Lt. Nyota Uhura & Deanna Troi of Star Trek

The floor was standard resulin - good for jogging, easy on the knees, and forgiving of most impacts. It was the standard choice for the 16 pins as it would allow stand up fighters enough purchase to compete against grapplers, and grapplers the opportunity to go to mat without undue risk. The floor was a light blue mat and was part of the 16 pin program.

So were the shallow stands - wooden, austere, shrouded in darkness past the first few rows. Lighting was dim, soft, casting long complacent shadows throughout the holo-deck. An intimate setting, though somewhat unforgiving. A place where winners and losers would be defined in terms of one another: there could be no doubt, no excuses. "No doubts," thought Troi to herself. That was what this was all about of course - that purity. She entered the gloom of the fighting floor and remembered to breath as her opponent emerged from the shadows.

The computer had given Uhura period dress - a heavy black sports bra and full coverage red trunks of a similar, thick material. She was supple and heavy in the hooded overhead light, appraising Troi with those exotic, dark eyes. The sleek chocolate muscle was smooth, in balance with the generous curves and thick sensuality of Uhura's flesh. In her light blue athletic two piece with strong, but nearly weight less micro-fibre - Troi felt almost plain in comparison, almost inadequate, though neither was the case. Yet this was Uhura, or at least a perfect simalcrum of the woman in her prime. It was easy to see, just by looking that the woman's reputation had been well deserved.

In the official annals of star fleet, the records, logs, and video reflected the stories of Captains - important deeds, battle maneuvers, decisions - but recorded in more private journals, tracing out a submerged line of narrative known primarily among the women of the fleet, the sweaty accomplishments of warriors like Uhura had lived on. In countless battles with dozens of women, Uhura's name was synonomous with competitive drive and physical supremacy. Surely Troi had not been the only one to utilize the Uhura program. It was there, like an out of the way book on some dusty top shelf, just waiting for those curious or bold enough to take it down. But to face Uhura in the 16 pins, one needed to know, really know, the answers. Troi had the need. All that was left was to ask the questions.

The women shook out their arms, rolled their heads slowly to get out the kinks. They bowed. In a clear voice, never taking her eyes off her opponent, Troi said "computer recording." And with that, the competition began.

Uhura advanced confidently, her thighs jiggling as she planted and stepped forward, hands raising restless and half clenched to her eyebrows, then lowering to her chin - she was sinewy, thick and patient in motion. Troi reckoned the Enterprise legend had pounds on her, especially in the lower body, but she hoped this would translate into a relative advantage in quickness for her as the bout progressed. The councellor nimbly stepped to her left, hands low, trying to deflect the angle of attack as Uhura cut off the floor.

Uhura was suprisingly light on her feet, turning suddenly into a right round kick, spinning with the hint of a buttocks warble into the left leg delivery and facing Troi once again as the curly headed brunette blocked high and fell back. Troi was content to feel the strength and snap of Uhura's limbs and was impressed: her forearms stung with the effort of blocking the Nubian's cleanly expressed blows. Uhura's eyes flashed as she turned her left shoulder towards Troi, lowering the lead hand and cocking the right, edging towards the brunette with menace. Troi braced herself and was not disappointed. Coming together, the girls stabbed and turned, employing Earth's push hands technique while trying to land a flat fist strike, and in the blur of punching and blocking - Uhura scored a cracking right hand to the bridge of Troi's nose. Dazed by the blow, Troi gasped, her head snapping back violently, and in that instant - Uhura stepped in, took Deanna's right arm and deftly put her hips into the brunette's stomach. The toss was perfect, laying Troi painfully against the mat with a sharp smack in the otherwise silent room. Uhura held the arm in a tight bar as she sat on her haunches at Troi's head and let loose a high pitched cry. The first fall belonged to Uhura. Troi let the dizziness pass as the Nubian rose, adjusting the waistband of her trunks, and stepped across the fallen councellor as though it had all been so easy.

It was the start of a disasterous beginning for Councellor Troi.

Uhura was deceptively graceful, walking Troi down and attacking low with slapping kicks to the councellor's thighs, reddening the lead leg and beginning a painful bruise with persistent hacking blows. Troi could not stay outside and she couldn't trade blows - she had to take Uhura to the mat. But time and again she found herself humbled by the dark girl's suprising strength and fleshy quickness, born to her back and held down as Uhura went through her progressions. A single leg over Deanna's head, turning the councellor's face red, then the double, raising her backside to the roof in trembling futility. The headlock with Uhura's slick ribcage pushing hard underneath Deanna's chin. The cradle: Uhura's shiny back against Troi's trembling belly, holding her down as muscular arms folded the pale leg and clenched face. Throughout, the sound of Troi's groans - high and strained - echoed in the hollow room as the mat sounded out the plaintive slapping of her feet and helpless legs. As pins were recorded, the emotionless female voice of the computer droned out the score. 16 pins had seemed an impossible number at the start of the exersise, but Uhura had scored 6 in just over 10 minutes of struggle. Incredibly, the simulation could be over in 20 minutes. The thought of being so abused sent a shudder down Troi's sweat streaked body. "Time!" she cried. Uhura stopped her approach without expression and stood up from her crouch.

Deanna, flushed and embarassed went to a small stand off the floor and poured clear liquid from an elegant pitcher into a glass. She drained the drink in a series of long swallows, arching her glistening neck and feeling the wet weight of her ponytail upon her back. Uhura joined her at the stand waiting with her hands on sturdy hips. Wiping her fingertips across her lips she looked at Deanna.

"Well?" Uhura said.

"In a minute." Troi hadn't wanted to sound harried, but it just came out that way. "Please." Uhura shrugged. She was just laying on a beating, nothing out of her routine. Troi could have as long as she wanted. So Uhura was totally relaxed when the Councellor dug her fist, still holding the glass into Uhura's belly, feeling the line of pleasure-flesh, but biting deep into the wall of serious muscle as well to double the shocked black girl over. The computer hadn't seen it; there was nothing in the councellor's psyche chart or past actualized patterns to indicate she was capable of such unpredictability. Now Troi went to work, straightening Uhura up with the left on the teeth, then leaning in to crack the chin with a lusty right hand. Uhura's eyes went glassy as she stumbled back, hands down - she couldn't recover. Troi came forward behind shattering lefts and rights, backing Uhura to the stands and toppling her backwards into the front row. Uhura stared dumbly up, raising her head in a sick wobble, lips gleaming as they began to swell, her legs heavy over the bench in front, her back painfully against the second tier. Troi pounced - she couldn't let up - and she pressed Uhura beneath her to the hard wood of the stands, crushing the dazed face to her breast for a front sleeper. Uhura managed a flailing tap against the wood and the haunting voice of the computer announced the fall. In Uhura's unexpected collapse, Troi had found one of the answers she had been seeking. When she had to, she had chosen winning over everything else. She wondered briefly if the remorse would come tomorrow.

The councellor pushed herself wetly up from her opponent and was shocked to see Uhura blubbering, sitting up stiffly to clutch at her back. Troi was breathing hard, surprised at her own fury and she took a moment to catch her wind. Then, she reached for Uhura's heavy bra top and pulled the Nubian roughly to her feet. Uhura groaned, stumbled, but complied, getting awkwardly up as Troi tugged. Troi led her back out to the mat, in control as the dark girl was still badly rattled and vulnerable. The ball, as the terrans would say, was still in Troi's court.

With a subtle weight shift, Deanna drove her taut thigh up and into the firm belly of the black girl, bending her over with a gurgle. Uhura's hands reached lightly for Deanna's waist, while Deanna rode her right arm across Uhura's shoulders. Troi methodically pulled Uhura upright, revealing the tear stained cheeks and closed eyes to the lights before putting the right thigh back into the girl's stomach. Uhura sobbed and turned away, clutching her belly as she meandered across the mat. Troi stalked from behind, snapping the bottoms of her briefs back into place, then reaching roughly for Uhura's shoulders, holding her for a knee that caught the red-clad buttock and bare hamstring with a beefy slap. Uhura cried out and fell to one knee. She was human. Meat and bone. Troi made a deliberate fist with the right hand, cocked it to her chest, then punched Uhura viciously across the temple - the dark girl spilled to the mat face first, then rolled groggily to her back, lashes fluttering lazily as she relaxed. Troi took the opportunity to score a difficult splits pin, sitting high on Uhura's chest, reaching down into the black girl's hair to hold her steady while the computer droned out it's report. Troi looked down at the stunned, blank expression of her victim and bit her lip.

Keep up the pressure, Troi told herself. She rose heavily from Uhura as the black girl lay supine on her back, head lolling gently from side to side, hands helpless at her chest. She was hurting. It was Troi's job to keep her that way.

Uhura looked sleepy, pained. Her mouth worked for air as she staggered forwards. Troi waited as the black girl stumbled close, hands outstretched to grab Deanna's bare shoulders, then she lifted her right leg in a sweeping motion from the floor, sinking the bare foot with a snug 'shump' in between Uhura's pudgy thighs. A piteous, exhausted wail escaped from Uhura's lips as she crumpled to her hands and knees, shaking in pain as Troi circled casually, a leopardess considered a crippled toy as she licked salt from her upper lip.

It was a careful balance, a fragile thing that had to be maintained, to win the 16 pins. For Troi's part, she had to stay on her girl, pound Uhura, keep her dazed and hurting, but she had to be ever wary of exhaustion herself. Many of the required techniques allowed the victim to rest, and when Troi had captured Uhura on her back with the jujitsu arm lock, she knew the black girl had tapped out early rather than delay the inevitable. Uhura was in a battered stupor, unable to mount any offense, but she wasn't finished. She could still think. Still make little decisions that might pay off later. Troi had to let her fight a little, even risk that Uhura could come back, to draw the resiliency out of the victim. It was a careful balance, and a very hard thing to manage against as crafty and willful a creature as Uhura.

The black girl sobbed quietly on her hands and knees, hair damp around her face, sweat dripping to the mat from her snivelling nose. Troi came in hard from the side and drove her arm into the girl's hip, laying the bicep and forearm in between the legs and driving Uhura to her belly with the jolt. Working deliberately, Troi straddled her prey, facing the buttocks and wearily pounded away at the glossy kidney region, her arms trembling with the effort of pumping up and down, bashing the sides of her fists into the small of Uhura's back. She felt Uhura shuddering beneath her, and leaned forward, pressing her cool palms against the battered section of body, pinning Uhura's belly to the mat. The computer announced the victory, and Troi sat back, brushing a forelock out of her eyes and exhaling through her mouth. Even at last.

Troi stood and worked to roll Uhura to her back. The Nubian was shuddering with pain and it was uncontested, if heavy lifting. Wishboning Uhura's legs, Troi held the firm stems by the ankles and squished her knee against the moist damp of Uhura's crotch. The black girl lay with hands at her ears, groaning mindlessly, eyes clenched shut in swoon. "Wishbone crotch pin." The computer said, as Troi took the lead.

Troi let the legs drop heavily, stood and adjusted her ponytail. Uhura rolled to her side, hands between her legs, lips working wet against the mat as she tried to gather herself. A computerized charm sounded, and Troi felt the hackles on the back of her neck rise. It was a mandatory drink break. She had forgotten about these, but then, she had never worked on a woman long enough to get one. Sense crept back in as Uhura's eyes flickered open. Hope. But not if Troi could help it.

Troi stood next to Uhura at the drink stand. The councellor was anxious to continue, having quaffed and finished her refresher in an angry bolt. Uhura drank slowly, using both hands, closing her eyes and rubbing the cool surface of the glass against her puffy face. Troi's fists had done big woman's work on Uhura's cheek bones and eyebrows. Another surprise, another answer found.

"Hurry." Troi couldn't contain herself. Uhura was stalling.

Uhura glared, the hatred now fully replacing the cool detachment with which she had begun the match. Rarely had the Enterprise champion been so cruelly used, and she ached to pay Troi back. But she was still weak. The draught was a mix of anticoagulants, electolytes and stimulants, but was rarely sufficient to compensate for a thorough beating on it's own. "I gave you time." Uhura whispered.

"I'm not you." Troi replied. Insolent, Uhura continued her slow progress, winning the victories she could. Troi had never known herself to be cruel, but she had had to be to overcome Uhura's physicallity. She had never known herself to be petty, but the outrageous conduct of her opponent during this endless break was maddening. Finally Uhura put the glass on the stand, wiped her lips and returned to the mat, Troi walking in step and staying close, waiting for the chime. When it came, she didn't panic, but she acted quickly and decisively, to the head of Lt. Uhura where so much damage had already been done.

At the bell, Uhura had tried for a right hand, but Troi had anticipated, blocked, cradled Uhura in her the crook of her left, and hammered the short right into the girl's forehead in one sleek motion. Uhura was taking again, and Troi continued where she had left off.

Holding Uhura close, Troi was able to plow her right hand, hard and flat in between the girl's eyes, and the black girl's legs began to wander as she slipped once again into a drowse. The beating continued in a random path around the mat - Troi working steadily, always close to her foe, holding her, propping her then hurting her. From behind, Troi held Uhura's hips the better to knee her hams and buttocks. She would pull Uhura around by the waistband of her trunks, using the leverage to aid in her blunt attacks. From in front, she would hold Uhura's shoulder and drive a curling right hand into the pit of the black girl's stomach, scooping Uhura into her waiting arms to prevent her from going down too soon. Pins mounted up as Troi got back the double leg and the cradle. Uhura was beaten senseless and simply couldn't come back. She would take her medicine in slack jawed silence, moaning or crying out when particularly savaged. It was all Councellor Troi. Her hands were raw and sore with the handling and punishing of her foe in these long minutes.

Uhura sat between Troi's thighs, arms across Deanna's legs and pudging out at the bicep. She flickered in and out as Troi beat her. Deanna sat on the front row of the stands and worked down on her opponent, holding Uhura across the chest with the left while hammering down with the right hand to the head or jaw of the battered girl. Finally, she pulled Uhura back and applied the sleeper around her swollen face. Dimly, Uhura groaned and tapped at the air before she could be rendered unconscious. Troi released the hold as the computer made it's eerie report. Uhura lay between the thighs, exhausted, used up. Troi was edging closer to victory.

Troi bundled Uhura's deadweight to the center of the mat, straightening the black girl's legs and drawing her arms to her sides. The last few pins where dangerous. An opponent not properly prepared could counter easily and effectively, but Uhura looked spent, and Troi worked quickly and efficiently to finish. Sitting on the black girl's hips, facing the legs, Troi leaned forward and spread her palms across Uhura's dense thighs, pinning the legs to the mat. With her weight forward, Troi was ill prepared for Uhura's desperate counter - a scissor about the waist that she had waited fifteen minutes to employ. With a cry, Troi fell forward and was held fast, Uhura worked with her hands to keep the councellor's legs apart, and the crushing reputation of Uhura's legs began to tell. Troi groaned, her hands reaching across the mat, but the force was irresistable. Tapping quickly, she felt the pressure at her back and sides relent, but Uhura had gotten her beach head. Deanna on her stomach was in no position to counter, and there was more fight left in Uhura than the councellor could have imagined.

Uhura relied upon her legs to get back into the game. She held Troi down to the mat, grinding the waist, scissoring up the head, choking and punishing Troi with one excrutiating variation after another. Troi had considered herself the master of ground techniques, but she could not reverse on Uhura. The strength of those curvy, dusky limbs was mind boggling and as the advantage slipped away, Deanna began to panic. Uhura began to wrack up pins, and wear down her opponent. From her back, Troi couldn't stop Uhura's stomach from pinning her as the dark girl lay atop for points, resting her head against Deanna's stomach, cinching up the trunks for assurance. Troi began to lose her focus, get groggy as her cheeks and mouth distorted between the painful vice of Uhura's gripping legs. And Uhura's head had cleared. It was time to go to work.

Uhura pushed a blubbering Troi to a seated position from behind, then clamped on a meanspirited bearhug about the breasts. Uhura let her strength play out against Deanna, using her arms and legs to squeeze and trap the tortured councellor. Troi lolled her head against Uhura's shoulder and let out a lonely moan, filling the room as Uhura smiled, listening as she would at the opera. When the body was limp, Uhura began the pounding that had almost always led to victory in the past. It was the final question that Troi had to answer. Could she take it?

Where Troi had been specific, precise, Uhura was brutal. Her punches to the head dropped Troi to her back, whereas Uhura had only been staggered. She held Troi like a captive in her lap, pounding at the girl's kidneys, rolling her over to pummel stomach, working her over with machine like detail. Uhura would spend several minutes on one limb - say, the left leg - beating and bludgeoning it until Troi held it limp in her hands, weeping for mercy she knew would not be forthcoming. Uhura stood above her seated opponent, stomping down on the inner left thigh, and glorying in Troi's abject pleas. The wishbone crotch pin brought a crooked grin to Uhura's face as Troi writhed on her back. Slowly, the Nubian began to even the score.

It was the awful beating of Troi's back that left her helpless. Uhura trembled on sexy knock-knees as she held the battered councellor high up on her shoulder, grinding away at the spine as Troi moaned. The body slams to the mat were sickening displays of power - Uhura driving her foe's back to the flat surface and standing in glory as Troi lay with knees flexed to her stomach, face pinched in pain. Uhura followed up these dreadful moves with heavy thigh drops across Troi's heaving chest, or measured fists dropped to the head that sat the brunette drunkenly up on recoil. But it was the back breaker over the knee that did the most damage. Uhura drew out the manuever such that Troi surely must have known what was coming, and when her kidneys crashed upon the outstretched length of Uhura's knee, Troi made a whimpering, broken sound as Uhura revelled. The black girl shrugged Deanna to the mat and bellowed to the empty room as if a thousand spectators roared. Troi lay half on her side, right hand reaching reflexively to her back. She was finished. Uhura straightened out the bent legs, put Troi to her back and sat heavily upon her hips. With total concentration, Uhura spread her hands upon Troi's thighs and held the brunette's legs down as though they had any choice. The final pin was hers, and a weary smile finally cracked that tired visage. The image of Uhura slowly faded, soon joined by the wooden stands, and the blue mat, leaving Deanna Troi alone, on her back, on the cold holodeck steel floor.

And that was how they found her. When she came to, the women on board knew, but Picard and Riker - they had their questions. They were the wrong questions of course, so Deanna didn't answer. All the important questions had been asked, and answered, by Uhura.


Uhura versus Rand