NYOTA UHURA

               Hello, my darling dears! I’m Faye, well over 21, she/her pronouns. Nyota is canon to the AOS Kelvin timeline. The best way to interact with me is to shoot me an ask, write me a greeter or send me a meme! Make sure you read my rules before engaging. Low-activity.

@galaxyride​ says, ‘ i told you, i’ve got this. ’

                 They’re outnumbered, not that they’ve ever got an even fight on their hands, and the expressions worn by the beings standing between them and their shuttlecraft don’t exactly scream ‘pleasant encounter’. Her Captain speaks --- mumbles, is more what he does. And her lips thin because she knows that tone, knows he’s trying harder to boost his own confidence than he is hers. 

Protocol never makes it to the surface of a planet with them, they’ve been through too much together for abject professionalism, but even Nyota feels weird pointing out that the last time he said ‘I’ve got this’ they ended up stranded on a desert moon for seventy-eight hours. Right now what Kirk needs is for someone to have is back, “I know.”

“I dunno. I don’t know what I mean.” Kirk sighed into his half-empty bourbon, taking up as little space the table as he could. He tried to make eye contact with Nyota but faltered and turned back to stare into the liquid at the bottom of his glass, “Do you ever feel like you’re going backwards? Like… like even on your best effort, it’s a lateral move?”

@starshipsintheatmosphere​

                       “Hmm,” she tries to smile but it comes away weak and tired. She nudges the bottle at him with her knuckle and gently shakes her head, “I guess we’re all a little worse for the wear these days.” nudges it again, urging him to pour her a drink, “We thought we knew where our lives were headed. This time last year, I was...” but she sighs, lets the thought trail away because what good is reliving that pain, “I don’t even feel like I’m going backwad... I’m in free fall. But Captain... Jim. I don’t know where we’re going but I know us. This crew, this ship... We’ll find a place to land.” with an amused smile, “Probably crash land.”

Sulu steps back and turns so that his back’s against a giant, rusted out section of ship’s hull that’s embedded in the bright red soil like a megalith. He’s just in time to escape weapon fire but it hits a building not far off and takes out part of the wall. 

The sky on this world is the same swirling red of the earth. He breathes hard to catch some air in his straining lungs and readies his weapon. It’s loud, the craft they have on the ground makes a sound like a 21st century helicopter but magnified, so he has to yell to Uhura although she is mere feet away, “There are too many of them, Lieutenant… we have to find another way!”

@starshipsintheatmosphere

            The broken ruins of the starship make a piss poor shield, as battered as they are. From the impact into the planet or the hoards of rebels taking what they need, she's not sure but she can feel the jagged and rusted bits when her back's to them.

Even at that volume, Nyota can barely hear him. Only makes out what he's saying because she's thinking the same thing --- they won't make it out of there if they draw any enemy fire, but going back means running through the crumbling wreckage. Literal tons of metal and glass, and loop around just to get to an alter that's currently in her line of sight and only about fifty yards from them. Unfortunately, plasma spray and angry militants stand between the officers and their goal. She closes her eyes and lets her head rest back for just a moment, making a decision she'll come to regret, "We don’t have time! If they get to the stones before we do... I can make it, cover me!"

                                 No new transmission, no new distress call in weeks from an M Class that appears on no maps, no sensors. Kirk's been winding down, feeling the grind of it all and he's pretty sure he's not the only one. The rest of the crew are tired of drifting listlessly in a star system so vast, looking for a planet that doesn't seem to exist while everything about this call for help screams it's a god damn trap. They're too close to the edge of Klingon space to have gone unnoticed and it's a weight on everyone's mind.

He's holding court over stars. Standing at his huge, near picture window, watching the universe roll by in waves of black and pinpricks of light that streak when the ship speeds up. Mostly just thrusters, they're out far enough from the red dwarf at the center of this thing that it's got basically no pull on them and they're doing what they can to maintain a circular orbit.

                         Smells horrible. It's dark and humid enough that the walls are awash with damp, brown air. Steamed against them, rolling droplets down chipped stone. Kirk's sitting against one of those walls, feeling broiled in the heat and sweating. Everything that could've gone wrong and this mission has. They took his weapons, his means of communication. They beat his ass and he ripped his shirt, again. Turns out 'Peacekeeper' is just a title. Must be some clever rebranding.