Chapter 8
I arched my back, gritting my teeth as the whip cracked across my back.
"Stop resisting, human!" Akan growled, eyeing the young human in impatience.
This was the most combative and stubborn human he had ever met.
Pain seemed to mean little to the boy, who had refused to do any work or listen to the overseer.
He should have asked for more than seventy!
He had taken him to his large compound, which was about a mile wide and less than a mile long.
He had a very small amount of respect for this child, but not much.
"You'll have to kill me." I said, beaten and bloodied, but unbowed. It had been a day since I had been sold, but it felt like longer.
Since then, I had been beaten, kicked, punched, and most of all whipped, but my will to survive was unhindered. However, I knew that my body couldn't take this much pain for very long.
"Damn you! Why can't you accept the inevitable?" Akan snarled, back-handing me across the face. I glared up at him, spitting out blood for what seemed like the tenth time that day. The Klingons were as bloodthirsty and sadistic as I thought they would be.
"I already have. It is inevitable that I will be saved by Starfleet, and it's inevitable that I will kill the bastard who took my freedom from me." I groaned as a fist slammed into my back, just above my kidneys. A kick to the chest threw me onto my back.
"Do not dishonor the Captain! He is a patron of one of the most powerful families in Klingon society!" Akan snarled.
He looked up at one of his men, and said, "Enough of this foolishness. Bring me the branding iron!"
My eyes widened as a hot iron was given to the slaver, and I tried to move away, but was held still by two slaves.
"From now on, every time you resist, this shall be your punishment!" Akan said, smiling at the fear in my eyes.
"No, please don't!" I roared with agony as he pressed the iron against my bare chest, the pain obliterating everything except the smell of burnt flesh. My yelling turned into a scream as he moved the bar all the way up to my left pectoral.
After a long agonizing moment, he removed it, and I lay on the ground. "Take him away. Do not feed him."
Weeks of pain passed. I now had several burns across my body, and I was covered with cuts and bruises.
It had been a week since they had fed me, only giving me water from time to time.
I was sure that I had at least one broken bone somewhere, but then again, pain meant little to me.
My body was slowly failing me, and as the days passed, I began to lose the ability to walk. This pleased Akan, who enjoyed watching me crawl like an animal.
It was only the hope of rescue that kept me going, other than hatred for my sadistic captors.
I had lost my voice from screaming in pain, and settled with glares.
I had been trained for torture, but the neglect and unimaginable cruelty that I experienced was something that I wasn't prepared for. Almost all the skin from my back was gone from the whips, and I had so many wounds on my body that I could barely find an untouched part on my body.
At times, as the days progressed, I just wanted to die.
It was when all hope had faded from me that they would come that they came. I was tied between two posts, hands outstretched on either side, and it was freezing.
I was just slipping in and out of unconciousness when I heard the sound of something flying over-head.
Then I heard a zapping noises, and half of the compound was blasted away in one go.
I looked up, and tears sprang into my eyes. (cue Star Trek 2009 Enterprise Theme)
It was the Enterprise. I had missed that damned ship!
Klingons and various slaves were yelling and running around, some to fight, some to escape.
There was a shout, and I realized that Akan was running over to me. "You brought them here, didn't you?" He said, drawing his dagger.
He cut away the bonds, and I knew this was the right time to reveal my trump card.
I wouldn't get another chance, and I wasn't sure what he had in mind anyway.
Using all my strength, I flicked my wrist, the dagger shooting out, and I stabbed my captor in the throat.
He glared at me, blood pouring from his neck. "You honorless cur!"
I smiled, and stabbed him again, this time in the heart. "Keep your honor, you bastard, and take it to hell. I'll send your friend after you soon. Requiescat in Pace!" I finished, closing his eyes with my hands. The last thing I saw before blacking out was a human figure shimmering into sight.
Spock beamed into the planet, jogged from the craft, and hurried toward his friend.
He knelt next to him, and recoiled slightly at the sight of the young Assassin's pitiful state.
He felt a light pulse on his neck, and he got out his communicator. "Spock to Enterprise. Package is secure. Beam me up now."
Spoke lifted the young man from the ground as they shimmered out of existence before appearing in the beaming station of the USS Enterprise.
When Bones arrived at the station, he found a small crowd of people huddled over an unmoving form.
"Move! MOVE! Out of my way! I'm a doctor, dammit, not a traffic cop! Back to your stations, and leave this to me!"
He stopped short at the sight of the broken form of his young friend. He could barely recognize him. He was emaciated, beaten, his whole body covered with wounds. Some of them were clearly infected.
"Oh, dear God." McCoy said, barely able to find a pulse.
He hadn't expected James to be treated gently, but this was beyond a shadow of a doubt, one of the most disturbing cases McCoy had ever seen.
What made it all the worse was that the patient was practically a son to him.
"Doctor, perhaps your perusal would be easier if you were in the medical bay." Spock pointed out.
McCoy, since the Klingons had taken the young man, had almost resigned in anger over Starfleet's decision, but Kirk had been able to persuade him against it, pointing out that the young Assassin was being tracked, thus a rescue was possible.
McCoy nodded, and tried to take James from Spock, but Spock replied, "I believe that I am able to carry him."
The doctor nodded, realizing that it was Spock's way of showing that he actually gave a damn about the kid. "Fine, let's go."
