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They’d survived the Gorn. Again. Una didn’t believe in miracles, never had, but it seemed either luck or some sort of supernatural being was on their side. She wondered if a moment like this is when someone else would start to pray.
The ship groaned. Listening intently, she decided it wasn’t a new sound and wrote it off. They weren’t out of the woods yet, limping back to the nearest Starbase at impulse speed, but she’d gotten a feel for what was important and what wasn’t. The screeches were always worse than the groans, and the hisses were the worst - usually it meant something leaking or getting ready to combust. The damage to the ship was catastrophic. Only luck - that word again - had kept them from a total loss. But the forcefields supporting the huge gaps in the hull were holding, even as they sucked most of the ship’s power to do so.
There were only - only! - 10 dead. Una knew every single one, even as they all thought she probably couldn’t tell them apart. Smith made inappropriate jokes when he was nervous. Ali talked about her dad’s cooking, love filling her voice. Zi loved to sing. Wei and de Silva were pranksters, pulling off some of the most impressive ones Una had ever seen. Hernandez… she was a womanizer. Hussein was the one the women all went to after Hernandez broke their hearts and they all loved them for it. Patel loved to read, sneaking PADDs onto shifts just to finish their latest story. Gomez would have risen through the ranks quickly, almost as married to the job as Una. And Williams… Williams had been lost. They’d reminded her of a young La’an a little bit.
The ship groaned again, returning her to the present. Sickbay was overflowing. The power that wasn’t going to the shields was all being sent there. The air on the bridge was thin, hot. Occasionally Una had to put a fire out herself, although they mostly seemed to be slowing down. Spock had been commandeered as medical staff, Christine was so desperate. Erica had been injured by the Gorn, and Mitchell, Uhura, and the captain in the attack on the ship. But La’an, La’an had come back fiery, loud, determined.
Even though Una was technically in command, La’an had taken control. As everyone else ran to put out fires - literal and otherwise - Una took the helm and La’an took ops and they got the hell out of there. Slowly. Very slowly. But they’d left the Gorn ships destroyed or disabled, unable to pursue, so their mission was simply getting to the nearest starbase before either they had a mass casualty event or the systems failed and they had to abandon ship.
After they’d gotten underway La’an had moved to the command chair, trying to coordinate the remaining repair teams as Una continued to fly the ship. She’d muttered under breath for a while, sending orders out quickly. Even though they could both do that part of the job equally well, Una was happy to just pilot, trusting in La’an to cover the rest.
But - except for the groans of the ship, the hiss of systems - the bridge was now silent. Glancing back, Una realized La’an had fallen asleep. Her time on the Gorn planet had clearly taken its toll. She was thinner, even just from the few days she’d been gone, her cheekbones more prominent and the bones in her wrists protruding. Her uniform was drenched in blood and muck, the origin of which Una didn’t even want to consider. Her hair had come down, tumbling around her shoulders until finally she’d slipped out a few of Una’s ever-abundant hair pins, twisted her own hair into a knot and jammed them in, somehow defying gravity… mostly. A few tendrils had escaped and she’d brushed them back impatiently, leaving streaks of… dirt? across her cheeks. Somehow she appeared uninjured, but Una knew that was it all it was, an appearance. Even if she’d miraculously escaped being implanted with Gorn eggs or being scratched with their claws, her body was still strained and her mind still bruised. Una wondered how much more trauma La’an could take before it finally broke her.
A small fire broke out by the science station. Even though the computer didn’t sound at an alert, Una’s senses were extra vigilant, the crackle of the electrical fire and the barest acrid hint of smoke and melted circuits hitting her quickly. Having faith that anything in their path would come at them slowly, she left her station swiftly, bening to grab a fire suppressant canister and putting out the fire. Shaking the canister, she realized that if she wasn’t careful she was going to run out of them and need to resort to putting out fires in other ways. Quickly, she strode around the circumference of the bridge, checking for canisters. After her loop she lined them up. Five empty. Four partially filled. Two full ones. There wasn’t anything to do but keep going, hoping that luck - that word again! - kept her from needing them again.
As she walked past the command chair, La’an twitched. Una held her breath, hoping she hadn't disturbed the other woman. After another beat she realized La’an was still asleep. She continued to the helm and resumed her seat. The nothingness of their route met her view, safe for now. Coming to a quick decision, she moved over to ops, rerouting the command chair and communications there. Even if their SOSs were being heard, there was no way for her to tell yet. Pelia had crews working on everything, and communications were at the top of the list, even as they triaged the ship. They wouldn’t make it to the nearest Starbase before more people died, so it was more important to get communications than to get engines. By Una’s estimation they had less than four hours to get their calls heard and have a ship arrive with more medical crew. Checking on the information from command there wasn’t much waiting for her. A few tasks to reprioritize now that other items had been repaired, but La’an had been detailed and on top of it, unsurprisingly. The time estimate for repairs stretched into the hundreds of hours, but it looked like communications would be repaired by her mental deadline.
Having looked over both sets of information, Una returned to the helm. She could’ve diverted it all to one station, but it was hard to see on such a cluttered board, and moving at impulse power really did mean she had time to wander back and forth between stations if she absolutely needed to. After resuming her seat she made a small course correction, then returned to her musings.
A short while later La’an twitched again. It was more violent, her boots dragging across the floor and slamming into the chair. But then silence returned. By Una’s estimation La’an had been asleep for just over an hour. Considering she’d probably slept for approximately five hours in the previous five days, Una fretted, knowing it would be days before La’an got enough.
A hail rang across the bridge. Una answered it with a hissed out, “Shhh.”
“Commander?” asked Pelia, incredulous.
“LIeutenant Noonien-Singh is asleep,” Una whispered, hoping it was loud enough for Pelia to pick up but quiet enough not to disturb La’an.
“Ah,” said Pelia, her voice amused. “Internal comms are back online.”
“Thank you, amazing work,” said Una. She was genuine in her praise, but unsure if Pelia would hear that or not. “I’ll continue to route orders through command. Please try to keep calls to the bridge to a minimum.”
“Understood, sir.” Pelia’s voice wobbled before the line cut, and Una had to assume she’d started laughing as soon as Una couldn’t hear her. It was better than the alternative, she supposed.
Turning around, she checked at La’an. At the disturbance of Pelia’s call she’d moved again, curling up, making herself compact, bringing her boots into the chair and tucking her head down. She was so small, and for a moment Una wanted to just go wrap herself around La’an, to guard her with her own life and keep her safe forever. But La’an had done pretty well protecting herself for the previous two decades, so Una tried to talk herself down. La’an probably didn’t want to be protected anyway.
Turning back, she made another course correction. Even though she knew her being on the bridge - taking command - was vital, she felt useless. Everyone else was running around, repairing things, saving lives, and she was simply walking the two steps between ops and the helm, occasionally tweaking orders or making a course correction. If something came for them they would be sitting ducks, anything she did useless in the face of danger. The best she could offer was putting out the occasional fire.
A whisper came across the bridge. For a second Una thought she was hallucinating, but then realized it had come from the folded-up La’an. “Please,” she said, louder. “Don’t take her.” Una glanced back. La’an had curled even tighter, her arms now positioned to protect her neck. “Please. Please. Not Una.” Una’s heart jumped to hear her own name. Why was La’an dreaming about Una? They’d never faced the Gorn together, unless one counted that small scout ship months before. “No no no no no. Una. Please. Please.” La’an screamed, the force of it rattling Una.
Una did the first thing that came to mind.
“Poor wand'ring one!
If such poor love as mine
Can help thee find
True peace of mind
Why, take it, it is thine!..
Take heart, fair days will shine;
Take any heart -- take mine!”
The song came out jumbled, jumping around, Una too rattled to correct herself. It seemed to soothe La’an immediately, though, so Una continued singing, meandering slowly through the Gilbert and Sullivan songbook and thinking.
She’d known La’an for so long. Their relationship had evolved slowly. Their time together on the King Jr. had been brief, but it let to a lasting friendship. Even though La’an had been young, Una really never had thought of her as a child. However, she’d also never planned on considering her anything other than a friend. But somehow, since La’an had joined the crew of the Enterprise, Una had realized that she didn’t just think of La’an as a friend anymore. Sure, she’d always wanted to protect La’an, but now it was with extra force. Yes, she wanted to take away La’an’s pain - always had - but now it had moved from the compassion anyone would feel to a deep need. She would’ve done anything for La’an. Except tell her the truth. Because La’an didn’t deserve Una’s expectations or desires piled on top of her.
“Una…” La’an’s voice cracked, but when Una turned again, La’an was still curled up, a closed eye barely visible.
La’an’s nightmares were confusing her. Hope made Una want to consider that La’an was having nightmares about her because she felt the same as Una. She wanted to squash hope, stomp all over it. It was irrational and unrealistic and… But luck was on their side. Maybe hope could be, too?
Another scream, this time it was definitely Una’s name. Una heard the command chair squeak and as she turned La’an set upright, eyes open wide, taking in the dark, empty bridge.
Una was out of her chair in an instant, kneeling in front of the command chair, letting La’an adjust to her presence. Once her eyes focused on Una, she started muttering reassurances. “It’s okay La’an. You’re safe on the Enterprise. You needed some sleep. I was protecting you. It’s okay.” Reaching out tentatively, she took La’an’s hand. It was clammy, and she didn’t return Una’s grip. Una squeezed lightly. “I’m sorry you had a nightmare.”
“I guess I should expect that to be my new normal again,” said La’an wryly, her face twisted with bitter humor.
Una didn’t know what to say to that. She wanted to crush La’an in a hug and suck all the pain from her body, absorbing it into her own. She wanted to give La’an rest and peace and energy.
But she couldn’t, so she sat in dumb silence, stroking the back of La’an’s hand. “Commander, who is steering the ship?”
“We’re going at impulse, La’an. Every planet between here and the starbase would have to literally jump in our path at warp 9 for us to hit it.”
“That sounds unsafe.”
“Just because you’re sitting in the command chair…”
La’an raised an eyebrow and tilted her head. It was a relief to see that the Gorn hadn’t stolen all of her humor. “Yes, Commander?”
Everything Una wanted to say in response was surprisingly inappropriate. Even as her mods fought it, she could feel herself blush. Even in the dark of the bridge, La’an seemed to see it, eyebrow going even higher. Una felt caught, caged, like if she moved La’an would see through her and find her deepest desires. La’an leaned closer and Una idly wondered if La’an could read minds. Then she remembered all of La’an’s training and she realized La’an didn’t have to read minds. She was probably reading Una’s face like a book, especially since they’d known each other for so long, Una’s mannerisms well known to La’an. There was no escaping it now. She closed her eyes, hoping against all hope that it would shield her. La’an shifted closer slightly, her breath ghosting across Una’s skin. Una opened her eyes, surprised. La’an’s gaze had shifted from curious to predatory.
“Commander?” interrupted Pelia’s voice, still whisper-quiet, but a shock to the system nonetheless. Una stumbled, falling backwards down the steps in front of the command chair.
“Yes,” she snapped, getting to her feet as La’an stifled a laugh.
“External communications are back online. Estimated repairs for life support are 30 minutes. Sickbay will get a power boost within the hour.”
“Thank you. Good work.”
Pelia signed off and Una made the mistake of glancing at La’an. She knew. It was written all over her face. Time froze as La’an scanned Una’s body possessively. It felt like a brand, marking Una as La’an’s forever. Una’s skin tingled. It was like the feeling she got as her mods healed her, and she half expected her skin to start glowing.
But it didn’t. And they had a job to do. Turning, Una dropped into the ops station chair and opened a call to every federation ship in range. “This is the USS Enterprise in need of immediate aid. One hundred ten wounded. Location…” as she continued sending out distress calls, her neck burned. Maybe luck would be on her side again that day. Maybe their luck was all being spent on a rescue. Maybe she and La’an would never get together the way she wanted. Maybe she would wonder about these moments forever. But no matter what, she would carry the brand of La’an’s gaze permanently.