9.

On the computer screen in Spock's quarters, Sarek looked down momentarily, as if studying his hands as he worked out what to say. Then he raised his head and said, 'I asked to be told when you were capable of speaking with me, Spock. Your doctor informed me that your vocal cords are recovered to a point where you can hold a full conversation.'

Spock inclined his head.

'That is true,' he said. His voice was lacking its former strength and stamina, but it was, at least, a voice.

'Your mother and I were deeply concerned about you for six months, Spock,' Sarek continued. 'I – do not think that you can imagine a parent's grief in hearing of the abduction of their only son, nor their relief in the knowledge of that son's safety.'

Spock inclined his head again, unsure as to how to respond to Sarek's emotional admission.

'I hope to put what happened behind me,' he said evenly. 'I will soon be capable of returning to duty.'

'Is it so easy, Spock, to put what happened behind you?' Sarek asked meaningfully.

Spock feigned a lack of understanding.

'The mind rules tell us – '

'The mind rules,' Sarek muttered, dismissing those rules learnt over a lifetime just with his voice.

'The mind rules instruct us in the control of our reactions to unpleasant events,' Spock said in a tone that revealed just how tightly he clung to the safety of those rules. 'I am quite capable of reconciling myself to the facts of my enslavement.'

'Spock – you did not simply suffer enslavement,' Sarek said, looking at his son with a light of compassion in his eyes. 'You have been raped, in a most horrific way.'

Spock's face seemed to turn to granite, but he felt as if his insides were melting and falling down to the floor. Suddenly Sarkesh, who had suffered on Villanesh, and Spock, who sat here in this chair with his towelling robe tightly cinched around his body, seemed to blend into one person. He could feel him all over him, feel his heavy flesh….

He pushed it away again before his reaction could reach his face.

'My medical details were supposed to be confidential,' he said.

Sarek cocked his head to one side, a smile almost touching his lips.

'Spock. You were abducted, and sold into slavery for over six months. You were blinded and muted. Those details were matter of fact. It required little research to discover that the reason for blinding and muting a slave on Villanesh 4 is in order for them to serve as a slave to the bedchamber. One of the duties of a slave to the bedchamber is to act as a receptacle for the owner's sexual urges. It does not take a master of logic to deduce that in the course of six months of slavery you were raped, at least once, by the man who controlled you.'

Spock was silent for a long space. Then he said, 'Does my mother – '

'My research was not conducted from our home terminal, Spock,' Sarek assured him. 'If your mother is aware of the depth of your suffering, it is through her own research. I do not believe that she is. I am capable of shielding more in my mind from her than she is from me.'

'I – do not wish mother to know,' Spock said firmly. 'I – did not wish – '

'I know,' Sarek nodded. 'Spock, I have been led to believe that Starfleet will not pursue justice in this case.'

'There is very little that Starfleet can do without provoking a war,' Spock said flatly.

Sarek's face seemed to tremble momentarily.

'War – does not seem unwarranted,' he said with sudden determination.

'Sarek,' Spock said gently. '*Father*. You are one of the Federation's most respected diplomats. It is not logical to propose war over the treatment of a single individual in Villanesh custody.'

Sarek's eyes closed briefly.

'I had not thought *you* to be the one to lecture *me* on logic, Spock.'

'Perhaps – I am better able to rationalise my own treatment that you are,' Spock said, although he felt far from rational. 'Slavery is an accepted norm on Villanesh 4. It is not pleasant, it is not in accordance with our ethical guidelines – but it is *their* way of life. Who are we to interfere with that?'

'We – *you* – are those who suffered their predation,' Sarek said in a sharp voice. 'They reached out beyond the limits of their system, Spock. They came to a Federation Starbase, and took you from it. They took *my son,* and mutilated him, and raped him. Would you condemn other innocent Federation citizens to the same treatment that you received?'

Spock bowed his head. He was unsure as to how to answer. He was unsure as to what power, if any, he held in this situation. He was unsure if he wanted what would amount to revenge, and if he could separate the motives of revenge from the motive of wanting to protect future victims from what he had suffered.

'I am *trying,*' he said in a tight voice, 'to control reactions of anger and disgust and – and – ' He shook his head. 'I don't have words for the emotions. I – do not possess a sufficient vocabulary. Sarek, I am trying to control a most un-Vulcan reaction. I – need support in this. I do not need to be urged to anger and revenge.'

'And I offer you support,' Sarek nodded, a thin layer of calm still holding over whatever emotions were motivating his words. 'But have you considered that a proper retribution would help you to that end? The man who *raped* you is unpunished. He is doing the same to other men and women at this very moment.'

'*No!*' Spock snapped abruptly, only just stopping himself from getting to his feet and striding away from the screen. 'No more, Sarek. You are attempting to incite me to a revenge that I cannot permit. I must accept what happened. I cannot change it any more than I can change my blood from green to red. The most draconian punishment in the galaxy will not alter what was done to me.'

Sarek closed his eyes, inhaling deeply in the face of his son's very emotional outburst.

He exhaled, steadied himself, and opened his eyes again to regard his son's face.

'I do not incite you for the sake of revenge, Spock,' he said finally, 'but to prevent further atrocities. Every person who sets foot on a starbase within the range of slavers such as those who abducted you is at risk of the same fate. It is *necessary* to bring both the slave traders and the aristocracy of Villanesh 4 to justice, to prevent this happening again. It is *easy* and it is *cheap* for Federation officials to say that no charges can be brought – but it simply is not true. The crime was commissioned and occurred on a Federation starbase. The case *can* be prosecuted. It is highly unlikely that a war will ensue. Villanesh 4 possesses scant resources for such a conflict with the Federation. Fifty percent of their food and supplies are imported. They are reliant upon the goodwill of those around them – and almost all of their trading partners are Federation members, and are therefore bound to uphold Federation sanctions.'

Spock sat in silence, staring at the screen, but barely seeing it. His mind was remembering fragments of events in Milaresh's chamber – the touch of his hands, the sound of his voice as he told Spock precisely how he was expected to perform, that feeling as his heavy, soft body came down over Spock's own, and that sharp point of pain as –

He remembered the girl, Telani-esh, and her exclamations of panic and fear as Milaresh attempted to rape her. He remembered being bundled alongside a female slave, and feeling her own mute misery mingling with his…

'Spock,' Sarek said, snapping him back to the present. 'I can force you to do nothing. But I offer my support, and the support of the Vulcan government, should you wish to press charges against those involved in your case. Our government holds a powerful voice in the Federation. You *would* be successful.'

Spock stared down at his hands for a moment, then looked back up at his father.

'I will consider it,' he said. 'You are correct that it is not simply myself involved in this case…'

Sarek nodded succinctly.

'Then I will bid you farewell, Spock. Let me know of your decision.'

'Live long and prosper, Sarek,' Spock said, his eyes focussed somewhere beyond the screen at which he was supposed to be looking.

He cut the communication, then lowered shaking hands to the desk. This conversation, on top of his momentary mental collapse, was beyond his limits of control. He could feel Milaresh everywhere…

The door chime sounded. A blaze of anger passed through Spock's eyes and was gone. He almost shouted his frustration at the unwanted caller – but instead he rose to his feet, tightened his robe again, and said in a weary tone, 'Come.'

The door slid aside to reveal Delash, standing hesitantly in the corridor.

'Spockesh,' he said the instant he saw the Vulcan. He had spent months learning to read Spock's body language. 'Are you all right?'

Spock's shoulders relaxed a degree, and he sat back down behind the desk, gesturing Delash to the chair opposite.

'I am – not entirely all right,' he admitted, keeping his eyes focussed on the wood grain of the desk.

'Ahh, Spockesh,' Delash said, coming forward to him with a hand outstretched. Instead of sitting in the chair indicated, he came round to where Spock sat, laying his hand warmly on Spock's shoulder. 'It hits you, doesn't it? I know I haven't suffered as you have – but after the joy of freedom has gone, all that happened floods back over you like a wave…'

'Astute,' Spock murmured. 'Accurate. My father wishes me to prosecute the case.'

'Do *you* wish to prosecute the case?' Delash asked.

Spock shook his head. 'I – do not know. I want to – erase every memory of that time from my mind.'

'Even your memory of me?' Delash asked softly.

He shook his head again.

'No,' he murmured. 'No. You have been a good friend to me, Delash. You all have. I – can only wish that the circumstances had been different.'

'Spock,' Delash said. He was kneeling now in front of the Vulcan, so that he could look up into his cast-down face. He raised a hand to Spock's cheek, leaning closer, his lips slightly parted.

Spock caught his hand, circling his fingers lightly but firmly about Delash's wrist.

'Delash, no,' he said softly.

Delash's eyes closed briefly, then flickered open again, a spasm of something that Spock could not interpret passing over his face.

'Then – you don't – ' he began.

'I don't believe that love depends utterly on gender,' Spock said in a low voice from which he could barely describe a tremor. It was too much. All of this was too much for his shields to cope with... 'But – I do not love you in that way,' he continued. 'I think – even if I did, I have been so damaged by – Milaresh… I could not consider a relationship with *any* person at this time. I – care for you, Delash, very strongly,' he said, altering his grip on Delash's wrist until he was lightly holding his hand instead. He had never met anyone like him before… 'You have been my friend, my saviour. But not my lover. Can you accept that?'

Delash looked at him, and Spock could see pain in his eyes – but it was a pain, he thought, that would heal rather than grow.

'I am honoured to be your friend, Spockesh,' he said, smiling.

Spock matched his smile with a very small one of his own.

'And I you,' he said. 'You have a great deal to give, Delash. You have been held back for years – but you can achieve much with your freedom.'

'Yes,' Delash said with a bitter laugh. 'Yes, I suppose there are thousands who could achieve much, if – '

Spock sighed. 'If I prosecuted my case,' he said reluctantly. 'If I stood before a panel of adjudicators and explain to them exactly how I was raped by the man who professed to own me…'

'Yes,' Delash nodded reluctantly. 'I suppose you would have to do that. But you have always been brave, Spockesh. You went into that mine every day when you couldn't see or speak, and worked in that hell. I couldn't do that.'

Spock shook his head. He had never thought of himself as brave, in all of his time on Villanesh 4.

'I had very little choice about that, Delash,' he said practically. 'In a choice between performing tasks in the mine and being whipped mercilessly, it is only logical to choose the mine.'

Delash tilted his head in acknowledgement.

'Perhaps it was a mercy that they hobbled me,' he said. 'Because I would have been whipped rather than go underground into that place.'

Spock regarded Delash curiously. His time on Villanesh had been hellish, but at least he had been able to draw on logic and discipline to control any tendencies to irrational fears. The people of Villanesh had no such advantage. How were they to stand up for themselves against an ingrained culture of slavery, with no Vulcan disciplines to control their fear and misery? It was true that his case could not directly affect the enslaved portion of the planet's population – the Federation had no right to judge a non-Federation planet on its morals. But the simple exposure and vilification of a planet reliant on trade with Federation members could perhaps slowly bring a change to the system…

'I must prosecute, mustn't I?' he asked Delash heavily.

Delash shook his head. 'I can't tell you yes or no, Spockesh. I don't want to think of anyone telling you what to do any more. But if you did, it would do great good.'

'Yes…' Spock said. His finger hesitated on the intercom button. Then finally he pressed it, and said, 'Spock to Captain Kirk. Jim, may I request a few minutes of your time?'

******

Spock looked oddly hesitant when he stepped through the door to Jim's quarters. Strangely enough, when he had beamed up blind and mute from Villanesh there had been an air of almost belligerent confidence about him – a certain learned hardness in his manner. But now that his voice and sight had been restored, while he was still signed off duty, he seemed to lack the aim and purpose that he had possessed before his capture, or during those weeks after his rescue.

'Take a seat, Mr Spock,' Jim said, looking up from his desk. 'Want a coffee?' he asked, looking toward the cooking alcove.

'No, thank you, Jim,' Spock said, shaking his head. 'Captain – ' he began.

'What is it, Spock?' Kirk asked more curiously.

Spock was standing before his desk, hands clasped resolutely behind his back, his face blank with repressed emotion. For a fleeting moment Jim had the fear that the Vulcan had come in here to resign his commission.

'I – ' Spock began with unusual hesitancy. He looked to the chair on the other side of the desk from his captain, and sat down awkwardly. 'Captain, on discussion with – a notable authority from my home planet – I have decided to pursue justice in the case of my abduction and subsequent – treatment,' he said with great formality.

Kirk regarded him steadily. With Spock, in situations like this, he was forced to read between the lines. *A notable authority from my home planet.* That had to be Sarek. He had known that Sarek had been eager – or as eager as a Vulcan could be – to speak with Spock. He had little doubt that Sarek had deduced what had happened to his son on Villanesh. And the subsequent treatment that Spock had so evasively mentioned… It had to be the rapes that were at the centre of the request. Spock had accepted almost everything that had been done to him, but Jim knew that it was impossible for the Vulcan to accept the stripping away of his dignity and privacy in such a brutal way.

'Spock, part of the reason why the Federation decided not to press the case was because of the impact such a case would have on you,' he said carefully. 'You would be required to stand up in a court and detail exactly what that – *monster* – did to you. To be cross-examined and questioned and disbelieved. To have to prove that you weren't willing – '

An odd spasm seemed to pass over the Vulcan's face at that. He looked down at his hands, intently studying the white of his knuckles as he clenched his fingernails deep into his palms. He relaxed his hands again, and watched as the faint flush of green blood spread back through his skin.

'I am aware of that,' he said with great control.

'Spock, did Sarek pressure you into this?' Kirk asked gently.

Spock's head shot up, his eyes fixing onto Kirk's with a hard anger in them.

'I am capable of forming my own decisions,' he said, almost bitingly.

'Spock, I've met your father, remember,' Kirk said pointedly. 'He's not the easiest – '

Spock sighed, a world of turmoil in his dark eyes.

'Sarek did influence my decision,' he nodded finally. 'But – he is right. There are thousands of people living on Villanesh who are enslaved as I was. The planet's natives have no right to contest their position. Although I do not believe that a single case will be enough to set them free – '

'They're outside Federation jurisdiction,' Kirk pointed out. 'Villanesh is a completely independent planet.'

'Not completely independent,' Spock said pointedly. 'Villanesh relies upon Federation trade.'

'Ahh,' Kirk said slowly. 'A lot of spoilt landowners and traders who make their money out of trade with Federation planets, and use that money to sustain their lifestyle…'

'Precisely,' Spock nodded. 'I will not – enjoy – being the subject of such a case, Jim – but it is something that I am morally compelled to pursue. It is – the right thing to do.'

Kirk nodded slowly. It was the right thing to do. That was obvious. But he would have done anything to spare the Vulcan further pain at the moment.

'Captain, will you support me?' Spock asked, with a slight edge to his voice.

'Of course!' Kirk said instantly. He had not realised that Spock would even think it was possible that he wouldn't support him. 'I'll contact the relevant authorities and get them to push through the case. With your *notable authority* on your side there's no way they'll refuse it.'

Spock nodded. Kirk could not be sure if it was relief or apprehension that tinted the Vulcan's expression.

'Spock – are you all right?' he asked quietly. 'And I'm not asking if you've regained the weight you lost, or how your eyesight is now. McCoy can treat all those physical things. But you haven't talked about – the rapes – since you typed that report out for me the first day you were back here.'

A shiver seemed to pass through the Vulcan. Finally he looked up, and Jim felt as if he was looking through his eyes into the depths of his soul.

'What can I say?' he asked blankly. 'What is there to say?'

At the Vulcan's bewildered, injured expression Kirk rose to his feet and came round the desk to him, standing before him with his hand held out towards Spock in an awkward gesture of sympathy.

'I don't think any of us know what to say,' he admitted.

Spock's shoulders seemed to fall by a small degree, and he said, 'I – would like to be told how long I will feel like this…'

Kirk finally allowed his hand to touch the Vulcan's shoulder.

'Like what, Spock?' he asked softly.

'As if – my body is not mine. As if every surface of my skin has been substituted for an almost flawless clone. As if – I cannot separate my mind from this carcass that I live in,' he finished, his voice finally roughening with emotion.

'Spock,' Kirk said softly, crouching down so that he could put his arms about his friend. 'Let me help you,' he said in a low voice. 'Tell me how I can help.'

He could feel the Vulcan's body quivering with pent emotion that he could not release. Any other person would have been crying.

'You cannot help,' Spock whispered, then said suddenly, 'Return me to myself… Remove *his* ownership. Remove this feeling… Show me how to control the hatred…'

'It's not wrong to hate him,' Kirk said, his voice close to Spock's ear.

Spock shook his head miserably. 'Myself… I hate myself, Jim. I – cannot stand this body I am in.'

Kirk tightened his arms about Spock's back, trying to work out what to say. In all of his training and experience he had never been told how to comfort a best friend in the face of what Spock had suffered.

'It'll take time,' he found himself saying. 'You need time to separate yourself from what happened. You need to start seeing yourself as who you used to be. You're strong, Spock, and self-possessed, and self-controlled. You *can* change your feelings. *He* did this to you. None of it was preventable. None of it was your fault. You couldn't have stopped him…'

'No,' Spock murmured, remembering restraints, and the threat of the whip, and the knowledge every time he walked along that corridor of what he was taking himself to. He had *made* himself go, in the face of every sense of fear and revulsion that was running through his mind. He had made himself go because submitting had been the only logical alternative. And he had survived…

'I am alive,' he said suddenly.

Kirk was startled. He could feel the warmth of Spock's body, and his blood pulsing close to his skin where his hands lay on Spock's back.

'Yes, you're alive,' he nodded.

Spock straightened up, drawing himself away from Kirk's embrace with an odd mixture of dignity and gratitude.

'I – did not allow him to shame me to the point that he had to kill me,' he said, more to himself than to his captain. 'I went into his room, every time, when I was bidden. I did not allow him to take my life as well as – '

'There is more pride in that, Spock, than in being dragged there by force,' Kirk said firmly. 'And I will be there every moment that you need me. It took me far too long to find you and get you out of that hellhole. I won't let you down now.'