Disclaimer: I wish I could own Nero. I love Romulans

Reviews: Please! I don't have a Beta and I'm sure there's errors in here. Do tell me of them, even if their small and insignificant overall.

Characters: Spock, Uhura, Kirk, McCoy, Scotty, Gaila, the whole shebang!

Rating: T

The crews were hastily assigned and thrown onboard a ship once Starfleet had recognized a distress signal emanating from Vulcan. All crews had little time to form relationships with their superior officers and it seemed that "You" was everyone's name-first and last. Shifts were unorganized and chaotic. Men and women did their job efficiently as an individual, but in a collective union, it was slowed and disorganized. People made small transmissions and outgoing calls to those on Earth lasting, at the most, five minutes. No one was told who was attacking Vulcan, and the fact that anyone dared, caused officers to be on extreme high alert, leaving little time to work on shift schedules. No one was told who to shift with and when their shifts ended, but no one was told to stop working. Mental psyches were taxed.

Uhura stared at the transmitted image of the other individual on the other end of the accepted call. Uhura tried to read her, and as a xenolinguist and communications major, phonology and morphology meant very little without body language, facial expression, and vocal inflection to study. The universal Terran dictum was that a smile transcended culture, race, and species, and simply put, that it held the same symbol of goodwill and benevolence to those it was shown to. She noticed that a smile was void and in its place was a thin line that wasn't quite a grimace...yet. Her brown eyes focused and mentally dissected the fractionally raised shoulders, the arms crossed protectively over her breast, her voice a slight octave lower than usual-she was pissed.

"We were supposed to be on the Farragut together," she murmured through clenched teeth.

"But you knew that it was my dream...my purpose to be on the Enterprise....it's like," and there she inhaled before continuing, "my destiny." A small smile-perhaps one asking for placation?- graced her lips ever so slightly. It worked...somewhat. The other dropped her shoulders to neutral position.

"You mean you couldn't get enough of Commander Spock?" The other inquired, an eyebrow arching ever so slightly in a perfect mockery of Vulcan facial expression. Congratulations on the perfect caricature were in order. Well, one day.

Uhura smiled hesitantly before completely eradicating the purpose of a serious talk, "Yes, well, he's part of my reason to get aboard that ship, but not all! I had other purposes for wanting to go on the newest ship of the fleet, one being collecting a harem of the finest officers. I have one hot Vulcan, a sour, yet charming doctor, and a helmsman who fences. It will take me about a month or so to double my men," she said nonchalantly, adding a flippant swoop of her hand.

"What about Kirk," she interjected.

"You have to be an actual symbiotic being with a functioning frontal lobe to be considered. The guy is dangerous and not in a good way....it makes me think he's suicidal," she rebutted.

It was roughly forty-five seconds of pure vivid imagination and silence before the two parties erupted in fits of laughter and both were now relaxed. Uhura was the first to break the silence. "How is the Farragut? Do you like the crew? What do you plan on doing after we help Vulcan?" The onslaught of questions was so fast that she was surprised the other had differentiated syntax and meaning from gibberish.

"Well," started the other, "after we help the Vulcans, get our prestigious medals, the captain planned to check out this unknown planet that is recorded by coordinate points only. You would think that with the coordinates that scouting missions would have already been in place, but nope! No scouting mission has ever came into fruition. The Federation has recorded some very interesting readings from said planet and they're wanting to see if it is inhabited and if it could be added, of course following the regulations of the Prime Directive while doing so. As soon as we deal will the distress call, we're on our way!" Bright, blue eyes switched from Uhura's face to the digital time clock directly above the holographic screen: 2 minutes left before the five minute mark. She continued.

"The science crew and the away team will mostly disembark to the surface once we gather more information. Guess who gets to stay on the ship and wait to hear about the information about its orbit?" She said with a mocked displeased expression, rolling her eyes in annoyance. It took a second for her to rein in her rant and redirect the focus about the topic she had started.

"Of course, I personally think that finding downloadable files of relatable compounds found in such orbit would help this whole "boldly-going-where-no-man-has-gone-before" move faster. And...." she stopped.

Uhura knew that look, it was the look of stalling. "And..?"

"Captain Srash is Andorian!"
"Yes, he is; he is also a very competent and celebrated officer with more medals as an intermediary than anyone can count. Why he chose to be a captain instead of an ambassador is beyo--"

"Uhura?" the other interjected before a diatribe could start, Uhura uttered a mumbled "mmm" to tell the other that full attention was given.

"Did you know that the antennae of the Andorian species is erogenous? I found that tidbit when I ...." A large grin forming mischievously.

"Gaila," Uhura interjected in shock, desperately trying to eradicate the instantaneous aftereffect of a smirk. She didn't need to be thinking of one of the most respected and deadpan of her mentors being seduced by her former roommate: a temptress, a malicious seducer, a promiscuous siren - she stopped her list that was slowly coming to an end as she could no longer think of synonymous adjectives, and pondered how the hell Gaila had managed to find such information in relatively short time. They had all been assigned to the ship that they were most qualified for less than twelve hours ago. Gaila was good, but NOT that good, no, it had to start at the Academy.

"I better get back to the bowels of the ship, those engines can't run themselves!" A red fingernail hovered dangerously close to the button signaling the termination of the conversation. "I hope to see you again" her blue eyes wide with amusement, "before you and Spock get married and have an armada of children." With a dazzling smile, the line was terminated after a very stoic, "Computer, end call." It left a very amused and speechless Uhura in her quarters.

It was time to go into active duty, to offer her communication expertise to Captain Pike wondering how long would it be until she was transferred from the communications deck three to the bridge as the chief communications officer. After saving Vulcan, she was going to meet Gaila and squeeze as much information about her liason with Captain Shrash, post-haste!

It was easy to get caught in the moment. They had destroyed perhaps the most dangerous war criminal that the Federation had ever seen since its origins, so it made sense to get lost in the moment. It made sense for Uhura to listen as Spock pulled aside Kirk after he had given an on screen Nero surrender terms; it was easy to hear Spock say" Captain, what are you doing? ", only for Kirk to reply, "Showing them compassion. It may be the only way to earn peace with Romulus. It's logic, Spock, I thought you'd like that." It was extremely easy to agree with Spock as he ended the conversation with, "No, not really. Not this time." She asked herself how it was physically possible to ignore the aftermath of the battle, and how it was consciously possible to forget that the floating debris in the dead standstill was not entirely just ship parts.

What was not easy was standing here. With i thesei people. Red, coral orange, white, tan, pink, brown, black, cobalt, maroon, charcoal, the list of colors and their various shades seemed endless in the audience area of the thrust-stage auditorium. One color was lacking to represent an exotic species- a very vivid green.

Uhura stood by Pavel Chekov, a 17-year-old boy that had seen more things than anyone a decade or two older, and a fidgety Montgomery Scott, who had tried to qualm his hunger-the muttering he told his stomache for it to stop growling proved ineffective. Her eyes pinpointed Kirk and he smiled as a brooch was pressed upon his Starfleet uniform marking him as a captain...a very historical captain at that.

"You are to report to Admiral Pike," she heard Admiral Bartlett say. There were nine admirals present and a few were absent-in what, she guessed, was smoothing over political affairs between Earth and the Vulcan high council and establishing what to do with the Vulcan refugees.

She watched Kirk walk gracefully and purposefully towards Pike, who was being wheeled in. "You are relieved, sir," he spoke with teasing and...admiration.

"I am relieved," said the-newly-turned Admiral as he grasped the new captain's hand firmly. Their smiles went beyond the professional and seemed platonic, if not paternal.

Clapping arose and the captain looked at his crew and they managed to make more noise than any other attending. She distinctly heard Sulu go, "Wooo!" with hands forming a magnifier around his mouth. She also saw Spock arch an eyebrow at the display.

She didn't know how, but being in the middle row wasn't the best advantage for high tailing it out of the room. Luckily for her, everyone gave her a wide berth as the crew wanted to get their say ins with their leader.

"Oyhera! Aren't you goying to vant to tawlk wit ze keptin?" screamed Chekov. His question fell on deaf ears.

Four days on Earth. That was the time given to them since the Enterprise desperately needed repairs. Out of the four days spent, tomorrow would be the hardest, she couldn't deny it if she wanted to. Tomorrow was to honor the lost; a celebration far larger than this one, but such title was the sugar coating of a mass funeral eulogy.

Somehow she managed to remember the code. Somehow she managed to punch it into the system and hear the doors "whoosh" closed behind her as she entered. It was amazing how perfume remained in the room. She saw crumpled sheets, scattered PADD's and a holopicture of her and Gaila eating ice cream: Uhura merrily enjoying her cold treat on a sunny day for San Francisco, and Gaila suggestively licking her ice cream cone as a man jogged by.

She had no idea how long she stared at the holopicture. Perhaps she was wanting to hear sound, to hear Gaila say something either intellectually stimulating or sexually innocuous towards any that caught her attention. It wasn't there, and the moving image didn't change into something new and unexpected. The damn thing was on loop and yet it was the most interesting thing that happened today. Her comlink vibrated against her collarbone as a voice announced, "Are you in need of sustenance, Lieutenant? There will be a large celebration at a commissary on campus, I was assured it would be pleasurable based on Mr. Scott's memories of the Academy..."

How could anyone celebrate? She managed to slink against the bookshelf that was stationed in the space between the two twin beds; her head nestled against a hard spine of an old-fashioned textbook. "I would prefer to remain where I am."

"Would it be more agreeable if I were to bring you nourishment to your quarters?"

"I'm not hungry." She gritted her teeth, wanting to hear silence, to not have a conversation so she could dare the holo to alter in some way.

"Need I point out that lack of sustenance will be detrimental in your overall work-"

"Spock..." she managed to say in a whisper, pleading. In a most mechanical way she counted the seconds that followed. It was four whole seconds before she continued, "I want to be left alone." She closed her eyes, imagining the holopicture changing scenarios, scenes, actions because the real one in the room kept showing her eating ice cream and Gaila suggestively licking hers as a jogger jogs by.

"As you wish." The line terminated and silence was back.

She cried and she didn't know why it took this long. And she didn't know if she could sleep in this room, with the phantom presence of her roommate, her best friend, her only one at that.

This is fantastic! She thought sarcastically, getting hit in the face with the butt of a phaser rifle was just welcoming.

A very pissed off Orion tried to ignore the blood the color of tar now dripping from her nose onto her tunic, ruining what was left of it.

She remembered the scene.

She remembered the Farragut being one of the last ships to warp to Vulcan, to a trap. Before the bridge could digest the scene of the scrap metal that used to be ionic plating of ships, red alert was signaled and everyone fought to give a helping hand even when he or she wasn't involved in the profession that the hand was offered to aide. She made an ensign help her convert the power signals from one core to shields, she helped the CMO with tricorder medical readings of a communications officer who was burned by short circuits, and that was before they were fired upon.

When the torpedos hit the Farragut the shields, despite her attempt to give them more advantage, dropped to a dangerous level of 40%, another hit would prove disastrous. She remembered running from the cores as they began to leak dilithium, watched a young man scream in agony as it spurted on his skin, and attempted to pull an unconscious nurse out from under a collapsed bulkhead. She left her there and she ran, her heart pounding as it hurt to breathe, hurt to think that you're going to die. Leaving the engineering deck was hard when you couldn't discern if what you were stepping on was blood, dilithium, or plasma. It was mere minutes when the alien spaceship's laser fire hit the ship on the port side that she could smell and feel the heat of a fire. Everyone knew that it was honorable to help a fallen comrade, but how can you help someone if you can't help yourself?

She didn't know why she went to the bridge, that should've been the worse area in the entire ship! Yet still, she ran as if the bridge could be her safe haven, as if their Science Officer would have said, "Sensory readings picked up that this is a simulation. The enemy has no weapons except for the power of illusion." Boy was she wrong. Splayed out on panels was their very own science officer, eyes glossed and his uniform seemed to be melted to his skin, electrocution was the diagnosis. If she didn't see the sparks still leaping from busted panels, she would have still known it was electrocution-burnt hair and skin has distinction. Other bodies were either slumped in their chairs or flung from them and now nestled in awkward positions on the floor. She didn't have time to match faces and names, she had to.....

"Gaila," the captain had been holding onto his first officer, both were bleeding heavily and sent a loud enough message to the Orion that they had a few minutes, ten at the most, before the loss of blood would be too abundant to replace. "Captain...wherever the doctor is...I'm sure.." She bit her lip, she tried to ponder how to logically say why they needed to be calm, that by a slight, but impossible chance they'd be able to alert Starfleet Command so that no other ships could arrive.

"Lieutenant.."
"Sir....." she sucked in a large gulp of air as if there were some sort of problem with the oxygen levels-that was the only thing that was functioning. "I know we don't have a sickbay right now, but if you can get Dr. Denolth on his communicator link I can see what we have that can help your and Commander Shravel's wounds...!"

"Gaila!" he looked at her sternly. One antennae moving in a downward angle, as the other was pointed straight up. She guessed it was an expression of defeat. "Gaila...you need to go..."

"Captain!" her eyes widened and she stood in place, her arms naturally raising over her head protectively in an automatic defense when the beams fell along the command pit. "Shrivek, I know that if we just think for a second...I know that there's dozens of escape pods...and weapons aren't offline yet, we can...." she stopped as a light blue hand caressed the side of her face in a motion she had never seen from him-affection.

"Go" his eyes locked onto a helmsman's screen as it read that the enemy ship was preparing another hit, "that's an order. Take as many people with you as you can, we'll try and give you cover. Go to Vulcan and seek refuge."

She remembered running through the deteriorated ship grabbing anyone who had enough strength to run or carry a fellow crewmember. It was distressing that out of a ship of 237 members, only ten managed to get to shuttlebay and to escape pods- the ones that were not destroyed, of course.

Ten shuttlepods were piloted by those that weren't the best navigators, but they had tried for the instinctual act of survival, especially as their mother ship erupted into an explosion, confirming that anyone that wasn't already dead, was now. She heard her comlink connect to the others of the ship screaming commands, to form a tactic to provide coverage since their cloaking devices were malfunctioning. Said tactic was using large enough fragments from the Farragut and the other commissioned ships as cover and partial invisibility. She hoped that that the enemy was so caught up in destroying any ships still arriving or perhaps rejoicing over their victory, than reading sensory readings of ship signals. Hope didn't help in this second situation, unfortunately.

She remembered wondering as smoke started escaping her flight control panel and as she fought to turn towards Vulcan, why the enemy ship had not hit her ship again. Surely they would make sure that its pilot had definitely been defeated. But as she squeezed her eyes through the smoke that was trying its damndest to asphyxiate her, she saw her destination of Vulcan start to implode. As the maelstrom of Vulcan ended in its nonexistence, she was alerted that the power signals were dangerously low. She hastily recorded a message, also noting the frequency as being from the Farragut, and said her goodbyes through sobs. She always wanted to be amongst the stars, but to die amongst its dark abyss was not comforting and dying made a person humble.

She expected as her power signals kept dropping with the loss of dilithium that the enemy ship would have hit her again, but as the gravitational pull began to pull her ship towards Romulus and Remus. She guessed that the enemy theorized that if the impact onto the planet didn't completely destroy her, the Romulans, who had an intense xenophobia -from what she learned of her interspecies culture class-, would. Luckily, the cabin pressure was in tact and holding, but it didn't matter if the landing became a crash.

As the ship lost course and was falling at an alarming speed towards Remus, she glanced to see one more starship -that must have come out of warp after the Farragut's destruction- enter the foray. She gave her luck to them.

Days later.
She woke up in a room, arms and legs shackled in a cell that was unbearably hot and undeniably unsanitary. She wasn't sure what bodily fluids she was chained in, but didn't want to plan categorizing them. She had no idea what star date it was or how long ago the events of the destruction had happened. Was she currently on an outpost on Remus or had she made it to the Romulan home world?

Only after shaking her shackles, looking around the room, did she notice that there was something in there with her.

Black, obsidian eyes stared at her and she stared back, noting the species. "I demand to know why you have imprisoned me. What your ship has done, will have retaliation from Starfleet the likes you've never s---" and just as quick as he had been on the other side of the cell he had backhanded her so hard that she bit down on her tongue when her forehead slammed effortlessly against a wall. She noticed that the blood that she tasted caused a different emotion than when Captain Srash would bite her bottom lip in a "game" they played: she was furious.

"You will speak when spoken to," said a Romulan guard, narrowing his eyes as he breathed, calming his anger...for now. She took a moment to examine him in physique and manner that every Orion was trained to do.

His shoulders were squared as his left leg stood at a great distance from his right. Weight was over his left leg in an uneven distribution; it wasn't quite a lunge, but it was closer to such than a ramrod posture that Vulcans held. His hair was generally cut straight across the forehead close to the eyebrows (which were swept into a high arc) and ended at the cheekbones. His hair stood in stark contrast with the almost-golden olive skin and sharply pointed ears, but was in accordance with pupil-less dark irises. The frame of the style reminded her of a Roman-like battle helmet She focused on how his nose flared slightly and could hear the air escape through his nostrils.

He was opportunistic. She gathered that much from his posture. In a manner of seconds she thought that this being reminded her of the Terran shark. Sharks waited to go after the weakest and would often toy with it knowing that at the end they'd kill their prey. Under his gaze she felt like that poor fish, bird, or seal that couldn't move fast enough if it tried. Being shackled didn't help either and only added to the feeling of being trapped.

He looked at the inactive comlink still pinned to her tunic and tore it off, smashing it in his palm. "Nero may not be part of the Empire, but he did right in destroying as much ships as was possible. It is a shame that the Narada was destroyed, perhaps its leader would've been revered." The man pivoted on the balls of his feet, making total use of the small area. He tilted his head to the side, calculating and analyzing his catch from the foreign ship. His eyes glanced down on the sandstone floor, at the rubble that used to be a comlink. It was destroyed, and yet, his foot pressed against the remainder. Teevik told himself that the Empire would be proud of such a finding.

"Who sent you to spy? Were you sent to weaken the security of Romulus so that your pathetic federation could attack us for nothing we abetted in?"

Gaila narrowed her eyes as she contemplated the information given. She wondered what ship was able to destroy that enemy ship, and a small smirk graced her blood-stained lips that used to be red from lip-gloss and was now black because of her blood. The smile grew at the thought that at least they won. "I don't know what you're---"

She couldn't have moved fast enough if she was able, as she was lifted up the wall as far as the chains would allow, hand grasped around her neck. If her hands weren't pinned by confines she would have futilely tried moving the hands that were crushing her larynx. The guard's face was a mere cm from her face, she could feel his breath along her cheeks, and if it was possible, his eyes got darker as they bore into hers. He smiled slightly, thin slips spreading into an even thinner line. He cocked his head to the side as he spoke Romulan louder than his other questions. He continued to hold her, his eyes glancing at her feet as they dangled loosely and rattled the chains. His head turned to shout another phrase of Romulan that permeated the magnetic force field. He returned his gaze to her hearing footsteps draw near.

He relaxed his grip and tightened it, relaxed it again, and tightened it more to see her eyes widen and close shut tightly in a reflex to pain. He moved closer. His lips brushed her ear lobe. He spoke accented Standard, gritting his teeth and said, "You will talk or we will break you." And he let go, watching as his prey crumbled onto the floor. She coughed and inhaled sharply to force her lungs to work. The flawless green skin of her neck now blanched.

Another guard came into the cell after a tiny beep allowed him passage through the invisible barricade. i Two guys against a chained girl, no fun guys, she thought bitterly. Gaila didn't escape being an Orion slave girl-the one with the most bounty on her head due to her unique physical trait of having red hair, not black; blue eyes, not brown - to end up rotting in a Romulan cell. If they thought she was stupid, they were dead wrong. She decided that after she got off this horrible planet she would mourn for Uhura, Shrivek, and for Kirk...even if he replied ineffably, "That is so weird" to her "I love you" statement: the three most dangerous words to an Orion-

TBC