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Ensign Nyota Uhura notices two things as the transporter field clears her vision. The first is an insanely sexy Vulcan staring at her. Second, a frighteningly loud rumbling.
She’s been transporting from one location to another since she could remember, but never, not even in training at the academy, has she beamed somewhere only to have the surface heave underfoot and throw her off balance as soon as the transporter process ended. She thought the floor had vanished, only to hit her knees and realize it was bucking like an angry bronco.
She looks up and finds herself face to face with the sexy Vulcan. He’s also on his knees; the ship’s rattling knocked him off his feet as something slammed into them. He offers a hand. She takes it.
“Are you injured?”
Her knees are smarting, but she’s otherwise okay. “No, I’m fine.”
The red alert klaxon blasts throughout the ship.
“This is the captain,” a voice says over the intercom. “All hands to battle stations.”
“Is this a drill?”
The Vulcan quirks a sharply upswept eyebrow. “It certainly is not, Ensign.”
“I need to report to Commander Shaw in communications. I’ve memorized the ship layout, so I can get there on my own.”
Cool under pressure, like all his people, he simply nods and starts for the exit. She follows close, trying to keep her feet as the ship heaves again. Once in the corridor, they split. He heads for a nearby turbolift, while she heads left toward another lift that will offer a more direct ride to her post.
She doesn’t get far before she hears his deep voice. “Ensign, wait.”
She stops and turns to find he’s at a computer terminal set into the corridor wall. She hurries over and sees a ship-wide diagnostic reading of damage to the turbolifts.
“Damn,” she whispers. “Lifts are down. I need to get to the main communications hub then. That’s deck seven.”
“That is three decks down,” he points out. “You will have to take the Jeffries tubes, which could prove dangerous under the current circumstances. If you were to lose your grip, you could fall to your death.”
“Spock, there you are!”
A man in a blue medical uniform approaches in a hurry, supporting an injured man as he hustles him along.
“I spoke with Captain Pike before comms were blocked. He says your key priority is to get into contact with Commander Shaw. The line to the hub is down and we need to get a distress signal out. The shields over the outpost will completely fail in about half an hour. We’re in trouble too. Outnumbered, but the Delta and the Constitution are still within range to offer aid.”
Spock turns to Uhura. “We have a new mission, Ensign. Let us carry it out.”
They hurry to a weapons locker to grab phasers. The lights flicker overhead as the barrage of weapons fire finally ends.
“Thank goodness,” she says. “Looks like Captain Pike got the better of them.”
“Unlikely, Ensign,” he replies. “This battle is not over. It has just begun.”
She follows his gaze to see the glow of transporters depositing men and women in the corridors. They’re armed and immediately begin firing. She ducks, pulls her weapon, and fires, hoping to hit something before she’s taken down.
A firefight in the corridors on her very first day? Uhura remembers her training and takes a deep breath before aiming at the center of mass. Her phaser, set to stun, takes down a pirate. She’s once again knocked off her feet as Spock pulls her aside, slamming her into the wall just as the heat of a pulse weapon sizzles past her right cheek. Their weapons are set to kill.
“That would’ve blown my head off!” she shouts. Angry now, Uhura fires at will, no longer aiming, just shooting in a rage at the mass of pirates across from her. Spock does likewise. With no other choice but to flee, the pirates turn tail and run, sporadically firing behind them as they do, forcing Uhura and Spock to duck. She’s pleased to see the asshole who almost killed her has fallen. She stalks up to his body and gives him a swift kick to the side.
“Ensign!”
Uhura stops and turns to Spock. “Sorry, Sir. I forgot myself.”
“I will forgive the indiscretion this time,” he says, hurrying down the corridor with an order to watch for more intruders. He returns a short while later with plascuffs in hand. Together, they tie up the three fallen pirates. Two men and one woman.
“They’re all different species,” Uhura says. “The woman is Andorian, he’s Orion, and he’s human.”
“It isn’t unusual for the dregs of many societies to band together in piracy,” Spock says. He grabs the collars of the two men after securing them and drags them into an empty storage locker, before hauling the woman in and laying her over their laps. He seals the room.
“Now, Ensign, let us continue on our mission. There isn’t much time.”
Regret fills Uhura as they hurry to a hatch leading to a Jeffries tube. She’s looked forward to serving on the Enterprise since her first year at the Academy. She’s worked her ass off to prove she was worthy of a post aboard the flagship. Now, she will probably die before even using the ship’s state-of-the-art communications equipment.
She climbs into the confining space with Spock pressed tightly against her. He’s feverishly hot and smells like the soap he showered with that morning. There’s also another scent: fresh sweat. It’s a heady fragrance, and she breathes deeply to take it in. Their eyes meet, and she watches him visibly swallow.
“Shall we?” he says, cocking a brow, before taking a deep breath through his nose. Perhaps he likes her scent as well.
Uhura clears her throat and nods. “Uh, yeah. Let’s get this done.”
It takes ages to climb down three decks with the ship bucking like a wild animal beneath her, a phaser in hand, without slipping. Time crawls. They need to get to the hub. If they don’t, whoever’s attacking might end them and the outpost.
“I will make sure the corridor is clear.”
Uhura puts a hand on his arm to halt him. “We can take this maintenance tube straight to the hub from here.”
“That will be too slow going. We don’t have time to enter command codes to bypass each bulkhead panel.”
Uhura nods. He’s right; it’s slow, but less risky than fighting pirates in the corridor. She keeps her mouth shut. He outranks her, and it wouldn’t make a good impression if she argued against him in a crisis.
Together they crouch and ease open the hatch. For now, the coast is clear. Spock steps out. The hub entrance to the communications hub is ten feet away. At his signal, they hurry across the hall and into the hub. It’s a large chamber with six rows of terminals and massive subspace transponders and receiver arrays lining the walls. Normally, there would be fifteen communications officers manning the terminals and maintaining the arrays. The room is empty, with one exception: a dead man lies on the floor before them.
“Commander Shaw,” Spock says, and Uhura feels her stomach clench. Spock doesn’t check on him. His throat was cut. His lifeblood has pooled on the floor around him in a reeking puddle that makes her stomach churn. She’d been too excited about coming aboard ship this morning to eat breakfast. She’s glad of that now. Uhura looks him over. His eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful, despite being white as a bleached bone from blood loss.
Uhura remembers her duty and pulls her eyes away from the body. She hurries over to a terminal. Then another, and another.
“They’ve been phasered, Lieutenant Spock.”
“We must effect repairs.”
Voices from the corridor spur her to action. As the doors swoosh open, she grabs Spock and pulls him into the cubicle with the terminal. Once again, he’s pressed against her in a tight space. She can feel every bit of his body pressed against her.
Spock is lean, hard with muscle, and every inch of him is hot. Without thinking, Uhura parts her thighs and feels his body sink closer, pressing against her, and his breath catches in his throat in response. Her face burns, and the blush spreads down her body where it pools low in her belly. She can feel his eyes boring into her but can’t make herself meet his gaze. Rather, her eyes make it as far as his lips. They’re very plump, and she watches his tongue come to swipe over them, leaving them moist.
“We’ve cleared this room twice already,” the voice says.
“You heard the cap’n. Gotta make sure nobody gets a signal out.”
The voices inch closer.
“I brought a bottle of Saurian brandy. Let’s drink.”
Uhura feels her body tense. Another step and the pirates will find them.
Spock squeezes her arm as she prepares to fly from the cubicle and attack with the element of surprise. He shakes his head, and she holds her breath. One more step, and someone will spot them.
But the step doesn’t come. The pirate turns and gives the all-clear. Uhura sags when the doors close. Her body pressed even more against Spock. She wished they could stay like that for a while. Just the two of them, alone in a peacefully quiet room, bodies connected.
“The terminals are damaged,” Spock says, stepping away from her and taking his body heat with him. She suddenly feels cold and shivers. “We will have to exit the ship and send a signal from the—”
He cuts off when she hurries to a terminal at the back of the room and pulls off a panel.
“What are you doing, Ensign?”
“A trick my father learned from his time serving on the Epsilon array. He taught it to me.”
Uhura’s nimble fingers make quick work of the wiring. She reaches into the tangled guts of the machine and rearranges things until she’s ready to make one last connection.
“When I connect this, half the array aboard the ship will get fried, but it’ll send out a distress signal so strong it’ll reach every ship in a five light year radius. It’ll overwhelm any jamming fields the other ship might be putting out.”
“Do it.”
“It’ll also have a feedback pulse that’ll hurt our ears. Those guards will come running in.”
“I will take care of the guards, Ensign. Send the signal. After which, we will go to engineering to help in efforts to seize control from the pirates.”
“Yes sir.”
She jams the connectors home, and immediately there is a sound like nails on a chalkboard that fills the ship. Pain lances through her ears, and a moment later she’s staring at the ceiling. She had passed out. Spock struggles to stay conscious and aim at the entrance, but no one enters the room. Beside them, every transponder in the room belches smoke; the one beside her is no exception. She can feel the heat from the fire inside it scorch her flesh.
“Come on!”
He doesn’t hear her. In fact, she can’t even hear her own voice over the ringing. There’s a deep ache in her ears like nothing she’s ever experienced. She grabs Spock’s arm and pulls him toward the maintenance hatch. He makes her climb in first, then follows her inside. The panel is closed just as men and women come pouring into the room. Travel is quick since everyone is deaf from the feedback, and they no longer have to worry about moving soundlessly. They make their way through one panel after another until they detour to the Jeffries tubes. Travel is hard, considering hanging onto consciousness is as much of a job as climbing. And the pain is overwhelming, having traveled from her neck into her head with dizzying effects.
Uhura and Spock each peep into the room. Pirates swarm the room, but the feedback pulse seems to have disabled them less than others. It occurs to her why—engineering has reinforced bulkheads. It wouldn’t allow sound to permeate the chamber as it did everywhere else. She watches as the pirates menace the engineering crew, all of whom are without weapons and unable to defend themselves. Spock pulls her back and motions to the Jeffries tubes once again.
Inside, he uses a panel to spell out a single word: sickbay. They continue through the tubes and climb until they emerge into an empty corridor. Peering into sickbay, they found a few pirates, all with phasers, but none aimed at the medical staff. They clutched their ears. Some of them had blood spilling down their necks.
Spock readies his phaser. Now is the perfect time to strike. There are only three pirates monitoring sickbay. She checks that her phaser is on stun and, after checking the corridor, she hurries forward and phaser the pirates before even the medical staff realizes what’s happening. Spock rushes to the doors, pulls off the panel, and re-wires it, sealing the room.
Dr. Boyce approaches, but Uhura can’t hear a word. She wonders if she’s going to be permanently deaf from her little stunt. His lips were moving, but lip - reading isn’t one of her many linguistic skills. She decides she’ll study the practice. It could come in handy. The doctor has a device in hand that he presses to her neck. He follows through with a hypospray and she sags against the wall in relief as the throbbing pain in her ears and head melts away, and the ringing silences. Her ears pop, and suddenly the room is loud.
Boyce’s big hand is warm and reassuring on her shoulder. “You’re in communications, aren’t you, Ensign? Was that noise your doing?”
Uhura nods. “Yes sir. Lt. Spock and I managed to send a distress signal.”
“Well, I’ll give Commander Shaw a glowing report on your brilliance.”
“The commander is dead, Sir. We found him in the hub.”
There’s a pained expression on Boyce’s face. “Damn. He was a good man. Spock!”
Dr. Boyce rushes to Spock, who is now down on his knees, clutching his ears. Pain twists his face into a grimace. Dr. Boyce helps him to his feet and guides him to a biobed, where he lays him out and starts reading his vitals.
“Ruptured eardrum in the left ear,” he says to a nurse. “The noise was hard on human ears. Vulcans and Andorians are no doubt really feeling the effects of it even more. Any ideas how long until the cavalry arrives, Ensign Uhura?”
“No sir, I’m sorry.”
Dr. Boyce administers injections and starts treatment on Spock. “Give us some room to work, Ensign,” Dr. Boyce says, and Uhura moves away while a nurse takes up the place she’d just been standing. Spock is in and out of consciousness, though his eyes travel to her twice before she backs away.
Anxious and hoping for something to distract her, Uhura goes to a computer console to get an idea of ship status. Sickbay falls quiet. The only sounds in the room are the beeping monitors and occasionally the deep vibrations of the ship taking a hit. As Uhura forces herself to concentrate on the screen before her, she wonders what the hell she’d been thinking even joining Starfleet.
According to the screen, they’re winning the battle against their intruders. Department heads report overcoming their would-be captors, which is a good sign. But where the hell is the captain?
“How are you holding up, Ensign?”
A tall, buxom blond nurse now stands beside her. She has about 6 years on Uhura, putting her in her late twenties. She’s also got the kindest eyes Uhura’s ever seen.
“Lt. Christine Chapel,” she says, offering her hand.
“Uhura,” she says, shaking Christine’s hand.
“I saw your name on my duty roster this morning. I’m supposed to update your immunizations and verify your records. Hell of a first day, huh?”
“No kidding!” Uhura says, and lets out a deep sigh that dissolves into a chuckle that Christine echoes.
“How’s that, Spock?” Dr. Boyce asks.
“I can function.”
“Are you in any pain?”
“There is minor pain but—”
“I’ll give you a hypo.”
“That will not be necessary. I will need my faculties clear for the work ahead.”
He and Boyce fall into an argument, and Uhura turns to Nurse Chapel, only to find her looking at Spock with an unmistakably dewy expression. Something dangerously close to jealousy lances through her. Was there something going on between them?
She saw him first, Uhura thinks. You just got here.
“Anything good on the wire?”
Uhura tears her gaze away from Spock, who is still arguing with Dr. Boyce.
“Reports are being posted that different departments have retaken control. We’ve received replies from the Constitution and the Delta that they’re returning to offer aid. This is odd.”
“In what way?”
Spock is on his feet, looking not much worse for wear.
“See this wave pattern? It’s from engineering. Look at the pattern. If I’m not mistaken, it’s an S.O.S. A distress call.”
“We already know engineering is under siege,” Spock says. “They are in immediate danger. We must offer aid.”
“I can alert security to get to engineering ASAP, but their forces are likely stretched too thin already.”
“Send the order, Ensign. We will still offer aid.”
She sends the order and turns to Spock. “Deck 5 hasn’t sent an all clear,” she says. “If they’re still hostage the ship is in danger.”
“Are you well enough to assist me in rendering aid?”
Uhura nods and follows him to the doors, where he re-wires it to let them out.
“Leave those doors open, Spock. There may be injured who need assistance.”
Spock nods once before heading into the corridor.
The walk to the Jeffries tubes was tense. Uhura’s white-knuckled grip on her phaser made her hand hurt. Fortunately, they didn’t have too long of a climb.
“I’m going first,” Uhura says.
“It should be me—”
“With all due respect, Lieutenant, I’m a commissioned officer, not a damsel in distress,” she says, cutting him off. “The next deck up has a comm terminal that’s on a separate circuit from the main hub I just destroyed. It’ll still be functioning. I need to see if I can reach the captain.”
Spock quirks a brow before bowing his head once. Relieved he doesn’t dress her down, or threaten her with a citation for insubordination, she puts her phaser in her mouth and uses both hands to climb. She turns back to see if he’s following and finds his eyes wide and his face deeply flushed a shade of green that would be alarming in a human.
Uhura’s ready to ask what’s wrong when she realizes he can see straight up her uniform. She also remembers her trick for feeling confident in new situations—wearing lacy panties—which is what she has on now, rather than regulation uniform underwear. Considering her panties are a nearly see-through thong, he’s seeing more of her than he’d ever intended to.
Once again, Uhura’s face is burning. She hurries on, pretending she didn’t catch him looking up her dress with a desperate expression, like a diver looking for an escape hatch before his oxygen tank runs empty, and climbs up the tube. She finds the comm panel and quietly chuckles with relief. The circuit for it is undamaged. It’s still working.
“Ensign Uhura to Captain Pike. Come in Captain Pike.”
There’s no response. She tries the captain’s chair. No response.
“Do you think he’s injured?” Uhura looks down and finds Spock is still staring up her uniform. She uses her foot to block his view, and Spock blinks, as though coming from a daze, and refocuses his attention on her face.
“Pardon, Ensign?”
“I can’t reach the captain,” she says, trying to pretend she doesn’t notice his distraction. “Do you think he’s been killed, or captured?”
“There is no way to know the captain’s situation. It is illogical to alarm oneself with speculation. Let us continue to engineering.”
They detour to a maintenance tube that runs the length of engineering. Spock motions for Uhura to precede him.
“You don’t want to go first?” Uhura asks with mock innocence. Spock’s brow twitches. For a Vulcan, he certainly is easy to read.
“Have you become a damsel in distress, Ensign Uhura?”
Smirking, Uhura crawls into the tube. Like all such spaces, it’s cramped and hot. Uhura’s about to reach for the grate to open it when Spock suddenly grabs her ankle and yanks her back with force. It takes all she has not to yelp in surprise. She turns onto her back to ask what the hell he’s doing when he lands atop her. The bulkhead door cycles shut behind him.
“Shhh…”
Pirates are right beneath them in engineering.
“Did you hear movement behind this bulkhead?”
Uhura stares into Spock’s dark eyes. They’re in a cramped space. Aiming a phaser in such a position, with any accuracy, will be almost impossible.
The fear fluttering in her belly turns to a different type of feeling when Spock shifts above her and settles his weight between her thighs. He presses right against her sweet spot, and a moan nearly escapes her. Spock turns his gaze from the view of the top of the pirates’ heads to her. Again, he swallows. He leans toward her, and there’s a moment when she’s certain he’s going to kiss her. She parts her lips part in anticipation, only for him to put his lips close to her ear.
“Don’t move, Ensign,” he says.
Her body instantly reacts to the vibration of his deep voice in her ear, causing a shiver to run down Uhura’s body. Her small hands grip his shoulders, and her thighs part to receive him. She can feel sweat popping out on her forehead. Spock licks his lips.
“Ensign.”
“Nyota. My name is Nyota.”
“Nyota.” He sighs her name, and she shifts beneath him. “Are you well?”
“Come on. Let’s continue patrol,” the pirate beneath them says. His compatriot follows him.
“It’s been a long day,” she answers.
“You have been aboard forty seven minutes,” he says. “It is 0849.”
She chuckles quietly. “Is this typical of what life is like aboard the Enterprise ?”
“Yes.”
His response is simple. Straightforward. Honest. She imagines that’s always who he is. That’s her kind of person. There would be no need to walk on eggshells hoping not to hurt or offend him. There would be no need for games.
“Personal query, Nyota?”
“Sure.”
“Will you be staying aboard the Enterprise? A day like today happens with rather disheartening frequency.”
“Being completely honest, today has made me question my decision to join Starfleet. Why do you ask? Do you want me to stay?”
“You have proven yourself to be level-headed in a crisis. That is a valuable asset to have in an officer.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He bites his lower lip, unable to look her in the eye. “I believe you would be a fine addition to the crew.”
“Spock,” Uhura says, reaching up to cup his cheek. His eyes drift, and he leans into her touch. “Do you want me to stay?”
He hesitates, finally bringing his gaze up to meet hers. “Yes.”
A smile pulls at the corners of her lips. She couldn’t hide it even if she wanted to. To her immense surprise, he smiles back.
“Looks like I’ll have to stay.”
...
The security crew Nyota summoned earlier, aided by security officers from the Delta, breaks through the barricade in engineering. Spock and Uhura make their way out of the maintenance tube and attack from behind, guaranteeing victory against the pirates in their last stronghold on the ship.
When the drama is over, Captain Pike contacts Spock and tells him to escort Uhura to the bridge. She suddenly wishes they hadn’t repaired the turbolifts so efficiently.
“I bet I’m in trouble for frying the equipment in the main hub.”
Spock turns to her. “You acted on my order, Ensign. It is unlikely you will be reprimanded.”
Uhura’s stomach remains in knots. The bridge. The captain. She was about to live a long-held fantasy. Perhaps a dressing down for causing massive damage to equipment and crew is worth it just to get a look at the most advanced communications console in the fleet.
The doors slide open to reveal the bridge. Looking at it now, it’s impossible to tell there was ever a battle waged here. Every surface is gleaming, spotless. Personnel man every station. Captain Pike’s back is to her, but his legendary first officer turns from the helm to face her. Her sudden smile is reassuring, and a nod from her grabs Pike’s attention.
Damn, he’s fine, Uhura thinks. His service photo doesn’t do him justice. She swallows as Spock leads her over.
“According to Dr. Boyce, you’re the officer who sent the distress signal and split everyone’s ears open,” Pike says.
Uhura’s back stiffens, her pulse kicks up, and her throat feels tight as she forces the words out.
“Yes, Captain, I am. I take full responsibility for the damage caused to the ship and crew, Sir! I will accept any punishment you deem fit without objection, Sir!”
Captain Pike looks back at Number One, who is outright grinning now. She stands to her feet and begins clapping. Pike and the rest of the bridge crew join. Spock being the exception.
“You saved the ship and the crew with that maneuver, Ensign,” Number One said. She spoke a little louder than necessary, evidence her hearing was still a little compromised.
“Your first hour on the ship and you saved us,” said Pike. “I will be adding a commendation to your record.”
“I couldn’t have accomplished anything without Lt. Spock, Sir. He saved my life several times today.”
Pike nodded at Spock. “Seems to be a habit of his.”
“A habit I shall endeavor to keep, Captain.”
Pike points at the com station, currently occupied by an older gentleman bleeding from his forehead. “Ensign Uhura, that comm station will one day be yours. You’ll have to put in the work, but if today is any indication, it won’t take you long to earn that spot. As a reward, you will take over for Mr. Kash while he goes to sickbay for treatment.”
“Sir?” Kash yells.
“Sickbay, Andy!”
“Sanjay? He transferred to the Columbia eight months ago!”
“No, go to sickbay!”
“Oh, sickbay! Right!”
“Yeoman Rand, escort him, please.”
A pretty blond woman smiles and follows her orders. “It’s also my first day,” Rand says to Uhura. “Good to meet you.”
“Likewise.”
Uhura gives Spock a smile. This time, on a bridge full of people, he doesn’t return it, but simply nods and heads to his station.
“You’ve got a hell of a job ahead of you today Ensign,” says Captain Pike. “Chatter and intra-ship communications will heavily rely on you with the primary hub down for repairs.”
“I can handle it, Sir, and I’ll prove it.”
“Start by opening a channel to Starbase 10 for me.”
“Yes sir,” she said.
Uhura’s fingers flit across the console, and her heart fills with joy. She’s achieved her dream. She’s acting as a comm officer on the bridge of the Enterprise. The flagship. The console is complex, streamlined, and a dream to operate.
She inserts her earpiece, and soon she hears the tone to announce an open channel. She turns to look at Pike, her heart light, despite her body being weary from a post-adrenaline rush after the morning’s events.
“Hailing frequencies open, Captain.”