Hellcat by Djinn
Christine heard the comm system going off over the dueling snores of her husbands. She crawled over Jim and got to the comm, "Yes?"
"Private channel for the captain from Admiral Nogura," the comms officer on duty said.
"Hold on, I'll get him."
Getting him consisted of waking him up, and then being shunted into the bathroom with Spock so Jim could take the call in private.
She thought it likely that Spock could hear every word that was being said. Not that he'd tell her if he was—and he had his best "I am doing nothing wrong at all" face on. She leaned up against him and he put his arms around her, nuzzling silently—confirming her suspicion that he was listening.
Then again, it was possible he just didn't want "hearty morning sex" noises coming out of the bathroom when Jim was on the comm with his boss. Was it even morning yet? Christine felt way too tired for it to be time to get up, and she'd been in such a rush to get to the comm terminal, she hadn't looked at the chrono.
"What time is it?" It was a rare day that Spock was too distracted to notice how much time they had to play before getting up.
"We have four more hours to sleep. Unless this is a crisis in which—"
She kissed him to shut him up. He tended to revert back to "State the Obvious" Spock when he'd been woken abruptly—especially after being worn out the night before by two amorous spouses.
She knew the Pon Farr was still on all their minds. That they'd almost lost each other. That they, in the end, had chosen to make it work. But that it hadn't been a given. That things did—and might again—get hard.
But they also were choosing love. And not worrying about who was with whom. They were a unit. And she loved that. She felt that they'd come out the other side stronger. Not forgetting was just prudent, because forgetting was the way to become complacent and risk that happening again.
"You are exhausted," Spock said softly.
"I'm really tired. Too much sex." She laughed quietly, pulling him back to her.
He seemed content to kiss her and made small moans as she moved her hands over places he loved to be touched. Maybe he wasn't eavesdropping?
The bathroom door opened and Jim said, "You can come back to bed. Although you look very pretty doing that so I'm a little torn." He yawned. "Actually, I'm not. Come back to bed, I'm beat."
"You do not have to attend to whatever the Admiral wanted?" Spock asked.
"Course change. Maxwell has it under control on the bridge. I'll brief you in due time."
Spock frowned slightly.
Christine knew that when Jim pulled out the "Sorry, can't tell you" voice, it was usually something not very nice they were headed into—and often classified.
"It may be nothing, Spock. We'll know more tomorrow. Now come on, our bed is calling." He left them in the bathroom and was already in bed when they walked out.
She let Spock have the middle this time; as much as she loved being back in the big bed with both her men, she was tired of being deafened by the snore-chestra.
##
Saavik sees the commandant and returns the strange little smile he always gives her. She is not afraid to play on the warmth she has parlayed into favors, into survival. But she enjoys it, too. He treats no other child this way. "Little Cat, it is time to say goodbye."
"Are we leaving?"
"I am. You are not. You will stay here."
She turns and sees the Romulans are packing their belongings into shuttles. What they cannot easily carry, they are destroying. "But...we are your children." In fact, she is his child, even if he has never told her that. Her mother did, spit it at her one day when Saavik came in bruised from a fight—a fight she had won because he had taught her how to.
He sighs. "You are our bastards. Our...experiments. There is a difference." But the way he ruffles his hand through her hair belies his tone, and his voice almost breaks.
"Take me with you. Take me home," she whispers.
"You have no home, Little Cat. The day you realize that is the day you will be truly free." He hands her his dagger. "Fight well with this. The food stores we are leaving for you are extremely limited." His expression changes. "At least there will be no adults to take them from you. Romulans leave no prisoners, but we also do not kill our own, even if you have no place with us."
She looks around and realizes all she sees are children. "But... There were so many adults."
"A Vulcan would know exactly how many. You are so Romulan." For a moment, he looks torn, but then he turns away.
"So we will die? Where is the logic in that?"
"Your mother taught you foolishness. Only a few races operate by the tenets of logic, child, and they will not rule the cosmos. It is a pity she did not die before you could soak up her ways."
She barely remembers her mother. A Vulcan. Beautiful. But cold—ashamed of her. She knows her mother taught her the basics of logic because it angered the Romulans, not because she wanted her daughter to be anything like her.
She meets the commandant's eyes and sees so many emotions in them, but she can tell that none will allow him to relent, to take her with him, to keep her safe.
She has always wondered why he taught her to fight. Now she knows. She turns on her heel and does not say goodbye.
But she fights tears as she hears him say it in their shared tongue.
##
Christine found Jim in their quarters, studying a padd. "Len said you wanted to see me."
He held his hand out to her, pulling her close and leaning his head on her hip.
"Orders you don't like?" she asked softly.
"More like orders to a place Spock is going to find hard to bear." He handed her the padd.
She read quickly: Romulans experimenting with captured Vulcans, a ten-year eugenics program of some kind, but no adults left, just children. Children who didn't read, didn't write, had spent their entire lives fighting for survival in some kind of Darwinian society. "How could they do this? It's..."
"Unspeakable. Yes." He took the padd and pulled her into his lap, but it was clear he was interested in closeness, not sex. "God knows what they had to do—what they've seen?"
"Does it remind you of Tarsus IV?"
He looked up, surprise clear on his face. Did he think she wouldn't understand? Finally, he nodded.
"I'm sorry, Jim. But we'll do right by them. Their lives will improve, right? A hard road, after all they've been through, but ultimately a healthier one. And happier, if they're allowed to feel that."
"Spock feels."
"I know. But he's always gone his own way."
"Do you think Sarek doesn't love Amanda? Isn't happy with her?"
She kissed him gently. "He married a human. I'm not sure we married into a typical family."
"Good point. They won't want to talk." His expression darkened; he was obviously referring to the kids again, not their in-laws. " You want to forget after horrible things. You want to move on. But you have to face things to move on." He studied her. "You have to face what you did to survive."
"I've never been in that position. I'm sorry." She stroked his cheek gently. "Other than Thule. But that's not the same thing. No one was hunting us, other than the elements. And we all had each other. And look where we ended up." She kissed him as tenderly as she could.
When they eased away, she could tell the sharing was over. His face was the captain again, not her husband.
She eased off his lap. "So what next?"
"Spock has been talking to his father all morning. Making plans for the children."
"How could the Romulans leave them to die? They're half Romulan."
"I don't know."
The door opened and Spock came in.
"I've read her in," Jim said.
Spock nodded, as if this was not a surprise. "I believe all is in order. My father is preparing a place for them. They will be evaluated. Those who are healthy enough will be assessed for where and how to integrate them into society."
"What about their families?" Christine asked.
"The Adelphi has sent us the genetic information of the survivors as well as the deceased adults and children, and I have forwarded it to my father but..." He actually sighed, loudly. "There is great shame in this. That so few survived will be seen as perhaps fortunate."
"Fortunate." Jim sounded resigned.
"What about compassion?" She moved closer. "What the hell about taking care of your own?"
"We shall."
"We, Vulcan, you mean? Not we, their families? What? In some kind of institution?"
"It will be up to each family to decide what is right for them. We cannot force them to welcome these children into their lives."
She started to say something, but Jim said, "Christine, this is hard enough for him." He stood. "And we'll be there in three hours. We need to be united, not fighting."
"Indeed, Jim."
She glared at both of them. "They're just children. Children who possibly killed other children just to survive."
"Yes. That makes them potentially quite dangerous." Spock's look was more tender than she expected given how she was insulting his society. "You must not let down your guard until we have assessed them." He turned to Jim. "Mister Chekov and I have configured one of the auxiliary sickbays into a temporary dormitory. With maximum security protocols."
"You think they'll try to take over the ship?" She almost laughed at the idea.
"Christine, they may have been trained to do exactly that. You must not view them as children, but as potential Romulan agents. We cannot discount that possibility until we know they have not been raised to infiltrate the Federation."
"This is insane." She pushed his hand away as he tried to lay it on her shoulder. To what? Calm her down? "I'm going to sickbay. Where I assume we still heal people no matter who they might be."
"Leonard is already working on the issue."
She cocked her head. "And didn't tell me."
Jim stood, clearly tired of her attitude. "I'm telling you now. This is sensitive beyond just Vulcan feelings about the status of these kids. If this is a plot, Starfleet Intelligence will want the knowledge of it contained. I'm only allowed to read in select personnel. So now that you're in the know, go help Bones." He sounded tired. Like he didn't want to be her captain, wanted to go back to holding her. But then he turned and motioned for Spock to follow, "So tell me what I need to know."
The door closed behind them and she tried to kick away the feeling of being left out, which was stupid. They did this; they worked closely together. More closely than either of them did with her.
So she took a moment to try to find the logic she knew she was capable of and went back to sickbay, not surprised when Len motioned her into the office. "You seem ticked off. I gather Jim read you in?"
"He did." She sat and studied him. "They're going to be prisoners on the ship, Len."
"I know, hon. Let's do our part to get them viewed as children, not spies."
She helped him prep the exam kits to take down to the makeshift dormitory. The other doctor and nurses on duty didn't ask questions, just started to help them when they saw what they were doing.
When they finished, she and Len sat in his office, waiting for the ship to establish orbit around a hell world.
##
Saavik watches the crew from the small ship herding children from one shelter to another. She knows the ship is called Adelphi because she heard the crew introduce themselves as she was fleeing, but they were not speaking Romulan, and there was an echo of another language under the Romulan, as if their voices were being translated as they spoke.
One of them is scanning and points to where she is hiding, so she ducks back, against the hills that contain some kind of metal that confuses sensors.
The ship landed two days ago. The small crew have not only been treating and feeding the surviving children but putting the bodies of the dead in some kind of bags. Then they began digging up the remains.
Her mother is there. Saavik feels very little about that.
She does not trust the people in the ship. She does not like the way they keep the survivors confined, weapons out, some kind of clear barrier transforming the shelters into cages.
She was lucky to get away. But not surprised that the other children probably told the men to look for her. She has the knife, after all. An advantage over all of them.
She is in the best health, has the fattest belly—although she knows that will change the longer she hides. There is nothing to eat but the little remaining of what the commandant left them, and now what the men in the ship provide. Both of which are kept far from her.
She is thirsty, too. The stream that feeds the settlement is blocked by the men and their shelters, and it is too long a walk to any others—if there are an others nearby. She grabbed a full water carrier on her way out of the settlement when she heard the ships, but it has only a few sips left.
She is not sure why she fled. The children do not appear to be suffering under the hands of the men in the ship: they are simply confined. But something in her said to run, so she listened. It is how she has survived so far. Relying on herself, on her own wits, on the intuition the commandant used to tell her to cherish since it would keep her alive when logic failed.
It is this instinct that keeps her hungry and thirsty; logic would dictate that she join the rest of the children.
But even hungry and thirsty, she is free and she wants to stay that way.
It may well mean she will die alone in this wasteland, but at least something will have finally been her choice.
##
Christine and Len accompanied Jim and Spock to the surface, relieving the crew of the Adelphi after being briefed on the current situation.
Spock examined the remaining Romulan tech, all destroyed, no doubt beyond any means to get the information back.
She crouched down next to him. "Anything?"
He shook his head. "They were quite thorough." He turned to the head of the scout team. "Have the children shown any sign of revolt?"
"No, but they're extremely weak. No one but us has come to the planet since they were abandoned with minimal stores. They say there's an older child out there"—he gestured toward the bare mountains that rose up beyond the camp—"who the commandant gave special favor to."
"A concubine?"
"I don't think so, sir. She's only ten. But she's a wily one. And armed with a dagger, from what the kids told us. We catch her biosigns every now and then, but then she gets closer to the mountains and the jivanium screws with our sensors." He turned to Jim. "We appreciate you taking them home, sir. We don't have room."
"Understood. I've got security men beaming down in a few minutes. You'll be clear to leave once they get here."
"Aye, sir. It's..." The man swallowed hard. "It's horrible. What's happened here." He turned and headed back to the shelters, as if talking about it was just too difficult.
Christine surveyed the body bags laid out, the smaller bins that would hold less complete remains. "So many."
Jim's eyes were hard as he followed her gaze, and she knew he was back on Tarsus IV for a moment, then he turned as Spock started to head out toward the mountain. "Spock, wait for security."
"It is better that I do this alone, Jim."
"Why?"
Spock turned, his eyebrow going up. "Because I can reach her."
"And you know this how?"
"I just do. Perhaps, I have been spending too much time with you?" His words were playful, but his expression wasn't.
"Maybe so." Jim sighed and pulled out his communicator. "Kirk to Chekov, we're ready for you down here."
"Aye, sir. Beaming now." A moment later he appeared with a contingent of security officers. He turned to watch Spock striding toward the mountains. "Do you want some of my men to go with him?"
"Send two. But tell them to keep well back unless Spock needs them. He thinks he's better suited to get this done. She's a ten-year-old child but she's got a knife and you should consider her dangerous.
"Understood, sir." Chekov motioned two officers forward and after a few words, sent them to tail Spock.
"All right, Bones," Jim said. "Let's see what we've got."
She tried not to bristle. She was his wife, not his CMO—he was going to look to Len first.
But then he looked back and made the little smile of "I know you're here, too," and she felt stupid and overly sensitive.
She glanced back to where she'd last seen Spock; he was out of sight. He could handle a ten-year-old. He was strong and smart and suspicious of her—possibly more so than humans would be. He'd be fine.
Meanwhile, there were children who weren't fine. She hurried to catch up to Len and Jim, steeling herself for what they were going to find in the shelters.
##
Saavik can tell someone is behind her, even if there should be no way to track her when she is this close to the mountains. She climbs up, because it has been her experience that few fail to consider that danger may come from above, and she waits.
He strides into view. A Vulcan?
"I am not here to hurt you," he says in Vulcan, but she somehow hears it as Romulan, too.
She answers back in Vulcan. "I do not believe you."
This time, when he answers, there is no echo in Romulan. "I presume you have little reason to." He looks up, his eyes scanning the ridge she is on. "I used to enjoy climbing. My father never looked up."
Does he know she is missing the commandant? Is that why he mentions his father? She will not show him that it hurts. "Some kind of game?"
"No, generally I was attempting to avoid him." He moves closer. "My name is Spock. I am part of Starfleet. Of the Federation. Do you know what those are?"
"No." She moves closer so she can study him. "I am Romulan."
"You are half Romulan, if I understand the purpose of this planet correctly."
"My Vulcan mother made it clear that half-breeds are abominations."
"I am half human. Not all who have mixed blood are seen as bad."
"So she was wrong?"
"She was forced to have you. That is what is abomination—the lack of consent—not you as an individual."
"Small comfort."
"Yes, I suppose that is true." He moves closer.
She pulls her knife out. He is almost under her. As he comes fatally close, she launches, stabbing down, aiming for the gut but only hitting the shoulder because he moves too fast—she is used to underfed adults, who are sluggish. He is obviously well fed.
He falls with her but twists, bringing her up under his arm, and she gets ready to elbow him when suddenly she feels his fingers on her neck. She has forgotten this thing Vulcans can do. None had used it in years because the Romulans cut off fingers in punishment, and no touch telepath wanted that.
She has no idea how to fight this attack. Her world goes black before she has to think too long about options.
##
Christine felt the bond ping hard, and saw Jim turn, both of them staring toward where Spock disappeared, their hands reaching up to their right shoulders. She expected her hand to come away bloody, but it didn't.
"Jim, he's injured."
Jim began to head off, but then two security men appeared in the distance, one with a child slung over his shoulder. The other walking behind, clearly ready in case she woke. And Spock was bringing up the rear and holding his shoulder, his hand covered with green.
"Bones, help me with Spock. Christine, assess the child." Jim ran to Spock.
"I don't need a scanner to diagnose that she's a goddamn menace." As Spock came closer, she saw a nasty knife she must have been carrying. "Over here," she motioned to the security officer, then turned to Spock. "Neck pinch?"
He nodded even as Len told him to hold still.
"Let's get some restraints on her. She's obviously an 'act first, ask questions later' kind of girl." She waited for the security officers to get the forcecuffs on her, then began to scan. "Astonishingly healthy, compared to the others. Age about ten."
"She's one of the oldest, then." Len walked over. "Spock says the dagger's Romulan."
"Did she steal it or did someone give it to her?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yeah, it does." She thought about the way favors worked, and scanned to see if this child had been trading her body for advantage, but to her great relief, she found no indication of sexual activity, consensual or non.
Spock walked over, Jim sticking close, watching him as if trying to figure out what he was thinking.
She realized she was having a hard time feeling him, too. After the pain of the stabbing, he'd shut down, probably to spare them, but had not opened back up.
"Revive her," he said, his voice harsher than she was used to.
"Spock, is that wise?" Len held his hand out when Spock pushed forward. "Why not get her up to the ship where we can control her better? The isolation room, for instance, in the auxiliary sickbay is perfect."
Spock seemed torn in a way Christine wasn't used to seeing him. It didn't make sense to her; she would have been in no hurry to get anywhere near the kid again.
"There are other children here, Spock." Jim actually took Spock's elbow, easing him away from the girl and to the tent where the others were being held.
"Color me old fashioned, but I wouldn't be so interested in a child who'd just skewered me as wickedly as this one did Spock." Len met her eyes. "You got any idea what's going on in his head?"
"I guess they connected out there."
"Before or after she tried to kill him."
"No idea." She could tell the girl was starting to come around and reached for the hypo before Len could tell her not to, sending her back into a nice deep sleep. "Don't lecture me."
"I was going to give you a commendation, hon'. Angry half-Vulcans aren't big on my list of favorite things."
He'd seen Spock during that first Pon Farr, and later with Zarabeth, when he'd reverted. And he'd faced down a very angry Spock after their own Pon Farr, when he wouldn't let him see her.
She studied the girl. Pretty but her hair was wild and her skin and clothes were covered with dust. But she'd clean up just fine—on the outside, anyway. God only knew how damaged she was on the inside.
##
Saavik wakes on a bed very different than the cots she is used to. She notices a strange vibration under her feet, then the smell of air that is somehow wrong. She sees the Vulcan she stabbed sitting just outside the doorway of the room she is in, and even though she no longer has her dagger, even though he lifts his hand and says, "Do not," she charges.
A moment later, she is on the ground, shaking herself from the shock of whatever barrier is between them.
"You have never seen a force field? I would have thought the Romulans used them."
She gets up and studies the doorway, easing closer until she can feel the slight tingle, running her hand close enough for the hair on her arm to rise. "The power was unreliable. The same thing in the mountains that defeats sensors interfered at times with the generators."
"Ah." Then he frowns. "But there were no bars."
"There was nowhere to go. And..." She takes a deep breath, remembering and not wanting to. "If you ran, they killed anyone you cared for."
"Were there suicides?"
"At first." She studies him now that the force field no longer fascinates her. "It is easy to kill someone else. Not so easy to kill yourself. Not without weapons. And the Romulans intervened if someone stopped eating or drinking."
"Were there no revolts?"
She imagines the feel of the dagger in her hand—how much safer she felt with it, taller and bigger. "No. There were more Romulans than captives. Not just guards but scientists. Rebellion was inefficient." Her mother told her this once, when Saavik was very young and asked why she did not do anything to free them.
"When the Romulans left, they killed all the adult captives. Why not you?"
"We were Romulans, if only half." She sits on the floor.
"How did you come to have the knife?"
"The commandant gave it to me when he left. I was his favorite." She meets his eyes. Wondering if he will see what she is not saying.
"You were his daughter?"
She nods.
"And yet he left you."
She turns away. "I was an experiment. Not a family member."
"But he left you the knife."
"He was...conflicted." She looks up to see if he is surprised she knows the word. Her mother used it more than once. Never about how she felt, always about how the commandant did.
"What is your name? Mine, if you remember, is Spock."
She sees no reason to hide her name, not when she is clearly his prisoner. "Saavik."
"Is that Romulan?"
"I do not know."
"Did the commandant give it to you?"
She nods.
"What did your mother call you?"
"Nothing." She hopes he sees how little she feels when she says it. Just as little as her mother did. "I meant more to the commandant, and I meant little to him." She pushes herself to her feet in one lithe movement. It is something she practiced, being able to get away fast.
But there is nowhere to go. "Let me out."
"I cannot. Not until I know you are not going to try to hurt anyone."
"I do not know where I am. I can guess that it is a ship. But even if I were to somehow get to the controls, I would not know how to do anything with them." She frowns. "Do you think I do not understand how cooperation gains certain freedoms?"
"I think you fully understand that. Which is why I cannot let you out just yet. Cooperation can be temporary."
"You wish something more permanent for me? Assimilation? Annihilation?" Will he admit it if that is what is ahead for her? "Indoctrination?"
He flinches. Just the smallest bit but she has learned to see that kind of thing. "You think you can fit me into your society? On...Vulcan?"
"You are half Vulcan."
"It is not my dominant half."
"That is not your doing." His eyes are full of something it takes her a long time to realize might be compassion.
"Do not pity me. Vulcans are weak."
"That is your truth. Perhaps I can change it." He gets up. "Do you prefer your food mild or spiced? I will bring you some Vulcan dishes."
She walks to the doorway, careful not to get too close, and looks past him. "Where are the other children?"
"In a different place, but nearby."
"Why am I alone?"
"You are the only one who was armed. And you are the only one who is healthy."
"So I am punished with confinement. You do not trust me."
"As I have said."
She wonders what he thinks her capable of. But, as he turns, she says, "Highly spiced."
"Excellent."
He will have to lower the field to give her the food. Should she try to escape? She was not lying when she said she would have no idea what to do with a ship.
But she is a fast learner.
When he comes back, with two trays, he puts one in a slot in the wall, never opening the field and she feels relief rather than disappointment. She does not know what she would do if she got out.
She is hungry so she eats quickly. She drinks the water he has brought and he refills the bottle for her twice.
The bottle is of a soft material. If she broke it, it would not make a good weapon.
She sees what she thinks is a small smile playing at his lips when she looks up. He knows what she is thinking?
Then a door opens behind him and a woman with dark hair comes in. She stands next to him with her hand on his neck, and he leans into her slightly.
"Jim wanted to know if you're coming to dinner, but I see you're not." She walks to the field. "Hello. My name is Christine." She smiles but it is not a real one. It does not reach her eyes. The commandant taught her to look for this. Her mother never would have—Saavik never saw her smile even once.
"Christine is human," Spock says. "You remember I said I was half human?"
She nods. She remembers. "What is a human like?"
"Emotional," both Christine and Spock say together. Christine laughs softly and her smile becomes genuine. "And very happy that you're free of that place."
Saavik gestures toward the field. "I am not free. I have just been moved to a different cell."
She looks stung. "It's temporary."
"Is not everything?" She can tell the woman does not know how to answer that.
Christine turns, touching Spock again on the arm and murmuring, "Don't stay here all night," and leaves.
"She is your...mate?"
"She is one of them."
She lets an eyebrow go up. "Interesting." It makes him more vulnerable to have so many he cares about. "A Vulcan this time?
"Another human. You will meet him later. Possibly tonight. He is in charge of this ship."
"You have important associations."
"I am second in command."
"Ah. Then it is the woman who has mated for advantage."
He thinks about it. "I think she would not necessarily agree." He almost smiles. "She is a healer."
"You put it that way so I will not equate her with the Romulan doctors who did cruel things to us. I am not so easily manipulated."
"That is because you are very bright."
The commandant always told her that, and suddenly she is not hungry and pushes what is left of her meal away. "I wish to rest."
"Then do so. There is a privacy area behind the screen if you need to relieve yourself. Rest well, Saavik."
She does not answer, just goes to the bed and faces away from him.
He does not take the tray, and it has a fork and spoon on it, so she waits for him to walk away and then retrieves them. They will not make fine weapons, but they can be modified to be useful. But as she lies, unsleeping, the utensils clutched in her hand, they begin to vibrate, then disintegrate into powder. She has no weapons and if she wishes to eat more later, she will have to use her hands.
It is how they ate in the camps. If Spock thinks it will be a hardship, he is very wrong. But it annoys her that he anticipated what she would do. She must not be predictable. Not if she wants to escape.
But escape to where? She feels an emptiness fill her.
It is hard to have hope when one has no home.
##
Christine followed Jim into their quarters after lingering over dinner and possibly having a few too many drinks in the lounge, and was surprised that Spock wasn't in bed already. "I thought he'd be back by now."
"I'll go introduce myself to the girl and rescue our husband." Jim kissed her quickly, then strode off in his best "Captain of the ship" mode.
She sat at her desk, rubbing her neck as she tried to concentrate on the padd, but then she heard the door open and turned, "Wow, that was fast."
Spock raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, it's just—I though it was both of you. Jim went to get you."
"Should you perhaps have some antitox?" Normally he was indulgent about drinking but tonight he sounded annoyed.
"I'm a doctor. I think I'd know if I needed it." Which was stupid. She probably did need it. So did Jim. But they had a nice lusty buzz on and wanted to focus it on Spock. Was that a crime?
"I have been meditating in guest quarters."
"You can't meditate here?"
He gave her a look that clearly said he was going to ignore the question. "You said Jim went to get me...in the children's containment area? I asked you both to give me time alone with her."
His words were a verbal slap and she could feel herself redden, but she was still having trouble feeling anything from him through the bond, which would usually tell her if he was truly annoyed at her or just generally bitchy. She started to ask about it, then chickened out.
He was her husband—and her bondmate. Why the hell couldn't she ask about this? If he was shutting her out, shouldn't she know why?
But one look at him and she knew she wouldn't push it, as he practically glared at her. But that didn't mean she was going to just back down. "Yeah, he went to find you. It is his ship."
Without a word, he turned for the door, so she followed him into the corridor and to the lift. They rode it in silence, until she asked softly, "You wish I'd stayed in our quarters, don't you?"
"I am unsure of the utility of your presence in this instance."
"Wow. Okay." She took a deep breath. "Maybe I just want us to face this as a unit. She's not just your problem."
"Is that what you saw when you looked at her? A problem?"
"That's not what I mean. You know what I mean, damn it." But he was already double-timing it down the corridor toward the auxiliary sickbay and she had to jog to keep up with him.
Jim was standing at the force field, talking to the girl. She could tell he'd taken some antitox by the controlled way he was smiling. "Spock?" He glanced at her, and she gave a little shake of her head in warning.
"I wish I had known you wanted to meet her." Spock sounded more than annoyed—was he angry? Why the hell did it matter that Jim wanted to meet her—on his own fucking ship?
Jim seemed to agree with her assessment. "I thought it was high time I met her. And we didn't need a chaperone, did we, Saavik?"
"No, sir." Her tone was respectful, but her eyes were wary. The kid could clearly read a room.
"I do not think threats are the best method."
Jim looked confused. "Threats?"
"The hierarchy she lived under was all consuming. Do you wish to establish yourself in the same role as the Romulans."
Now Jim looked mad. "Do I wish to—I'm sorry but were they in the habit of bringing her cookies?"
Christine realized the girl was holding a half-eaten ginger snap. "Guys, let's give Saavik some privacy to enjoy those cookies, okay? Because they look really good."
The girl cocked her head, and Christine had the feeling she was being assessed and found wanting for being the peacemaker. Yeah, well, welcome to marriage.
"Guys." She tried to use her doctor voice—the one they generally did not ignore.
And they didn't this time, both finally moving into the corridor. Jim turned on Spock the minute the door was closed. "What the hell, Spock? What did you think I was going to do?"
"I have formulated a strategy for reaching her. But it must not be contam—" He looked down.
"Were you going to say contaminated? By what? A human? Or is it just me you don't trust?"
"Jim, you do not have experience with children."
Christine closed her eyes. She couldn't believe Spock would say that. Not when Jim had no choice in the matter.
"And you do? I'm sorry, is there a part of your life we're missing. Some mystery son or daughter along with your mystery brother?" Jim got closer, the way he did when he was truly angry. "I remember a kid we met on our first mission. Grew up away from normal civilization. Name of Charlie. You recall that? His parents had to take him away for our safety."
"I also remember a child named Miri, who you reformed. All of those children were reformed, as I recall."
"They had parents who cared for them before the sickness came. They weren't raised as science experiments. Neither were the kids with their friendly angel alien. I'm not saying Saavik is one or the other. But you have to be prepared for the possibility that we are dealing with someone like Charlie—someone you can't help. And you seem to be losing perspective on that."
"We don't know which way she should go, and we shouldn't be fighting about it." She looked at Jim, trying to get him to let it go since he seemed the easier to convince. "But you can't shut us out, Spock. Well, maybe you can shut me out on this if you really want to, but not Jim."
"You wish to know what is next for her?" At Jim's nod, Spock said, "I plan to show her the ship. I think it will help her understand the enormity of change that is before her. The possibilities."
"Were you going to ask me if I thought she was ready for that?"
"Keeping her in a cell, Jim, will only reinforce what she already knows. That she is a pawn and that adults will hurt her. Even if they come bearing sweets."
Jim crossed his arm over his chest. "I checked with Len, Spock. You've shown almost no interest in the other kids. Why is this one so special?"
"She is the commandant's child. She had...more latitude than the others. He gave her the dagger so she would survive; she was given affection, trained to survive, to consider his ways, not just Vulcan as the rest of the children seem to gravitate toward. She was made to feel special and now feels...betrayed and abandoned. He left her, left her to deal with the fallout of his actions."
"Are we still talking about Saavik, Spock? Or your brother?"
She looked at Jim startled that he'd bring Sybok up again. But she saw something in Spock's expression that told her he was on to something.
Moving slowly, afraid to do anything to light the powder keg of emotion that suddenly seemed to be surrounding them, she got between them. "Let's go back to our quarters." When neither moved, she said, "Please?"
Spock stalked off first, which she considered a very good sign. She grabbed Jim's hand and pulled him with her, so they could catch up and stand in the lift together, Jim and she smiling at crew who got on and off during the ride. Then the short walk to their space, their sanctuary.
She moved first, pressing against Spock, "Please let us in, Spock. Whatever this is really about, we want to support you."
"I believe you do, Christine." He pulled her to his side, his arm tightly around her, and she suddenly felt like the prize he'd just claimed.
She slipped out of his grip, using a combination of moves she'd been learning from the self-defense trainer. It was one of her ways of getting ready for the next pon farr. She'd never be able to out-muscle them, but there were other ways to get away if things went south like they did the first time.
Spock and Jim were both obviously surprised.
Then she moved to Jim's side. Mainly because he made no move to grab her. "Don't ever do that to me again. I'm not your possession."
The tension in the room ratcheted up, but she didn't care. "Furthermore, why can't I feel you? What's wrong with the bond?" She turned to Jim. "Can you feel him?"
"No." He didn't sound mad, more hurt, when he reached out. "Spock, why are you shutting us out? We want to be here for you."
"I have told you what I need."
She was sick of his attitude, sick of the emptiness that filled where the bond should be, sick of seeing Jim's face register the emotional hits. "What you need? Oh, you mean for us to butt out so our annoying human ways don't fuck up you trying to create a perfect Vulcan out of that poor child."
Spock turned on his heel and walked out.
"And you were doing so well at mediating." Jim rubbed his eyes. "God damn it, Christine. What the hell is wrong with him?"
"I don't know." She walked to the viewscreen, snagging some antitox from her desk on the way—it made her feel sober but it didn't make her feel better. "Jim, you pushed it, and you know you did. Why did you go see her alone?"
"I went looking for him. He wasn't there. She was. I introduced myself. And I brought cookies—that Len approved, by the goddamn way—for all the kids, not just her. Is that a fucking crime now?" He turned away from her and walked into the bathroom.
She knew, if pneumatic doors could slam, theirs would be slamming very hard.
##
Saavik is bored, even with the padds they have given her. Padds with interactive games that she suspects are evaluating her intelligence as she plays.
She hears the door open but does not get up to see if it is Spock. She is not willing to show any eagerness. To give him that much power.
And if it is one of his mates, she does not want to give them that much respect. She is not sure why, but she is causing problems for them. She can read it in the way they stand, the way they talk when they are together. And she can tell by the grudging way the captain told Spock he could take her out.
She wants out. She wants out of this room so badly she could scream. But she suspects screaming would be the worst thing to do if she wants to gain Spock's trust. He is like her mother, wishing to teach her logic. Only his desire seems rooted in emotion, unlike hers, which was rooted in some kind of cultural pride.
She turns and sees it is Christine who has come in. She does not think Christine will take her out so she ignores her and goes back to playing.
"You're a clever girl." Christine's voice is soft. Soft and low and she sits in the chair that is Spock's and studies her.
"These games are assessing my intelligence, are they not?"
"Maybe." She smiles, but it seems to convey something other than happiness.
"Do you like me?"
"I hardly know you, Saavik? Do you like me?"
She shrugs. "You are important to Spock. So I anticipate having to interact with you." It is not smart to antagonize the lovers of the only person who seems to find her pleasing, but she cannot help it. She has been in this room for too long. The air is too cold and too stale, and no one has dropped the barrier. She is fed and watered through a slot, like the animals the Romulans kept to butcher.
Spock has not asked her if she eats animal flesh. She thinks he knows she must have. But every Vulcan meal he brings her is vegetarian. He has told her the reasons not to eat another living creature.
She finds them unconvincing. The strong prey on the weak. It has been the core lesson of her life.
Spock comes in and does not appear surprised to see Christine there. He merely says to Saavik, "Are you ready to see the ship?"
"Yes." She ignores Christine and as soon as it is clear Spock has dropped the force field, goes to the other side of him so she will not have to be near his mate.
If logic and things Vulcan are so important to him, why did he marry humans? This is a mystery she is not sure will be easily solved.
She forgets herself at times during the tour. Marveling at the views, at the tech, at the sheer number of people—so many different species—on the ship.
"We will save the bridge for another day," he says, sounding...sad, and she thinks the captain has not told him she can come up there. She understands that the bridge is a place of command and Spock's other mate does not trust her there.
"Spock, let's get her some ice cream. I don't know a kid who doesn't love it."
He is saying something, when Christine puts her hand on Saavik's shoulder.
She does not stop to think, she grabs Christine's hand and wrenches it in a way that causes a very loud snap.
To her credit, Christine does not cry out very loud. This is surprising.
"Saavik, why did you do that?" Spock seems torn whether to lecture her or tend to his mate.
"I'll just get to sickbay. Don't worry about me, Spock." She glares at Saavik then says, "More Charlie than Miri, I think."
Saavik does not understand the reference but it makes Spock angry, even if he barely shows it.
"Do not touch me again," Saavik says, wanting to defy Christine. To show support for Spock in some way.
"Don't worry, kid. I sure as shit won't."
"Christine, language, please."
"Here's a tip, hon'. Don't tell the lady with the broken wrist to watch her goddamn language." And then she walks away, cradling her hand.
Spock is standing very still. "Did you plan to hurt her?"
"No. People only touched to hurt on Hellguard. It was...instinctual to react."
"Do you regret hurting her?"
She can see it is very important that she says yes. But she does not think he will trust a quick yes. So she considers and finally nods when she realizes she does, to some extent, regret hurting his mate.
He seems to let out breath he was holding and she knows she has said the right thing the right way.
##
Christine sat in sickbay while Len worked on her wrist. "I gotta tell you, Christine. This child is not a fan of yours."
"Not to defend her, but I think it was more out of instinct than malice. I should have known better than to startle her."
"She's a kid. Having to worry that she'll hurt you should not be something that comes up on a normal day. Or even an abnormal one. The other kids—they're far more passive. Pleasant even, if very tentative." He scanned her wrist. "Okay, good as new."
"Thank you."
After her shift, she went back to their quarters, lying on the big bed, thinking about the last time they'd all made love. It felt like such a long time ago.
But it had only been a few days since the little hellion had come into their lives. It was as if Spock was turning off before their eyes.
As if he didn't love them anymore. Which was ridiculous. He'd known this child a hot minute.
She was still lying there when Jim came in barreling in, clearly agitated.
She frowned. "What now?"
"First, is your wrist okay?"
"Of course. Len patched me up. Did Spock tell you she hurt me?" She was surprised he'd admit his precious protégé had fucked up that bad.
"He did." He began to pace so she sat up so she could see his expression better. "He doesn't want it to happen again and obviously she can't stay here. So, when we get the kids to Vulcan, he plans to stay. To mentor her. He's put in for a year off."
Her stomach sank. "A year?"
"I countered with three months. We compromised at six. And...I want you to go with him."
"Jim, no. He needs to stay here. With us. The Vulcans are going to work with all the kids in some institution. That was the plan." A plan she'd had problems with until she met Saavik.
"And they still will. But he plans to take Saavik home. He's already talked to Sarek and Amanda." He sighed, loudly. "Why are we not part of this?"
"Because she hurt me." She closed her eyes in defeat. "Because he won't admit he's wrong. You know how he is. Once he's on a path..." She swallowed hard. "But can't Sarek and Amanda mentor her..."
"You know better than that. He won't stay here. That kid's got him. I don't know how. But she's wrapped him around her fingers." He pulled her to him, nuzzling her neck as he whispered, "I'm afraid, if you don't go with him...if you don't keep him grounded, we'll lose him. I'd go too if I could, but the ship...I just got her back."
"He hasn't asked me to go, Jim."
"And he probably won't. So you'll have to push it."
She started to protest and he shook his head. "You're very good at getting what you want and we both know it." He followed the words with a gentle stroke of her cheek. "You can keep him with us."
"But without you—promise me you'll visit. As often as you can?" She pulled away and forced him to look at her. "Jim, what if he thinks of her as a daughter? If that's the case, we need to, too, or we will lose him."
"I know. I don't really like her, though." He laughed, the slightly helpless laugh that always made her nervous because she was used to him being in control. "Do you?"
"She's not a fan of me as evidenced by my war wounds."
"That's not an answer."
"I guess I'll learn to like her. Or I'll be back here sooner rather than later." She stroked his face gently. "Tell me you don't want me to go."
"Of course I don't want you to go. I lived through this scenario after the Pon Farr. That you'd leave with Spock. That I'd be alone. I still could be. Once Spock has you alone..."
"What's wrong with you? I love you, and have no plans to become just his. And more importantly, he loves you as much as he loves us. He's just...obsessed the same way he was when he was helping Pike. Only this time, we know he's doing it and we'll get out of his way."
"That sounds like you're not going with him."
"I will. I'll just try to be...less of a bitch." She tipped his chin up. "I trust you to know what's best when it comes to him. But I'm also serious that you need to get to Vulcan as often as you can. Am I making myself clear?"
He smiled slowly. "I love you."
"Yeah, I know. That's why you married me." She laughed as he hiked her up onto the dresser. "Oh, sure, turn this into sex. See if I care." But the eager way she was pulling off her clothes gave lie to any thought of her being not in the mood. It just felt good to be touched, to connect.
"I need to get as much of you as I can before you're gone." He traced her cheek as he moved against her.
She threw her head back and rode out the high, but once she could think again, she wondered if he was going to need Spock just as much—and worried that he wasn't going to let himself. That he was going to let that little hellion come between them.
As he leaned against her, breathing hard, she murmured, "Don't shut him out, Jim. He's not leaving you. He's just helping her."
"Semantics." He pushed up, maintaining the connection, so she wrapped her legs around him and pulled him in closer. "Chris, I have these dreams where he left me. Just gone, for no reason that makes sense."
"He didn't leave you. He'll never leave you."
"Before we were lost. Before we were lovers. He...he spoke of a place called Gol. On Vulcan. A place to purge emotions. He spoke of it...longingly, Chris."
She wondered if he realized he was calling her Chris instead of Christine. He never had before. Was he trying to make something that was just theirs? "He's embraced emotions. He's bonded to us. He'd never do that."
"No, he'd never do that now. But what if being on Vulcan with Saavik is appealing? What if he doesn't want to come back?"
"Then we make a long-distance marriage work."
"Where would you be?"
"I'd be on the ship. I still have a career, you know." She started to unwrap her legs but he grabbed them, holding tight. "You want me to say I'd pick you."
"I want someone to pick me, yeah."
"Jim, sweetheart, where is this coming from? He loves you so. Why are you doubting this?"
"I saw how happy he was when he had you to himself after the pon farr—after I hurt you. I saw how happy you looked too, Christine."
"You sent us away." She shook her head, feeling tears coming but not sure why "And you're doing it again now, so don't make me go. He'll come back or he won't, with or without me." She kissed him almost desperately. "I won't have anything to do there. I'll just be in the way."
"You need to go because you're right: she's probably going to be our daughter if he's as smitten as I think he is with her. And she won't be if we're not there—she'll just be his, and this thing that is always between us all." He sighed. "And yes, I get that it has to be all of us, not just you and him. I absolutely need to find any excuse to get near Vulcan." He let go of her legs. "I just...things were so bad after the Pon Farr, but they've been good. They have, right?"
"Yes, they have." She kissed him as sweetly as she could. She wasn't used to seeing him this vulnerable. "And they will be again. I'll make sure of that. I'm your wife, too."
They kissed for a very long time. Then he said, "You need to tell Spock you want to come. He'll balk if he thinks it's my idea." He eased away and did up her uniform before his own. Then he went and poured them both some scotch.
She joined him at the viewscreen, taking the glass. "He'll know once he melds with me that I'm lying."
"Then don't let him meld with you till you're on Vulcan and it's too late for him to say no. He's in full-on Dad mode. He'll do anything to protect her. Even from us."
"He's not Carol."
"He might as well be." He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Letting out bitterness that she thought probably had as much to do with David as with Saavik. Then he held up his glass. "To you winning the little brat over."
"To you not thinking of her as the little brat."
"Oh, that's my nice version." He clinked his glass against hers, his eyes twinkling. "You'll have your hands full. I'll send a bottle with you."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "Nothing says love like parting with your best scotch."
"Amen."