Title: Binding Tithes
Author: Mercurial Maven
Pairings: Spock/Uhura
Characters: Entire Enterprise Crew,
Rating: NC-17/M
Warnings: Contains graphic language and sexuality in later chapters, as well as violence and mentions of alcohol consumption
Spoilers: Starts at the end of the movie and assumes that readers have seen it and thus knows about the tragedy of Vulcan
Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor any characters affiliated with or created by Gene Roddenberry or his development team. There are no profits to be made from the writing of this story. All original characters, however, are distinct property of the Mercurial Maven in all of their incarnations, connotations, faults, failings, and fuck ups.
Summary:The Enterprise has been asked to complete a special mission on behalf of the Earth government, taking them to depths of space and culture they could have never expected. With officials itching for a fight , thousands of human lives at risk, and political systems coming to collapse; what does the future hold for not only Spock and Nyota, but Earth as well?
This 'New Vulcan' wasn't the same. Not in the least. Not with Orion traders bringing illicit goods into dark corners where V'tosh Ka'tur roamed in open air for all to see. No, this planet was not home, nor would it ever be. As much as S'ylik attempted to convince himself that he did not represent the undesirables of his home world, he couldn't help but feel that he only belonged here because all of them had nowhere else to go.
It was this constant inner battle that took him to the seedy pub of Lars, a local Ferengi 'tradesman' turned tavern host, who helped fence merchandise for those who could offer him a sound profit.
"Back again I see." Lars smiled, baring rows of uneven jagged teeth, the tell-tale sign of harried self filing. " For someone who talks so big about the Honor of Vulcan, you certainly fill my pockets with credits."
S'ylik ignored him, unwilling to dignify his accusations with a response. While most of the elders and their 'aristocratic houses' were busy postulating Surak in the main cities, it was he and fellow 'low laborers' who kept the planet's markets thriving with food and needed goods. He was no noble. He didn't sit on the High Council, or attend the Science Academy. He was just a common Vulcan, and even on New Vulcan it did not feel like enough.
As men outnumbered women following the old world's destruction, there was a long list of eligible males waiting to have a chance at mating with one of their own. S'ylik did not bother wasting his time. What kind of genes could a man who turned dirt offer the next generation?
Instead he sat in this socially stained bar, his back rigid and his mind alert. Lars' was known for being a place of 'rough business' and 'highly inappropriate' behavior. It seemed as if, every day, some new gang fight or challenge erupted from the closed, damp, den. S'ylik could disappear in here, or at least try to, before drowning another day of disappointment in a cup of fermented cocoa for the long ride home.
"I'm not adding this to your tab you know. You already owe me 20 credits." Lars sneered, slamming the cup onto the counter. S'ylik raised his eyebrow in question, tilting his head slightly to the side. Lars hands came to rest on the bar as he leaned forward, invading his personal space far more than necessary, and allowing his fetid meat and wine stenched breath to wash over the Vulcan's senses.
"That game." He continued, keeping his voice only slightly above a whisper. "You cheated me in that damned game." The accusation ended in a high pitched hiss, as his eyes swept amongst his patrons to insure that none heard him.
As if a light went off in his memory, S'ylik capitulated. "If you are referring to Va'Asau. I did not cheat you. I am just better at mathematics than you are."
To be fair, the Ferengi stood just as good a chance at winning than the undereducated farmer; especially when there were credits on the line. As much as S'ylik abhorred the idea of wasting money on something as irrational as gambling, when the braggart drunkenly chose Va'Asau, a game most Vulcans played as children it almost seemed stupid not to make an easy 20 credits.
The object was relatively simple, if one knew how to multiply and trip up their partner. One person would pick a number and then 'double' it by squaring or multiplication of two, the next person would then 'double' that number, and it continued, back and forth, until someone finally conceded defeat. Lars had been exceedingly generous with the fermented cocoa that day and longed for the bragging rights of saying he had bested a Vulcan at mathematics and made a tiny profit along the way. He had made a habit of playing with fellow patrons and had even almost won a few rounds. But S'ylik and almost any other Vulcan could tell you; Almost never counts.
Lars soon caved, his mind weary after attempting to double 359567. He was 20 credits poorer and, instead of actually handing the monetary funds over, decided to offer S'ylik a tab instead.
As far as S'ylik could remember, he had only purchased one fermented cocoa on that tab.
"Never mind!" Lars growled, flexing his gnarled hand, "Cocoa is expensive. You know how much my importation costs are?"
At that moment a young girl tripped behind the counter, almost toppling in her haste. Two thick braids cascaded over her shoulders, brushing against the floor as she regained her balance.
"Ilani! You stupid wench!" Lars bellowed, raising his hand as if to strike. The young girl winced for only a second before rising, her arms filled with dishes.
"Larus! Umshulah farr haal eesanhnd!" She motioned angrily at the entrance to the bar-well where, upon further inspection, one could see a rotting piece of wood jutting dangerously high from it's supposed resting place. Dropping the dishes unceremoniously into a large metal wash basin she continued, "Fi surat anhala!" making a slit throat motion with her thumb, she threw her hand up in aggravation and stalked off, the hoots of drunken pub revelers echoing in her departure.
S'ylik, for a moment, seemed perplexed. He was sure his eyes were playing tricks on him or perhaps he had imbibed a bit too much, but a human this far away from Earth could not be a possibility.
"Bah!" Lars grumbled, "It's so hard to find good, exploitable, workers these days. Even when they're slaves." His eyes flicked to the pile of dishes beside him and once again to the annoyed young woman as she wrestled empty cups from brazen customers, questioning her as to whether she was selling more than just ale.
By S'ylik's guess she had to be no taller than 160 meters. She was small, even by humanoid standards, but her arms, taut from another cumbersome load, were muscular and toned.
"Where is she from?" he questioned nonchalantly, lest Lars imagine he had designs on his newly acquired piece of property.
Lars' brow furrowed and his eyes took a mischievous glint. "Earth I think. Somewhere in the desert. So you can bet she cost me a small fortune. It's hard enough to get human slaves, let alone ones slightly acclimated to this brutal heat. She doesn't speak a lick of standard though. It seems like she understands it well enough though. What a waste." His lips curled in disgust. "The Orions promised me a fair deal, a bargain even, and instead I get a whelp who barely listens to me."
Lars rubbed one of his prominent lobes in anguish. "I'd beat her but...well...that's bad for business and if she can't work she's not worth the money I lost to buy her."
If the Earth could miss a single girl one would never know. But humanity slipped further into its own madness, lost in the cascade of new events since the fall of Vulcan, more human beings were merely vanishing, without a trace, and it was beginning to become a problem. What began as a slow trickle, leaked information from outposts and provinces unmonitored by the Earth Government, soon became headline news as more prominent cities' missing persons list grew.
"Back to you Alice." A smartly dressed man closed his laser pointer before turning back to the camera.
"Thanks James. In a shocking development now unfolding in the South Asiatic Allianced Continent, a woman has come forth with another instance of extra-planetary human trafficking. She confesses to selling her two sons to slave traders. The mother of five refused to comment further; stating only that she prayed for the lives of her sons and also that God would forgive her."
Spock raised an eyebrow as the screen went blank. He turned, slowly, to find Uhura behind him; her fist clenching the remote in a death grip as eyes, weary with sadness and anger, glared at the pitch black visage left behind.
"How could anyone do that to their own child? Sell them into slavery and hope that God forgives you?" With an indignant huff, she chucked the remote onto the soft cushions of the chaise by her desk, before sitting haphazardly on the precipice of the coffee table, her head held between her hands. Pounding. Pounding. That was the only way she could describe how her skull felt at that moment.
At the urging of the Earth Government the Enterprise crew found themselves, not taking the much needed vacation they longed for, but instead on a more-or-less secret assignment investigating the growing slave trade's reaches into the Earth population. In a way, Nyota was a bit irate. Slavery had always been a problem in the galaxy. In her conversations with other species, she had heard horror stories about how slaves were treated. How whole generations could be trapped in permanent bondage. How easy it was for a dominating force to crush a population until all that was left were hollow shells of what once was; entire cultures and civilizations turned to nothing but rags and ruin.
It wasn't a problem before, she mused angrily, until humans were being effected. Earth's population continued to grow outlandishly. Even with all of the technological advances, this was no techno-fairytale. People still died every day from starvation, hunger, and violence. Nyota snorted. While she reaped the benefits of how far their society had come, she had her own memories of seeing villages beyond her sheltered existence where mothers held babies in one arm and Projectile Rifles in the other. A constant reminder of human imperfection.
"One can never understand another's motivations Nyota, merely attempt to learn from them." Spock replied. He remained seated, respectful of not only her need to vent, but how wary she was of physical contact when she became riled.
"You know...I could really do without the Buddha bullshit right now." She rose impatiently, took her seat at her desk and tapped a few keys into her PADD before narrowing her eyes.
"I know this entire situation angers you, but we cannot allow our vision to be clouded by our emotions." Spock continued, finally standing and walking towards her. His hands twitched imperceptibly behind his back. "Consider your role to play in closing this chapter of galactic history. In 10 hours we will be embarking for the Orion Sector, a dangerous enough proposition on its own."
"That's for damn sure..." Uhura mumbled, before raising her eyes to meet Spock's. She knew he abhorred these moments, when her temperament got the best of her better judgment. Why did he always have to be the one to rationalize her fear, anger, hatred, and annoyance? She would like to be there for him in much the same capacity that he was, so often, there for her. "Spock..." she let out an exasperated sigh and tilted her head back until it rested over the back of the seat, "I'm sorry."
She looked back at him again, worrying her bottom lip beneath her teeth. "I know, there isn't anything I can do from this position and I know snapping at you won't fix it. I just..." She blinked rapidly, attempting to regain some form of emotional control. Recognizing this as a moment when she would, most likely, need comfort Spock came around the desk and gently pulled her up and into his embrace, resting her head against his chest.
"I do not understand your anger, but I wish to be of assistance in alleviating it." Nyota nodded mutely, fisting her hands into his shirt. Of course he would not understand. Slavery was a part of nearly every society's existence and had been for tens of thousands of years. Constant rage at such situations was illogical. But this mission, this perilous circumstance upon which they had all been thrust, was swallowing her whole and threatening to tear apart the fabric of a reality she envisioned would be so different now that she was in Star Fleet. Once again, reality had other plans.
Spock was right. In 10 hours they would have to depart. The ship had been restocked and fitted with upgraded shields and warp nacelles. The entire crew was pensive and avoided looking their crew members too lengthily in the eye. Even Kirk had decided it was best to dismiss everyone from pre-mission meetings early so that they could rest and prepare for the time ahead.
She didn't protest as Spock led her into her sleeping quarters and began to undress her. She needed a bath and at that thought, she laughed softly and watched under half-lidded eyes as his nimble fingers deftly worked the zippers on her boots.
"May I inquire as to what you find so amusing?" Spock asked, applying light pressure to her stomach to get her to sit down.
"I was just thinking about how much I reek. I don't think I've showered in 2 or 3 days." She crinkled her nose as each boot slid off, as if they had been waiting to do so all day. His hands traveled deftly up her thighs, ghosting under the curves of her knees to rest at her garters. Nyota couldn't help but smirk. She knew thigh highs drove him insane. Though he was too reserved to ever say so vocally, his appreciation was easily noticed in the way he'd snap the tiny straps before dislodging them from the stockings they held up.
All too quickly the sheer hose were rolling down her legs and off her feet, before being neatly placed beside her on the bed.
"I must admit." Spock began, his fingers tracing the delicate hem of the garter belt itself before releasing the hooks at the side. "While I normally find your natural scent to be quite intoxicating. It seems that, at this time you do in fact 'reek'." He allowed a hint of a smile to grace his lips as Uhura shrieked in mock outrage and swatted him on the shoulder. Through bubbling laughter she lifted her hips to allow him to pull the satiny belt out from under her. Deftly pulling her dress over her head, she reached back, unfastened her bra, and shimmied out of his way to stand by the bathroom door.
"You should shower with me. We might not get a chance for awhile." She switched to the ball of one foot and gazed upon him coquettishly. Spock may have been Vulcan, but he was no fool to human female mating signals. He highly doubted he'd be clean for very long.
In two steps he was next to her, reaching up to pull the tie that held her hair in place.. He adored the sight of it tumbling, in a single raven wave, down her shoulders to brush beneath her breasts; as if the gods themselves required her modesty to stop their lustful thoughts. She lifted onto her toes, pressing her lips softly to his before turning on her heels and heading for the shower.
Taking one last look at the chronometer on the wall, he followed her in. As long as they got at least 6 hours of sleep, they would be fine.
End Notes:
Ilani's Language- Is an entirely made of tongue. LOL! It's a poorly cobbled mixture of Arabic and nonsense, that said, she's a character that will never get translations as the clues to her dialogue can generally be found in the following paragraph or how the character she is interacting with responds.
Sylik- More will be learned about S'ylik as the story progresses, but he will be among the 'Lost But Now Reclaimed" of Neo Vulcan, alleged and prosecuted V'tosh Ka'Tur that were called back to the new settlement upon the destruction of Vulcan.
Ferengis on Vulcan? Madness!- I don't think so. Even Vulcans would, logically, recognize that they'd have to account for the appetites and predilections of ALL of their populace if they want any chance at reunification. Aside from that, a closed economy of roughly 10,000 persons attempting to work all aspects of Galactic trade would be...nearly impossible. Some people HAVE to do the muck work and I also think in the chaos of reunification and settlement, a few things would just slip through the cracks.
Humans as Slaves?- Humans are considered evolutionarily backward. While most species have grown rigid in their biology, incapable of adapting to even the slightest change in their environments; human beings adapt, within reason, quite readily. That, combined with our ability to problem solve in unconventional ways, while also able to be controlled with a bare minimum of physical force, makes us a good choice for those on other planets seeking slaves. Lars paying a pretty penny for a human slave would not be so far out of the question.
Reviews and critiques more than welcome! Thanks for reading!
