Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.
As always, special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom. For some Angst and UST check out her latest, "What We Think We Know," in my faves.
Need a Light?
I'm stuck under the subspace signal array, again, for the third time since becoming Lieutenant-Commander Spock's assistant.
"Did you disengage the rear brackets, Cadet Uhura?" says Spock holding the flashlight. I get to replace the fuse that's gone out, and he gets to help me by holding the light, because his fingers are too big.
"Affirmative, Sp - Lieutenant-Commander Spock," I say, biting my tongue at the near slip.
I have to keep that rank in the forefront of my mind while we're on campus. Especially while our feet are the only thing visible to anyone who might happen to walk into Spock's lab. A slip of the tongue could give someone the wrong idea, or the right idea, actually, but we're trying to keep it under wraps for obvious reasons.
I cast a sidelong gaze in his direction. His profile is etched out starkly in the low light. My eyes run slowly over the curve of his nose. I love his nose. Would it be so wrong to kiss it? Right now, lying on his back, his hair is falling away from his eyes like it does when we've just...Loosening the last bracket on the main panel, I reprimand myself: Nyota Uhura, you will not slip up. You are a professional! You do NOT make out with your commanding officer. On campus.
Apparently I'm not the only one with inappropriate thoughts. Spock looks at me as I move the panel away, looks out at the couch in his lab, looks back to me and then raises an eyebrow. It would go unnoticed if you didn't know him well, but I do know him well. Very well. Wonderfully well. That was the Vulcan equivalent of, "Let's get it on!" Not that he would ever do more than tease. On campus.
Trying not to smile too broadly, I turn my focus to the fuse I'm supposed to be replacing. "Watch where you aim your flashlight, Lieutenant Commander." I'm proud of myself for not snickering at that beautifully crafted bit of innuendo.
And that's when we have one of those little communication breakdowns that is inevitable in a cross cultural relationship.
Spock blinks. Looking at the flashlight, brows slightly drawn together, he says, "I thought I had calculated the exact angle of the flashlight for optimum visibility. However, it is possible I have made a mistake - or is it this particular light? It is a bit dim. Do you need one that is brighter, or with a wider beam? Perhaps a longer one would serve you better."
"Err...well..." I say feeling suddenly very warm. Well, it is warm, and all the heat is coming from my personal Vulcan furnace.
Just then a pair of familiar footsteps sound in Spock's lab. I begin frantically replacing the fuse. The originator of said footsteps pokes his ruddy face and white tufted head under the subspace array.
"Blow a fuse again?" says Lieutenant-Commander Patrick O'Hara.
"Yes," says Spock, "and my flashlight is a little dim."
"Would you like to borrow my flashlight?" says O'Hara.
My eyes DO NOT pop out of my head. I grab the panel, thrust it in place and croak out, "No, no, all done!" And then I slide out from under the array somehow NOT bursting into laughter.
Someday Spock will figure out he missed that little double entendre. He will not be pleased.
x x x x
I'm in my dorm room later, scanning, rarities of rarities, an actual book. A journal, to be precise. It belonged to my engineering professor's grandmother. She was one of the first humans to have friendly contact with an Andorian. Said Andorian gifted her this journal - an accounting of Earth and its people, from an Andorian perspective. It is a remarkable gem. A fantastic first xeno source. And it's mine, for tonight anyway. It's a treasured family heirloom and I've promised to return it tomorrow morning before my engineering professor heads home to Mars.
Humming to myself, I run the scanner down the second page. The scanner flickers...all the lights flicker...and then the room goes dark.
"Oh, poop," says my roommate Gaila.
'Poop' isn't exactly the expletive at the tip of my tongue. Gaila, bless her, is too sweet for her own good.
Biting back my expletive I say, "What is going on? This is the second time today!"
"Oh," says Gaila, "the engineering department is running some experiments on using cosmic rays to generate electricity. Think of it, Ny. No wind farms, no solar farms, no nuclear waste, no giant fusion reactor fields, no earthquakes caused by geothermal -"
"No power!" I say. Damn their idealistic revival of Tesla.
Gaila gazes out the window. "There is that..."
"Why now?" I say throwing up my hands.
"Well," says Gaila, "it is spring break, and Zephram Cochrane Day, and we're practically the only people on campus..."
I glare at her.
"That was a rhetorical question, wasn't it?" she says in a slow cautious voice.
I sigh. You can't be angry at Gaila for long. It would be like kicking a puppy. A genius puppy, but a puppy.
"Is there anywhere on campus with power?" I ask.
Thumbing on her PADD, Gaila says, "Nope!" a smidge too cheerfully.
"Is that a rhetorical question again?" asks Gaila.
I stare at her a moment, then grab the journal. If power is off everywhere on campus, that means Spock isn't going to stick around to work on the Kobayashi Maru simulation with Professor Matsumura...and if he's not on campus, I know where he will be.
x x x x
Shaking off the last bit of misty San Francisco chill, I exit the elevator and head down the hall to Spock's off-campus, not-blacked-out, apartment, scanner and journal in hand. He's already there.
"Sorry, to bother you," I say, not really sorry. "Power's out."
Of course he would know that. Maybe that's why he stays stock still for a moment. Then putting his hands behind his back, he tilts his head and says, "Will you be staying or are you just here to..." he raises an eyebrow, "borrow my flashlight?"
Somebody got the joke, and that look he's giving me translates to, "I like you, but you are a very naughty girl."
Don't I know it. Raising an eyebrow of my own and squelching a smile I say, "The bulb isn't so dim after all." He steps aside so I can enter his apartment, but his eyes are narrowed. That is Vulcan for, "You are so going to get it."
So, I have made my first foray into original fiction AND self publishing! I was going to write a Spock/Uhura baby!fic, but turned it into an original fiction instead and published it on Amazon. Why you ask? Because my husband was going to kill me if I continued writing for free!
Anyway, if you're interested it is only 99 cents (or free for Prime Members). You can download it for your Kindle, or get a free Kindle reader for your PC. It's here (just remove the spaces and change the dot to a . )
amazon dot com/Murphys-Star-ebook/dp/B006RCYQUA/ref=sr_1_1?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1328121639&sr=1-1
Alternatively, you can go to Amazon and look for "Murphy's Star" by C. Gockel.