He hadn't always hunted the screams lurking under hevam flesh. But this one had a real talent for making it enjoyable. Ayel covered Kirk with his back as he leaned in. Had to keep Kirk alive despite himself.
If not, they would never get the codes. Spock would be lost to them, to Nero. Narada--their beautiful, hungry ship--would never get to taste the Enterprise. And Ayel would never get home.
He'd wanted to tell Nero, in his own time and way, in a moment when the captain was here with him. Maybe when they were close. He could have brought it up gently, a little at a time, until home and past-home seemed almost alike.
Couldn't do that now. Kirk had done it for him, and this was the result.
Pain sparked at him as he threaded his hand in Kirk's, and when he bent it flat again, to get at the pointer finger, it was so sharp that he gasped.
...Oh.
Oh, Fire and Water, it couldn't be. Not Air's curse, not here, not now. The Thaessu called it a gift, but they were fools. It was no gift to undo his mind by making him share another's
( ... )
The sound couldn't be held back. The cry bubbled out of Kirk's throat and gargled on his tongue, messy and pained. His whole body shuddered with it, three fingers bent at unnatural angles as the other hand clenched into a tight fist. They were going to destroy his hands. Fuck it hurt it hurt, his eyes squeezing shut as he just tried to catch his breath from the pain knocking it out of him.
His breathing was fast, a panting, like he had run a mile. His eyes very slowly opened and lifted to stare at Ayel. "C...Could you..." His teeth were chattering, but he ignored it, gaze glazed and hot. "Ever b-betray him?" A jerk of his eyes only towards Nero.
His arm was shaking, all the way to the shoulder, and it wouldn't stop. The pain was incredible.
He'd wanted that sound so badly, that low strangled gargle of suffering, but it tasted bitter. And he dared not let go. Not now. Not with Kirk asking him that.
Dhat, patned pra krsh, arhem hwiua kinaen...Heis'he--wrong place, wrong time for that thought. He pushed it away; it could be dangerous for all of them. The Standard was easier to get through his teeth: "I can't. I won't."
He shuddered and turned his head, his throat raw from an outcry that wasn't his. "He'll tell us nothing, rekkhai. Yet."
(Dhat, patned pra krsh, arhem hwiua kinaen...Heis'he - No, never, I took [an] oath [to] my love; rekkhai - sir.)
"...As much as... you can't betray him... can't.. betray my crew." Kirk stared at Ayel, their eyes locked together. Why did Ayel sound like he was in pain, like this was hurting him just as much? The thoughts just would not come together enough to give him a logical conclusion to come.
George stirred at the noise around him, still mumbling his name rank and serial number as he came concious. He felt a little less like a horde of bees was swarming under his skin, but the cuts almost hurt worse now.
Nero's eyes narrowed in the darkness, the light was too hot and this room refused to smell like the breeze. He took a long breath and craned his neck. He could not see Kirk through Ayel's shoulder, through the flinch in his voice. His vision drifted across the lines in the light and landed on the half-present George.
The hate in his stomach coiled, twisted into his hands, and something in his mind recognized the danger of it. Something sweet and copper pulled him back by his neck. His expression slackened and the set of his shoulders became solid.
"Ihllu." He turned halfway to Ayel. His motion came to a slow halt and he reached out to the crate they'd adopted as a table. His knife glinted at him, tempted him, but he passed it over and removed a vial of the sedative and the Klivam medical spray. The empty vial clattered to the ground with a distant crack as he cast it aside. The new container breached with a hiss and he stared at the black slurry, shifting in the light like liquid space
( ... )
Bones, I will never complain about your hypoing ever again.
It fucking hurt when Nero jammed that thing into the soft flesh of his arm which had regained more feeling then he wished in that arm. Whatever he had pumped into him felt like ice flowing into his veins. Burning with the cold, and within seconds, stealing away his thoughts.
Fuck, sedative... shit... shit... He needed that ability, to think, to think how to get out of this...
He glared death at Nero, but gave a different look entirely to Ayel. The sedative was making the pain seem very, very far away.
Yes. That was good. He wasn't sure he could finish the hand and keep his calm.
When he let go, his fingers were his own again. He breathed out and looked at the floor, testing them. They were his, and whole, and no one else's. He didn't feel the needle and pretended not to remember the sound of the syringe.
James' gaze slipped across him, broad and blue, wide with some feeling he didn't want to understand, and he turned away.
"Ssuaj-ha." He fell in step just behind and beside Nero.
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If not, they would never get the codes. Spock would be lost to them, to Nero. Narada--their beautiful, hungry ship--would never get to taste the Enterprise. And Ayel would never get home.
He'd wanted to tell Nero, in his own time and way, in a moment when the captain was here with him. Maybe when they were close. He could have brought it up gently, a little at a time, until home and past-home seemed almost alike.
Couldn't do that now. Kirk had done it for him, and this was the result.
Pain sparked at him as he threaded his hand in Kirk's, and when he bent it flat again, to get at the pointer finger, it was so sharp that he gasped.
...Oh.
Oh, Fire and Water, it couldn't be. Not Air's curse, not here, not now. The Thaessu called it a gift, but they were fools. It was no gift to undo his mind by making him share another's ( ... )
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His breathing was fast, a panting, like he had run a mile. His eyes very slowly opened and lifted to stare at Ayel. "C...Could you..." His teeth were chattering, but he ignored it, gaze glazed and hot. "Ever b-betray him?" A jerk of his eyes only towards Nero.
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He'd wanted that sound so badly, that low strangled gargle of suffering, but it tasted bitter. And he dared not let go. Not now. Not with Kirk asking him that.
Dhat, patned pra krsh, arhem hwiua kinaen...Heis'he--wrong place, wrong time for that thought. He pushed it away; it could be dangerous for all of them. The Standard was easier to get through his teeth: "I can't. I won't."
He shuddered and turned his head, his throat raw from an outcry that wasn't his. "He'll tell us nothing, rekkhai. Yet."
(Dhat, patned pra krsh, arhem hwiua kinaen...Heis'he - No, never, I took [an] oath [to] my love; rekkhai - sir.)
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The hate in his stomach coiled, twisted into his hands, and something in his mind recognized the danger of it. Something sweet and copper pulled him back by his neck. His expression slackened and the set of his shoulders became solid.
"Ihllu." He turned halfway to Ayel. His motion came to a slow halt and he reached out to the crate they'd adopted as a table. His knife glinted at him, tempted him, but he passed it over and removed a vial of the sedative and the Klivam medical spray. The empty vial clattered to the ground with a distant crack as he cast it aside. The new container breached with a hiss and he stared at the black slurry, shifting in the light like liquid space ( ... )
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It fucking hurt when Nero jammed that thing into the soft flesh of his arm which had regained more feeling then he wished in that arm. Whatever he had pumped into him felt like ice flowing into his veins. Burning with the cold, and within seconds, stealing away his thoughts.
Fuck, sedative... shit... shit... He needed that ability, to think, to think how to get out of this...
He glared death at Nero, but gave a different look entirely to Ayel. The sedative was making the pain seem very, very far away.
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Yes. That was good. He wasn't sure he could finish the hand and keep his calm.
When he let go, his fingers were his own again. He breathed out and looked at the floor, testing them. They were his, and whole, and no one else's. He didn't feel the needle and pretended not to remember the sound of the syringe.
James' gaze slipped across him, broad and blue, wide with some feeling he didn't want to understand, and he turned away.
"Ssuaj-ha." He fell in step just behind and beside Nero.
He was mostly able to breathe again.
(Ihllu - that's enough; that's sufficient; Ssuaj-ha - understood [subordinate-to-superior mode])
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