CHAPTER TWELVE
The Circling Predator Seeks a Slaughter

The Commander summons me a few days later. I go to him. As I must. He greets me at the door, mindful of Captain Pike's presence behind me, staring.

I'm mindful of that as well. Terrified of that. Is he going to reveal my identity? Does he know? Is he going to declare that I look far too feminine, that I look like the whore Commander Spock had over that one night, the whore he all but begged to borrow? I know my masculine disguise, my identity as Benjamin is a flimsy one. I am aware of the feminine curves of my body, the delicate features of my hands, my face. I am surprised I have not been discovered earlier. And in all honesty, perhaps I should have been discovered long ago. If the men here were more observant, if they actually looked at me carefully, saw my feminine body for what it was, maybe I would have been.

But most were all too quick to dismiss the small, effeminate man with a high voice. They probably imagined I would wash out. And quickly, too. I almost did. But my determination, my dreams of a better world pushed me forward.

"Good evening, Cadet Uhura," the Commander says to me and stands aside in the open doorway, allowing me to enter. He says nothing to the Captain, just gives him an acknowledging nod, and closes the door.

This night, Commander Spock takes me in his arms. Takes me to his sleeping chamber, where he undresses me and himself. And he takes me on his bed, sliding in and out slowly, grasping my hands in his and holding them above my head. He presses his body tightly against mine and I am utterly and completely surrounded by him. I throw my head back, riding the slow blissful wave, and he nestles his face into my neck. He lavishes the column of my throat with wet kisses, his lips moving in a manner that suggests he is whispering silent words. I don't know what he says. If he was even saying anything at all.

My climax is a slow languishing swell, mingling with the residual fear I feel that he may decide to tell someone—Pike—of my affiliation. I cry out, grasping his hands, intertwining our fingers and arching against him. He follows me, his own orgasm just as lingering but no less powerful, resting his forehead against mine, my name a quiet exhalation on his lips.

He kisses me, slowly and deeply. I open my mouth to his and allow his tongue to mingle with mine. I arch my back, pressing my breasts to his chest, and run my feet across the back of his calves. I tangle my hands in his hair and hold his face close to mine, deepening the kiss. He moans against my mouth.

He ends the kiss and presses his body against mine. "I would greatly desire that you stay."

I do.

The sunlight hits my face and my eyes open before wincing beneath the bright light. I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, ridding them of the gritty sleep. Sitting up and letting the covers slide down my naked body and pool at my waist, I look at the opposite side of the bed.

The Commander is not there. I run a hand across the smooth surface of the sheets. They are cool to the touch, suggesting that he's been out of bed for a while.

I sigh, running my hand through my tangled hair.

He fucked me several times last night, bringing me to new plateaus of pleasure over and over. But he was not rough. No new bruises mar my body, for which I'm grateful.

I throw the sheets off my body and get off the bed. I scan the floor—our scattered clothing still litters the floor—and grab the first piece of clothing I find: his black undershirt. I slip it on. It's long enough on me to cover what needs to be covered, which is a small comfort.

Running my hands through my hair again in a futile attempt to untangle it, I move to the closed door. It would be stupid to deny that I'm not a little nervous. I don't know what this morning will bring. I don't know how the Commander will behave this morning. He may have been contained, almost gentle last night, but today, he may be violent, rough like he has been.

I press the button on the panel beside the door to open it, but it doesn't budge. Holding back a sigh, I press it again but to avail. He's locked it, trapping me in here. I raise my hand to pound on the door, to beg him to let me out.

But I hear voices just on the other side of the door and I halt. My heart races in my chest and my hands feel clammy. Fearing what lies on the other side, I lean against the door and press my ear to the cold surface. I don't want to make a sound. I don't want to be heard. I don't want to be dragged out of the room and displayed before someone else.

"May I inquire as to why you voiced concerns about my loyalty to the Empire, Captain Pike?" Commander Spock's calm voice sounds, slightly muffled by the door separating the bedroom from the living area.

My heart races. Pike. What is he doing here? Is he about to tell the Commander he knows? Is he about to demand my presence so he can drag me away? Or fuck me?

A dark laugh. I tense with the sound. Pike answers, "Spock, how many times have I told you to call me Chris?"

There is a long stretch of silence, accented with the blood pounding in my ears, the quiet puffs of air rushing from my lips.

"I do not appreciate your speaking with another about my loyalty. Nor do I appreciate your offering my name for the Special Forces, sir."

Pike sighs. "What's your concern?"

"I have told you, Captain, that I do not desire such deplorable work."

"What are you talking about? The Special Forces upholds the laws, protects the citizens. It is an honor to serve in the Special Forces."

An honor? It's an honor to brutally torture and execute prisoners before displaying them like meat in a butcher's shop? Do those prisoners even get a fair assessment of their crimes? I remember when Spock immediately sentenced those saboteurs to death without even seeing them. No, fair is not the correct word.

"What would have happened to me had I refused Admiral Barnett?" I can almost imagine the Commander tilting his head to the side, awaiting an answer.

And I can't help but wonder as well. Would Admiral Barnett have merely nodded and accepted Commander Spock's answer? Or would he have done something incredibly different, something typically reserved for prisoners?

"Does it matter? You accepted."

Spock sighs; it's so quiet that I have to strain my ears to hear it. "I accepted because I felt that I had no choice. Because my loyalty was in question. So I ask again, Captain, why?"

"Oh, come on, Spock. Do you really need to ask? You've been behaving differently ever since Vulcan. And don't deny it."

"That was not my intention."

"You won't tell anyone what the hell happened on that goddamn planet." Pike's voice is rising. A tinge of anger, frustration.

"It is none of your concern." Spock's voice is still calm, a counter to the agitated voice of his superior officer.

"Did you...find someone interesting while you were there?"Pike's voice takes on a curious edge to it. I can't explain it, but it confuses me.

"Please elucidate."

Pike sighs. "You know damn well what I'm talking about."

There is a long stint of silence. I grow antsy waiting for the Commander's response.

"You know that I did not."

"But something happened. You've never been so keen on logic and that damned Vulcan mumble jumble until your assignment."

"I do not understand your concern, sir." Commander Spock's voice is still calm, collected. "My newfound commitment to the teachings of Surak has no bearing on my loyalty to the Empire."

"For now, perhaps. But how much longer before you start spouting that nonsense and denouncing the Empire? How long before you decide to join in that fucking Rebellion?"

"It is highly unlikely that such an event will occur."

Pike scoffs. "You're going soft, Spock."

"I beg your pardon." There's a faint edge of irritation to his voice.

"I need a First Officer who can lead, incite fear among my crew, not spend his days meditating over the existence of the soul or whatever."

"Katra."

"Whatever. There was a time when I was sure you were the one for the job, Spock. There was a time when cadets and officers feared you. Hell, even *Admirals* ran from you. And women would leave your place in a body bag."

I suppress a gasp. I knew Commander Spock's reputation for violence, but I did not know that he was prone to murdering the women he bedded. How long before he decided he was tired of me?

When the Commander answers, he speaks slowly, like he's trying to be careful of his words. "Miss Chapel was an unfortunate accident. A victim to my...time. As you well know. I had not intended to cause her such lethal harm. And I have not done so with another woman since, as you also well know."

His time? What the hell does that mean?

"And now you have this sweet new thing. Where is she anyway? I haven't seen her for a while. Got her tied to your bed?" Pike's voice grows louder with each word. He's approaching the bedroom door.

I jump away, hurling myself back toward the bed, my heart lurching in my throat. Please don't let him enter. Please.

Spock's voice moves closer as well. "That is not your concern, Captain. As I informed, she belongs to me."

I despise his treatment of me as property, but I am thankful for his stalling of Pike.

Pike sighs. "Come on, Spock."

He retreats from the door and I release a small sigh of relief. Carefully, I stand up and return to the door, pressing my ear against the cold metallic surface.

"What is it that you wish to speak to me about, sir? Surely you did not merely intend to disrupt my meditation."

"I'm worried about you, Spock. You're beginning to tread dangerous territory."

"As you are well aware, contracting diseases is unlikely. The women are screened regularly. And pregnancy is impossible. When a woman is deemed unworthy of becoming a wife, she is rendered infertile. It would be an unnecessary risk for the men."

A hand drifts to my abdomen, clinching. So that was what the tests and everything else was for. I remember, after the Admiral took me from my home, being sent to a facility somewhere, I don't know where specifically. I was sixteen and frightened to death. My virginity had just been ripped from my body by a lumbering monster of a man while my parents watched. And then, I was there. In a cold sterile room, naked and strapped to a gurney. A man came in the room, wearing a white lab coat and recording something on his PADD.

Please, I begged. Please. Over and over I pleaded. I wanted to go home. But home was no longer safe; my parents were no longer a comfort to me. Betrayal awaited me at home. But it could not have been as bad as the torment I endured with the Admiral.

The man in the lab coat smiled coldly and injected me with a hypospray.

The next thing I remember was waking up, strapped to the Admiral's bed, a slight pain in my lower abdomen, the tiniest of incisions marring my skin.

I do not mourn the loss of my future children. I don't want children. Not in this world. I do not want to watch my sons grow to be monsters and my daughters to be property of those monsters. No. This is better. This is the way it needs to be. I have a mission here and fear of pregnancy would only complicate matters. And fatally so.

The Captain sighs. "That's not exactly what I was referring to, Spock." His voice draws me from my memories. Then: "Where's Cadet Uhura?"

The blood in my veins freezes and I cannot move. Is this it? Is this the time he tells Commander Spock he knows? Is this the point that he orders Spock to retrieve me so that he can take me to the authorities?

"I beg your pardon?" Is he stalling? Or is he startled by Pike's sudden change of topic, though it's really just the same, isn't it?

"I'm just curious. I didn't see him leave last night."

He was watching Commander Spock's door? He was waiting for me to leave? He must have been, otherwise why ask? Why mention that he didn't see me leave? Because he didn't. Because Cadet Uhura spent the night getting fucked by a professor, his professor.

"I do not keep...tabs on Cadet Uhura's whereabouts."

Now that's a lie if I ever heard one.

"Of course not. I wouldn't expect you to, Spock, but why would the cadet be dropping by your apartment on a Friday night?"

"Cadet Uhura is working on a project of utmost importance and I have offered my skills and knowledge. The cadet has decided to take advantage of my offer."

"What's so special about Cadet Uhura, anyway, Spock? You've never played favorites and this time, you put in the order to transfer Cadet Kirk out of their shared dorm room."

"Cadet Uhura has exhibited abilities superior to most other cadets. I believe with such ability, Cadet Uhura is a highly valuable asset to Starfleet. Recently, the cadet expressed to me difficulty sleeping due to Cadet Kirk's antics. I decided that the most logical solution was to rearrange their living arrangements in a way that was optimal for both."

"Uh-huh. And it was necessary to transfer Kirk clear across campus?"

"It is unfortunate that no other room was available."

More silence. I imagine that Pike is growing frustrated, irritated.

"If that is all, Captain, I must meditate now. You have given me much to think about and I must organize my thoughts."

Straining, I hear the door to Commander Spock's apartment open.

"Don't forget, Spock, people will be watching you. Don't give them any reason to doubt your loyalty. Or it's the hook for you."

"Understood, sir."

The door closes and it grows silent. And the silence stretches for a long time.

He doesn't come to the bedroom door. I guess he does what he told Pike he was doing: meditate.

I sigh and turn around to rest my back against the bedroom door. I have no way of knowing how much longer I can expect to be trapped in this room. I slide down the door to the floor, drawing my knees to my chest and resting my head against the door.

I eye the bed, its sheets rumpled and mattress slightly askew. A visual reminder of the sex we had last night. Yes, he took me several times last night. His mouth and hands touched every inch of my body; his cock reaching deep within me. He still dominated me, controlling every thrust, every lick, every kiss. But the violence I have come to expect from him was missing. I don't know if it was an attempt on his part to ease my nerves, perhaps realization how difficult it is for me to do as he ordered me: Let him fuck me or be turned in.

But I don't understand *why* he gave me that choice, though I'm sure some people would say it wasn't much of one, not when he already had his fingers in my pussy and his cock quickly following. I've asked once, sure, but I don't know I can believe his answer. I don't believe him when he says that Starfleet *needs* someone with my abilities. If that were true, then why doesn't Starfleet put a greater emphasis on xenolinguistics? Why doesn't it upgrade those facilities? What is the Commander getting out of this twisted arrangement other than the frequent sex? Why would he risk his career, his own life on me, a woman with dreams that the universe can be a better place? It isn't logical. It doesn't make sense.

I close my eyes. I'm frustrated. Trapped in this room with nothing to do. My stomach rumbles. It's been a while since I've eaten anything, but there's nothing I can do about it.

Minutes go by. Stretching into an hour. Maybe two. I don't know. I just sit here, my back against the door, waiting. I use this time to think, but it's difficult. Being trapped against my will brings too many memories back. Of him. And the room he called mine, where he strapped me to the bed, where he would torment me, use me in whatever way he saw fit. For his own twisted perversions. And when he would leave me alone and I begged God to let me die. I didn't want to live like that. I had, foolishly perhaps, envisioned a life where I was doing what I wanted, marrying who I wanted, if I even wanted to.

No. I don't want to be trapped in here anymore.

Tears prick my eyes. My throat tightens.

The door slides open suddenly, startling me. I catch myself before I fall backwards. I scramble to my feet, pulling down the hem on the shirt I wore.

Commander Spock stares at me, draped in his full length meditation robes. his face is blank as could be, but his eyes are a raging storm of emotion. I stare back, silent. I still don't know how he will act towards me. I don't know his mood. The emotion I see in his eyes is intense but I don't know what it is he's feeling. He could be violent.

He takes a step toward me, a hand raising, and I step back, flinching. My reaction is instinctive; I didn't intend to. But he halts, dropping his hand to his side.

"You have been crying."

My hands touch my face. I wasn't aware that my tears fell. I swipe at them, desperate to remove them.

"You are upset." He speaks in that monotone voice, the voice that irks me because I can't figure out if he's angry at me or concerned. I can't figure out anything about him and I *need* to. I need to know his emotions, so I can protect myself, behave the way I need to, to ensure that I don't get hurt.

I shake my head. I don't want to tell him anything. He could use it against me. I can't risk it. "No. It's nothing."

His eyes narrow slightly. "You are lying."

I say nothing else. Staring at him dressed completely in those robes, I feel self-conscious, nervous in just his shirt. I tug on the hem again, as though it will suddenly increase in length. It doesn't, of course.

His eyes follow my movements. But he says nothing further on the topic. Instead, he turns around and walks out of the room, not waiting to see if I follow, which I do. "I have taken the liberty to order us lunch from the nearby Chinese takeout. I presume lo mien would be suitable to your palette?" He stops walking in the living room, in front of the couch.

I nod.

And the silence grows uncomfortable. We stare at one another, as though we are waiting. But I have no idea what we're waiting for.

The silence stretches.

I drop my gaze, pushing my hair back and crossing my arms, and ask the questions that have continued to bug me. "Why did you lie about me? Why didn't you tell him the truth? Save yourself the trouble?"

If he is surprised that I heard his conversation with Pike, he doesn't show it. "I did not lie. I only spoke the truth."

I shake my head, looking at him again. "Fine. You omitted." Cleverly, too. He took care not to require the use of pronouns.

"My deception was part of our arrangement, was it not? I promised to protect your secret in return—"

I interrupt him. "For sex."

He remains silent.

I suppress a sigh. "But why? Why would you even bother trying to protect me? And don't give me that crap about Starfleet needing someone with my abilities." I cringe when I finish speaking. I went too far, I know I did.

I wait for him to lash out.

"You intrigue me, Nyota. Three years, eight months and five days ago, I saw a young first year cadet unlike any other I have seen before. Diminutive and delicate, I knew immediately that you were a woman. I shall admit that I was fascinated that by that woman who would risk her life by enlisting in Starfleet. But I knew she had to be intelligent and cunning enough to bypass the prerequisite exams, to fool her fellow cadets and professors. For the majority of my life, the women I have seen do nothing to change their lot in life and seem to accept their lower stature. So I watched you. I do not wish to see you fail, Nyota."

I look at him, embarrassment flowing through my veins. He holds my gaze for several minutes. He doesn't want to see me fail. Fail at graduating the Academy or fail something else? Something bigger than that, bigger than us? I don't dare ask. I don't dare because he is not one of us. He is loyal. He stated this. And Vulcans do not lie.

But he doesn't want me to fail.

Then I step toward him.

And I kiss him.

It's a small kiss, barely lasting a second. But it is important nonetheless. It is the first time *I* kissed him. And when we part, he cups my face in his hands, brushing his thumbs across my lips. I say nothing, simply look at him.

The door chimes and I jump, dropping my gaze.

And the mood has left.