DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Chris Dickenson and is copyright (c) 1989 by Chris Dickenson. Rated NC17 for sexual situations. Originally printed in Beyond the Farthest Star #4.



A Slight Delay

Chris Dickenson



"Lieutenant Uhura is not at her station," Leslie's voice announced.

Kirk snapped the intercom switch off without a response, something more in character for his savage alternate than for James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. McCoy would have worried about the ease with which his Captain was falling into the role if he'd had the time or the energy to do so. Instead the surgeon exchanged a glance with Scott. Scotty pressed his lips together and cast a worried look towards the transporter room.

"Damn it, Nyota, this is no time to keep us in suspense!" McCoy muttered.

"Aye, somethin's gone wrong."

Instead of returning to his brisk pacing, Kirk inched impatiently closer to the lift, almost as if he were trying to intimidate it into opening. Scott frowned, then moved to join the captain, purposely passing into the field of the electronic eye. The doors still didn't open.

"Give me a hand with this panel, mon," Scott said to McCoy as he pulled a sonic driver from his tool pouch. McCoy's automatic protest died when he saw Scott's expression. Kirk saw it, too, tensing as if he'd been struck before he whirled back to hit the intercom with a clenched fist.

"Leslie, this is the Captain. Did you see Uhura leave the bridge?"

"Yes ... sir." The barely subordinate pause and the insolent tone of Leslie's voice grated on Kirk's sense of authority. He bit back the reprimand that rose to his lips, reminding himself this ship and the savages who populated it were not his concern. The only thing he needed from Leslie right now was information.

"Was she alone?"

"No." The voice was wary, as if weighing possibilities.

"Who was she with?"

Kirk was ready to repeat the question when the answer finally came.

"Sulu."

Kirk suddenly remembered the fear he'd seen in Uhura's dark eyes when he'd left her on the bridge. He'd delegated the tasks that needed to be accomplished in this universe between the three officers, failing to consider the additional danger Uhura would face merely because she was a woman. On his ship, men looked upon women as their equals. On this ship...

"Someone's locked it between decks," Scott announced, as if to give voice to Kirk's nightmarish suspicion.

McCoy looked up at Kirk, a wave of empathy washing over him as he thought of Uhura trapped with that animal. There was no question in his mind what Sulu would be doing to her. His own encounter with Chapel's alternate had left him with few illusions about male/female interaction in this universe.

"Override the command manually," Kirk ordered.

"Aye." Scott's expression echoed the doubt in his voice. This Enterprise was not his Enterprise. "This is verra strange, the color codes are mixed up, it'll take a bit of--"

"Just do it!" Kirk regretted the sharpness of the words before they were out of his mouth. He moved to drop one hand on the engineer's shoulder and peered in at the confused maze of circuitry, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Hurry."

* * *

Frozen with fear, Uhura stared at the savage alternate of one of her dearest friends. He had taken her by surprise, darting into the lift at the last possible moment and disarming her. He stood before her now, arrogant, smug, pressing the blade of her own dagger against her throat.

"That was stupid, Uhura," he leered. "Very stupid. Now I'm going to take what you wouldn't give."

His left hand slipped under her skirt, finding just as she had found, that her alternate wore no undergarments. Uhura, pressed against the wall of the lift, attempted to wriggle away from his probing fingers, but Sulu had her pinned with his body. The blade of the dagger scraped along her carotid artery as she squirmed, a slight increase of the pressure silencing her gasp as he slipped two fingers roughly into her moist opening.

Sulu's eyes widened in surprise. "You wanted it all along, didn't you?"

Uhura refused to think about the truth of that comment as Sulu bent his head to bite the soft flesh of her earlobe. She tried to concentrate on how to escape, a difficult task as he rotated his fingers inside her.

"Your body isn't saying no to me, Uhura," he teased, rubbing his erection against her thigh as he scraped his teeth along her neck, trailing toward her breast. "Admit it, you want--"

Suddenly Uhura went limp, twisted free from his grasp and knocked the dagger to the floor. They both dove for it, but Uhura managed to grab it first, wielding it with enough skill to convince Sulu she meant business.

As she sidled around to hit the release on the lift, he grinned. "Maybe next time, eh?"

Uhura froze, seeing a flicker of disappointment behind his bravado. For a second she'd been reminded of her Sulu...God, he even smelled like her Sulu. Her fingers fell from the lift release, and she gestured with the dagger. "Drop your pants."

Sulu paled, making no move to obey.

Suddenly realizing what he thought she was going to do, what her alternate would no doubt have already done, she couldn't resist an evil smile. "Drop your pants, Sulu."

The muscles of her stomach contracted with excitement, the wetness Sulu had discovered becoming wetter as he removed the gold sash and then unfastened his trousers. The black material slid to his knees, and Uhura eyed him appreciatively.

"Now the shirt. Take it off."

As the red shirt fell to the floor, she broke into a grin.

"Now lay on your back, hands beneath you."

Sulu obeyed, a slight tremor running through his body as she moved closer, still clutching the dagger. His erection was gone, the delightful hardness she had felt a moment ago deflated by his fear. He glared up at her defiantly, and she couldn't help but admire his stubbornness.

Uhura slipped one finger into herself, sighing as she anticipated the hard shaft which would replace it in a minute. As she played with herself, Sulu stared, a mixture of fear and arousal playing across his face.

"Try anything funny, and I'll make sure you regret it," she said firmly as she knelt at his side.

Sulu swallowed hard, no doubt wondering how she expected him to be a threat in this position.

Taking the dagger and pressing it firmly against his neck, she took his cock in her left hand and caressed it, bending down to tease it with her tongue. Sulu moaned, arching up into her mouth. She sucked at the soft shaft, working at it with her teeth and tongue, and when she released him, he was hard again. Not taking the dagger from his throat, she quickly straddled him, pleased by his shocked expression. Her mouth closed over his, and she kissed him with a slow, sensuous passion that left him gasping. With one hand, she pulled off her halter and rubbed her tight nipples against his. He strained to capture one breast in his mouth, and she pulled back, pressing the knife to his neck. "Don't bite."

He shook his head eagerly, and she leaned forward, letting him suck each breast as she stroked her dark curls along his straining rod. Her fingers traced lightly over his smooth chest, along the angular line of his jaw, and lastly, over the scar which made him unique.

"Do you want me to take you now, Sulu?" she whispered as she rained light kisses on his face. "Do you want to be inside me?"

He moaned as she reached to guide him into her waiting wetness, bucked his hips frantically to fill her, but she pressed the knife against his throat and pulled back.

"Slow," she commanded. "Very slow."

He gulped, adjusting his rhythm until she sighed her satisfaction. "That's it, nice and slow. Feels good, doesn't it?"

Sulu, who had never been fucked like this in his life, nodded his head, perspiring as he pushed up into her.

"Close?" Uhura's breathing was uneven, her fingernails biting into his shoulders as Sulu continued his efforts to please her. He nodded again, fighting an overwhelming urge to go faster. Never had he been made to pleasure a female; until now his own pleasure had always come first. What surprised him was how good it felt to be dominated like this, forced to serve her in this gentle, passive manner.

"A little faster," she breathed. "Don't come when I do ... don't stop until I say you can."

He could tell that she was close to a climax by the way she was tightening around him. For a moment, he considered not obeying her command, then he remembered the dagger, and he clamped down on his response to the softly curved body. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the sweet scent of her and the leather clad legs that rubbed so tantalizingly against his thighs.

Uhura moaned, stretching taut with a climax, and Sulu shuddered, only fear of retribution preventing his own release. He continued the slow, hard stroking for what seemed like an eternity, felt her relax, sag against him and then start to move with him again. Finally, she gasped, her grip on his shoulders tightening. "Yes, oh yes, Sulu!"

He broke the rhythm then, not caring if she killed him for his disobedience. Hell, he'd risked his life for lesser sensations! After three quick, shallow thrusts, he arched up, his orgasm exploding with hers with an intensity he'd never known.

When they were breathing normally again, she kissed him, her radiant smile as gentle as her lovemaking. "That, sugah, is what you would have missed if I'd let you keep the dagger."

* * *

Scott was swearing in Gaelic as he worked. Kirk and McCoy hung over the engineer like hungry vultures.

McCoy was replaying his memory of Chapel's alternate, flushing as he recalled the picture she'd presented lounging on the desk in his office. If they got out of this in one piece, he'd have to tell Chris about it some night when they'd both had a few too many. In a month or two he'd be able to relate an edited version without dying of embarrassment.

Looking over at Kirk, he shook his head. It was killing Jim not to be able to get to her, to protect her from...

"It's movin'," Scott announced.

"Scotty!"

"I canna take the credit, Captain."

Before Kirk could pose the question that rose to his lips, the turbolift doors swept open, and Uhura strolled out, a cat-that-ate-the canary smile on her face. She paused just long enough to catch Kirk's gaze, slipping her dagger back into her thigh high boot before speaking.

"Gentlemen, I apologize for the slight delay."

Without waiting for a response from her stunned companions, she continued on down the corridor to the transporter room. McCoy let out a low whistle as they all turned to peer into the lift. Sulu was slumped against the wall, clothing disheveled, a bewildered but utterly content expression on his face. They stood, staring in disbelief until the doors slid shut.

THE END