Into the Valley ~ Thoughts and Notions #Uhura

Previously ~ Girls on Top

Two weeks later

Student’s Log, Nyota Uhura reporting.

Peace and quiet have come to Stellar Valley. Now, I don’t mean the rumors are gone. Not here. Not when there’s so much new stuff going on. Spock and I have been together a whole month now, can you believe it? My mom thinks there’s marriage potential, but I’ve been trying to nip that nonsense in the bud.

However, I’ll admit sometimes that I wonder….

Anyway, school is going great. I aced most of my exams, but I have to admit that my communications engineering courses have been a bit tetchy. Thankfully, that senior TA—Scotty?—has been a great tutor. Granted he’s a bit of a dry alcoholic, but the guy still knows his stuff.

In the meantime, we’ve been seeing a new side of N’Tal. She, like, laughs now. Jim’s been really good for her and quite frankly, no other guy could’ve handled N’Tal. She would have walked all over Hikaru and Spock. Lenny would’ve probably been driven to poison her and make it look like an accident.

Vira and Hikaru are getting the most whispers these days. They, like, fit. Really fit. Most people don’t get Spock and me, and no one wants to even touch the Jim-and-N’Tal sitch, but Vira and Hikaru really…fit.

She’s helping him ace senior level biochemistry and he’s helped her unleash her inner diabolical genius. Apparently, they joined forces to rig the Holderby Hall ventilation system to flood floors 2 through 4 with nitrous oxide. Kids were laughing so hard in the halls that there was an actual piss-fest.

Now normally, I’d discourage pranks, but I guess pulling pranks is how Vira and Hikaru have sex. Everyone at Stellar Valley has “their way” of having sex, because the headmistress has made it clear that absolutely no contraceptives will ever be allowed anywhere near minors. And all the kids here are so ambitious and determined to get into Starfleet that none of them want to risk a pregnancy.

For N’Tal and Jim—at least, the way I understand it—“sex” consists of getting shitfaced and smoking up a storm. I wasn’t surprised to learn a Romulan could outsmoke two of school’s biggest stoners.

For Spock and me…well, we’ve been fully naked together at least two or three times now and that probably wasn’t the smartest route, thought it seemed “logical” at the time. I’m dreaming about him every night. Sometimes, when we’re pressed against each, mingling our sweat, I want to forget about everything and tell him to go for it. This isn’t just something I want; it’s becoming something I need.
He feels the same; sometimes I fear I’ve unleashed some sort of beast. When he becomes aroused and inflamed so much he pounces, I don’t think I’m dealing with his human side. I don’t think I’ve triggered the
Pon Farr either. It’s as though I’m dealing with something else altogether.

He’s torn through about half a dozen of my uniforms now. I’ve been pressed against walls, pinned against floors, thrown onto his bed, my bed, Vira’s bed, Hikaru’s…but we don’t tell. And bitten…I’ve been savagely bitten so many times I’ve lost count.

In our most passionate throes, I’ve heard him growling in Vulcan, talking about “possession” and something about “being his.”

I don’t object to these terms. By day, he’s the perfect gentleman. He pulls out my chair, asks me for my thoughts on important subjects, and accompanies me to every meal. Over the past two weeks, he’s even taken to bringing me tea at every night before bed. His mother—who is sooooo glad he has a human girlfriend—sent an assorted shipment of teas from Vulcan. The first time, we sipped it together at sunset in the holodeck, while overlooking the resplendent desert city of Shi’Kahr.

It’s a shame more Vulcans don’t date. Theirs is a romantic culture. Whether it’s going to the opera or reading about ancient kings and tragic queens or just sipping tea while the sun sets, a date with a Vulcan is always magical.

However, it does make saying “no” in bed all the more difficult


Student’s Log, Leonard McCoy reporting.

My friends have yet again noted and ignored my objections about the rak’charan tincture. When the girls find out about it, all hell will break loose.

In the meantime I have prepared and perfected the tincture. I replicated several small bottles with eye droppers. I have distributed it mostly to couples, as they are more likely adhere appropriately to the regiment: two drops a day in a single beverage, preferably before bed and preferably preceded by 8 glasses of water over the course of the day.

I have not tried it myself, but Hikaru, Spock, and Jim all report it is perfectly tasteless when added to a drink. This would explain while they’re girlfriends are none the wiser. Which brings me to another point: Hikaru must truly be a genius to pull this one over his girlfriend. I expected Vira to figure this one out from day one.

Must be the love goggles. Tend to fog things.

So far, in exchange for the tincture, we’ve gotten credits, games, cigarettes, and various, ahem, “recreational” elements, but somehow, I don’t think this is all worth it.

Then again, kids will be kids.


Student’s Log, N’Tal reporting.

I must admit, I was wrong about these people. Of course, I will never tell them that.

My life is richer now in ways that it was not before. My people are highly xenophobic; foods, drinks, clothes, and entertainments from other worlds were strictly forbidden on Romulus. Even with all our luxuries, my family was poor—I realize that now. Why own a ship and travel through the galaxy, if you will not explore its wonders to the fullest?

I have not told my father about Jim; he would prefer that I concentrate on the Vulcan. As fate would have it, the Vulcan has started concentrating on me. A week ago, he invited me to join him in the holodeck for a sparring session. We used Klingon
bat’leths this time. I found the entire situation amusing, and educational, but I was still surprised Spock would want to be around me after what he said last time.

After our session, he bowed in that polite manner of his people, thanked me for my time, and then…invited me to another session the week afterwards!

I do not pretend to understand the will of fate. I do not desire the Vulcan; his ways are staid, and his people are bland pacifists. My only interest is procuring the wealth of his father, whose lands are vast and connections are prominent. Becoming his mate would make my father proud.

I know he does not desire me either. And yet…I have somehow piqued his interest—at least, as a warrior.

Perhaps his Time is nearing, and he fears harming his human girlfriend. He seeks to quell the burning of his people through combat instead. The cycle in Vulcans makes no sense to me; they do not know when it may start, and thus do not prepare themselves accordingly. His…trysts with his girlfriend may be affecting him even more deeply than he realizes. I understand that Vulcans do not mate out of season, as they find it “illogical.” But perhaps if they indulged more frequently, the
Pon Farr would not torment them so.


Two more weeks after that

“Esteemed Professor Vladimir Chekov Lectures at Starfleet…whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nyota shook her head as if to clear it. She lowered her news padd to look at her roommate and her roommate’s blue-haired boyfriend. “‘Vladimir’ isn’t his last name?”

Vira blinked, before taking another bite of her Jibalian waffles. “You didn’t know that? He’s always gone by his first name. Says it makes him ‘all ze more fearsome.’”

Everyone at the table laughed and Nyota got back to her plomeek soup. Once she started adding basil, lemon juice and a touch of pepper, it rapidly became one of her favorites. On a lazy Saturday afternoon, when wearing cozy pajama pants, furry house shoes and a fleece pullover, nothing was better than a steaming bowl of plomeek soup.

“And he’s lecturing at Starfleet now?” she wondered aloud.

“No doubt trying to get the hell out of Stellar Valley,” Hikaru Sulu snickered. “I think the good professor feels he’s outgrown us.”

“How sad,” Vira sighed, feigning sorrow. “Too bad he’ll never go anywhere. There’s no way in hell the headmistress is letting him go. He can ‘lecture’ and ‘tour’ and take all the sabbaticals he wants, but I’m pretty sure she has his balls in a jar under her bed somewhere.”

Again, everyone at the table laughed.

“So do you guys know what you’re signing up for next semester?” Nyota asked.

“Spring semester is nicknamed ‘combat’ season,” Hikaru snorted. “Most of the classes offered are battle drills, advanced hand-to-hand, and tactical analysis. It’s the staff’s attempt to keep us ‘well-rounded’ and better prepped for the Academy.” He winked at his girlfriend. “I’m thinking about taking Intermediate Fencing.”

“Brazilian jujitsu for me,” Vira grinned. “Professor Montevido said I’ll be a natural. How about you, Ny?”

“I guess I could crash your class,” her roommate shrugged. “Makes no diff to me. They don’t start teaching in-depth language courses until junior year anyway.”

“May I join you?” All looked up to see Spock in his uniform, complete with blue tie and polished shoes, and steaming bowl of plomeek soup (sans any seasoning, of course). He smelled of soap and shampoo, making Nyota grin.

“How was your training session?” she asked.

“Grueling,” he told her, but didn’t look at her. “But satisfactory.”

“Hey, guys!” Jim Kirk was far more cheerful these days, but that was the only change. Still smelling of sleep and last night’s sweat, he pulled up a chair set down his plate of steaming pancakes drenched in syrup and butter. “You got next semester’s schedule figured out?”

“I will be programming the Serengeti simulation,” Spock announced in a perfectly neutral manner.  “Professor Mitiku thinks it will be good tactical practice for me. The last programmer went on to program a similar test at Starfleet Academy.”

Everyone except for Nyota stopped eating and gawked at the Vulcan in awe.

“No way!” Hikaru gasped.

“Dude, you could give me pointers!” Jim exclaimed. Spock opened his mouth to protest but the Trill cut him off.

“Are you allowed to make it winnable this year?” Vira asked.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Nyota shook her head, “what’s the Serengeti simulation?”

“It’s a battle simulation involving two rival fleets,” her roommate quickly explained. “The student commands a flagship—the USS Serengeti—against the Klingon battle cruiser Melota.”

“Oh, but it’s more than just a simulation,” Hikaru corrected his girlfriend. “It’s a test which pushes students to the very limits of their psychological stamina and their imagination. No one’s ever beaten the Serengeti.”

“Your fleet engages a fleet of Klingon birds-of-prey,” Jim explained, his eyes bright with excitement, and his hands moving nonstop. “You have to match wits with the Klingon Commander ShiVang, which is tough as hell. The primary goal is to take out their flag ship, which ShiVang commands. And he’s…unbeatable.”

“If he’s unbeatable,” Nyota chuckled, “then why participate?”

“To see what you’re made of!” Jim cried out. “The longest anyone’s ever lasted was an hour and a half—before their ship was blown out of the stars.” He tapped his chest. “I plan to beat that record.”

“This year, however, students will not be forced to work with a holographic crew,” Spock announced, drawing all eyes back to him. “I submitted the suggestion that students be allowed to choose their crew from amongst their classmates, and my suggestion was approved.”

At once Hikaru and Jim looked at each other, mouths open and eyes wide.

“Dude,” Hikaru gasped, “I call dibs on the helm!”

“As long as I’m in the captain’s chair!” Jim laughed, and the two high-fived.

“How did you even score that position in the first place?” Vira demanded. “You’re a student—and a junior.”

Spock shrugged. “I simply took Nyota’s advice and applied for numerous scholarships and TA positions. I acquired a few in the sciences, but Professor Mitiku apparently informed the headmistress that she wouldn’t mind a programmer with a more…rational mind this year.”

Jim rolled his eyes. “So basically, she just wanted to see what happens when a Vulcan runs the show.”

Was that a look of satisfaction on Spock’s face? Nyota raised an eyebrow as she searched his face further. She was beginning to think she was wrong about his human side asserting itself. No, no—this was all about Vulcan pride.

He definitely seems cockier lately, she noted.

“In essence,” he replied finally, delicately sipping his soup.

“Sorry, I am late.” N’Tal took a seat next to Jim, setting down her bowl of Viinerine. Next to Nyota, Spock actually choked on his broth. But before she could turn to him, N’Tal spoke again. “Spock, I think you did more damage in this session than last week’s. My neck still hurts.”

Nyota felt the Vulcan go deathly still next to her, but she wasn’t concerned about him right now. As his temperature no doubt dropped, she felt hers steadily rise.

The words were out before she could stop them. “You’ve been sparring? The two of you? Together?”

N’Tal looked back and forth between them, confused at first, but then slowly realizing. The Vulcan apparently hadn’t told his human girlfriend how he was spending his Saturday mornings.

For a long, very tense moment, none of the other humans looked up from their meals and certainly not at one another. Everyone sat tightly still, praying for the awkwardness to pass.

Spock finally cleared his throat, saying as steadily as possibly, “N’Tal is a superior swordsman. She has…honored me by being my sparring partner.” He gave the Romulan a polite bow of his head and tried to go back to his soup.

Unfortunately for him, his girlfriend wasn’t trying to hear any of that.

“For how long?” Nyota demanded, not caring how deeply Jim blushed, or how Hikaru and Vira picked at their food like embarrassed children.

“Three weeks,” N’Tal answered, her voice light. “I was unaware that you were...unaware.”

“I apologize for my negligence, but I can assure you both, it’s not an issue,” Spock said quickly without looking at either of them. He blew on his soup even though it had cooled long ago.

“All right then,” Nyota nodded stiffly, going back to her soup. It was cold, and when she ate, she barely tasted it. Silence reigned for the rest of brunch, but the unspoken words hung loud and clear for all at the table to mentally hear.

This is so not over.