Star Trek: Oblivion

11 || Communications

          
Uhura leaned against the cold, metal wall, listening to the faint hum of the shuttle's engines. It was a miracle that the shuttle hadn't been broken to a thousand pieces already. Its shields were in no way strong enough to withstand any direct bombardment from the large asteroids. If it wasn't for the uncanny expertise of the man flying the ship, they would have been dead already.

She couldn't stay here forever, she would have to escape eventually. In her head, she went through a hundred different scenarios, but without the man piloting the shuttle, she doubted she could ever manage navigating back to the Enterprise on her own. Lieutenant Nyota Uhura was an excellent pilot, but she doubted even Sulu could do as well as the man who had stolen the shuttle

The communications channel chimed, alerting that someone was hailing them. Uhura sat up straight, her numb fingers twitching as she instinctively readied herself to answer it.

The man leaned over to the screen and opened the channel. A harsh voice began spitting a torrent of angry words through the speakers.

"It's from a Klingon vessel," Uhura said, translating the words. It was an old dialect that very few used, however it was similar enough to translate. "They say this shuttle now belongs to them."

The man looked back at the lieutenant in surprise as she translated the short,  guttural speech coming from over the channel.

"They're warning us to surrender ourselves now, or else they will attack."

The man said nothing, but he kept the channel open. The Klingons repeated the words again and again in a loop. The voice suddenly stopped for a moment before it continued again, this time furious.

"He's demanding that we respond immediately," Uhura stressed. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks as she became infuriated at the man. "Aren't you going to do anything?

"I wasn't planning on it."

"He says we must respond or else they will fire," Uhura translated. She moved, pulling as far as her bound hands would let her. "Let me speak with them."

"You've spent the past two hours screaming about what you'll do once you get lose. Why should I suddenly trust you?"

Uhura ground her teeth in frustration. "Because if you don't let me do my damn job we could both die."

The man turned back to her. For the first time since their departure from the Enterprise, he turned the shuttle on autopilot. He unfastened the shoulder straps and stood. Uhura saw just how large the man was, as he had to crouch to get to the back of the shuttle. He leaned over and took her arm, his large hands wrapped roughly around the red fabric of her uniform.

"You are a smart woman, Lieutenant Uhura," He said, pulling a deadly looking knife from his vest. "I can trust you won't do anything we'll both regret." He leaned over and sliced through the cord.

Uhura pulled her hands away and quickly moved. Her legs were numb from where they had fallen asleep, but she managed to keep her footing as she backed away, her eyes darting around the shuttle, looking for anything to use as a weapon. The man calmly put the knife away. A large shudder ran through the ship, almost throwing them to the ground. The man looked up at the metal ceiling above. It had been a warning shot.

The man turned and headed back to the console. Uhura remained in the back of the shuttle for another moment, still trying to work out an escape plan.

The metal ship gave another violent shake, nearly knocking her off her feet. Straightening her shoulders, she swallowed her frustration and walked to the front of the ship. She shoved the bag with the artifact off of the copilot's seat and dropped it on the floor. She sat down and reopened the communication's channel, grabbing the small metal earpiece from its place in the console. The Klingon was still yelling orders at the other end.