Brutal Secrets
By Hanakin
Chapter 1
Hey y'all! It's me, Hanakin, with another wonderful tale about Spock and Chris. Hope you like!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, nor do I own Paramount. Nor do I own a butter-covered bald monkey, but that's another story......
Christine Chapel screamed helplessly as pain coursed through every fiber of her body, tears streaming down her face through her closed eyes. The Romulan at her back continued mercilessly to amplify the throbbing sensation flowing through her veins. After what seemed like an eternity, the agony slowly faded, and Chris tenderly opened her eyes to glare at her captor with burning disgust.
He looks so much like Spock, she thought. That had been the first thing she had noticed. Same slanted eyebrows, same pointed ears, same chocolate-brown eyes, same lanky frame. But, unlike Spock, his eyes had a cruel glint in them, and his thin lips were curled into an evil smirk. He was nothing like Spock.
The Romulan commander, called Stovran by his subordinates, waited anxiously for her to break down, beg for mercy, and tell him the information he was after. Instead, she sat, glaring hatefully at him, and bit her lip to keep more tears from spilling over. Every part of her body ached with remnants of the terrible pain. When Stovran realized that she wasn't going to talk, he sighed, annoyed, and waved a hand toward the two guards, who unlatched Christine's wrists and ankles from the torture device she was attached to, and dragged her roughly back to the cell she and Spock shared.
She waited until the guards had disappeared behind the translucent forcefield before tears flooded her eyes. She lay vulnerable on the floor of the tiny cell, sobbing. Spock watched impassively from the other side, and at that moment, she hated him. Damn him! Why must he be so damned logical and emotionless? She lifted her aching head from the floor, glaring fiercely at him as he watched her from his little corner. Their eyes locked for just a moment, and Christine could see the sadness in his eyes. She attempted to rise to her hands and knees, but her elbows and legs wobbled so violently that she collapsed back onto the ground.
She didn't know how long she had been lying there, listening to the rhythmic humming of the forcefield that surrounded the two of them. It seemed like forever, but she figured it was only a few hours. She thought back on the events of the past day, trying to remember how again she had gotten into this mess.
*********************************FLASHBACK**********************************
It had started just like any other day, but don't they always? She had reported to sickbay at 0700 hours, and found a cranky McCoy waiting for her. McCoy had never been a morning person, even in space. Only After downing his fourth cup of coffee did he resemble a human, and even then it was a stretch.
When she had first begun serving under McCoy, his gruff attitude and skeptical nature had been difficult to deal with, and they hadn't got along very well. Over time, though, they'd become pretty good friends, and McCoy had even realized, rather reluctantly, that Christine was nearly his equal in medical proficiency. He'd even given up his position on half the landing party missions, because, in his words, "you need all the experience you can get, if you wanna be a doctor."
The Enterprise was orbiting Spacestation 12, and a landing party had been preparing to beam down. They had received a message from Commodore Grijalva, the leader aboard the spacestation, that an unknown enemy was attacking the station. Kirk, fearing the worst, had raced over at top speed, and had found his fears confirmed. The spacestation was in pretty bad shape: its surface was peppered with score marks, and a huge, gaping hole was blown into one side.
Both McCoy and Christine had been assigned to this mission, along with Lts. Uhura and Sulu, Spock, and Captain Kirk. All six stood unsettled on the transporter pads, reluctant to face the wreckage that lay before them. They all knew that survivors of this vicious holocaust would be few and far between.
Chris closed her eyes as she felt her body being taken apart molecule by molecule. Never one for intraspace travel, she sighed in relief when she felt her feet again on solid ground. She heard a similar sigh to her right, and knew McCoy was glad as well. Must be our medical training, she mused. Knowing how the body worked gathered a whole new sense of appreciation for it, and gave a person enough sense not to go running off on dangerous ventures without good reason.
Chris opened her eyes and looked around. She cringed involuntarily at the awful sight before them. Bodies were strewn haphazardly across the shattered room, many of which were still. Suddenly one moved slightly, groaning in pain, and Chris raced over to attempt to salvage some small part of the poor man's life. He stared, openmouthed, into her eyes, hideous burns spread across most of his face and body. Tears stung Christine's eyes. He couldn't have been more than twenty.
"They destroyed the station," He rasped with much difficulty. "Killed innocent." He coughed weakly, and Chris tried to shush him, to keep him from injuring himself more.
"Damn Ro-," hoarse coughs again racked his body. "Rom-" He never finished his sentence, and his body went slack in Christine's arms. She muttered a few choice words, then gritted her teeth and gently placed the dead man's body on the ground. She hoped that whoever had done this to these poor people hadn't stuck around for more.
How wrong she was.
By Hanakin
Chapter 1
Hey y'all! It's me, Hanakin, with another wonderful tale about Spock and Chris. Hope you like!!
Disclaimer: I don't own Star Trek, nor do I own Paramount. Nor do I own a butter-covered bald monkey, but that's another story......
Christine Chapel screamed helplessly as pain coursed through every fiber of her body, tears streaming down her face through her closed eyes. The Romulan at her back continued mercilessly to amplify the throbbing sensation flowing through her veins. After what seemed like an eternity, the agony slowly faded, and Chris tenderly opened her eyes to glare at her captor with burning disgust.
He looks so much like Spock, she thought. That had been the first thing she had noticed. Same slanted eyebrows, same pointed ears, same chocolate-brown eyes, same lanky frame. But, unlike Spock, his eyes had a cruel glint in them, and his thin lips were curled into an evil smirk. He was nothing like Spock.
The Romulan commander, called Stovran by his subordinates, waited anxiously for her to break down, beg for mercy, and tell him the information he was after. Instead, she sat, glaring hatefully at him, and bit her lip to keep more tears from spilling over. Every part of her body ached with remnants of the terrible pain. When Stovran realized that she wasn't going to talk, he sighed, annoyed, and waved a hand toward the two guards, who unlatched Christine's wrists and ankles from the torture device she was attached to, and dragged her roughly back to the cell she and Spock shared.
She waited until the guards had disappeared behind the translucent forcefield before tears flooded her eyes. She lay vulnerable on the floor of the tiny cell, sobbing. Spock watched impassively from the other side, and at that moment, she hated him. Damn him! Why must he be so damned logical and emotionless? She lifted her aching head from the floor, glaring fiercely at him as he watched her from his little corner. Their eyes locked for just a moment, and Christine could see the sadness in his eyes. She attempted to rise to her hands and knees, but her elbows and legs wobbled so violently that she collapsed back onto the ground.
She didn't know how long she had been lying there, listening to the rhythmic humming of the forcefield that surrounded the two of them. It seemed like forever, but she figured it was only a few hours. She thought back on the events of the past day, trying to remember how again she had gotten into this mess.
*********************************FLASHBACK**********************************
It had started just like any other day, but don't they always? She had reported to sickbay at 0700 hours, and found a cranky McCoy waiting for her. McCoy had never been a morning person, even in space. Only After downing his fourth cup of coffee did he resemble a human, and even then it was a stretch.
When she had first begun serving under McCoy, his gruff attitude and skeptical nature had been difficult to deal with, and they hadn't got along very well. Over time, though, they'd become pretty good friends, and McCoy had even realized, rather reluctantly, that Christine was nearly his equal in medical proficiency. He'd even given up his position on half the landing party missions, because, in his words, "you need all the experience you can get, if you wanna be a doctor."
The Enterprise was orbiting Spacestation 12, and a landing party had been preparing to beam down. They had received a message from Commodore Grijalva, the leader aboard the spacestation, that an unknown enemy was attacking the station. Kirk, fearing the worst, had raced over at top speed, and had found his fears confirmed. The spacestation was in pretty bad shape: its surface was peppered with score marks, and a huge, gaping hole was blown into one side.
Both McCoy and Christine had been assigned to this mission, along with Lts. Uhura and Sulu, Spock, and Captain Kirk. All six stood unsettled on the transporter pads, reluctant to face the wreckage that lay before them. They all knew that survivors of this vicious holocaust would be few and far between.
Chris closed her eyes as she felt her body being taken apart molecule by molecule. Never one for intraspace travel, she sighed in relief when she felt her feet again on solid ground. She heard a similar sigh to her right, and knew McCoy was glad as well. Must be our medical training, she mused. Knowing how the body worked gathered a whole new sense of appreciation for it, and gave a person enough sense not to go running off on dangerous ventures without good reason.
Chris opened her eyes and looked around. She cringed involuntarily at the awful sight before them. Bodies were strewn haphazardly across the shattered room, many of which were still. Suddenly one moved slightly, groaning in pain, and Chris raced over to attempt to salvage some small part of the poor man's life. He stared, openmouthed, into her eyes, hideous burns spread across most of his face and body. Tears stung Christine's eyes. He couldn't have been more than twenty.
"They destroyed the station," He rasped with much difficulty. "Killed innocent." He coughed weakly, and Chris tried to shush him, to keep him from injuring himself more.
"Damn Ro-," hoarse coughs again racked his body. "Rom-" He never finished his sentence, and his body went slack in Christine's arms. She muttered a few choice words, then gritted her teeth and gently placed the dead man's body on the ground. She hoped that whoever had done this to these poor people hadn't stuck around for more.
How wrong she was.