Title: "She Takes Command" 
Author: Kelthammer 
Series: TOS-MIRROR 
Pairing: U/f 
Code: NC-13; implied bondage, s/m and other stuff you'd
hesitate to consider on a sunny day in a meadow of
wildflowers.

Feedback: sure!

Summary:  Kirk's secret Tantalus Device has been mucked up
big time with the Daystrom Fiasco.  There are no private
moments on the ISS ENTERPRISE anymore.  In the meantime,
what's a lonely lieutenant to do with her lack of love?

Disclaimer:  What everyone else says.

"Her figure adorned in elegant raiment, 
she takes command
And leads in the dances." 
--Homeric hymn to Artemis

*  *  *

Lieutenant Nyota Penda Uhura groaned out loud the second
she opened her eyes that morning.  Her computer, its voice
turned off for the night, was telling her in no uncertain
language that Daystrom's ghosts were still running amuck in
the ENTERPRISE's syntheneural pathways.

*I'll never, ever get to Andromachea.*  She thought in
despair.  *I'll die of old age before we can get shore
leave!*

Not for the first time (nor the last), she wished devoutly
that Kirk had just up and executed that raving lunatic.  Of
course she *did* understand that High Command took a dim
view of such things without their express approval
(brilliant scientists were at a premium, even completely
unbalanced ones), but Daystrom's little mechanical mathom
had done more than vaporize an entire fleet of warships. 
It had completely bollixed up the once-malleable workings
of the master computer.  Three weeks later, and unexpected
"surprises" kept showing up, undetected, unpredictable. 
You could hear COmmander Scott's daily curses all the way
from the deepest Jefferies Tubes.

Literally.  While nearly all the sections had trouble from
Daystom's M-5, Uhura's and Sulu's departments had it
especially bad: security beams were flipping all over the
ship.  One minute you would be relaying data on-screen to
Hydrophonics, and one arcsecond later,your view of Hydro
would be switched to Main Rec and whatever play was being
shown.  And that was if you were lucky. Embarassingly
candid moments had gotten so commonplace that people were
actually not blushing anymore.

What was odd was, no matter what they did, the camera
would stick to someone, and then...*follow* them for a few
minutes, before fading away to the original channel.  Uhura
had never encountered anything like it; it was as if it was
blending with another, completely different security system.

Sulu had quickly de-activated all of his "special"
security cameras once it was clear what was happening. 
Uhura had a feeling that was a very good thing.  Not even
Spock knew where Sulu's eyes could be.  Well, they weren't
now.

Thinking of the Security Helmsman put a brief smile on
Uhura's full lips as she shrugged into her uniform. 
Getting transferred to Comm had been the best thing to
happen to her.  As Navigator, it had been just too close to
that man.  Except for emergencies, she stayed away from
that old post.  Not that it kept Sulu from trying to
romance her in his own, overly energetic way...

Oh, he was handsome, there was no doubt about that.  The
scar above his eye only added to that dangerous rakishness,
an unspoken dare to women that said, "Do you think you
can?"  But Nyota knew he couldn't be trusted.  He would
*love* to get in her good graces, what with she being in
Comm and able to descramble codes and transmissions he
could only dream of...

She slipped her Officer's Blade inside her sash, and her
private dagger inside her boot (the really good knife, like
most officers kept), checked her reflection in the mirror,
and found no flaws.  Like most women who "wore the red" she
chose bright jewelry for her ensemble: Andorian goldstone
wrapped around her arm, and after a moment's thought, she
added a beaten copper torque that had been a holiday gift
from McCoy last year.  She rarely wore it, but it looked
good on her.

Nyota hated to display a present from someone she was
unsure of.  But the way the doctor had given her the
neckband was about as guilt-free as you could get: part of
a box of goods his rank had entitled him to when the ship
had captured an Orion Smuggling ship.  McCoy had lifted one
dark eyebrow at the copperwork, and promptly handed it over
to her without another glance: "Not my color." In his
growling Anglish accent.  Nyota had to agree.  It was a
woman's piece, strong but fine, and hand-hammered.

*Better than mortal man deserves,* she chuckled at her
reflection.  As a girl she had always enjoyed playing dress
up as a Nubian Queen...and right now, honey, she looked it!

She debated on having breakfast, then reluctantly decided
against it.  She took a cup of rooibos from the replicator
instead, and sipped the hot peach-ruby liquid on her way
down the hallway.  No one bothered her.  The last man to
hassle her on her way to the Bridge had wound up in Sickbay
with third degree burns on his eyelids from her tossing her
drink in his face.  As long as the average Terran man was
bigger than the average Terran woman, she might as well
keep her cards stacked.

The Bridge opened to a whirl of shambling activity.  Those
who could see her returned her salute; Sulu was not one of
them.  She could see his boots from under his console (and
more importantly, hear his inspired cursings) as he tried
to track down another of the ghosts.  It made her think of
yesterday when they'd been treated to a fifteen-minute view
of Engineering, and listening to Commander Scott express
his displeasure over a stupidly-assembled bypass matrix. 
Too bad the camera-glitches didn't come with translators,
because Uhura was dying to know what exactly a "crappit-
head gooney sassenach" was.

Commander Spock was bent over his viewer, and she could
tell it was a hard day for him because his gold sash was
atypically set askew around his long silk coat.  Say what
you might about crew assassinations: only the very best got
to the Bridge.

Spock juggled the duties of First and Science Officer with
great skill, just as Sulu was Security and Helm Officer,
and Chekov was Navigator and Weapons, and Scott was Chief
Engineer and Chief of Staff.  McCoy was supposedly the only
Senior Officer who didn't carry two ranks, but Nyota knew
from transmissions that the slow-talking southerner had
more to him than his titles of Chief Surgical Officer, and
Standing Xenophysician.  Outside of the medical field, he
had a longrunning feud/relationship with Fleet Admiral Kufe
that rather reminded her of her working relationship with
Sulu.  And she had transmitted their messages to prove it. 
If they'd never been intimate, she was deeply wrong about
fundamental human behavior, because they argued far too
violently to ever be *just* enemies.

*Strange, too.  If *I* were hooked up with an Admiral,
Even Kufe-Soma, I'd stay with them!*  Uhura shook her head
at herself and settled down at her board.

"Lieutenant."  Kirk had finished his salute and was
sitting at his chair. "We're being forced to run through
diagnostics again on all stations.  If you would be so kind
as to oversee yours."

"Of course, sir."  Uhura privately sighed.  The captain
was magnetic, charismatic, and very, very easy on her eyes.
Too bad for her she hadn't moved in when his old Woman had
betrayed him for Khan, but Marlena had been quicker on the
uptake, and while Nyota had still been pondering the
logistics of being Kirk's squeeze, Marlena had rendered the
question moot.

She set her cup down, sniffing at the warm steam of
vanillins that rose up while she ran through her board.  As
Senior Communications/Encryption Officer, she had the most
independant Board on the entire ship.  Push the right
buttons, and her tools would do justabout anything for her.

As usual, though, she could find nothing.  When there was
nothing amiss, the sensor ghosts were literally buried in
their graveyard.  But something, somehow, would send the
blips to rising and then the next thing you knew, the main
screen would show you a view of something you didn't expect.

Right now, they were orbiting deosil around the fourth
moon of Dio, a tired looking wreck of an astroid-laden
satellite.  It was the safest place for the ship while they
effected repairs.  No one was willing to even *think* of
running into a hostile Romulan or Klingon while in this
shape.

Kirk had promised the entire crew a month's leave in the
Andromachean System the minute the ship was back to safety.
And everyone could taste that luxurious vow all the way to
their back teeth. Andromachea--one of the most sensual
stopovers in the Empire.  Three planets, twelve moons, two
stations, and all of it for the pleasure of tourists.  And
being soldiers of the Empire, they could get everything
either free, or at cost-price.  Nyota could barely wait. 
It was that tantalizing image that helped her tackle this
frustrating task.

Several minutes stretched tediously into several hours. 
Uhura thought longingly of a quick breakfast, then even
more longingly of a quick lunch. Red and green alert lights
were starting to look the same to her, and if that wasn't a
clue as to how tired she was, she didn't know it.

*Pumpkin bread.*  She thought longingly of a really
indulgent lunch. Pumpkin bread, with a generous spread of
millet, and a bowl of hummus. Ethiopian coffee.  With
cream.  Toasted teff grains for a snack afterwards,
flavored with hot spices.

Marlena came to the Bridge with a tray of drinks,
considerately for all the officers, and giving Kirk the
first pick.  Uhura concentrated on lining up her station's
pulsar-timers, patiently ignored the quick exchange between
the two.  Opportunities lost, she reminded herself.

*But it's not fair.*  She resolutely concentrated on her
work as she buried her resentments deep.  *The captain has
Marlena, *and* he has Spock when he's tired of her.*  She
flicked her dark eyes to the First Officer, who was still
as crushingly handsome as the day she had first seen him. 
Spock of Vulcan, First and Science Officer of the
ENTERPRISE, the Second for the most powerful ship in the
Empire...and resolutely, completely spoken for with Kirk. 
Marlena complained often that she would get more attention
with another captain, as close as her man was with Spock. 
Uhura could easily see it.  Kirk wasn't likely to want a
bitter woman hanging around him, but if Spock ever decided
to transfer, there would be a fight on his hands, and it
would likely rip the entire ship apart!

You couldn't help but be aware of it.  And it affected all
the other senior officers.  Spock and Kirk would be
conducting business without anything unusual, then suddenly
without warning, their eyes would lock and hold like two
twin tractor beams, pulling hard at their targets.  Their
glances never lasted longer than a single breath, but
the...intensity...it made you sweat to think about it.  And
you wouldn't want to get in their way any more than you
wanted to stand between two electromagnets.

A hollow boom floated up across the Bridge; Uhura saw
Spock lift his head quickly to Sulu's station.  The
Helmsman was swearing violently and clutching his head. 
The whiff of burnt human hair went up.

"Mr. Sulu?"  Spock asked dryly.  "Are you in need of
Sickbay's services?"

Sulu pulled his head up from underneath the console.  One
hand was clenched around a hand-spanner, the other fused to
his forehead.  He was gritting his teeth against the pain. 
Chekov was cringing in sympathy, baring his own teeth to
see the black mark on his gold skin.

"I may have found something."  Sulu reported through the
gate of clenched ivories.  "If I'm right, we're about to
have another sensor ghost.  If you can scan it, Mr. Spock?"

Spock was already moving, his long fingers dancing over
the console with fantastic ease.  Like a master musician
over his keys, the Vulcan pounced upon his scanning
instruments, slaving Sulu's board to his.

Kirk straightened in his chair, Marlena standing by his
side, setting the tray down.  All eyes were on the main
screen in hopes that they had begun to find the end to this
irritation.

Uhura counted silently in the tense seconds, going all the
way up to twenty-one, when the view of the moon suddenly
went weak.  Blurring slowly, the outlines of all the shapes
began to melt and soften into another, brighter series of
images.

Instead of the view of the dead moon, they were all
looking at Sickbay's familiar and unlovely corners.  Dark
chestnut head bent down, Dr. McCoy was hunched over his
desk and filing papers into his computer with a focused
expression.

Sulu cursed again, loudly, as he tried to get the security
cameras to respond.  "Baka!"

"Calm yourself, Lieutenant."  Spock's deep chocolate
baritone floated above the chirps, clicks and whirrs of the
Bridge equipment. "We will be forced to see this for a
brief amount of time, then the ghost will die out." The
Vulcan sat at his station, and pointedly pressed a series
of switches. "Sensors scanning and recording, captain."

"Very good, Mr. Spock."  Kirk answered tensely.  "We'll
just have to wait now."

Another one of "those looks" passed between the two most
powerful men on the most powerful ship in the Fleet.

Uhura sighed.  Spock was right, but what in the Twin
Comets of Andor was so interesting about Sickbay?

Ask, but ask, and ye shall receive...

A familiar husky voice shrieked through the air, slicing
Uhura's heart open with dread:  "DR. MCCOY!!"

Christine! Nyota thought in shock.  Faster than she'd
thought was possible, McCoy was up and running.  She
wondered if the camera had recorded a blur instead of a
medical doctor.  A medical padd clattered to the floor and
the camera was following to the main lobby.

(How can our cameras *do* that?)  Uhura wondered for the
nth time.  But it hadn't shown up until Daystrom had
infected the ship...had some kind of artificial
intelligence gotten into the commands?

Head Nurse Chapel was backed up against the wall with two
blue-suited medics hovering around an unconscious man and
laughing.  Uhura recognized them from past encounters, and
past suffrages.

Jost and Otto.  Not only were they strong and capable
killers, but they were affordable to anybody for the price
of a good bottle.  And it looked like they'd already been
in the cordra this morning.

(Oh, oh!)  Nyota caught Christine's face.  An awful red
mark was forming on her cheek where a slap had connected. 
The smaller man, Jost, was laughing and blocking her
attempts to reach her patient with his body in a suggestive
way.  (Those bastards!)  Christine was her friend, one of
the few she had on this ship.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"  McCoy barked,
marching over to Otto and yanking a portable agonizer out
of the man's grip. "This is a Sickbay, in case you forgot
how to read, Medic!  You want fun and games, go see Sulu! 
I'm sure he can find time in his busy schedule!"

Jost and Otto had not been paying attention to their CMO
until that last part.  Jost made a very un-afraid
expression of sarcastic intimidation and stepped backwards
dramatically.  Otto, however...

"Trank out, McCoy."  Otto shrugged.  "Just settling a bet."

"I know about your bets."  McCoy snapped.  "And I warned
you.  You and Jost are dismissed."

"Dismissed.  Ooh, I'm scared."

Otto shrugged again, and was sauntering out the door when
Jost spoke up for the first time.  "How long, doc?"

"Permanently."

That stopped them.

"What?"  Otto couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"You can't do that!"  Jost was astonished.  Chapel was
edging back to her patient, and checking his very low life
readings.  DeSalle, Uhura felt another shock to recognize
Scott's Assistant.  How could anybody want to pick on
DeSalle?  He had to be the least ambitious man on the ship
next to Scott and McCoy!  All he cared about were his
engines, and nothing, nobody, else mattered!

"Can't I?"  McCoy lifted his sleeve and pointed to the
stripes.  "Watch."

"You think Kirk'll like it when he finds out?"  Otto spoke
as if to a child as the Bridge watched in fascination. 
This was as tense as an episode of LIVE ARENA on the vids.

"We can all three go see the captain together."  McCoy's
accent had gone from slow and steady to harsh and rough. 
"I'm sure he'd just *love*  to hear why he can't trust two
members of his own crew when he or any of his friends are
laid up in Sickbay."

Jost was beginning to look frightened.  Otto was starting
to look angry.

"You think you can play hardball, you hick?"  Bigger and
taller, Otto stuck his fists on his hips and got in the
doctor's personal space.  "My father's a High Admiral,
McCoy!"

"I don't care who rented out your mother!"  McCoy's face
was dark now, but Uhura's shock was tempered by the
knowledge that Otto was even more affected.  "It was
obviously a bad experience for her!"

*Well, that's guts.*  Nyota sighed regretfully.  *Too bad
he just signed his death warrant.*

"Ow."  Sulu muttered from his station.  "That sash is as
good as M'Benga's now."

"You step away from Nurse Chapel and get out!"  McCoy was
snarling.

"Have you lost your mind, McCoy?"  Otto spoke icily. "I've
killed more men that you have rings on your trunk!  I'm
going to kill *you*!"

McCoy simply moved his hand down and behind his back. 
Chapel infinitestimally moved back, eyes on that arm.  "I
suggest you let Chapel go and leave."  He suggested in icy
tones.  "Head Nurses don't exactly grow on grapevines,
Lieutenant.  You don't really want an enraged Sickbay to
treat you the next time you're injured."

Otto snorted.  He was getting calm now, confident, openly
giving McCoy the choice too back off and live, or die. 
"You know, you're a real idiot, McCoy.  Why don't you let
*us* go do our thing?  Then maybe we won't kill her."

Uhura stiffened.  Rumor had it that Chapel was McCoy's
woman.  That was a more effective threat than just going
for the doctor.  *Not Christine!*  She dug her nails in her
palm.  *No, get away, Christine!  Get out of there!*

Christine wasn't moving.

*Christine!*  Nyota mentally screamed at the top of her
lungs.  *Run!*

"You."  McCoy's voice had gotten subzero.  "Do not
threaten my staff. Ever."

"You think you can stop me?"  Otto grinned.  "What the
hell did you drink to get your nerve up?  I bet M'Benga
will give me what I want...after I do him the favor of
clearing his post."

Uhura didn't see anything clear or distinct; she just saw
a golden blur, a whirl, and Otto staggered back, a bizarre
spiral-shaped thing sinking into the wall with a large
chunk of his throat stuck to it.

"Jost?"  McCoy whispered silkily.  "Do you have anything
to say?"  The dying man's throes bumped against his boot. 
Without looking, McCoy put his foot on the rattling chest
to hold it still.  Hissing sounds escaped the windpipe with
the gurgle of blood.

"N-n-n."  Jost shook his head violently.

"Then you won't mind cleaning up this mess, will you?" 
McCoy turned his back on the survivor and his expression
went from enraged to calm.  "Y'ok, Christine?"

"Yes."  Christine had collected herself.  She took a deep
breath.  "Thank you."

"Anytime."  He suddenly grinned at her.  The doors opened
and Dr. M'Benga, loaded down with an armload of 3-d grafs,
tripped over Otto's prone form.

"What the hell??"  The AMO gawked at the sight.  Pieces of
lab equipment had gone flying from his arms to join the
drek all over the Sickbay.  Otto's arteries were beginning
to slow their spillage along with his weakening twitches,
which was good because a huge amount of blood was soaking
into the floor.

"Chango's Thunderbolts!  What's going on?"

"We're having a staffing dispute, aren't we, Jost?  But
it's over now." McCoy was still employing that perfect
southern drawl that said he was oh-so-charming.

"A staffing dispute."  M'Benga repeated.  He looked again
at the wreck on the floor.  "Looks like somebody's being
transferred to Necropsy."

"Yep.  Just think, Kwelli."  McCoy grinned sweetly and
slung one arm around the AMO's shoulder, hugging him close
in a friendly camraderie.  "Imagine some day, you can
finally assassinate me in a cost effective way.  And all
*this*..."  McCoy waved his hand around the disaster-strewn
Sickbay, "All THIS will be yours!"

"Oh, I can hardly wait."  M'Benga answered thinly.

"Sarcasm.  It's a vital trait for a CMO.  You're off to a
good start."

"Doctor, with your permission."  Chapel said demurely and
picked up something that had fallen.  "But Mr. Jost appears
to have dropped his agonizer."

"Oh, that's a shame.  Would you mind giving it to him,
Nurse?"

"I'd be pleased."  Chapel pointedly rubbed the forming
bruise on her jaw and let her eyes slit.  Jost had always
been a follower, not a leader save for retreats, and he had
nowhere to retreat.  His scream floated up through the air
seconds before he hit the floor.

"Ah, the Empire."  The doctor's mild drawl floated over
the Bridge a moment before the Band was severed.  "Where
the women are cruel...and the men are grateful."

Uhura realized she was staring at the Moon of Dio with her
mouth hanging open.  Further down the slope of the Bridge,
Commander Spock appeared to have been watching a
particularly fascinating lecture on quasar pulses.

Sulu only just barely managed not to choke.  His face went
beet red and he was trying not to pass out.  Chekov had his
mouth clamped shut with both fits but you could see his
small frame quivering.

"Well."  Kirk appeared to have sighed.  "That was our
entertainment for the day.  Mr. Spock, were you able to
record the sensor activity while the ghost was playing?"

*   *   *

Water perfumed with bergamot splashed over the heated
konnos-stones over the furnace.  Steam burst into the air,
sprinkling their open flesh with tiny, wonderful needles of
sensation.  Christine Chapel sighed in bliss.

"Ahhhh."

"Ahhh."  Nyota agreed.  "Wonderful."

The two women settled back on the medium bench of the
cramped and dark sauna, naked except for the towels they
chose to lie on top of.

"I still can't believe what happened.  Is Sickbay always
that interesting?"

Chapel opened her sleepy violet eyes.  McCoy had 'plased
her jaw and no marks remained of Jost's slap.  "God, no! 
That's the most active we've had it since the last skirmish
with the Romulans!"  She leaned back on her bench, full
breasts waving slightly.  Nyota smiled at the view.  Nicely
built she was.  There were plenty of men on board who
wanted to lick those curvy thighs, just to see how they
would taste. Christine reminded her of a smooth marble
statue, that smoothness enhanced by a perfectly shaved
body.  "Otto's been at Leonard for months now.  I don't
think he would have done anything, though, until I got
myself involved."  Her long clover-blonde hair was already
sticking to her skin as she waved her head.

"Stupid of me."  She chastized.  "I don't want to lose my
boss!"

"I'm sure you don't."  Nyota privately sighed.  She just
wasn't up to completely fishing for Chapel's availability. 
While she was curious, she was also leery.  And she wasn't
eager to go for a woman who already had a man.  That could
cause problems.

*But what a shame if she is spoken for.  She's so steady
and dependable...*

"Want a backrub?"  She asked innocently.  "You look like
you could use some pampering."

"Oh, I won't say no to that."  Chapel breathed.  She
rolled over, letting Nyota see a very skillfully done
abstract sunburst tattoo on the small of her back.

"Unless, of course, you think you should go to Sickbay and
tell Dr. McCoy you need a prescription for some hands-on
therapy."  Nyota teased, but she was actually trying to
figure out if the rumors about he and Chapel were true.

"Whew!"  Chapel exploded, caught between a laugh and an
exhale.  "Him? Leonard's the one who needs some hands-on
therapy, Nyota.  Not me.  And not the kind he's been
getting, either."

Nyota wasn't sure what *that* meant, and began oiling her
hands up instead. So far, her attempts to get subtle clues
weren't encouraging.  Was Christine available or not?



She let her mind wander a bit while digging her fingers
into her best friend's skin.  Romances were practically a
doctorate-level skill in the Military.  And while Nyota
considered herself a gourmet of happiness, it was difficult
to find a man or woman that she could be comfortable with. 
People came and went, or tried to kill you. 
Interdepartment wooings were common because of the
practicality: you couldn't really expect a medic and an
encryption officer to feel jealous over rank.

On the other hand, you had the same-department
relationships, and if you could trust your partner, you
just about had it made because they would help protect you
from anything bad.  An alliance of resources.  But if you
fell out of odds with your partner, you could be twice as
vulnerable as you ever were.  Look at Marlena: if she ever
decided to rebel against Kirk, she'd be lucky to so much as
get within arm's length.  Spock would sense it happening
before she would even think of it.

"So."  Chapel murmured sleepily.  "What did we look like
from the Bridge?"

"Well, I'm surprised at all three of you.  I didn't think
McCoy had that kind of guts, or M'Benga *that* sarcastic! 
And you had your nerve, to stick with DeSalle while they
were sticking the agonizer on him.  What was that thing
McCoy used on Otto, anyway?"

"If they had killed him, I would have been just as at
fault for letting it happen."  Chapel snorted.  "Otto was
building up for that a long time.  As to "that thing"
that's a Capellan Stand-Ready.  The weapon of choice among
the Twelve Tribes.  Leonard lived there for a few months
before he was put here.  Those people take their ability to
fight very seriously.  He says they're really sweet when
you get to know them, so long as you never show fear or
touch one of the chieftan's wives."

"Um, sounds...like a lovely place."  Uhura said.  "Do you
think M'Benga will ever try anything against McCoy?"

"M'Benga is a lab-rat."  Chapel said into her forearms as
Uhura kneaded away on her tired muscles.  "He might like to
have those stripes on his sleeve, but he knows that if he
becomes CMO, for any reason, he's going to have to deal
with beamdowns, planetary schisms, and worst off all,
answering directly to Kirk and Spock. Me, I'd rather be
dead."

"Brrr."  Uhura agreed.  "I never thought about that. 
But...you're right. My duties give me all of the Big Two
that I can handle without losing my mind."

"I know.  Those two certainly are intense.  Aren't we a
pair?"

"In what way?"  Nyota murmured.

"You'd be interested in the captain, and I'd certainly be
interested in Mr. Spock.  If it was at all possible."

"I think they're both married."  Nyota agreed wistfully.

"Married.  Yep.  That's the word for it."  Chapel shook
her head.  "Poor Len."  She muttered under her breath.

Poor Len?  So she was settling for seconds with McCoy? 
Nyota could only hope he was okay with that.

Once again, Nyota pondered how unfair it all was.

"So."  Chapel broke the silence again--talking to keep
from blissing out into sleep.  "We're hearing scuttlebutt
that Sulu's work tracked down the root of that sensor
ghost."

"I don't know if it's true or not."  Nyota said
cautiously.  "Maybe."

Chapel chuckled.  "I hope it is.  I can't wait for
Andromachean wines and pastries."

"Oh, you said it.  And the silks.  Don't forget the silks."

"Those must be the happiest people in the Galaxy.  Don't
they make Deltans look like crude beer-guzzlers?"

The women snickered.  It was true that Andromacheans had a
taste for the finest things in life, and finest did not
mean the most expensive.  In ordinary, every day life, a
native would go around wearing the tanned sueded leather
that closely resembled the fringed buckskin garb of an
ancient American Frontiersman.  But at night...at night
when it was time to celebrate...it was like Mardi Gras. 
They were a happy people, well-adjusted, and could have a
funeral, a stabbing, and a riotous folk dance all under the
same roof.  Some people had to be told, "Eat, drink and be
merry, tomorrow we die".  But nobody ever had to tell
*that* to an Andromachean.  It was probably against their
religion not to have fun at the slightest opportunity.

"Let's go paint the town when we get there."  Nyota said
impulsively.  "Get a room together and use the money we'd
save on the partying."

Chapel lifted her head up.  "That sounds great!"  She
smiled with her perfect white teeth, and Nyota's heart did
a tiny flip.

*   *   *

Wha?

Nyota was rocketed out of bed by a shipwide siren. 
Confused and bewildered, she at first thought her senses
dazed by drink.  But she hadn't drunk anything.  It was the
suddenness of the alarm that had startled her.

Well no matter what, forget getting back to sleep now! 
Nyota glanced at her chrono; it was an hour before her
usual get-up time anyway, and dressed with alacrity.  Sash.
Agonizer.  Daggers.  Yes, *most definitely,* daggers!  She
slipped them all on in their proper places and collided
full-tilt into a pelting Hikaru Sulu, leading the way with
a vanguard of security officers.

"OOOOF!  MOOOOOOVE!"

Uhura didn't need to be told.  She plastered herself
against the wall and watched the minor army trample down
the hallway.

*   *   *

Over breakfast, things were clear.  Abundantly clear.

"Marlena tried to kill Kirk!"  Asian or not, Sulu was
round-eyed.  "Can you believe it?"

"MARLENA??"  Chekov gasped.  "Bohzemoi!"

"Marlena??"  Uhura gasped too.  "How?"

Sulu was shaking his head.  "I have no clue!  Commander
Spock stopped her and wham--dead as a doornail with a
phaser.  Barely enough to throw in the furnaces!"

Uhura sat back in her chair, shocked.  Marlena?  So all
those muttered complaints about Kirk's lack of devotion had
some truth in it?  Who would have known?

"Why would she want to kill heem?"  Chekov was
incredulous.  "Razblutto! She had it good!"

"I guess not good enough."  Sulu slowly shrugged.  "Who
knows what goes on behind closed doors."

"I am always hating thinking that."  Chekov responded with
a shiver.  "You never know."

Uhura dipped more flatbread into her harissa.  She ate
carefully, mindful of the heat.  "Too bad."  She said
finally.  "Marlena was getting some pretty interesting
letters from her "cousin" in the FARRAGUT.  She should have
just transferred over there."

"You're kidding.  You been reading people's mail again?"

"That's your job, Lieutenant.  I'm going by what Marlena
told me herself. She wasn't very happy with the captain
these past few months.  Wouldn't ever go into details, but
sounded like a jealous woman."

"Jealous?  Then she was dumber than I thought.  You don't
get jealous of Spock."  Sulu said firmly.  "Kirk gets who,
or what, he wants.  And nobody should ever be lame enough
to criticize."

And that was, sum and total, the main reason why Nyota had
hesitated at the idea of becoming the Captain's woman. 
Kirk was a fine captain, but he was also unsparing.  And if
he ever went down, it wouldn't be healthy to be close to
him.

Not to mention, his infamous obsessions...Nyota liked men
and women; but if Kirk ever got interested in her, he would
lay claim.

So...everything was out except for admiring the way his
butt fit into his tight pants.

"Must have been wery confident of her importance."  Chekov
made a Russian gesture of fatalism and returned to his
blintzes.

"I guess that's a given.  But, God.  I can't imagine
anybody trying to drive a wedge between the Captain and the
First.  Whew!"

"I'm not thinking about it."  Nyota informed them
fervently.  "I'm thinking of how just DELICIOUS my
breakfast is, and then I'm going to go to the Bridge and be
invisible until I get off duty for shore leave."

"Da."  Chekov muttered.

The doors parted and Kirk strode in, his body energy
radiating off his gold uniform like a small sun.  Behind
him with his hands clasped behind his back followed Spock,
a cold, glittering diamond in his captain's wake.  McCoy
brought up the last, his body language, uniform and general
demeanor forgettable and understated against the others. 
*He does it on purpose.*  Uhura was struck by a strong
suspicion.  After seeing him slice open Otto's throat like
that...

Silly of her.  McCoy had had to kill to get his rank.  You
didn't make any kind of commander on merit alone; the
Empire would never trust a man who was "too good" to kill. 
And he'd killed Mark Piper barely a week of transferring to
the ENTERPRISE.  Thank God; Piper was crazier than an Ebla
wombat.

Salutes were traded off and Kirk promptly ignored everyone
else, striding to the replicator for a quick breakfast. 
Looking at him, you would have never known he had just lost
his woman.  Frankly, Uhura was thinking he was...happy.

That should tell anybody plenty about the relationship
they had.  But if Marlena had been that bad off, why hadn't
Kirk killed her a long time ago? It wasn't like him to
hesitate, or to show mercy.

"It's up to you, of course."  McCoy was saying to Spock. 
"But let me know when you're ready for it."

"I will go to Sickbay before the Bridge."  Spock answered.

"Me or M'Benga?"

"It hardly matters.  Protoplasing minor wounds is not
advanced physics."

McCoy was lifting a sardonic eyebrow to that, when Kirk
chuckled.  It was the kind of sound that made you very
uncomfortable.

"Why don't *you* fix up our First Officer's wounds,
doctor?"  Kirk's gold eyes glittered, not unlike a snake's
upon a bird's.  "It would be...a nice change of pace,
wouldn't it?"

McCoy's eyebrow kept going up, and his expression became
very still. "Oh, irony is my middle name."  He said evenly.

Uhura had an empty tray and no reason to stay.  But as she
rose and dumped the dreck, she had to wonder, what the HELL
was that exchange all about?

*   *   *

"It's perfect for you, Ma'uh!"  The Andromachean was not
only insisting the iceberg blue went with her warm coffee
skin, but kept calling her by the local version of royalty.
As Uhura had heard too many "bwana" jokes all her life, she
found the courtesy a little too suck-uppy.

"It hardly does."  She said for the fourth time.  "Don't
try to tell me it does."

The vendor smiled as if unfazed by the scolding.  Around
them, the main marketplace buzzed, whirled and scattered in
a constant flurry of sight, sound, and smell under a soft
yellow sky.  Stick an open-air flea market into a giant
metal drum and pound on it a few times; you'd get the
perfect idea.

Uhura scowled faintly, holding up the two-piece length of
silk.  It was almost exactly the blue of Medical, with the
faintest hint of deep violet streaking like a watercolor
throughout.  Just like Christine's eyes, she thought.  The
cloth was cut to form a two-piece type of sarong, leaving
lots of skin-space for jewelry.

*Hmmn...and I bet it would show off that tattoo on her
spine too...*

"That's hardly your color."

Uhura jumped slightly.  Standing against the milling
throng was Dr. McCoy, sober as a church in civilian
clothing: sable buckskin from head to toe, with a headband
of the same leather against the sweltering sun.  A plain
iron necklace of a masculine design was around his neck,the
links large and obvious, holding his military dog tags. He
could have stepped out of ancient history, lacking only the
primitive flintlock over his shoulder.

"Well,"  Uhura straightened.  "I agree, but it's not for
me."

McCoy cocked his head to one side, took in the entire
stall, looked at her again, and made a point of studying
what she was holding.  "She'll like it." He said with a
smug smile.

"She?"  Uhura repeated.  "What makes you think I'm getting
it for a she?"

"There's only one person you'd be interested in, who would
look good in that."  He smiled at her growing discomfort. 
"Come on, Lieutenant.  What's got your feathers so ruffled?
It's not like I'm about to fuss at you for bein' in love."

Did everybody know?  Uhura felt her heart clench--like
Sulu's teeth on the Bridge.  "Are you sure about that?" 
She demanded.

He blinked.  "Sure about what?"

"Your not fussing."

"Pardon me, Lieutenant, but I'm 'bout as confused as a boy
lookin' for his daddy at a Southern Family Reunion.  What
would I be sure about?"

Uhura folded her arms over her chest.  "About my seeing
your Head Nurse."

"What, you?  I'm sure you'll do the right thing by her if
you knock her up." McCoy cocked a roostertail eyebrow. 
"Contrary to what you may have heard, Miss Communications
Officer, I am not having an affair with my Head Nurse."

Nyota felt the wind gust out of her sails.  "You aren't?"

"Did Christine tell you we were?"

"No..."  Nyota was determined not to blush.  So she'd been
reading her own answers in Christine's words.  Damn, but
that was...that was embarassing. "So you don't mind."  She
stated.  For the record.  "Because I want to be very clear
on that.  I'm no poacher."

"Honey, Christine's a catch, but she's not for me."  McCoy
reached up and pushed his headband back slightly with his
thumb.  "She's a researcher, and I'm a hands-on
investigative medico.  The last thing she'd want to do is
hook up with a lunatic who's collecting bacterial samples
while dodging small arms fire and primitive missles in a
third-world-war zone while his superior officer is yelling
to "go faster!""

"Pardon me, doctor, but if you're still doing that while
wearing all that gold on your sleeve, you *must* be a
little crazy."

He grinned at her easily.  "I told you, didn't I?"

"Well."  Uhura wondered what to say.  She stared down at
her feet.  McCoy was wearing boot moccasins that looked a
lot more comfortable than the silly high heels she had
chosen to wear with her black dress.  Just thinking of how
impractically she'd chosen her wardrobe brought a paranoid
thought:  Had she been trying to dress up for Christine? 
Oh, no.  What if...what if she'd... been...obvious?

"I just want to be sure."  She said at last.  "I mean, I'm
not even sure what I'm doing with my life, but I know one
thing.  You've got *some* kind of relationship with
Christine, and I'm not a poacher."

"Yes, you just said that."

"So I want to know, is Christine seeing you, or Spock, or
anybody?"

McCoy laughed very softly.  "Spock is about as likely to
get involved with Christine as I am.  Granted, for
different reasons, but still."

"I guess you're right."  Nyota admitted. "Kirk would
hardly allow anybody to get close to his First Officer."

"Huh?"  McCoy blinked.  "Come again?"  He lifted his hand
to his ear. "Lieutenant, I don't b'lieve you know what
you're saying."

Nyota mentally replayed her words back.  "What did I say
that was so amusing, doctor?  Everybody on the ship knows
they're having a torrid affair."

"Oh, like you knew I was having an affair with Christine?"
McCoy looked at her.  After a moment, he slowly slid an
eyebrow up. "It's hardly that."  One could have performed
delicate surgery with his tone of voice.  "Look, y'want to
explore a friendship with my Head Nurse, go right ahead."

Nyota folded her arms across her chest.  "What, are you
trying to keep me from blushing?  I promise I won't."

He thought that was extremely amusing.  Naivity did that
to him.  "I couldn't tell if you blushed anyway."

Uhura scowled.  "Now you're being facetious."

"I swear, I'm not."  But he was trying hard not to laugh
in her face.  "Ok." He held his hands up.  "I surrender. 
If you want to know, I'll tell you, but don't come crying
to me afterwards."

"I've often found its ignorance that makes me cry."  Uhura
snapped.

"Have it your way.  I won't even say I told you so." 
McCoy folded his arms over his chest in the military at-
rest pose.  "As you may have noticed, the captain and First
Officer have quite strong personalities, and quite strong
attractions for each other."

"No kidding."  Uhura said sourly.  "Everybody knows that."

"Well, what you don't know is, they would both just
absolutely love to express that attraction in a physical
way, but can't."

"You mean they haven't!"  Uhura was aware her jaw was
hanging open.  "No, you aren't serious!  They've got to be
sleeping with each other!"

"Sleep?  Hah.  That's the most funniest, accidentally
hilarious thing I've heard all year."  McCoy      chuffed. 
"Out of the mouths of babes in the woods."  He muttered. 
"Well they are...in a way."  McCoy sighed at the pale green
cloud cover rolling over the sky.  "Ask yourself this, Oh
Wise Lieutenant:  In *that* relationship, who exactly gets
to be in charge?"

Uhura blinked.  Twice.  "I never thought about that."  She
confessed.

"No kiddin.  Well.  Who do you think calls the shots?"

Uhura pondered.  Hard.  She couldn't conceive of *the
captain* being anything but dominate with a partner.  Spock
was his aide, and deferred to him, but...

...but would a Vulcan, who was any human's superior in
strength and speed, conceed to being the submissive? 
Especially to someone who was so in-your-face Alpha like
Kirk?

The more she thought, the more confused she got.  There
was obvious strong, physical desire between the two men--
outright dripping, teeth-clenched lust--but how in the
world could sex be possible between those adamantine
personalities?

When her silence began to get really humiliating, McCoy
took pity on her. "It's both of them."  He lifted his
wrists, displaying some very serious bruises.  As her eyes
got wide, he explained as if to a very small child: "Role
playing."

Uhura found herself amazingly at a loss for words.  All
this time, and the captain and Spock weren't lovers. They
were just sharing a different kind of pleasure.  And that
involved...some pretty dark stuff with McCoy.

Good God.  Uhura had heard of such relationships in the
higher echelons of Command; it was something you discussed
in uneasy tones in private, wondering just what the
drawbacks were to being a "real" officer.  Everyone dreamed
of advancing in the world.  It gave you protection against
predators, both male and female, who had been someone
else's prey when they were at your lowly rank.  But there
was speculation that the more powerful you got, the more
attention you attracted to yourself.

Suddenly, McCoy's refusal to advance any further in rank
made a great deal of sense.  If the Captain and First
Officer were enacting their frustrations out on him, she
didn't want to imagine what it was like on a higher level.

*Protoplasing wounds.*  Kirk's obscure taunt in the Mess
hall had suddenly become clear.  Her eyes were locked onto
the wrist-marks, unable to move. She was staring.  She
wrenched her eyes sideways, and found herself at the
military dog tags.

Dog tags.  She felt the ground leave her feet.  That was
not a necklace she was looking at.

"Well."  She cleared her throat.  "And...how is it for
you?"  She would hold her poise if it killed her.

He lifted his eyebrows again.  "How do you think?  They
never seem to sleep, and they always save up on their
frustrations.  What I really hate is when Kirk gets bad
news from High Command."  He glanced at his wrists
significantly.  He sighed. "So, believe me, I'm not what
you'd call even remotely jealous in who (or what) my Head
Nurse romances.  It's all I can do to stay alive when I'm
in the same room with those two."

Uhura swallowed dryly.  "I see."  She managed.

"No, you don't.  And lady, you don't wanna."  McCoy shook
his head and shuddered.  "Now is there anything else you
want to ask me before I go?  I'm under schedule."

"We're on shore leave."  Uhura said stupidly, one second
before she realized what she was saying.

"Yes, we are on shore leave.  So is the captain.  And the
First Officer. And I happen to be scheduled to go discuss
the "gestalt" of the Senior officers with the Captain.  And
the First Officer.  In their hotel room. Alone."  McCoy
said patiently.  Pardon me, Lieutenant, but you aren't
always this dense.  Am I right in concluding you might be
serious about your infatuation with Christine?"  A brief
pause floated between the two, a thick silence that cut
into the racket of the marketplace.

*I can't believe I'm so naive.*  Nyota thought.

McCoy chuckled softly.  "My mistake.  I was wrong.  I
*can* tell when you blush."  As the heat traveled further
up Nyota's neck, he grinned even harder.  "Well, ok,
Lieutenant, but as your potential girlfriend's superior
officer, may I kindly offer you a few words of advice?"

"Be my guest."  She said numbly.

He patted her on the shoulder.  "Never, ever, ever call
her anything but Christine.  She goes ape at any and all
nicknames.  Invite her to a raw bar. She's crazy for
oysters and champagne.  Fire opals and blue Tiger's Eyes
are her favorite gemstone.  And now if you'll excuse me, I
have a date with humiliation, domination, pain and probably
some illegal mood enhancers."

While she was still absorbing the part about favorite
gemstones, he was turning and slipping back into the crowd.
She was almost willing to swear she could hear him humming
an ancient Terran song called, "Wasting My Hate."

*   *   *

"Oh, Lord!  Nyota!  You look fabulous!"

Nyota turned and swirled her metallic copper sarong around
her hips, making a showgirl's pose of tilting her neck and
closing her eyes.  Christine was right; she did look good. 
Copper wristlets and anklets, hand hammered and shaped,
matched the torc around her throat and the dependant
teardrop earrings.  Coppery wire held her hair in a cage
and coppery sandals completed the outfit, showing off
copper toe rings on each foot.

"Do I look like a million credits or what?"

"My *God*, Nyota!  Where are we going?  If the Orions see
you they'll storm the entire planet!"

"Oh, honey, if they do that, then I'll just have to invite
'em to my party!" Nyota beamed her genuine dilithium smile.
Chapel was looking starstruck, thunderstruck, and just
plain struck.

"I'm going to look like your bodyguard next to you!" 
Christine breathed. Her lips were slightly parted and her
eyes just seemed to keep getting bigger and bigger as she
took in the other Lieutenant.  In the small confines of the
hotel room, she simply took it over with her burning
presence.

"Oh, no you're not.  I have a surprise for you, sugar." 
Nyota tucked her sarong around her hips one last time and
held out the roll of blue-violet silk.

Chapel burst out laughing and held the silk up to her
front, staring at the shimmering colors.  "This...this is
incredible!  Where did you find this?" The blue tiger eyes
tumbled to the floor and she gasped again.  "Nyota!  Oh,
no, you didn't!  This is incredible!"

"I got lucky!"  Nyota grinned and lifted a bottle of
champagnein a toast. "Can you believe, the trader mistook
me for a Mendicant Nun and couldn't accept more than twelve
scrips for the whole thing?"

"No, I don't believe it!  And you let him do that?  Nyota,
how could you?"

"It was easy.  I gave him a seashell from the Holy Black
Virgin and blessed his stall."

Chapel gaped at her.  "Ny!"

"Come on, put it on, put it on!  We're going out tonight
and get ourselves sloppy with shellfish and come back here
and kill the most *incredible* champagne you ever tried!"

"Where is this?"  Chapel suddenly looked nervous.  "'cos
nice as these dresses look, they don't exactly let you hide
a weapon."

"Officer's Bar."  Nyota smirked.  "You know the rules:
nobody's going to malign a lieutenant there."  Of course,
they were going to be wearing their Officer's Daggers. 
That wasn't just common sense, that was protocol.

Chapel sighed her relief.  "Oh, good.  You had me worried
for a moment there."

"Honey."  Uhura reached up and hugged the taller woman. 
"Don't worry.  I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Chapel's soft lips stretched into a smile that showed she
was starting to catch on.  "What if I want something to
happen?"  She asked softly, deep in her throat.

"Oh?"  Uhura murmured.  "Well, if you do...you will let me
know, won't you?"

"Why," Chapel bent slightly and pressed her lips gently
against Nyota's.  A thrill of electricity scattered through
their spines and ended between their legs. "That would only
be good manners, wouldn't it?"  She asked hoarsely.

They stared into each other's faces, breathing somewhat
excitedly for a long moment.

"Do you want to go out?"  Nyota asked, suddenly timid.
"Because we can stay here if you want..."

"I wouldn't mind if we ended up here."  Christine was
still employing that husky, smokey voice.  "But do you
think I'd miss the chance to show you off?"

"Oh, why *no*, honey."  Nyota felt an absolutely wicked
grin crawl over her face.  "Show me off, by all means."

*   *   *

Spock was always grateful for the few occasions when a
bodyguard was unneccesary.  The Officer's Bar was just such
an occasion.

Naturally, they weren't completely casual about security. 
Kirk had selected a table on the second floor of the open-
space, which afforded anyone who sat by the rails, a
perfect view of the traffic coming and going.  So far they
had observed a constant flow of ENTERPRISE crew officers
coming and going, but mostly just coming in and gorging on
fine food and drink.  Crime and mischief would be at a
minimum tonight; Andromachean justice was swift and tended
to make an example of anyone who was heathen enough to
infringe upon another being's right to have fun.

The Vulcan sat back in a rare position of relaxed calm,
glass of pure Altair water cradled in his fingers.  Just to
his right on the other side of the table, Kirk was circling
to join his side.

"Now, will you take a look at that."

Spock blinked at Kirk's tone, and looked down.  Lts. Uhura
and Chapel were walking in, and both women were
breathtaking.  For a long moment, Spock was hard put to
decide which of them was the most striking.

Christine, he decided without too much thought.  Her long
yellow hair hung loose and flowing past her shoulders,
almost hiding the dark blue torus earrings dangling at her
lobes.  A spiraling bracelet of sculptured stone twined up
her left wrist to just past her elbow, and her Officer's
Dagger was sheathed in a case of the same blue inside the
cords that laced up her left sandal.  Electrum held the
stone jewelry together, and glittered around her ankles.

Kirk shook his head admiringly at the ensemble the two
women created.  "Now if that isn't a sight for sore eyes." 
He commented.  When Spock was silent, he slipped an impish
glance at him.  "What do you think?"

Spock flicked one eyebrow upwards.  "That they are
enhanced in each other's company."

"Aren't they though.  The burning sunset and the dusk that
follows.  I've often thought Nurse Chapel would make a good
woman for you, you know.  The compatibility isn't *just*
visual."

Spock did not appreciate being teased.  Not about
anything, and not from anyone.  And to take a concubine
would not be fair to any woman he regarded highly.  Much as
he bitterly resented being trapped in a loveless marriage
to T'Pring.

McCoy was deliberately tuning out of the conversation,
quietly drinking himself into an anesthetized state.  The
trick was to do it without being obvious, or Kirk would
stuff him full of soberalls.  And he did not want to be in
full possession of either his brain cells, memory recall,
or pain receptors tonight.

"Yes, company seems to be the key word."  Kirk watched the
women, two polarized and dramatic opposites of each other,
walk across the floor of the resturant and to their table. 
His gaze lingered a bit on Uhura's smooth shoulders,
trailed down the small of her back.  "That's who I should
have picked, not Marlena."  He shook his head.  "Well,
doctor?"

McCoy swallowed quickly, and put down his empty glass with
a coolness he did not feel.  "What, captain?"

"Oh, your Chief Nurse.  My Communications Officer."  That
low, sinister undercurrent was back in Kirk's throat as he
casually slipped his free hand down to rest possessively at
the back of the doctor's neck--an action McCoy absolutely
loathed, which was why he did it, and they both knew it. 
Kirk smiled as McCoy fought for a stony-faced calm.  "Think
they have their sights on rank and priviledge?"

"I doubt it."  McCoy said dryly.  "Those two are married."
Out in the open, he appeared to be perfectly calm, but in
his mind's eye, he had both fingers crossed.

"What a shame."  Kirk said with feeling.  "Two lovely
examples like that." He watched the view as the women
slowly sauntered through the crowd and found a table that
was, inconveniently for him, outside easy viewing range.
"Doesn't it bother you, doctor, that your Head Nurse has no
need of a man in her life?"

McCoy privately sighed, weary of the cat and mouse games
Kirk never exhausted himself on.  "Not really.  It's one
less contraceptive prescription I have to fill out."

Spock watched with his usual Vulcan calm as Kirk continued
toying with the doctor.  "Perhaps," He murmured, getting
the attention to himself, "we can continue this discussion."

Kirk smiled his sweetest smile as he felt the doctor
stiffen under his touch.  "Why not?"  He wondered.  "Mr.
Spock, why don't you take the doctor home?  I'll join you
when I'm finished."  This close, his growing arousal was
palpable to the other human.

*Great.*  McCoy was already preparing himself for whatever
Kirk's overactive imagination had in mind.  Looked like it
would begin with the usual schtick of Spock starting and
Kirk finishing, once he felt McCoy had been left hanging
long enough.  *As if I'm not already in enough pain.*

But at least he seemed to have detoured the captain's
rapacious attentions from the women.  Thank God.

Spock slowly ran one hand down his arm, and he shivered. 
Kirk smiled at the show.

"Now, now, save it for when you get home, Mr. Spock."

*God, but I hate you, Captain Bligh.*

McCoy kept his mind firmly locked down as he and Spock
left the Bar. Outside in the warm evening air, the Vulcan
signaled, and his bodyguards produced themselves with a
private car.

The doctor fully expected anything else but what happened
once they were alone in the back: Spock turned the full
weight of his dark gaze on him and said, very soberly:  "I
know what you just did."

McCoy felt the silence drag out into infinity.  "About
what?"

"Deterring Kirk from the women."  A flicker of the dark
eyebrow.  "Subtle. My compliments."

"Are you going to tell him?"  He answered the Vulcan
cautiously.

Spock was almost smiling.  "I was thinking my time would
be better spent, talking with you."

That long-fingered, hot-skinned olive hand stroked under
his jaw, very very lightly.  With an effort, the subject of
attention nailed his focus on the conversation. "Talk about
what?"

"Would you think, kefeh," Spock murmured, "I would make an
adequate captain?"

The End...!