
Dr. McCoy = Captain Benwick, with a
dash of Cousin William Elliot
Sulu = Charles Musgrove
Chekov = Mary Elliot Musgrove
Christine Chapel = Louisa Musgrove
Janice Rand = Henrietta Musgrove
Scotty = Charles Hayter
"Like other great men under
reverses," he added, with a smile. "I must endeavour to subdue my
mind to my fortune. I must learn to brook being happier than I deserve."
-Captain Frederick Wentworth, Jane Austen's Persuasion