Chapter Text
The recruiters come when she is fourteen. Nyota could go then, but she decides she would rather take her time. She might change her mind later, but she’s young and she just made it official with her first boyfriend, so she’s sticking to her guns for now.
They come again at fifteen and sixteen, and every year after, even though she tells them she wants to wait. They follow her to university, too.
It’s only when they approach her and Teresa (they’ve gone on six dates, and they’ve all been absolutely lovely) that Nyota finally snaps.
She flicks her hair over her shoulder and rounds on the recruiter they’ve sent this time. He’s taller than her by almost a foot, skin darker than hers and a crew cut so sharp Nyota feels like she could cut her finger on it. Her hand releases Teresa’s and she steps into the man’s personal space.
Her eyes flick over his rank stripes. “Lieutenant Commander, huh? They sent a commander last time.”
“I would advise you to step backwards, Miss Uhura,” the lieutenant commander says. “I’m Lt. Commander Broderick and-”
“I know why you’re here,” Nyota snaps. She inspects her nail polish briefly before her eyes focus on Broderick again. “You can tell your superiors that they’re going to drive me away from Starfleet if they don’t stop harassing me. I’ll be along soon enough. I’m young and I’m finishing my degree first. Now, Lieutenant Commander Broderick, you have permission to quote me on this,” she pauses for effect. “Go fuck yourself.”
Nyota turns to Teresa again, who’s looking at her a little open mouthed. She grasps her hand again and marches away from the opened mouth Broderick.
*
It’s years later, when Broderick actually serves under her, that she finally hears what his superiors said.
“Sir, they seemed to be in shock for close to a full minute before Commander Altair burst out laughing.” Broderick’s hair has gray in it now, but he still holds himself like he is young. “Then he told me we would wait for you to take the entrance exams.”
“It worked, though,” Nyota says, her eyes twinkling.
“It did, sir.”
*
Nyota takes the entrance exams for Starfleet not even a week after her degree is hanging on her wall. She scores perfects on every single one of them and strolls out of the testing center with the urge to pump her fist. She does not, though, because there are a hundred prospective cadets milling around, and she might be in command of them some day.
The Academy is a lot of work, but Nyota pulls through in three years instead of four, despite her mother berating her for working too hard. Teresa disappears somewhere in there, unable to handle the pressure Nyota puts herself under.
Her first commission is on a ship in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, as one of the doctors likes to say. Nyota ends up sitting next to him sometimes at meal times, because he doesn’t talk a lot, but when he does, he almost always makes her laugh.
It’s been a long time since someone made her laugh quite so often. She thinks it was Samantha, when she was fifteen.
His name is Leonard McCoy, but his friend who always verges on the edge of obnoxious calls him Bones.
“Leonard is fine,” he says, rolling his eyes and shoving Ensign Kirk with his shoulder.
“Lieutenant Uhura will suffice,” she says with a smirk. She makes sure Kirk is watching when she walks to the garbage receptacle. If McCoy- Leonard- is watching, no matter. She just wants to drag Kirk along. He seems fun to mess with.
Kirk is standing outside her quarters two nights later. Nyota smiles politely and shuts her door in his face.
She greets Leonard with unusual gusto in the morning.
Nyota isn’t looking for a relationship, she says, and she means it. If Leonard ends up in her bed a couple of times- maybe more than a couple- over the course of the year, it’s mostly because she can’t trust anyone else to keep their mouth shut about her business.
*
Nyota Uhura has never had time for people who waste her time. Which is why, at three years old, she takes her sandwich from her mother and eats it before her mother can finish cutting it into triangles.
“Don’t need triangles,” she says.
Karama Uhura stands there open mouthed, the knife still poised over the table. “Nyota,” she finally admonishes. “That was not polite.”
Nyota rolls her eyes. “Mama, I don’t need triangles. Thank you.”
*
Nyota Uhura receives her promotion to lieutenant commander near the end of her two year stint on the Yardly. It involves an intense standoff with nineteen Klingons and five crew members dead.
Leonard raises his eyebrows at her when his hands are inside Captain Cor’s thoracic cavity, his sleeves purple up to his elbows. Nyota nods, once, and leaves to negotiate the peace talks. She passes the stiff body of First Officer Synto on her way out, her spine straightening ever so slightly as her eyes slide over the white sheet.
Her face is marble when the medal is pinned to her dress uniform; granite when she salutes Admiral Gestalt; sandstone when she takes the shuttle back to her temporary quarters on the Academy campus.
It’s only when the door of her apartment slides shut that she allows herself to cry. Commander Synto had taken Nyota under his wing after their first altercation with hostiles and offered nothing but support and good advice. Watching him die was perhaps the most terrifying experience she had ever had, especially because that left her the highest ranking officer in an incredibly tense situation.
She rubs her thumb over the silver of her new rank stripe once the tears are gone. It’ll take some getting used to, but not long. It won’t be long before she’ll get promoted again.
*
At six, Nyota takes charge on the playground. Her teachers tell her mother that Nyota has been bossing around the other kids again, while Nyota stands- hands on her hips- and stares straight ahead.
Karama sighs and tells Ms. Okafor that she’ll have a talk with Nyota.
On the bus ride home, Karama asks Nyota if she was telling her friends what to do.
“Of course I was, Mama. They need someone to tell them what to do.” Nyota kicks her feet under her seat and stares out the window.
“Nyota, you’re six. What do you need to tell them to do?”
“How to be nice to each other,” Nyota says. She still isn’t looking at her mother. “Can we have ice cream tonight?”
Karama feels like all she does with her daughter is sigh. “After dinner. Nyota,” she says a little sharply.
Her daughter finally looks at her. “What, Mama?”
“You need to be nice to your friends too.”
Nyota nods. “Okay, Mama.”
*
Her next mission is three years on a slightly larger ship, the Farragut. She meets Lieutenant Commander Spock there. There’s a few months when she thinks he’s staring at her a little intensely over padds of data, but he never says anything to make her uncomfortable, so they just drink tea together sometimes and converse in Vulcan.
She makes commander with Spock two weeks before they’re due back at HQ due to an altercation with Orion pirates.
Her dress uniform is starting to feel slightly heavy when she picks it up. The extra stripe looks nice, too.
*
Nyota loves being first officer on the Carraway . She’s so close to her own captaincy, she can taste it.
Except she isn’t.
Now is when the ceiling hits her hardest, the glass smearing from her touch.
It's four years on the Carraway as first officer. And then another four under Captain Trent. After she’s done there, she’s pulled home for teaching.
James T. Kirk made captain at twenty-seven. Nyota is thirty-two.
She watches the anger boil in her veins as her students file into her classroom. God, she hates these fucking classrooms after so many years away. The brown of the walls makes her yearn for the sleek lines of a starship around her, stars running away beneath her feet. She manages to make it the full two hours without incident. That is, until one of her students raises their hand.
“Commander Uhura?”
Nyota pauses with her tea halfway to her mouth. “Yes, Cadet?”
“Why are you wearing your medals, sir? I haven’t seen any of the other instructors wear theirs.”
Nyota grits her molars together slowly before replying. “Cadet, what is your name?”
“Bilar,” the cadet croaks, suddenly turning a wonderful shade of lavender.
“Cade Bilar,” Nyota enunciates, amidst students shuffling as they get ready to leave. “Has asked an excellent question. I would suggest you pay attention to my answer, especially if you happen to be female. But first, before I answer, does anyone know how many female captains Starfleet has had?”
An Orion shoots her hand into the air, her curls shining golden in the artificial lighting. “Cadet Gaila, sir,” she says. “And there are no female captains.”
“Thank you, Cadet Gaila. You are correct.” Nyota tries not to sound too bitter, but the reality of the matter is, she’s got enough bitterness to make a yonsavas look sweet. “Command decided my above average performance and multiple commendations were not enough to offer me a position as captain of my own vessel. This is undoubtedly due to my gender, as no man has served as first officer so long and so well without receiving their commission of choice.”
Nyota thinks of Spock, somewhere in the Delta Quadrant with Kirk. She knows Spock chose to be his captain’s first officer, and would not wish his own command, not when he could be close to the man who drew everyone into his gravity. She knows Kirk deserves his ship, knows that the man is brilliant and kind in every way a captain should be. It’s only that he’s a white man and she’s a black woman, and she did not work her ass off to make commander so quickly to be passed over like this.
“I wear my commendations to show my superiors what they have passed over. I will not submit quietly.”
Gaila walks up to her afterwards, shouldering through the crush of students. “Thank you, Commander Uhura, for standing up for what you believe in.”
Nyota finds herself smiling despite herself. “I will continue to do so until I am captain of my own ship.”
The next class, Gaila has red hair. She asks five questions and Nyota answers all of them in detail.
*
It turns out the Academy is full of women who have been jilted by Command for captaincies. Nyota meets with them on Wednesday nights after her evening class. They drink and complain about the sexism that remains pervasive despite how long Starfleet has been around.
Nyota keeps wearing her medals, despite the stares she receives from her fellow instructors. The women in her group start doing it too. And then women who aren’t in their group join in, until the instructor committees are flashing with gold and silver as female officers take their seats.
Command figures out that it was her that started it, and she’s called to HQ the week of finals. She stands in front of the row of men, her head held high and medals pinned exactly.
“Commander Uhura, are you aware of why we have summoned you here today?” Admiral Gant is nearly seventy-eight, and his voice isn’t as strong as it used to be. Not that it matters when his skin is paper thin and paper white.
“I am not, sir,” she says. She isn’t lying. There’s absolutely nothing she’s done wrong or out of line.
“It has come to our attention that every female member of our staff has been wearing their medals and commendations, even though it is policy to reserve those for special occasions or promotions.”
I really don’t give a shit about your policy, Nyota thinks, and smiles sweetly. “There is no rule forbidding the wearing of them at other times, sir.”
“But it isn’t done,” Admiral Costello pipes up.
*
Nyota decides she’s going to Starfleet at eight. She informs her mother of this immediately. Karama just nods. She would expect nothing less from her only child.
“It’s dangerous up there,” she says. It is not to discourage her daughter. Karama knows that whatever Nyota sets her mind on, she will do.
“I know,” Nyota says, her small hands tapping on her padd. “I’m going to be a captain of my very own ship.”
“Nyota, honey, there’s never been a female captain before.”
Nyota’s eyes meet her mother’s. They are full of fire. “Then I’ll be the first.”
*
“Excuse me, sir,” Nyota pauses, letting the anger flow to the tip of her tongue. It’s coiled in her breast all these months- no, years- and she is done. She is so fucking done. “You know what else isn’t done? Giving a woman command of her own vessel. I’m thirty-three, sir. Thirty fucking three, and I’ve been one of the best officers in the ‘Fleet for years. And what’s done for me, after everything I have accomplished? I’m pulled home to rot in a classroom.”
Nyota pauses for breath. Her hands are shaking. It’s not from worry about what Command will do to her. It’s fury radiating through every bone of her body. Several admirals look like they’re about to speak. She starts talking again, her voice stronger than her bones.
“No, you don’t get to tell me that I’m wrong. I’m right, damn it, and you’re going to listen to me. James Tiberius Kirk, captain at twenty-seven. At the time, I had three commendations he did not, and a further two years experience in deep space. Ilya Petrinsky made captain at twenty-four, straight out of the Academy. You, Admiral Costello, were twenty-eight and had half my decorations. Admiral Pike, you were a little older, at almost thirty, but with similar experience to my own.
I am demanding what is rightfully owed to me. I will not be your poster child for the Academy any longer. I expect three commissions in my inbox by the time I leave this room, or every female officer in Starfleet walks with me. If you all wanted me so fucking much when I was younger, you should have thought this far about how high I scored on the leadership simulation.”
Nyota hasn’t planned this. It just flies out of her mouth, but she knows it to be true.
The only man not currently open mouthed is Pike, who has his head thrown back in laughter. He finally composes himself after a minute.
“Commander Uhura,” he says, wiping a tear from his eye. “I’ve only been a member of this board for three months, and I think this will be the most memorable day of my entire time here. Well, gentlemen, Commander Uhura is getting her raise, and I don’t give a damn if I have to forge your signatures. I’m assuming we have a few other women who have been passed over for captaincy that need a job?”
Nyota snorts. “A few.”
Pike starts typing on his padd immediately while several of the other men just stare at her. They’ve finally closed their mouths, which is good, because Nyota has been ogled enough for her entire goddamn life.
“I’m going to need your signature right here, Commander Uhura,” Pike says after a few minutes. “And then the rest of these men can sign off on us commissioning our first female captain. It’s an honor, sir,” he says, and shakes her hand.
Nyota watches while the silent men sign off on her life-long dream. She is not happy. The anger has maybe left her; she isn’t sure. She just knows that this should have happened a long time ago. A long, long time ago.
She slams into a tall figure on the way out of HQ, too busy processing that her not-a-plan actually worked to notice the man coming her direction.
It’s Leonard, and Nyota wishes she could take back the “Oh, fuck” that slips from her mouth the moment she recognizes that drawl.
He raises an eyebrow. “Not likely in our current surroundings-” His eyes flick to her sleeves. “-Commander Uhura.”
Nyota suppresses her laughter and adjusts her ponytail. “It’s been awhile. I was just surprised.”
Leonard nods. “Almost eight years.”
He’s not quite looking at her. Either that, or he’s looking at her a little too closely. Nyota can’t decide.
“I’ve seen you around with Kirk,” she says, but it’s only been on the one newsreel and in two papers after all this time.
Leonard rubs the back of his neck with his hand. He’s still in his science blues, so he must be on shore leave or something. Nyota can’t exactly remember when the Enterprise ’s mission finishes.
“I was wondering where you’d gotten to when I didn’t get the usual ‘Fleet flyer about what Uhura has done next in this corner of the galaxy.”
Nyota feels suddenly bashful, which is bullshit, because she has never once been shy about how good of an officer she is. “They hauled me off to teach when they couldn’t handle my femininity being the face of Starfleet’s best and brightest anymore,” she says, as casually as she can. “But I’m getting my own ship in the spring.”
Leonard smiles. “If anybody could crack the bullshit of Command, you would. I might have to see what you’re getting up to. Jim and Spock are off on that godawful desert planet Spock calls home for six months before shipping out again.”
Nyota raises her eyebrows. “You left Jim? You two were practically attached at the hip.”
Leonard nods and waves his hand. “He’s still my best friend, but he’s young and wild and puts himself in more danger than it’s worth. He’s got Spock to take care of him now, so I might give them a little room.”
His voice sounds almost wistful and Nyota finds herself placing her hand on his arm. “They didn’t say anything to you, did they?” The idea of Leonard feeling displaced rubs her the wrong way.
“No, no,” Leonard says. “Spock and I are on as good terms as can be expected when he’s got a ruler shoved up his ass. I’m just getting old, and I want something a little different than the perpetual danger Jim places himself in. I’ve told him, and he’s mad, but he gets it. Besides, if anyone can deal with Jim, it’s Christine Chapel.”
“Okay,” Nyota says, softer than she’s planning. It’s been not quite eight years, and it’s not like she’s been a nun since then, but Leonard is still the last person who carried her laughter to bed. “Do you want to get some coffee or something?” she asks, not sure what she’s going to do if he says yes.
“Yes,” he says, zero hesitation in his voice.
Nyota realizes her hand is still on his arm. She withdraws it, the soft feeling of his blues lingering on her skin.
“I-” She stops as soon as she starts. Leonard is staring at her medals, or maybe just her chest. She isn’t sure, and it doesn’t matter right now. “We can just go to my quarters,” she finds herself saying.
Leonard raises his eyebrow. “You never beat around the bush, Commander.”
Nyota shakes her head, her earrings hitting her cheek. “That’s not what I meant. Just that the cafeteria has shitty food and I’ve got some really good coffee programmed into my replicator.”
Except they do end up in her bed somehow. Nyota isn’t sure if it’s the look he gives her as he takes the mug of coffee from her hand, or the way his fingertips brushed the back of her hand. Maybe it was the tilt of her neck as she pressed the button on her replicator, or the way Leonard’s blues fit him exactly right, that high collar itching to be unzipped and his pale neck marked.
Whatever it was, Nyota doesn’t care, not when his fingers feel exactly as good as she remembered.
“Doctor’s hands,” she laughs into his mouth, a heavy breath out and sharp inhale.
Leonard doesn’t say a word, just smiles slow and sweet and starts kissing a line down her neck.
*
Leonard doesn’t really have a place to stay figured out yet, so Nyota ends up inviting him to stay with her until he figures it out, even though she’s never lived with anyone she’s ever been in a relationship with, and it’s not like this is a relationship. It’s just sex- Even if it’s absolutely incredible sex that makes Nyota never want to have sex with anyone else ever again.
Her commission is finalized a week after finals, and Leonard goes out drinking with her to celebrate. Her friends come too, to toast the new captain of the Dauntless.
“Captain Uhura,” Lt. Commander Michelle Cravey ends up yelling, three Cardassian Sunrises and a conquered table into the night. Everyone in the bar can see up her skirt, but she’s wearing Starfleet issue boxers, so she could care less. “To the future of Starfleet.”
Somehow, Nyota ends up in Leonard’s lap long before midnight, and somehow, she ends up leaving with him a few minutes after. It’s not like she doesn’t like a good party with her friends, and it’s not like the ecstatic feeling of being a Captain hasn’t hit her with full force.
It’s just slightly more appealing to be called Captain Uhura in bed with Leonard.
*
Nyota goes home for Christmas, because it’s been too many years spending Christmas with Karama and Bibi on the screen of her padd.
“Don’t fuck up my apartment,” she mock warns Leonard. “I’m staff, even if I’m vacating in a couple of weeks. I’ve got to leave them with a good opinion of me.”
“I have no plans that involve fucking while you’re gone,” Leonard says, very seriously, and Nyota almost misses her shuttle because she has no self-control when it comes to this man.
*
Karama hugs Nyota so tightly she swears she can feel her bones cracking.
“My beautiful daughter has come, a captain at last,” her mother says, and when Nyota pulls away, there are tears in Karama’s eyes.
Nyota’s grin overwhelms her face. “I told you, Mom. I told you I was going to be the first.”
Karama cradles her face between her hands and kisses her daughter’s forehead. “I never doubted it for a second, Nyota. Not for a single moment.”
Bibi asks if Nyota has anyone. Nyota shakes her head. “You know my career is first, Bibi. I’m good.”
“I liked that Teresa girl,” Bibi says, her eyebrows dancing on her forehead.
“Bibi, Teresa didn’t want to stay earthside while I was in the black. And she didn’t want to come into the black with me. There wasn’t much I could do.” Nyota hasn’t even thought about Teresa in years.
Bibi hmmphs and turns to the stove.
*
Leonard meets her at the San Francisco shuttleport, his hair a mess and his jeans hung just low enough Nyota wants to tug them off completely.
“Guess who’s your CMO,” he says, his face oddly contorted.
“Really?” Nyota feels suddenly relieved. Maybe this means her sex life isn’t going to abruptly return to its former state.
“I don’t want you to feel pressured about anything,” Leonard says, grabbing for her duffel. “I mean- I was kind of assuming this was whatever and it would end when we both went off into space.”
“No,” Nyota says quickly. “I was too.”
And if she clings to him a little tightly that night, it’s because she’s feeling slightly homesick.
*
Nyota’s first officer is a Bajoran named Jak Hieran. He’s no-nonsense and two inches shorter than Nyota, but it seems like they’ll get along well enough.
Leonard kisses her cheek right before they ship out. It’s the last time he touches her for two hundred and seventy-six days.