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Nyota Uhura is no one’s project.
Unfortunately, Lieutenant Ortegas doesn’t seem to understand that. Nyota’s lost track of the number of times Erica has ordered, suggested, cajoled, or admonished her to have more fun, and Nyota’s tired of it.
“Everybody likes different things,” she says as patiently as she can, which is not very patient at all. “I get you have a traditional definition of fun. I happen to like working, and there’s not anything wrong with me just because I relax differently than you do.”
So please back off and leave a girl in peace, Nyota wants to add, but she bites back the words. Her grandmother would tell her she can set boundaries without being an asshole about it.
Nyota had expected an argument. She hadn’t expected Erica to look so wounded, but that’s what happens when you refuse to take a hint the first seventeen times.
“Point taken,” Erica says quickly. “I’m really sorry, by the way. I never meant to imply that something was wrong with you because you take your work seriously.”
“I know you meant well, and I appreciate you looking out for me,” Nyota says, softening at the quickness of Erica’s apology.
Erica is classy, Nyota has to admit. She never hesitates to admit when she’s wrong, or to try and make it right. Her wounded expression has already vanished, replaced by a sunny smile.
“I hope sometime you show me what you like to do for fun,” she says with a little wink.
Nyota just smiles and nods. It’s not like she has to actually do it.
***
“Show me what you like to do for fun,” Nyota mutters to herself as she steps into her quarters. “What is that even supposed to mean?”
“She’s into you,” a voice says, and Nyota shrieks.
The lights flick on, and Beckett Mariner is sitting at her table.
“At least turn on a lamp if you’re going to do that,” Nyota says. “Waiting for people in the dark is creepy.”
“And entertaining.” Beckett looks positively gleeful. “You should’ve seen the expression on your face!”
“Do I even want to know what you’re doing here?” Nyota asks. Beckett’s been showing up here a lot lately, nevermind that it should be scientifically impossible.
“Q sent me,” Beckett says, which is what she always says. “He owes me a favor.”
“Do I even want to know why an all-powerful non corporeal entity owes you a favor?” Just knowing about the existence of Q breaks all kinds of time travel protocols, and Nyota holds up a hand before Beckett can tell her anything else. “Wait, stop. You know the rules. Do you want to come back and find out your timeline is ruined?”
“I told you already, Q said nothing I do here will have any impact on the timeline. It’s kind of part of the favor, but I mostly think he’s showing off. Anyway, I haven’t come back and found out that everyone’s turned into cephalopods yet.” Beckett pauses, like maybe she’s debating something with herself in her head. “Well, there was that one time, but it wasn’t everyone and I’m pretty sure it was a transporter accident.”
“I’m so glad I don’t serve on your ship,” Nyota says. And she’d thought the musical was bad. At least nobody here has ever turned into an octopus, or nobody she knows about.
Beckett leans forward. “So anyway, the girl…”
“Who says it’s a girl?” Nyota asks, hoping she’s not requesting spoilers for her future.
Beckett shrugs. “Easy. This crew is full of women. Hot, powerful women.”
“True,” Nyota concedes. She doesn’t concede that it’s one of her favorite things about the Enterprise, but she probably doesn’t need to. By this point, it’s kind of obvious.
“And the lucky lady is…” Beckett drums her hands on the table. “Wait, wait don’t tell me. Ortegas!”
“How could you possibly know that?” Nyota asks, secretly hoping that Beckett doesn’t visit the rest of the crew. Selfishly, she wants her own friend, one who isn’t part of the tiny, gossipy village of the Enterprise.
“She was way too determined to get you to relax the first time I was here,” Beckett says. “Come on, you seriously haven’t noticed?”
“Uh, no. Because there’s nothing to notice.”
“You sure about that?” Beckett asks. “Maybe you’re trying not to see.”
Nyota opens her mouth to respond, but Beckett’s gone. That kind of thing happens a lot, so much that it’s probably part of the deal with Q. Dear mysterious entity, whisk me away as soon as I’ve said something slightly profound.
She flops backward on the bed in her suddenly empty quarters. She’d shied away from romance – and just about every other kind of commitment – since her family died. Now the thought of a little action is surprisingly not terrible. Too bad Beckett’s probably wrong.
***
Nyota doesn’t see much of Erica for the next few days, other than the shifts they work together. She’s surprised how much she misses her. Even if Nyota had turned down most of her requests, Erica had been a spot of light in her day.
When she sees Erica walking toward her in the corridor, she catches herself smiling.
Erica says, “Pro tip incoming. The shower line’s shortest at lunch time, and the water’s always hot.”
“Good to know,” Nyota says, flashing her widest grin, but Erica’s already disappearing around the bend in the corridor.
The next day, Erica says, “Fun fact. Turbolift six gets you to the mess hall fastest.”
“Seriously?” Nyota asks. “You timed them?”
“Hell yes I did. It’s thirty-four seconds faster than turbolift five.”
Nyota tries it out at dinner, and sure enough, the tiny advantage is enough to put her at the front of the chow line instead of the middle. Erica, not surprisingly, is already at a table, halfway through what looks like a pretty amazing burger. Nyota decides to join her.
“Thanks for the tip about the shower and the turbolift. They really worked,” she says. “Any other insider tips a new ensign should know?”
“You know how to prefill the TPS reports, right?” Erica says.
“Starfleet says we can’t prefill them. The form is locked.” Those forms are the bane of her existence, and the fleet wants them done from scratch at the end of every shift.
Erica leans toward her like it’s a conspiracy. “No, they want you to think it’s locked. All you have to do is make some adjustments to the source code like so…”
She reaches for Nyota’s padd. Her fingers brush against Nyota’s for a fraction of a second longer than necessary.
“And voila!” she exclaims, and a prefilled form lights up on Nyota’s display. Then she passes Nyota a slender data disk. “And here’s a couple bots to automate the rest of your paperwork. Enjoy.”
With a little bow, she stands up from the table. “My work here is done.”
“You’re leaving already?” Nyota asks, her heart sinking.
Erica winks. “I plan to destroy all of Pike’s top scores in the flight simulator. If I get in right after dinner, nobody bugs me for at least an hour.”
“Good luck,” Nyota says. “Not that you need it.”
That earns a smile from Erica, but she still walks out the door.
***
“You rejected her once. The ball’s in your court now,” Beckett says.
Nyota had found her waiting in her quarters again. No matter what Beckett says, she’s getting a little worried the future of the Federation depends on her hooking up.
“I didn’t reject her,” Nyota says indignantly. Apparently she’s more worried about being right than protecting the timeline, which probably isn’t very professional of her.
“Uh, last time I saw you, you came in here muttering about how you’re not a project and you don’t have to have fun,” Beckett points out. “Kinda sounds like you rejected her.”
“It’s not a rejection if you don’t know somebody’s hitting on you,” Nyota argues, but Beckett just rolls her eyes.
“If you didn’t know, it’s because you had your head up your ass.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to kink shame. If you like putting your head up there, that’s your business.”
“You make me speechless,” Nyota says. “That’s quite an accomplishment.”
Beckett grins. “Oh my god, I made the Nyota Uhura speechless. That just made, like, my entire year.”
“What are you doing here, seriously?” Nyota asks. “If the future depends on me having sex with Ortegas, tell me now and I’ll just go take care of it.”
Beckett leans close, her face suddenly going serious. “Well, there’s no easy way to say this, but…”
“But what?”
“It’s not just Ortegas. To protect the integrity of the timeline, you must also have sex with Captain Pike.”
“I’m not falling for that shit,” Nyota says. She wasn’t born yesterday, thank you very much.
Beckett just stares down at her, looking grave. The silence stretches so long Nyota starts to get worried; she’s never known Beckett was even capable of being quiet for more than thirty seconds.
“There’s one final task,” Beckett says, still alarmingly solemn.
“What?” Nyota asks reluctantly. Against her will, she’s considering how she’d get Pike to sleep with her. Excuse me sir, the fate of the Federation requires us to have sex. Would he even believe that?
“You have to tell me all about it when you’re done. Like, does he have a six pack? What’s his favorite position? My time period is missing some important details!”
This time, Nyota hits her. With a couch cushion, but still it’s a good hit. Beckett slides theatrically to the ground, shrieking with laughter.
“Admit it! You were considering it!”
“It’s not fair to use my sense of duty against me!” Nyota says, but her indignity is already fading. “Okay, I was, but only for thirty seconds!”
Soon she’s laughing too, collapsing into a puddle on the floor with Beckett.
“Thank you,” she says, half expecting Beckett to be gone already, but she’s still there on the floor beside her, holding onto a couch cushion like a weapon.
“Thanks for what?” she asks.
“For being a friend,” Nyota says quickly. “For making me laugh.”
Since her family’s accident, just saying I love you to her grandmother fills her with a sense of impending doom, like caring about someone will actually cause them to die. This time, though, the words roll off her tongue easily.
Beckett’s whole face lights up. “My pleasure,” she says, like Nyota’s made her whole day. Maybe even her whole year.
She’s halfway tempted to give her a hug, but right on cue, Beckett disappears.
***
Nyota looks at the chronometer and does a double take. It’s definitely 18:00 hours, and she’s definitely done with her work. All her work. Every report, every spreadsheet. For the third time this week.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with myself?” she asks the air.
“Crew members at liberty may enjoy the mess hall, the gym, and the bar,” the computer supplies helpfully.
“Thanks,” Nyota mutters. “Never would’ve guessed that.”
The computer, which doesn’t understand sarcasm very well, adds, “The observation deck, reading lounge, and music suites are also available for crew recreation.”
“Music suite,” Nyota murmurs. “That’s not a bad idea.”
And she knows exactly who she plans to take with her. She flips open her comm to type a message, but she snaps it shut just as quickly. The flight simulator isn’t too far away. Might as well make the invitation in person.
***
Erica’s face is flushed when she steps out of the flight simulator, and her grin brightens when she sees Nyota waiting for her. Or at least, Nyota imagines it does. Maybe she’s just high on flying.
“Did you destroy Pike’s record?” she asks.
“No, but I had a hell of a time trying. I’ll get there eventually.”
Erica’s grin doesn’t dim, and Nyota has to admit she finds her bravado attractive. Well, not the bravado exactly. More the determination to keep working hard at something that seems impossible.
Erica’s eyes flick over Nyota’s outfit: slouchy trousers and a crop top. Hopefully the kind of thing that presents her assets without looking like she’s trying too hard. Erica’s eyes light up, so maybe she’d gotten it right, even if she is horrifically out of practice.
“Are you off duty? Like really, off off duty?” she asks.
Nyota nods. “Somebody told me that workflow management is the secret to having free time. Well, that and hacking a few spreadsheets.”
“Glad to be of service,” Erica says.
Nyota wishes she’d say something easy and obvious, like finally come to show me what you do for fun? But Beckett’s right. Nyota had rejected her, more than once. Now it’s her turn to put herself out there.
“You still want to see what I do for fun?” she asks. As pickup lines go, it’s not an especially smooth or creative one, but Erica’s face lights up anyway.
“Lead the way, milady,” she says, looking more suave than she has any right to be. Nyota swallows and hopes the rapid increase in her heartbeat isn’t actually visible through her shirt.
Panic bubbles up in her throat, the way it always does when she feels incompetent. Easy, Nyota, she tells herself. You used to know how to do this. It’s like riding a hoverbike, right? You don’t forget.
Feeling bold, she loops her arm through Erica’s. Her heartbeat surges again, and Erica shoots her a wicked grin. Yes, this was the right move.
“Dare I ask where we’re going?” Erica asks, raising her eyebrows.
“You can ask, but I’m not telling,” Nyota answers. She shoves back her fear that the music room will turn out to be an anticlimactic destination.
Erica inches a little closer so their hips bump as they walk. “Well then, consider me an eager passenger.”
Nyota catches her reflection in a polished viewscreen. She’s smiling, really smiling. It’s been too long since she let herself do that.
***
All the way down the corridor to the music room, Nyota’s heart had beaten too quickly. Steady, Nyota she tells herself. This is a mission. She’s finding a way to communicate with someone new. She knows how to do that.
Sure enough, her spine relaxes and her heart slows down the second she slides in front of the piano.
Erica slides onto the bench beside her. “Gotta admit, I was kind of hoping we were going here.”
“You were?”
“Well, if you have a chance to hear a master play…”
“Me, a master?” Nyota asks, but honestly, she can’t even pretend to be self-deprecating about music. “Yeah, I kind of am. Any requests?”
“A certain musical incident suggests you’re a fan of the Great American Songbook.”
“I do appreciate a woman who appreciates the classics,” Nyota answers smoothly. Her nerves are fading. Erica’s easy to be with, and anyway, she can tell her flirtation is succeeding. The non-verbal data is right in front of her: Erica’s one-sided grin, the faint flush that runs along her cheekbones.
“Come Fly With Me” is an easy, obvious choice. Erica grins as soon as her fingers hit the keys.
“Somebody knows how to seduce a pilot.”
Now it’s Nyota’s turn to feel heat crawling across her cheekbones.
“That is what’s happening here, right?” Erica presses. “Because if you normally take your friends on romantic promenades through the corridors and play them custom tailored piano music, you should probably tell me before I do something embarrassing.”
Nyota manages to cock a cool eyebrow. “And what would that look like?”
“Probably something like this,” Erica says, and then her fingers hit the keys. The song isn’t normally a duet, at least not the version Nyota’s playing, but Erica improvises along, picking out bass notes to compliment the main melody.
Nyota thinks it’s very impressive that she doesn’t actually stop to fan herself. It’s a close thing though.
“Somebody knows how to seduce a, um,” she fumbles for a quip. “Well, somebody knows how to seduce me.”
“Glad to hear it,” Erica says, maddeningly unrattled. It makes sense; she’s probably ten years older, way more confident, she probably does this kind of thing all the time. Not that Nyota’s jealous.
“I didn’t know you could play,” Nyota manages.
Erica’s fingers don’t stop moving, but Nyota doesn’t miss the way her body tenses, or the sudden breath she takes. Like she’s deciding whether to say something, Nyota thinks.
“I taught myself during the war,” she says. “There wasn’t anything pretty, you know?”
Nyota doesn’t know, but she nods anyway and stays quiet, keeping her fingers moving over the keys. Sometimes silence is the best way to invite someone to speak.
It works.
“I just kept losing people, and I could feel myself getting bitter. Not wanting to talk to anyone. Not wanting to connect. But music is a way to reach out, so I told myself I was going to learn how to play the piano in the rec room.”
“And it worked?” Nyota asks.
Erica gives her a one-sided grin. “At first my squad mates wanted to strangle me, but I got decent enough to string together a night’s entertainment.”
“You’re better than decent,” Nyota says. It’s true. She can tell Erica’s missing formal training, but most people can’t improvise the way that she does. But she hadn’t been talking about the playing.
“I meant the part about connecting. Did it work?” She hears her own voice going soft. Since her family died, she’s relearned how to work and study and set goals, but not how to love.
“Yeah.” Erica swallows. “I think we’re built to connect, but you live through something terrible, and you get scared. So connecting is mostly a matter of finding a way to push through the fear.”
“And here I thought you liked me because I’m cute.” Nyota’s fingers are steady on the keys, but she can hear the hitch in her voice. “But actually it’s because –”
Nyota had been about to say because I lost people, but Erica breaks in.
“Because you lost people and you’re still a nice person,” she says. “Trust me, a lot of survivors turn ugly and bitter. You didn’t. It says a lot about you. The hotness doesn’t hurt though.”
If she didn’t have a song to finish, Nyota would probably turn and run. She’d just warmed up to the idea of a casual date or two; being seen like this makes her want to run for cover.
“Too much too soon?” Erica asks. “If you’d rather, we could totally just pretend I’m using you for your body.”
The final chords of the song are dying down, and Nyota has no place to look but Erica’s face. Her voice had been playful, but her eyes are apprehensive. Well, no, more than that. Open and vulnerable, even though she’s just handed Nyota the power to crush her.
Nyota knows she could walk out of this room right now with no hard feelings. Or she could fight through the fear.
She lets her hands drop from the keys and winds an arm around Erica’s waist instead. Erica dips her head down just as Nyota tilts her head up. Their noses bump, and shit, she really is out of practice. But Erica laughs, and that gives Nyota the courage to press her lips against her open mouth. That’s also the wrong way to kiss someone, but Erica doesn’t seem to mind.
She knows her body’s too tense, but Erica doesn’t seem to mind that either. She just pulls back to give Nyota space and comes back again when her spine finally remembers how to relax.
Opening herself is scary, and she’s out of practice, but she leans into Erica’s feather light touch on her jaw anyway. And she knows now that she’ll keep practicing. She’ll keep leaning in. Maybe connecting isn’t easy now, but it will be again.
***
“I told you so,” Beckett says, and Nyota shrieks.
“You show up in the showers now? Seriously?”
Beckett makes a show of looking away and covering her eyes. “Shit! I am so sorry. Q said he had a surprise for me, but I didn’t think you’d be so naked –”
Beckett clears her throat. “Here’s a towel? I’m at least moderately sorry?”
Nyota rolls her eyes, but she’s not actually all that mad. What’s a little nudity between friends anyway?
“You traveled hundreds of years into the past to say I told you so about Erica?” she asks.
Beckett nods solemnly. “You should know I’m very rarely the bigger person.”
“I can be,” Nyota says. It’s especially easy now that she’s at least covered with a towel. “Thank you for telling me to get my head out of my ass. I don’t think I would’ve done it on my own.”
“Oh.” Beckett looks caught off guard. “I’m glad I helped.”
Nyota smiles when she notices the new rank pip on Beckett’s collar.
“You got promoted! Congratulations!”
Beckett looks down at the floor. “Yeah, uh, thanks. I think. It might even stick this time.” She sighs. “But Q says I’m no fun anymore, so this is probably the last time I’ll get to see you.”
“Hey, don’t be scared,” Nyota says. “You’re going to be a great lieutenant. I know it.”
But of course, Beckett is already gone.