Chapter Seven: Pain

Pain.

It was his own. Belonging to him in a way he had never experienced before. The pain of a family bond lost, of a marriage bond broken though no bond had existed between them. Spock felt pain with as much intensity as if Jim had been his own, his mate, his bonded and not simply a source of infatuation.

The Enterprise was alive with activity around him as he stood by his station, his eyes fixed only on the main view screen of the ship as they retraced their steps, followed the near invisible warp trail left behind by the Orion ship. Should it hold up, he calculated the odds of finding Jim at approximately sixty five per cent.

The logic of those odds formed a knot within his stomach, a knot he simply could not shake. Captain Pike was a piston of movement on the Bridge, forcing each under his command to work, to think, to achieve. He behaved as though he had lost a son. His eyes, when McCoy had choked out that Jim could be found nowhere aboard the Enterprise had been the eyes of a man who had lost something very dear to him.

Those eyes watched with him now, the human's knuckles pale against the grip he held on the back of his seat, too fraught with nerves to sit, to dwell. The federation had already been contacted, ships already boarded for take off would soon be searching for Jim, for the Orions who had stolen him.

Spock's eyes narrowed, his mind replaying the sudden attack over and over again. Their sudden appearance on the Enterprise had been accidental, that much could be determined from the panic that had sprawled across their faces, their weapons rising a degree slower than reflexes demanded to wreak havoc on the unsuspecting federation ship. Three had been dealt with before they began to attack in full, their panic allowing no room for thought, for reason.

But most had been beamed to safety before they could be captured and they had taken the cadet with them.

Jim's fear plagued Spock's mind, his own shields tainted by it. It was a constant memory that refused to be pushed aside by logic, refused to be hidden and dealt with at an appropriate time. It made him less than logical, his mask the only thing belying the destructive solutions his mind had begun to crop up.

He should have killed them all. He should have destroyed them, mind and body, before they dared lay a hand on Jim.

And though he didn't understand his attachment to a human he had barely begun to know, to a man he had watched and been watched by and yet never understood, Spock was willing to face death if it would only offer him the chance to save Jim. To wipe away the fear that the human had embedded within him, the fear embedded in Jim and to link his mind with him so that Jim would never have to fight against his shields again.

###

He was alone.

Trapped in a room barely wide enough for him to spread his arms and dark enough that he could not see, Jim was entirely alone. There was no gentle fall of active thought against his mind, no pattering that he had come to love that came from the steady thrum of human interaction. There was only stillness, a loneliness emphasised by the oppressive weight of minds that were not human, that did not think like humans, that were cold and infrequent and left him chilled to the core.

His body shook, a constant tremble not from fear but from the cold that seemed to emit from the very walls, enveloping his hot skin and causing such a gentle quake, he had not been aware of it until his teeth had begun to chatter. He had been robbed of his shirt, left in only the soft cotton of his pants and the hair he fixed again and again over his ears, never quite hiding the soft point from view. His forehead felt almost bare without the soft putty he had worn for so many years, his dark eyebrows pulled down over furious and terrified blue eyes.

His left hand was useless, broken somewhere in the centre of his palm so obviously the entirety of the inside of his hand had bloomed a violent shade of dark green, bruised and aching. His fingers curled inwards protectively, the limb clutched to his chest and giving off such maddening pain that, had he eaten recently he would have emptied the contents of his stomach. It was a pain that throbbed in both his hand and his mind, half-blinding him when he moved so much as a finger. Jim had absolutely no doubt that it was only a sense of self-preservation that was preventing him from toppling over and losing himself completely to the pain.

He had no idea how long he had been trapped here, hours if he had woken up just shortly after his imprisonment. Or days if he had not…

The noise that left him when his back pushed against the cold wall for support was a moan so hurt and filled with pain, he never would have thought himself capable of the sound before now. His body seemed undamaged other than his hand, though if the cold remained he wouldn't be able to prevent whatever sickness fell his way. Did Vulcans get sickness from the cold or did they simply die at too low a temperature? He couldn't remember…

Jim heaved a sigh. What did he do now? He could fight anyone that came through that door to his cell, he knew that. Even one-handed a Vulcan stood some chance against the weaker Orion species and if they were tall enough, he'd be glad to punch below the belt. He bared his teeth as a lance of pain shot up his arm. And the Orion who had dared touch his hand, he would personally castrate.

But there had to be hundreds aboard the ship. He couldn't fight them all off. He couldn't latch on to a link with his parents and show them his distress because there existed no link. Family bonds were performed at birth from Vulcan adult to child and Winona and George were human. Had there existed a link between the woman who had birthed him and the man who had sired him, Jim had never found it. He could only come to assume that no connection had ever been made, because he had not been wanted.

A pitiful sound left him, his body hunching over his injured hand in a mimic of his earlier actions, the stupid actions that had led him to this predicament in the first place. He huffed out a laugh filled with sadness. Chris was right, he was a bloody menace to himself.

###

"There it is, Keptin."

Ensign Chekov's voice was subdued, whispered. The ship they had been tracing for several days hung before them, suspended in orbit above the communal planet of Gerna, a planet of both human, Orion and other special inhabitants that was believed to have been used as an Orion slave trading-off point; a suspicion that had never been confirmed or determined.

Spock felt his jaw set in a way that had become familiar the past week, his hands clenching to near breaking point where they hung by his sides. He listened to the Captain with avid interest as Pike contacted the officials below, seeking permission to orbit and beam within the planet in search of a man taken as prisoner by Orion slavers. The Vulcan remained still long enough to hear only their confirmation, before striding from the bridge, lieutenant Uhura swift to follow him.

"I'm coming with you."

"I need no assistance. The Captain must remain with the ship and I shall take only security details as is Starfleet regulation. Your presence may serve to be a hindrance." Spock's voice was low, a near growl that the Commander had been unable to shift from even throughout the video contact he had had with his father only yesterday.

The lieutenant remained silent as they moved towards the transportation room, her lips clamped shut until they had arrived and Spock had taken his place on one of the transporters. She moved to stand on one beside him, casting him a wry look.

"I know you're scared for him. I've seen how you look at him and I do think you've his best interest at heart. But Jim is my friend, Spock, and I'm coming too."

The Captain arrived before Spock could begin to formulate a response, his hands moving as he directed four of his best officers towards the transporters. McCoy stood behind the man, arms folded and face grim as he nodded to Uhura.

"Spock."

The Vulcan all but vibrated with impatience, his dark eyes locking with the Captain's in an instant and his body tensing as though he wanted nothing more than to delve into battle. Pike watched the Vulcan stare down at him, for once reminded that this was not a human man, but an alien capable of creating four times the amount of damage as the strongest human male. The older man nodded, his hand lifting to instruct the Ensign behind him to start the process, his eyes remaining steady on the Commander's.

"Bring him back."