Paradise Bought Chapter 5: Bone by Bone
Paradise Bought
Chapter 5: Bone by Bone
There is a pain -- so utter --
It swallows substance up --
Then covers the Abyss with Trance --
So Memory can step
Around -- across -- upon it --
As one within a Swoon --
Goes safely -- where an open eye --
Would drop Him -- Bone by Bone.
Emily Dickinson
Lieutenant Kyle was fielding increasingly hysterical calls from the surface, advising Chief Engineer, Montgomery Scott, third in command of the Enterprise.
“Sir! It’s Doctor McCoy!”
“Tell him to . . . aye, put him on, laddie.”
“Scott! They’re gone! Someone took them!”
“Doctor, I dinnae quite git that. Who got what?”
“The Captain and Mr. Spock! We were herded to the banquet room when the doors slammed, leaving them outside. When the Coridans got the doors open, they were gone. The Coridans think the terrorist group got them!”
Mr. Scott didn’t waste a second, “Orozco, scan for the Captain and Mr. Spock’s transponders on the surface!”
Ensign Orozco looked blank for a second. “Now, Mister!”
Orozco, manning the Science console, opened a link between Communications and the ship’s scanners. “Commander, I am tracing the signal but there is nothing. Nothing at all!”
Scott nodded at Chekov, manning Navigation. “Relieve him, Mr. Chekov, I want a planet wide search.”
Orozco stepped aside, confused at the censure. “Mr. Orozco, coordinate with Mr. Kyle, we’ll be needing your help with Communications.” Orozco stiffened and moved to the Auxiliary Communications station to help Kyle with the onslaught of messages from both Enterprise personnel and Coridans.
“Commander,” Chekov straightened at the Science Station, “We haf no contact with the transponders, dey appear to be destroyed. I haf instructed the sensors to search for the Captain and Mr. Spock’s life signs. It will take a few hours to scan the entire planet.”
“Get McCoy on the horn.”
“Yes sir!” Kyle snapped to the Communications console.
“McCoy here. What in blue blazes is going on up there! Have you found them?”
“Nae, Doctor, we’re running scans right now, their transponders are disabled.”
Scott overheard muttered cursing from McCoy which under different circumstances would have made him smile. He picked up Uhura’s voice in the background. “Let me talk to Uhura.”
“Uhura here, sir.”
“What’s the situation, Lieutenant?”
“We have gathered the Ambassador and his party and are ready for beam up. There is no immediate danger, Sir, but C’sar believes there could be another strike.”
“Alright, Lieutenant. Have the Ambassador report to me as soon as ye’r on board. Scott, out.”
Mr. Scott folded his arms and raised incredulous eyebrows at Mr. Sulu. “Aye, lad,” in answer to Sulu’s unspoken question, “they stepped in it again.”
Ten minutes later, Scott, Ericksson, Tiaza and Uhura found themselves in Conference Room 3. Scott watched while Ericksson paced the room, livid.
“Clearly, N’vr intentionally separated them from our party! They never even made it into the banquet room before the doors closed and they barricaded us inside. There was the sound of phasers and no way for us to get to them!” Tiaza put her hand on Ericksson’s arm, only to be shaken off roughly.
“Do you have any idea who the terrorists were?” Uhura sounded worried.
“No. I didn’t get a good look, did anyone else?” He glanced around the room and shrugged. “Not likely to be the Sh’ya unless they have a male security force we don’t know about.”
“Sh’ya?” Scott asked curiously.
“The ‘undesirables’ we’ve heard so much about. They are the female of the species.”
“What?!” Scott was shocked.
“Who ever took the Captain and Mr. Spock were definitely male. The Coridans are saying they are Sh’ya operatives but that seems unlikely.”
“Why is that?”
Tiaza jumped in. “Based on our conversations with them, they probably have little to do with the violent actions against the Coridan ruling class. They are capable of domestic unrest, but not violence.”
Scott wasn’t satisfied, “Because they are women?”
“No, Sir, because they have a fundamental belief in nonviolence.”
Ericksson stopped pacing for a moment, looking thoughtful. “That’s too bad. It leaves the Consortium, and my intelligence says they are Orions and funded by the Romulans.” He paused, “I promise, if they harm them, I will bring the full brunt of the Federation against them. I’ll . . .” Tiaza pulled him down into a chair and wrapped her hand around his wrist.
Scott looked at him balefully, “Aye, lad. Ye’ll have to get in line for that.”
Jim woke to Spock leaning over him, his hand on his arm.
“Captain, are you well?”
Jim rubbed his face and hissed at the headache beginning to form behind his eyes. Blinking, he saw Spock’s face come into focus. “Blast it! Where are we?” Jim looked around the small gray room and then at Spock who looked slightly disheveled but none the worse for wear.
“Unknown, Captain. It appears we have been taken hostage, however.”
Jim took in their surroundings. The room was perhaps fifteen meters by twenty, unfurnished except for two rubber mats on the floor and a piped hole in the center, presumably for disposal of wastes. There was no water available and the light was dim. There was a force field running across one of the shorter walls revealing a view to a long nondescript corridor.
Jim rolled his neck and heard it pop. Looking back at Spock, “Do we know who has us?”
“Negative, sir. And there is something else.” Spock held up his left arm, his uniform sleeve slit and stained with green blood. A long angry wound ran up his forearm. Jim quickly glanced down at his own similarly mangled sleeve and arm.
“Damn it! The transponders!”
“Indeed. It appears they do not want us found too quickly. Our best chance is the Enterprise’s sensors.”
“Right! They should be able to scan for you at least. I recall the Coridans are pretty similar to humans, but you should stand out.”
“That is a small comfort, Captain, assuming the Enterprise is even aware we have been taken.”
“Gods, what about Bones? Ericksson and his staff?”
“I have heard nothing to indicate anyone else is here, other than ourselves.”
Jim sighed and scooted to the wall, propping himself up, he ran a shaking hand over his face.
“Captain! You are in shock.”
“No, but that stun had some authority behind it.”
Spock knelt beside his commanding officer and reached forward to examine his arm. Jim pushed his hand away. “I’m fine. Analysis, Mr. Spock.”
Spock rocked back on his heels thoughtfully. “We have few facts but I have made some conjectures.”
“Shoot.” Spock lifted an eyebrow but was in no mood to rise to the bait.
“It is logical to surmise we have been taken by one of the two factions. The Sh’ya would be the obvious choice as they could conceivably use us to bargain for their position.”
“Seems unwise. Once we are returned, or if they kill us, their bargaining chip would disappear and they would have the Coridans and the Federation actively working against them.”
“Acknowledged. That leaves us with the possibility of a male faction, using our capture to discredit the Sh’ya.”
Jim hummed. “That seems most . . . logical, Mr. Spock. I guess we won’t know until someone shows up.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes, locked in their own thoughts.
Finally, “I have a lot of confidence in Scotty. Ericksson, too.” Jim pitched his voice softly.
“If he survived.”
“Spock, I’m sorry.”
“For what, Captain?”
Jim sighed and stared at the opposite wall. “For not knowing you better.”
“Captain? You know me better than anyone . . . I . . .”
“I should have known about you and the Ambassador. I am a poor friend sometimes.”
Spock cleared his throat. “Perhaps, it is I who is a poor friend, Captain. My relationship with the Ambassador, although private, is hardly a secret. I should have . . .”
Spock stopped in mid-sentence, cocking his head to the side, his superior hearing picking up the sound of footsteps. “It appears we will have company shortly.”
Jim slumped against the wall. Spock recognized the tension in his body and mentally acknowledged the ruse. He braced himself against the wall, schooling his body in feigned relaxation.
Two black-robed Coridans and C’sar’s aide, N’vr appeared at the door, heavily armed. That narrows it down, Jim thought to himself.
“On your feet, Federation,” N’vr hissed. Jim and Spock stood, pretending weakness that neither felt. Obviously, their deception was ineffective. When the force field went down, they were stunned again from the doorway. This time, as they crumpled to the floor, Jim didn’t lose consciousness. He didn’t know Spock’s condition, but he was slumped against the wall, head lolling and eyes closed.
Jim felt himself being lifted under the arms and dragged down a long corridor, every nerve screaming. What ever they had hit them with, it was quite different from the effects of their own phasers.
He lost consciousness briefly. When he woke, he was secured to a chair in a large tiled room. Spock was crouching on the floor in front of him, arms bound behind his back and held by a chain attached to the ceiling. If he fell, it would likely dislocate his shoulders. Whatever happened next, Jim was now confident their captors were intent on causing them harm.
Suddenly, a Coridan stood between him and Spock. He smiled brightly at Jim and gestured towards Spock’s hanging form. Stepping closer, he drew his arm back and aimed a powerful blow, striking Jim hard across the face. Jim’s head rocked back, hitting the back of the chair. Blood filled his mouth. He shook his head and spit in the Coridan’s face.
The Coridan’s smile widened and he used the back of his hand to wipe Jim’s blood off his cheek. “Welcome to the M’zr, Captain. I am called T’ken. It means he who is stone.” He hit Jim again and stepped back to enjoy the effect.
Jim closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were blazing. “Why?”
“Oh, Captain Kirk, you are a pawn. The Coridan ruling class will do anything to keep the status quo and the Federation happy, including giving the Sh’ya what ever they want. That is not acceptable to us and we represent a significant majority.”
“Why us? Why torture us if we are a bargaining chip?”
“Because you have enemies who want information. Because they asked us to acquire it in the most unpleasant manner possible. Because it pleases me.”
“You must know, neither one of us is going to tell you a damn thing.”
T’ken cocked his head. “Perhaps, perhaps not. In any case, delivering your broken bodies to my employers will give me a certain . . . credibility?”
T’ken grabbed Jim’s jaw and squeezed it hard. Jim could feel his teeth loosen further and swallowed blood from his lacerated tongue. This man was a fucking sadist. Gods, it couldn’t get much worse. Of course, he was mistaken.
T’ken stepped to the side and nodded to another robed figure who pulled down a long rubber hose from its caddy. He turned a lever and a blast of water came out of the end. The man aimed the hose at Spock, shocking him into a gasp. From the mist coming from the hose, Jim could tell the water was ice cold with enough power behind it to bruise. The force of the water was strong enough to push Spock over sideways. Jim watched as Spock struggled to keep his feet on the slippery tile floor.
Jim tried to school his expression. They had both had training in this kind of interrogation but Jim acknowledged to himself, cold and water were a particular weakness for the desert bred Vulcans and Spock was no exception.
Spock’s tormenter walked around so he was facing Spock, moving the blasting water so it hit him full in the face. Spock tried to duck his head away from the spray but T’ken grabbed his head and held it. Spock tried to keep his mouth and eyes closed, but eventually, enough water made it down his throat, causing him to choke, opening his mouth instinctively to cough. Just as Jim thought Spock would surely drown, T’ken released his head and the other man made short work of soaking his body with the ice-cold water. Spock was still on his feet, head hanging low, choking and retching in an effort to expel the water.
T’ken walked over to Jim, a satisfied look on his face. “Well, Captain? We would like the security codes for Star Fleet communications. Now, please.”
Jim reflexively pulled on his restraints. “All this for communication codes? You have got to be kidding.”
“I assure you, I am not. The codes will enable my friends to disrupt communications through out the sector. When that occurs, I believe they will have, what do they say? A clear field to move some contraband and perhaps take a star base or a ship or two. If, though, you don’t give us the information, well, you always have use as entertainment. I certainly hope you oblige.”
T’ken looked at him hopefully, but when Jim continued to remain silent, he sighed and nodded to the other.
“Take the Vulcan. Give him to the guards. They have been patient so far.”
The other man disconnected Spock from the chain hanging from the ceiling, leaving his hands bound behind him. He half carried him out. Just before they reached the door, Spock doubled over, coughing, and swept his leg out, taking the Coridan off his feet. Unfortunately, he began to slip, his cold body unable to compensate quickly enough. When he fell to the floor, the other man jumped to his feet, giving Spock a hard kick to his ribs and dragged him out of the room by his hair.
Jim felt sick but didn’t dare show his reaction. “Why have you taken him? Wouldn’t you just prefer to torture him in front of me.”
“Ah, no. He is a gift to my guards. I doubt they’ll torture him but I imagine their attentions might not be to his taste. He’ll rejoin us when they are finished. Though it might take a while, they are nothing if not thorough. Now, Captain, codes please.”
“Fuck you!” Jim spat. He didn’t sound like a Star Ship Captain right now and couldn’t care less.
“Very well.” T’ken hit him again, lower on his solar plexus, making Jim gasp for air. He smiled at him and left the room, leaving Jim bound, taking short breaths, struggling to stay conscious.
Jim didn’t have Spock’s time sense but at least an hour passed before T’ken returned with two of his guards, dragging Spock between them. Jim couldn’t tell if he was still conscious but he was alive. T’ken released Jim’s restraints while holding him at bay with the phaser. They were marched back to their cell. Jim constantly looked for an opening but saw none and certainly Spock was in no condition to help, even if he could get free.
Back in their cell, the guards threw Spock on the ground and turned on the force field. T’ken stood at the door watching for a moment as Jim quickly moved to Spock’s prone body, checking his condition. T’ken laughed and made adjustments to the force field.
“I will see you again soon, Captain. My guards thank you for sharing.” He turned on his heel and Jim could hear his footsteps retreating down the hall.
He knelt beside Spock and eased him onto his side. He was breathing heavily, a catch in his chest. Other than some bruises and lacerations, he couldn’t see any other injuries but was unwilling to remove Spock’s jacket, now stiff with blood, to assess him further. His normally warm skin was ice cold and his heart rate, as best as Jim could tell without a tricorder, was elevated. He was in shock, that much Jim knew.
“Spock. Spock! Wake up! Open your eyes!” Jim laid his hand against his cheek, willing him to consciousness. Spock shook his head and struggled to open his eyes.
“Jim. Are you well?” Spock’s voice was hoarse and rough but Jim had never been so happy to hear it. He smiled down at his First Officer.
“Better than you, I think.”
“Indeed.” Spock’s eyes drifted closed for a moment then snapped open. “Jim, we are being held for a consortium, Orions and Romulans, I believe.” He closed his eyes again and curled into a bout of coughing that rocked his body.
Jim grabbed his shoulders, holding him steady until the coughing fit passed.
“I know, they want Star Fleet communication codes. They have something big planned sector wide and want Star Fleet bind, deaf and dumb.”
“Logical, but quite inconvenient for us.”
“Yes, according to our captors, even if we don’t provide them with the codes, we have a certain value as entertainment.”
“Ah. Jim, is it getting colder in here?”
Jim looked around. It was getting noticeably cooler, the temperature dropping quickly. Spock shivered convulsively so Jim stripped off his tunic. He wrapped his jacket around Spock’s shaking shoulders and looked around the room. He stood and piled up the two rubber mats next to the wall and carefully lifted Spock, depositing him on them. He ignored Spock’s whispered protest and lay down beside him, his warm body a barrier to the seeping cold.
Spock seemed to be drifting into unconsciousness, so Jim prodded him. “Spock, what happened? When the guards took you.” He hated to ask, but he had to know and he had to keep him awake.
“Nothing.” Spock slurred, as if speaking was too difficult.
“No. Not nothing. Tell me, that’s an order.”
Spock sighed. “Not what they attempted to convince you happened. I assure you, Captain, all they did was beat me. They did no permanent damage.”
Jim sighed with relief.