Chapter title: Awakening

Author: kendrat199 aka kendra

Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, although if I did, I'd be rich and could own a field of writers to satiate my hunger for fanfics.
Rating: T
Warning: Since Gaila in the movie is given max 40 seconds for screen time and seen as a minor character, I will be molding her character very differently from other portrayals (hopefully). I do want to thank all the authors of stories that I've read where she's bubbly and caring, which will still be the foundation.I truly believe that every character has a balance of good and evil (for example, Pon Farr for Spock or Nero before his home planet was destroyed and after) and Gaila will be no different. Basically, if you want her to be a somewhat damsel in distress or pitiful, it won't .

Beta: I have non. Would anyone like to volunteer their skills? Mistakes are all mine, as it stands.

Reviews: please! Let others know that you loved/liked/hated this fanfic.

Thanks: for adding this story to Alerts/favorites.

Question: If there are male reviewers on this story, do tell me if the interaction between Spock and Uhura is...too chick flicky. I like flawed characters and want to show their attempt at !

Acknowledgements: first line of the Orator's speech is a manipulated quote from Donald Williams.

The foolish quote by Teevik is by Philip R. Breeze.

Tips: Italics represent thoughts, past actions, and Romulan. I hope the context makes it easier to tell if it's a though, dialogue, or a past event. Enjoy!

Nyota Uhura couldn't have looked worse than how she felt when she got out of bed at 0900 hours. Her eyes were sore. The eyelids themselves were puffy and she felt like her brain was pounding, or at least rubbing, against her skull. Her throat was scratchy and irritated. One look in the mirror told her enough information that she needed makeup. However, as she pressed the tip of a brown shade of lip stick to her lower lip, she immediately winced-her lips were cracked. A hot shower could alleviate the mild pain from her neck and back, maybe it would also cure her exhaustion; out of a long night of pondering and nostalgic reminiscence she had managed to get two hours of sleep. She decided that she'd talk to their new CMO, Leonard McCoy, if a shower, cough drops, or hot teas didn't work.

Now that they were back at the Academy she could've chosen any medical professional (there were more than quite a few), yet she thought it imperative to meet the man that would be giving her immunizations and check-ups for the years to come if she chose to serve on the Enterprise for that long. She's seen the man quite a few times, but he was always moving around sporadically, trying to help those that went to Sickbay. She talked more to the head nurse, Christine Chapel during dinner than her own doctor! It just wasn't right.

It was 1050 hours and at 1600 hours all admirals would be free from their sessions with what was left of the Vulcan High Council, and one in particular would head the commemoration ceremony. After a forty-five minute shower, Uhura had felt refreshed. Her hair was currently drying from the towel wrapped around her head. She picked up her padd and closed out data entries and viewings, and went to an ordering portal that featured thousands of novellas, old and new. The best part: it wasn't overly expensive and wouldn't drain her of her credits. She searched through archives of past century books and couldn't find anything interesting in the romance, horror/suspense, action, or drama genres, though she wasn't interested in those at the moment. After careful deliberation she found a list of four titles and purchased them with her credits. "I shall read these later...after." As she sat down at a lilac desk with a high rectangular vanity mirror, she began unwinding the towel from her head. Her hair was almost 100% dry and although tangled, a wide-tooth comb did away with that. Finding a red scrunchy she began to twist her hair into a large bun, knowing that it would fall into the high ponytail she always donned. She wondered, while glancing in the mirror, if she would be able to stay in this room and elude today's events, but what type of Starfleet officer would she be if she did so?

She was going to take one step at a time, and the first was getting food from the cafeteria.

1645 Hours
The Enterprise crew were stationed on the left, about twelve rows were lined in a window formation, the bridge crew forming the front. From the furthest stand in the audience, it looked like a sea of reds, a few blues in the mix, and rare yellows. The stands for the audience filled in a formation highly representing an Elizabethan stage-meaning the stage was surrounded on its front and two sides, yet its back was devoid of onlookers. For a San Francisco day the weather was very sunny, but then again, meteorologists could have caused (or cloaked) its current forecast. Uhura stood in the second row window between Kirk and Spock's first row, Scotty was on Spock's right, Sulu was on Kirk's left, Chekov beside her, Janice Rand on the other side. McCoy on the far right behind Hikaru Sulu and Christine Chapel on the far Left on the side of Spock. Engineering was behind them, the rest of Medical behind them, Security or MACOs behind them, and so forth. Because of windows everyone saw the audience, saw the edge of the raised platform that would hold Starfleet's orator, and the right "wing" party-the Vulcan High Council. Opposite of the Enterprise and the rest of the several thousand audience members, the High Council were donned in opaque, loose Vulcan robes. In the front row of the audience was Admiral Pike, and the other eleven Admirals on each of his sides.

Uhura swallowed the lump in her throat and although being silent the entire day, she managed to scream and add to the roar as a pair of legs walked up the stairs. The only ones that didn't vocalize their sentiment for having this Admiral speak in such a way, were Spock, Scotty, and Chekov. Uhura turned towards Chekov and noted he had looked pale, his eyes had sunken, and he looked like he would break had she touched him. She didn't realize just what seventeen meant at Starfleet Academy till now. It meant being the youngest student, forming relationships easily, never having an enemy as everything was new and exciting, it meant that Pavel Chekov lost all his friends.

Her hand grabbed his and when he turned his brown orbs to meet her own she said, "U tyebyA vsyO v aryAdke?"

When she had asked if he was alright he managed to smile slightly and she felt another imaginary lump forming in her throat.

"Da. Spasibo Neeyotah."

She decided then that she would hold his hand through this ceremony. There was something about seeing someone so depressed that makes you forget your own sorrows, she knew she'd get through this for Pavel.

The Orator had scanned the crowds, had fixed everyone with a stare that demanded silence, it was ironic, but he managed to have a Vulcan expression of stoicism. Even Montgomery Scott, their Chief Engineer, began to fidget and shake his head at what he saw. A mere few feet stood Admiral Archer and Porthos, who defied time and space so it seemed. The prized beagle, though grey, was alive and well and sat at the pant leg of its master.

Jonathon Archer was the perfect portrayal of Starfleet Officer-broad shoulders, chiseled features, sharp upturned nose, a piercing gaze, and the impression of a no non-sense man. Barely in his late fifties, he managed to have a line of cadets swooning after him and had this event not been a somber one, Uhura would have mentioned to other officers of the sheer irony of his guests. Everyone knew of his captaincy. Before, when he was Captain of the Enterprise-the very different and first flagship-he had hated Vulcans; had blamed them for man's non access to technology such as warp 5. It was ironic that now this more experienced, hardened Admiral had began talks with the Vulcan High Council and invited them to this very human mourning.

And then he spoke.

"For those who have seen the Earth from space, and for the hundreds and perhaps thousands more who will, the experience most certainly changes your perspective. The things that we share in our world are far more valuable than those which divide us. When I see this audience, the friends and family, the federation members..." he took in a deep breathe before looking around the dozens of rows, before continuing, "When I see the Vulcan High Command, the crew of Enterprise 17-01, I see that such division could never take place!" he waited for the sea of applause and shouts to ease. "The war criminal, Nero, had killed billions and would have killed more." People began to scream obscenities and scream out in pain, even Uhura had clenched her right hand in a tight ball.

"He had far superior weapons and yet, " a vid screen connecting from the base of the platform raised to a staggering height of twenty feet by twenty-four feet began to project a ship data entry of the Narada being torn apart by the black hole, "we were victorious! It was the aid of not just The Enterprise, but all of the federation members that risked and gave their lives to protecting the universe and its planets!" More raucous applause. "Though these names will forever be remembered, let us give the highest reward to the men and women by immortalizing their faces!"

The vid screen became a data log -mostly holovids and holopictures- of all the members from yeomen to Ambassador that were given for use by friends and family. Under each name the ship's name was shown with a computer announcing identity. The line: "When a Hero comes along with the strength to carry on...." started the video and although Uhura had no idea who sang the song or the title, it was perfect. She saw a female science officer holding a small child aboard the Starship Excelsior, a Tellurite clasping an Andorian engineer on the back during a "New Year's" party on the Starship Ozymandias, a trill man holding a medical scanner to a Ferengi life form, who had tried to give the doctor latinum currency for his services-these were among the several hundreds. Despite the somberness of it all , there were a few bitter laughs: a flustered yeoman who got on the wrong side of a prank, a Captain who had designed a Halloween party only to get scared of his own creation, and a Betazoid dancing with an alien closely resembling Keenser, Scotty's engineering aide. Uhura's left hand closed around Chekov's a few times, and his did the same during others. This felt like closure and pride.

The Vulcan High Council and the Vulcan audience members had politely looked at the slideshow of sorts, but they didn't understand it. For them, the High Council held the katras or souls of the billions that died, and with it, their memories, and bondmates had the memories of their respective others; to see these holos was yet another cultural dividend. However, two photos were splayed onto the screen, earning gasps in many accented standard. The first, the computer had said, was given by Sarek. One of Amanda Grayson with her husband and a very young Spock. Amanda was in San Francisco pointing happily to a novels shop, Sarek staring at the direction with half of his face hidden by a cast of shadow, and a full headshot of Spock staring at the person taking the holo. The second, given by Spock, where he and Amanda were standing at side angles. She was hugging her son and her son had placed a right arm around her back and placed his forehead on her shoulder blade. There were many more of Lady Amanda, but those were donated by her immediate family, before she had met and married Sarek. Uhura's right hand grasped a hold of Spock's wrist to physically show she was proud of him.

"Captain Srash of the Farragut," the computer said monotonously. It listed his dozens of medals, his pictures were of one showing him grinning, one with him posing with arms crossed over his chest, and another, a video of him telling interviewers on Andoria that despite the bitter history of Tellerites and Andorians in war, as long as they remain a part of the Federation, they must respect each other for, "The Federation will never die, but boundlessly grow."

"First Officer: Robert Shravel." Pictures of him at his post, hiring skeleton crew years ago, and a video recording of him wanting replicated coffee and getting a tropical drink instead and therefore, nearly destroying the replicator.

The list went on and she felt her left hand closed the tightest it ever had over Chekov's.

"Engineering class A: Gaila." She let go of his hand. And took a breath and willed herself to watch the pictures. The pictures were dozens considering she was a) the only Orion at the Academy b) the most popular female student c) the highest in her class for Engineering and d) Not just an Orion, but an Orion female. Some were her at the beach, by a desk stacked full of books on molecular physics, shopping with the "girls" which included Uhura, and her heading an Egyptian belly dancing class, though it was her first day-the instructor had given her reins after seeing what type of dancing was classic for Orion females. It was almost over. The bottom of the screen showed 20/21.

"Hailing Frequency with partial video. Received Star Date 2251.8.14. Recorded Star Date: 2251.8.04. Known Error: submission interference and scramble.

A very scared Orion stared from the tiny hovel of her escape pod. "Oh god, Starfleet do not," static erupted. Uhura felt her heart beat faster, her breathing was harsher, and she felt the burn of eyes staring at the back of her head and at her sides. Everyone knew who Gaila's roommate was.

"Do not send any more ships! The distress call was a trap." The somewhat faded computer system said, "system failure. Shields fading. Please send distress signal to a Starfleet Starship or space dock nearby."

Uhura started hyperventilating. And the flood gates that she had maintained began to slowly creak open. Spock's right hand began to search for her own, but he had quickly snatched it away, feeling the emotion that permeated the connection. It had felt as if his blood was replaced with cold water and his lungs constricted as his brain fought to suppress her sorrow. it was a poor choice to issue direct contact at this time, he reflected.

"Vulcan is destroyed. I repeat Vulcan is gone. " her eyes widened as the control panel began smoking. "There's another ship! I can't see the class." She breathed in, "I'm...." and her comlink became static.

"End recording," said the computer
Uhura bit on the bottom lip that began to tremble. Her right hand had clasped her left wrist and her nails dug into the skin. If she could focus on that, she wouldn't cry, because crying meant she was the type that couldn't stop for hours, it meant being on display for sympathy or pity. "Permission to be relieved," she whispered against James T. Kirk's ear, that no one else but Spock heard.

Captain Kirk looked at Uhura and frowned. She looked like she was going to explode or implode figuratively. "Permission granted." And he watched as she moved to the back of the rows and towards the Goran dormitory.

Spock had faced back to the front, but his jaw had clinched."I'll handle it," Kirk said and turned, albeit alerting the audience that the captain was running not to, but from the stage.

Pike's expression was that of confusion, but before he or Admiral Jonathan Archer could say something, Spock, as first officer, took to the front of the stage.

Spock had locked his eyes on the Vulcan High Council, nodding at his father, and giving one male more observation than the rest-he had never seen him before.
"The Captain is checking up on a follow officer. These events have been troubling for all of us..."

"Uhura, wait up. "
Uhura stopped when she heard his voice. He was the last person she wanted to see. She turned towards him and although off duty, said, "Sir?"

"I am very sorry," Kirk said. And he had meant it. No flirtation, no underlying motives, just pure empathy or maybe a little sympathetic compassion.

"Are you?" he couldn't miss the cynicism that she didn't try to hide.

"What is that suppose to mean?" he narrowed his eyes as he stepped closer towards her.

"Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted."

"You used her-"she began to shiver as she felt her sadness turn to anger. She needed someone here, now to blame, to point fingers.

"I know you're sad about her dying, but..." he interjected, only for her to cut him off.

"You became involved with Gaila to gain access to the computer for the Kobayashi Maru simulation. You sent Gaila an e-mail which launched a virus into the simulation computer containing your "cheat patch", allowing you to beat the scenario!" She breathed, "She said she loved you"*

Kirk lifted his right eyebrow in a silent question as to how she obtained such information. His good Samaritan mission was turning into a direction he did not want it to go, and his intent on being friendly turned into anger at her indignant attitude. "Does that mean anything to an Orion?"

"Does that mean anything to you," she said skeptically. And before he could respond, she turned on her heel and walked away.

"How many lovers have told her that they loved her? How many have had their feelings reciprocated? How many has she used?" He shouted after her, watching as there was a little trip in her step.

She never turned back as she said, "None of them were my friends."

She sat at the side of her bed, against the base metal and Oak wood frame, knees drawn to her chest, hair splayed out after taking it out of the scrunchy. As tears collected and fell from her eyelashes, she looked through blurry vision, at the closet space that was Gaila's-wiped clean. All of the clothes and such were gone. Usually when something happened to an officer, their personal items were sent to their family. However, Gaila didn't have family, at least not mentioned on her records. Hell, no one knew her last name, but the Admissions didn't ask questions seeing first-hand her skills and talent related to physics, and the fact that she was the only Orion added to the Academy and therefore Starfleet itself played a large role. The lucrative slave trade of Orion women often perpetrated by Orion men trying to get special items, political power through sabotage was known to this galaxy and probably others, so Gaila was a gem, if not a-look-what-the-Federation-can-do poster kid.

Uhura had no idea what happened to roughly 95% of the items belonging to her roommate, but she managed to keep the remainder in her closet, in jewelry boxes, and oddly, one in a book, which was also another item that belonged to Gaila.

Uhura needed to apologize to Kirk. He was right. How many times did Gaila use her "assets" to get them VIP passes to clubs, or use her name to get rare and definitely illegal drinks that would surely tarnish her standing with the Academic board? How many of her lovers had Uhura seen spurned, who vowed the next day they'd never love again. How many were in the crowds today crying when they heard that transmission, vowing that their hearts were breaking.

Her door chimed. "Commander Spock is outside. Restrict access settings or allow?"

"Allow," she told the computer intercom of the room.

When Spock walked into the room, hands clasped behind his back, he had hoped that she would've been more collected, but she was worse.

"I am sorry that I am unable to perform admirably. It seems that when I start to cry, it takes a while to stop."

Spock should've pondered the response that she would have made to his reply, yet he replied out of unease, "You are human. Clearly during times of distress your species is unable to control such emotions."

Uhura had made a sharp laugh and her eyes did half of an eye roll. He had noted that this laugh was of perturbed anger. She seemed to cry even more.

Spock had remembered that as a young boy when he, his father, and his mother managed to travel to Earth together, his mother would always take him to old cinemas-some mimicking the 22nd, 21st, and even 20th century fashion. Some of the "picture" films were horror, mystery, comedy, animation -for "family audiences" his mother had said- and oddly, romance. All the romantic ones projected on the large screen reminiscent of their respective period movie theaters, showed a hysterical woman being pulled by a resolute man into a forceful hug or a passionate kiss to stop such anxiety. Although Uhura was not hysterical, and her reaction was normal for a human being, he felt the need to emulate such fictional, archetypal characters. As he got closer though, he couldn't allow himself to do such rash behavior. Logic defeated his irrational thoughts once more.

He bent down in front of her, his thumb brushed her lower eyelid and collected a droplet of liquid at the tip of his finger. As he looked at it scientifically, he analyzed that the lachrymal glands constricted and formed sodium chloride, lysozyme enzymes, and water or "tears" as it was commonly known. However, looking from a standpoint, which involved being romantically linked to her, he felt his jaw clench, his heart beat faster, and logic falter. "You may hold onto me should you think it necessary." He hoped that she could read that statement and realize his attempt at aid.

Her arms had grasped around his neck so fast that he temporarily lost balance and found his chest pressed against her knees, and his hands on either side of her hips. The emotions that ran from her to him through the contact link made him cringe, but he sent calmness to her, instead of moving back to a more comfortable position.

"We've lost so much." she had said it so softly, that Spock wasn't sure that she had said it all. He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed to detect the sound again and when none came he knew she had indeed said it. Was she referring the personal pronoun of "we" to mean Starfleet Academy and its member lists, Earth's losses from the many men and women who went to Starfleet Academy, her and some other being's lost ones, or -and here his mental processes of thought paused longer in the debate- his and her losses? Whatever the outcome of such an ambiguous statement was, it had proven true so he was forced to concede.

"Indeed," he replied, touching her arm lightly. This position was awkward; this situation was awkward.

Her arms fell from around his neck and he pulled back. Logic dictated that the emotional slip should be rectified, either by leaving after he had comforted her as much as an unbonded Vulcan could to anyone else, or teach her the basics of meditation so that such a temporary exercise could eradicate her emotional behavior. He sat with his back against the bed frame in a ninety degree fashion with legs faced straight towards Gaila's end of the bed.

Surprisingly, she had moved as well. She had moved into a laying position, her head on his lap as her eyes observed the contours of his knees and felt a tingling sensation; his fingers began to run along her tresses. It was relaxing. Whenever a stray strand of hair would fall over her shoulder, he would slide it back behind her ear.

This method had helped her, yet her mind kept drifting off to other things, kept registering what the Orion had said. There was a possibility that she might be able to forget the pain that accompanied this incident over time, but beyond peradventure she knew she could never. Today was confrontation and healing. Her fingers shakily used the stylus as it scrolled down the book downloads. She was tapping at nothing and although she wanted to read these books, she must've read the synopsis and acknowledgements over and over and could not tell what it was saying. Spock's palm had touched hers as his fingers slowly encompassed the padd and he looked at the data.

"These 20th to 21st century "novels" are way below your reading level. This first one" and he then turned the interface towards her, the end of the stylus tapping the title, "is designed for those belonging to primary school or the equivalent Elementary institution."

She turned her body so now the back of her head rested against his thighs, her eyes locking onto his. "I don't need existentialist readings. I know that life will go on after this funeral, people will continue to enjoy their lives or despair them, relationships will bloom or suffer, etcetera. I don't want to read a mirror Sisyphus, who is faced with impossible hardships and continues to do the same action for the pure sense of hope, nor do I want to indulge in books that reflect my own sadness. I want a "book" to have characters faced with challenges that aren't extreme, and are rather simplistic, but mean the world to him or her. I.." She breathed," want a happy ending."

She closed her eyes and then shifted back to her former position, right ear flat against his left leg. "Can you read it to me?" and she knew that he had looked at her as if she had breached insanity, but she didn't see the miniscule smile that tugged at his lips.

"In just ten minutes, our entire class is getting on a plane for our flight to China. I, Amber Brown, am one very excited third grader," he said, deadpanned.

Clank!! Clank!!!

A heavy disc slid through the metaphysic barrier-known as a force field- and hit the sole of her torn boot. Clearly, it was coded into the program sensor so that it was forced through, she doubt she'd be as lucky.

Gaila looked at what made a very odd, poorly made plate and what was on top of it: a very half-cooked leg of some sort of animal native to this region or to the entire planet. Closer inspection showed that it was dark red and Gaila wasn't sure if that was due to the pool of coagulated blood that it seemed to be based it/leaking, or the pigmentation of the meat skin.

"Eat," said the Romulan guard from the day before. She liked to call him "The Evil Spock" because that was the only appellation that came to mind besides obscenities. She looked at it again. Was it poison? She scoffed, she was dealing with Romulans, not Cardassians. If they wanted to kill her, they could've, very easily by simply snapping her neck or phaser fire, though the latter was very merciful. She knew they weren't above torture, having experienced it somewhat first hand. No, they wouldn't poison her, what would they gain? She did, however, admit that they'd kill her after being told what they wanted-whatever that was-, how they would, she didn't know.

Her hand picked up the leg, watched as blood dripped from the poorly severed end and made "tink!" "tink!" sounds when hitting the metal surface of the dish. She brought it to her lips, scrunched her face, and tore a large chunk of meat with her teeth. She immediately coughed and controlled the nausea that instantly appeared as teeth grounded fat and gristle. The sound was enough for her stomach to lurch, and the taste didn't help either. Thank the Creator for her not having food for days or its contents would've added to the liquids on the deteriorating floor.

Another bite; another dry heave. She ended up kicking the plate and the faux meat as far as her foot could extend with the shackles.

and I give this place one point one stars. Service is tanta-

"You won't be getting anymore," screamed her original guard aka "Evil Spock."

-stic she thought darkly.

Teevik, we have heard from Latkos... said a much less imposing, yet more muscular Romulan as he looked from the prisoner to Teevik or rather, at Teevik looking at the Orion girl.

"And?"
"They wish us to let her go. They have said that Starfleet has not sent battalions in retaliation nor ambassadors for treaties to Κεντρ c u o r e καρδ. They," He paused, looking at the amalgam weaponry in his hand, his fingers turning the black metal over and surveying the spring switch, "they recognize the Neutrality of Romulus."

At hearing the information given to him, Teevik snatched the weapon from Suiris and pressed a code within the monitoring device of the force field. Stepping through the now open accessed magnetic field, he turned around to face Suiris, just as the monitor closed access and the forcefield was back in place, the humming of sporadic atoms bumping into each other once more. "Fools, Suiris! Remember that when the supposed emissaries destroy our world they will have no one to blame but themselves. No, by that time the Resa High Council will see why they should have kept me. Why they shouldn't have made me into this...." his eyes narrowed as he sprung the switch of the weapon where two prongs sprang and through it an electric current danced between its towers. He started to turn, gazing at the flipped over dish and the leg delicacy of an Amra fowl, one of the few edible animals on this outpost.

"Do you think torturing this..creature will cause your return and pardon your exile? Do you think killing the female will gain you the status you once had?"

Teevik stopped, his eyes roaming over how the Orion's head seem to hang ever so slightly. "A fool boasts of those who fear him; a wise man's pride is those who respect him. The Eight rulers will either see my best intentions for Romulus and praise me or they will pay the more for it. And as her dying, a Starfleet officer deserves no less."

Suiris did not understand the Standard that Starfleet and the Federation used, but Teevik and the Eight did. He pondered whether Teevik's exile and reinstated status of a minerals core miner rather than a once powerful leader made him less sensible, less forthright. No, he supposed it did not. He pondered whether he would also be given permission to head back to Romulus's capitol - Κεντρ c u o r e καρδ - if he complied. A miner's life was an honest living, but he and Teevik profited and delved in the ancient code of war and the honor it invoked. He didn't know the questions or statements he was saying to their prisoner, but could hear the high pitch scream that erupted from the electrical prod. He walked away then, hands behind his back in deep contemplation. He would like to be made General of the combatants.

Needles, tiny little needles that ran along nerve endings, taxing them and setting off synaptic overloads. That's what the weapon felt like with its shocks. She couldn't help arching against it in an autonomic response when the sharp tips hit her sternum. Her throat began to get sore as screaming didn't appease him. She had started to taunt him as he would say in flawed Standard the same question over and over: things like, "You can't just treat a girl to dinner and have your way with her." But after the fifteenth prod, her mind began to spin tales, begin to come up with numbers and codes and plot points. What did he want to hear because at this point she would've given it to him. Her eyes tried to focus as her knees shakily tried to hold ground. Despite her best efforts before, she found herself practically sitting in the mysterious fluid concoction.

He seemed to stop and somehow she became resilient. She felt his anger, his fury for her not bowing down. The pheromones invisible became colorful to a rekindled somatosensory response. Areas in her small cell became stark. The pool under her was more lucrative in contents and gave iridescence. The shadows seemed darker and he seemed more cobalt in hue. "Is that all you got?" she whispered, blood running along her jaw from a broken set of ribs. Colors changed still as his nose flared, his eyebrows arching more, eyes narrowing, fingers curling, planting nails in calloused palms.

For the first time since she was fifteen -by human standards-, she added her own pheromones that she had suppressed for eight years under Starfleet and Terran ethical standards. To put it simply, Gaila has been a good girl, ignoring her culture and upper hand in the cosmos for the sake of civility and acceptance of non-Orion peoples. Another prod to the midsection.

Instead of arching into it, her hand ran along his own, (which was grasping the hilt) and squeezed, never breaking contact.

Her Ona told her that no bidders were Vulcan because the pheromones did not work on their kind. From her Interspecies Ethics and Xenoanthropology classes she was informed of two things about Romulans: one, being that they were cousins of Vulcans, but far more irrational and mercilessly violent, and two, being that there were more subtle differences between Romulans and Vulcans, besides philosophy and social interaction. The question was would it work on Romulans?

She watched him as he watched her. She saw just the tiniest of lascivious light enter his dilated pupils. Gaila never killed anyone before, which is not to say she never had anyone killed. No, she had always thought of killing in the darker days before Starfleet and that little thought came back, full force. Not only was she going to kill him, she was going to have fun doing it.

"What is your name?" she smiled.
"Teevik."

She closed her eyes, her tongue rolling along her cracked lips as she expertly pronounced Teevik. The light in his eyes was building, and hers was long gone. The colors of the room looked like mire now.

Romulans had every right to be xenophobic. This, she will prove to Teevik as she tilts her head to the side and says, "I need my own questions answered now."

A vixen was never perilous for earning amorous affection, no, she was dangerous for what she could make her ensnared do.
Tbc

Author's Notes: Do tell me what you think! Although I know the direction I want my Gaila to go, I do enjoy feedback. Got any ideas for chapter 3 (I think a chapter at a time mostly), send em in reviews or pms!

Footnotes:
U tyebyA vsyO v aryAdke?*- Russian:Are you okay?
Da. Spasibo*-Russian: Yes. Thank you.

Kirk's intentions*- in the wiki page for Gaila, it is mentioned that JJ abrams has a deleted scene in which Kirk sent Gaila a cheat patch because she works at the computer lab, therefore, releasing it into the Kobayashi Maru program. If you thought I was stretching it while reading, think again. There will also be a deleted scene of Kirk apologizing to Gaila (among all sorts of goodies that I can't wait to get my hands on when the dvd gets released).

Sisyphus*- Was a Greek king of Corinth who had defied the gods (one rule he broke,was tricking Hades to handcuff himself in Sisyphus' home. Since the Lord of the Underworld was restrained, no man could die. When Hades somehow freed himself, he was going to bring him to Tartarus (known as Hades), Sisyphus made his wife promise not to bury him and forbode her from placing coins upon his eyes/tongue-an essential pay tax is needed for Charon to bring the dead across the river Styx- which meant that he was able to go back to the land of the living until he prepared for burial. By tricking Persephone, the Queen of the dead -who gave him temporary passage to the land above-, along with tricking Hades, caused his downfall. He was given a harsh punishment). Everyday he would roll a large boulder up a hill and everyday it would roll forwards and end at the base or roll backwards, yet he would continue, hoping that it would stop at the top. The continuation of life and his portrayal of hard labor was a strong reference in Existentialist writings.

"I, Amber Brown, ...." *- from the book, "Amber Brown is not a Crayon." I was a big fan of Amber Brown as a kid (during fourth grade) and thought that she and I were pretty much the same person with the same troubles. Here's to you transference!

Resa* - since Romulans are mirrored closely after Romans (Romulus is the founder of Rome), then I made their high council not only militaristic, but fashioned after Ares (Resa is a scramble), the God of war. Also, if Vulcans are vegetarians, I clearly made a differentiating line between Vulcans and Romulans by Romulans being carnivorous.

Suiris*- An anagram that when spelled backwards becomes Sirius.

Κεντρ c u o r e καρδ* -loosely and probably illogically translated as "Center Heart" from Greek and Italian. None of the Star Trek spin-off shows have elucidated the names of cities of Romulus, so I took it upon myself to make it up. :]

Suggestions: If you want a fantastic read, I recommend: Intoxicating Virus by bogglewoof, Human Relationships: Mating Rituals by jncar, any fanfic drabble, and the colossal, Descartes Error by StarTrekWriter.