Chapter 4
Saavik willed her shoulder muscles to ease. I am safe. But her body only tightened again, knowing it to be a lie. Waiting for the inevitable deathblow was illogical and would distract her from guarding Spock, yet she found that she couldn't stop it. Just remembering him walking through her door as if he were her executioner made her heart pound loudly still. Her hands clenched into fists.
She could not believe she was still alive.
At her back, she could feel the strangely comforting presence of Stron and Soluk, and some of the tension eased to be replaced by a soft dazed awe. They are pleased that I am alive. The display of utter loyalty to her made her genuinely puzzled.
But her body knew what her mind knew and the temporary easing vanished. Vulcan was not her world and their law would see her dead, their message clear: your reprieve lasts only if you are pregnant.
Pregnant...
She covered her abdomen again wondering if a small life was behind the strong smooth muscles under her hand. She bit her lip, finding she wanted as she had never wanted anything before to believe Spock's story herself.
A child...
Spock noticed where her attention lay and almost brushed her with his fingertips when they both became acutely aware again of Stron and Soluk flanking them in the lift. She hastily folded her hands behind her back and stared fixedly at the doors.
"Mr. Soluk," Spock cleared his throat and spoke in Vulcan for privacy's sake, "you will take the first shift as Lieutenant Saavik's guard. Choose someone trustworthy from our people for the others."
Saavik frowned. "I am your Chief Guard, Captain. And I do not have sufficient rank, even as this ship's science officer, to warrant security for myself." She could see the suddenly stubborn line of his jaw and her chin rose higher. "Assigning such people only draws attention to the situation."
"Let it," he snapped. "Those are my orders."
Her deep scowl warned everyone of the imminent storm. Soluk and Stron both grimaced.
"We are honored to accept, Captain," Stron said hastily.
"And we will find a way to make the addition appear merely logical," added Soluk.
Saavik glowered at them both.
Spock leaned over to whisper quietly, "Remember, it may not be just you they defend." His dark eyes glinted slyly. "And along those lines, an interesting point: as you know, pregnant Romulan women give off pheromones making males protective. Perhaps our companions behavior is our first indication."
Saavik narrowed her eyes at him, knowing she had been outmaneuvered.
He raised an eyebrow innocently and the doors opened. They stepped out on the bridge and her already hard-pressed composure was blown away. Thieurrull. It dominated her whole vision, its surface dark, nearly black, cracks of light in every direction. And Saavik felt her heart chill.
It dies.
The sight snatched the breath from her body. Soluk almost plowed into her making her realize she was frozen on the lift's threshold. She forced calm and moved stiffly along the upper deck to where T'Mes sat at the science station.
"It is good to see you, Lieutenant." T'Mes rose and stood aside, returning the station to its rightful owner.
Saavik took her seat, unable to meet the woman's eyes because she was touched at her greeting. The memory of T'Mes holding onto her, trying to save her life by keeping her from Spock on Thieurrull, rose unbidden in her mind.
Thieurrull.
"Keptin, our estimate of Hellguard's destruction is right on target," Chekov reported.
If she had known she'd be alive today to see this, she'd have better prepared. Instead, her fatigue, the upheaval of going from certain death to a shaky chance at life, and the loss of time to regain her disciplines after pon farr left her vulnerable. And pained. Conflicting memories battled in her mind. Did she rejoice in Thieurrull, the prison planet, the hellish home, being destroyed? Or did she mourn for the reborn world where she had celebrated those idyllic days with Spock?
A sigh threatened to escape her lips. She had never understood the Romulan mythology of Hellguard better than today. Except the dishonored soul caught between the screams of hell and the awful beauty of Paradise was her own.
She wanted to cross to the captain's chair, to hold on to her glimpse of Paradise by standing as close to Spock as she could as Thieurrull ended, but she had no professional reason for it. She was needed at her station.
A shadow fell across her. She kept her eyes lowered and double-checked the sensors, ensuring everything was being recorded to add with all the other data on the Armageddon torpedo.
"A shame," Spock's deep voice said calmly. "The world, once reformed, held such promise."
She ached at the hidden tones in his words. "Agreed, Captain."
He had come to her. Yesterday at this time, they held each other, safe in their haven. And now, today, the haven was dying in front of them.
Thieurrull's irony nearly choked her.
Giant flares erupted and the terrible cracks on the surface fractured wider, the flames from the core leaping for the atmosphere like demons released.
"Not much longer now," she murmured almost inaudibly. He'd hear her, she knew, as sensitive to her presence as she was to his. And she wondered if he felt the same awful agony inside. For whether their hope or their condemnation, Thieurrull had cradled them. And trap or release, it held them still.
The world was now more lava than planetary crust. She calculated how much longer and counted it down in her head, seeing the last moments in abstract still frames, only vaguely catching the helm's report that the ship was safely away from the destruction.
Then, as if two hands plowed their fingers into the world and ripped it in half, Thieurrull tore, each side shredding into yet smaller fragments.
Like pieces in a puzzle, she thought oddly. As if some kind god might put it back together again someday.
Nothing more held it in place after that and the core blew out scalding into the vacuum. She swore she felt the burning waves seep through Enterprise's hull and sear themselves into her own skin.
It is gone. And everything it had meant.
Chekov handed Spock a padd. "Our orders are changed, sir."
Saavik blinked, reality once more intruding. Mutely, she signaled T'Mes back to the station, a grim heaviness settling over her. When she had blinked, she saw the planet before her eyes.
"Ve are meeting Admiral Kirk with the Excelsior and the Reliant at Varbase 5." The Russian's voice took on the careful scoffing tones of disgust, "The Empress tours her domain and ve gained the honor with the Armageddon project."
Saavik honestly couldn't care. As her assistant joined her, she caught sight of her POW tattoo and went cold.
Thieurrull wasn't gone.
She glanced at its fragments already cooling in space and vowed on its dying name. I swear, if I am pregnant, you will not have my child. He or she will not bear your mark or ever be a part of you. You may have my soul, but you will never have theirs.
"The Romulans?" Spock asked.
"Ve vill unload them at the Varbase. You're scheduled to see Commander Sumic in ten minutes. He still needs your help vith the one prisoner making all the noise. The commandant is down there now. Vill you be joining him?"
The scheduled appointment was one of the matters set up through Stron while he acted for his secluded captain. Spock nodded at Chekov and called over to her, "Mr. Saavik, do you have everything you need here?"
Oh, the answers that came to mind for that question, but the only one she could give was, "Aye, sir."
"Helm, set a course for Warbase 5. Mr. Chekov, you have the conn. I will be below."
He had to go and Soluk was here. And never, since the first days when she learned to survive in the POW camp, was she defenseless. No reason for her to feel more exposed, but when the lift whisked Spock away from the bridge, her shoulder muscles tensed again.
She returned to her work, losing herself in the challenges of her scientific research. And yet, her eyes strayed to the viewscreen as they pulled out of Thieurrull's orbit.
"We need to review this in the labs," T'Mes said, unaware of her companion's wayward attention.
Saavik snapped back to the data. "Yes, of course. Commander Chekov?" The Russian looked over from the captain's chair. "Permission to go to the labs, sir. Our research is better done there." Although I still do not know how to explain Soluk's presence.
"Permission granted. Don't bother sending for a replacement for your station. I vill take it. It vill give me a break from helm duty."
She blinked at the unexpected answer. She didn't know Chekov was bored with his station. Although monitoring the sensors on a routine trip to a Warbase was not much more interesting than sitting in the captain's chair during the same trip. She walked past his chair before stopping to ask, "Commander, if you would, I do need some of the data run here for--"
He eagerly jumped at the chance before she finished asking. "By all means, send vhatever you can up here."
She politely thanked him. Behind the first officer, Fathiyya caught her gaze and nodded slowly, her antennae pricking up and forward. If Chekov meant the oath of loyalty he made the other day, it boded well for all of them. She made a mental note to mention it to Spock. How quickly I fall back into my old responsibilities as if I do not face a death sentence still.
She spun forward in the lift and saw Thieurrull's remains as the ship leapt into warp. She felt the planet's pull on her spirit as she escaped its reach.
In her office, she quickly set to work. The science department was consumed with the Armageddon torpedo and the Thieurrull data. As ever, one group focused on whether the protomatter could be pulled out of the torpedo matrix and what caused the instability. Others were broken down into Thieurrull's life cycle, the samples taken from the planet, and the comparison between Hellguard and the first Genesis world.
The overwhelming amount of work actually made her relax. This is was something she could control and enjoy, something to put the other concerns at bay as she could nothing about them in this moment anyway. Her sense of logic rose to the fore, losing herself willingly in the demands of science.
She had barely started when T'Mes suddenly asked, "Permission to speak freely?"
Saavik warily agreed. What does this bring?
Switching to Vulcan, T'Mes said, "I did not think I would see you alive. As I said before, I am pleased you are, but how?"
Saavik couldn't believe it when she felt heat flame her cheeks up to the tips of her ears. Why be embarrassed at a possible pregnancy? T'Mes eyed the bronzed green flush and Soluk's presence, and she was most likely on the bridge when the call came from Sarek. Saavik saw the woman put it together and felt the expert gaze rake over her. She didn't dare ask if T'Mes saw anything that indicated she was pregnant. And after all, how much could show? It was possible she conceived as late as yesterday.
But if she should be able to feel the child's presence... if only she hazarded asking that.
"My husband's respect is well given," T'Mes said. Saavik arched her eyebrows in question. "You risked death going to Spock and you fight that same sentence now. Such strength and courage earns the respect your people give you. All your people," she added significantly.
Saavik dipped her head in a small, sincere bow. "Your service honors me."
T'Mes returned the gesture. "If I can do anything, inform me of what it is."
"I will. However, I believe I have endangered you and yours enough."
"I have done nothing, Saavik, except for my required attempt to stop you going to Spock. I knew its futility. It was as ineffective as someone trying to keep Stron and I apart."
Saavik frowned. "I cannot allow the comparison. Stron is your bondmate."
"True. Our parents wisely matched us as we discovered. However, while you may not be formally bonded, the underlying connection is the same."
Saavik shook her head emphatically. She had no such claim to Spock, she never could. "No, T'Mes. Spock accepted me out of need, he may even accept my coming to him now -- if I were to do so," she stressed. Vulcan law would hang over her head her entire life. "But there is a large difference between being a bed partner and what you share with Stron."
T'Mes examined her as if she was a project in the labs. "Interesting. I am unsure if you truly believe what you say, meaning you are that unaware of the truth, or if you hide behind your words for safety's sake while you and Spock are under such scrutiny. If it is the former," the other woman concluded, "I am torn between finding your naiveté refreshing and rather amusing."
Saavik scowled. Was T'Mes laughing at her?
"If it is the second, I repeat my offer: anything I can do to help, I will. And Soluk obviously looks forward to any battle."
Saavik had forgotten the male's silent presence behind her. His eyes did spark at T'Mes testimonial. Her leashed, psychotic, comrade in arms -- at least she held the leash.
T'Mes was also looking at Soluk, then leaned in closer to whisper, "If you have any personal questions, I will answer them. I know you have no family or other women you can turn to."
That was a large thing to offer, being willing to answer questions about the pon farr and its aftermath. Or the pregnancy. She had a lot of questions about being pregnant but could ask none of them; any knowledge might show she carried no child bringing Vulcan's death sentence down on her head.
T'Mes added wryly, "Of course, I should have made the offer before you went to Spock."
Saavik got a wicked gleam in her eye. "I managed." She dropped her voice lower. "I did wonder why a water shower was installed in the housing. I take it you or Stron?"
T'Mes nodded. "Although Spock should have thought of it. Sonic showers become a vicious circle. Your body craves the shower during... calmer moments, but the sonics stir the Fires. Besides, for desert bred people such as ourselves, a water shower adds a touch of--"
"Decadence," Saavik finished without thinking. She almost blushed again when T'Mes cast a knowing glance at her, but the freedom of speaking woman to woman was a gratification overshadowing any discomfort.
"Too true," T'Mes said.
The smile Saavik would have given unchecked yesterday had to be controlled today. Still, something gave them away to Soluk who eyed them as if he were a target in a conspiracy.
"Lieutenant Saavik, report to the brig."
That was Sumic's voice on the comm system. Why wasn't Spock calling? She knew she shouldn't have let him near the Romulan prisoners with only Stron with him. "Saavik here. Where is Captain Spock?"
A rustling noise and Sumic's protest to someone came over the panel, then Spock's deep voice. He must have pushed the other Vulcan out of the way. "Spock here. I need your services as a translator."
As a translator? What is wrong with the computer? "Confirmed. Saavik out."
"Saavik, a moment. Obtain a full uniform before your arrival here."
She became immediately engaged in a three way staring match with Soluk and T'Mes. Didn't she have enough problems without giving Kirk the opportunity to throw her in the agony booth for a uniform violation?
What would the booth do to the unborn child? If she was pregnant.
But Spock wouldn't tell her to do it without sufficient reason, and she couldn't question him over the open comm. "Aye, sir."
She redirected her work to T'Mes and marked the planetary comparison between Thieurrull and the defunct Genesis planet for Commander Chekov. She withheld a sigh. She preferred the research to interacting with the Romulan prisoners, but duty was duty.
When Spock left the bridge, he found a haughty Sumic waiting for him at the brig. A solitary prisoner was cordoned off from the rest in an interrogation room. Spock could see the Romulan male through the security field. Unbelievably, the man was stretched out on the bench, his arms folded beneath his head, and a smile tugged at his mouth as if he dreamed happily despite the shackles on his wrists and ankles. Silver hair fell in a swoop of bangs over his eyes and Spock couldn't see if they were closed. The silver stood out against a faded tan and he was not emaciated like the others; the man must not have been on Thieurrull long.
Spock asked Sumic, "This is the prisoner giving you trouble?"
The former commandant took umbrage to that. "He says he has information he is willing to trade for his freedom, but he refuses to give it to me. He insists he will speak only to the ship's captain."
"You let that stop you?"
Sumic stiffened and drew himself up even more. "He declares the information concerns a Romulan bioweapon that works on Vulcans. I know it is worth keeping him alive because the other Romulans almost killed him to stop the information from being given to us. Any interrogation procedures I use risks his death. It is worth having you speak to him first before taking the risk."
Spock signaled the Security officers and the field was opened. Stron entered first, phaser out and aimed at the prisoner, but the man didn't move a bit. Spock let the field close behind them, Sumic almost pressed against it, and set himself to outwait the prisoner.
It took twenty-three minutes. The man spoke without shifting his position on the bench. "No introductions? How uncivilized."
Spock wryly noted he had hardly won the first round. "I am Spock, captain of the Enterprise. You wish to speak with me."
The manacled hands came out from behind the prisoner's head to brush the silvered bangs away from his eyes. Spock saw the bruises and cuts on the man's face and wrists with more undoubtedly concealed under the prison uniform. Sumic had started interrogation. Despite it, the prisoner smiled broadly. "Captain Spock -- or perhaps I should call you Cousin. We did, all of us, spring from the same Motherworld after all. Eh, Sumic?"
Sumic coldly narrowed his eyes. "Be careful, 897065."
"Hardly what I want to be known by." The man got to his feet and weaved for a moment, before standing tall. Stron kept the phaser steadily on him. "I am Archernar, a... businessman looking to trade, and hardly a threat to your stalwart companion there."
Stron kept the phaser aimed and Spock didn't give the order for him to stand down. "You have information, Mr. Archernar."
"Don't you Vulcans ever relax? There are social graces we should be enjoying. Hard to do with some of us chained up and others aiming weapons. True? No? All right, if you wish to be barbarians--"
Sumic clubbed the man with the back of his hand and Archernar's already bruised mouth began to bleed. Spock snatched Sumic's arm as it came around for another blow.
Archernar struggled back to his feet and his dark eyes lost all humor. "That will get us nowhere."
"I quite agree," Spock said. He motioned the man to sit down. "You wish to trade?"
The Romulan could not hide all his relief in getting off his feet. "Yes, if we strike a deal that benefits us both."
Outside in the other cells, shouts rose in the Romulan language that Spock translated easily as threats made against Archernar if he kept talking.
"And the trade," Spock kept on above the shouts, "is information about a bioweapon -- useful against Vulcans -- for your life."
Remarkably, Archernar managed to smile again, a smile that both coaxed the receiver of his sincerity and warned he was not to be trifled with. "Yes, but let's better define that. I carved a nice niche out of the Empire for myself... my Empire that is." The grin this time was meant to convey he and Spock were men of the universe. "Curious, isn't it, how empires tend to coagulate in this neck of the cosmos. You, us, the Klingons--"
"You were saying."
"Ah, yes, my life. Buying my freedom with this information--" Outraged roars came from the cells again. "--does not mean you dump me on whatever world you choose. I want my carved niche back. You will agree to the coordinates I give you as my return point."
"If we have a deal."
"Of course."
The Romulans outside suddenly shifted languages. It sounded like theirs, but was twisted, mutated, and Spock didn't understand it at all.
Interrogation rooms were always audible to other cells. Screams from a prisoner had a wonderful affect on those waiting their turn. Spock could move Archernar to a quiet place, but his curiosity was aroused over why the other Romulans shifted languages.
He motioned Sumic to join him in a corner of the room. He spoke in Vulcan. "Do you understand what they are saying?"
The commandant scoffed. "It is a fabricated dialect they created for themselves. They call it Prisonspeak."
Spock checked the Universal Translator. It gave him nothing. "Our computers cannot break down its algorithm."
"They never use it enough in public for anyone to learn it. Ignore it, it is nothing."
Spock rose an eyebrow, wondering at the man's lack of ingenuity. "Do you not wonder why they choose to use it now?"
"Why should I? A trained pet can be taught speak on command. It does not mean he has something to say."
Archernar snorted with laughter and Spock suddenly wondered at his own lack of ingenuity. "Apparently, he can be trained to hear another language as well. Our prisoner understands Vulcan."
When Sumic's head snapped around to glare at him, Archernar shrugged. "Know thy enemy and you can turn him into a customer. Now who said that?" His forehead scrunched in thought and then smoothed out. "Oh yes, me."
Spock paused to think and addressed Sumic in High Vulcan. "There's something the prisoners don't want us know, but they risk us learning their language to warn this one."
Sumic knocked on the wall near the security field and one of the guards outside deactivated it.
"Where are you going?" Spock asked.
"You want to know what they're saying. I am calling your own trained pet to find out." He was at the comm panel before Spock could stop him. "Lieutenant Saavik to the brig."
Spock was out of the interrogation room, leaving Stron to hold the prisoner, glaring down at Sumic as he finished talking and jabbed the comm unit off. Saavik's obedience was a given. But to openly demean her loyalty by. . . . His teeth gritted together. "Never refer to her by such derogatory names again. She earned everything she has and had to work ten times harder than someone like you to achieve it."
He stalked back to Archernar before the commandant retaliated. The Romulan stared curiously at what went on beyond the security field, but obviously heard nothing above the shouts of the other prisoners. Good. Then no one heard Sumic call for someone with a Romulan name.
"Mr. Archernar, another officer is joining us as the third authorizing agent. Merely a formality." Sumic was now back in the room. "I can approve the terms of our deal myself. For that matter, so could the commandant."
The Romulan argued back stubbornly. "If we were in the Thieurrull prison camp which we are not. Forgive my interruption, Cousin Spock, but when it comes to a deal aboard this ship, I am better off sealing it with the captain, meaning you. Besides, the commandant and I are not on the best terms. I don't think he'd stick to any deal I gave him. He certainly didn't the first time I met him."
Spock's attention shifted from one man to the other. "Meaning?"
Sumic dismissed the idea. "The prisoner earned his stay on Thieurrull by crossing over the Romulan border into our space. He claimed engine trouble and proposed a trade to have his ship fixed and returned."
"Which you agreed to," Archernar said darkly, "and then went against."
"Did you think I believed your story about engine failure? You obviously engineered your ship's problems in order to infiltrate our space."
The Romulan, with more than a trace of satire, raised an eyebrow at Spock. "You see our problem."
Spock saw Sumic had been right when they first met: the Vulcan had been commandant of a prison camp too long. It stagnated him. He no longer saw the enemy as anything but as vermin to grind under his heel. His power over them not only made him soft in realizing they could strike back and how, he no longer knew how to play the games to stay sharp and alive in the Empire.
Archernar all at once leapt to his feet, the weakening pains from his interrogation sessions gone, and his eyes filled with masculine appreciation. "Next time, Cousin Spock, warn me. A man wants to look his best for such... an officer."
Spock followed his gaze and viewed Saavik entering the brig. He did not expect his insides to tighten against another male admiring her now that pon farr was over, but they did and some of it must have showed for Archernar narrowed his eyes.
"Am I crossing into your space, Cousin? The woman is yours?"
Spock forced himself to shake his head to the Romulan's question. He had to under Sumic's sudden piercing glower. But to stand here and watch Archernar rake Saavik with such obvious craving?
He now took satisfaction for a more petty reason in having her covered by the full uniform. The Security detail exclaimed sharply at the sight of her in it, but Spock held a finger to his lips, then gestured to the cells around them. The men glanced around and nodded in understand. With her POW tattoo visible, the prisoners would shut up. Now they stood a chance of hearing what was going on. He'd have to hope they would not report the uniform violation to Kirk.
His eyes caught Sumic's.
Saavik, with Soluk in tow, joined them in the increasingly small interrogation room. As he expected, she was at her most Vulcan with having to pass by the Romulans, even though the majority couldn't see her.
Despite the tight space, or perhaps taking advantage of it, Archernar squeezed in the small spot between Saavik and Spock. He wore his prison uniform and manacles like fine court regalia, and he bowed to her forcing Spock another few steps back. The silver hair fell in spiked bangs giving him the look of a hunter peering through the brush. "Lieutenant," he greeted her, identifying her rank insignia. He straightened and his mouth quirked. "How did a Romulan beauty like you get amongst the domesticated prey here?"
Spock saw the telltales in Saavik that spoke of her deep unease in being discovered and her reigned in animosity towards the man who did it. He relaxed. Archernar may want Saavik so badly it vibrated like a shield around him, but he had done the worse thing possible just now. Spock saw the hardness around her eyes.
And yet, her utter rejection didn't faze Archernar one bit. "Is it a secret then? The how you came to be here? Then something else, something to seal our... working relationship. Your name perhaps." The dark eyes danced into hers and the flash of teeth even whiter against his faded bronzed skin. "I will give you mine in return."
Spock saw a future ahead of him where he was not allowed to be Saavik's and had to watch other men try to claim her. It made his voice sharper. He called for a padd and stylus to be brought in. "Mr. Archernar is trading information for his freedom."
The Romulan shook a finger good-naturedly at him. "Tsk tsk, Cousin. You gave away my name. Never mind. I bet I can guess yours, my lieutenant, by the end of our time together today."
From another cell, a voice rose in Prisonspeak, the first since Saavik arrived. Almost imperceptibly, she perked up and took the padd Spock handed her. On it was scrawled Do you understand the prison language?
Archernar tilted his head back, watching with great interest.
"Can you verify that, Lieutenant?" Spock asked.
"Understood, Captain." She crossed to the computer access panel, entered her security code so the panel opened, and began the recorder. For appearance sake, she brought up a variety of statistics including the Romulan border. She nodded to Spock. "Confirmed."
Archernar chuckled. "Oh, I see how this is. And what is to stop me from announcing our lovely translator's presence so everyone else knows?"
"Do you want to live?" Saavik asked with a great deal scorn.
That was a touch harsh. Spock noticed other signs in her now: fatigue and strain from the trials of the day. But he could not shield her. She was a senior officer; she had her duty as he had his. And he'd rather she be harsh than friendly with the other man.
Spock repressed the thought. Obviously, the aftermath of their pon farr was still affecting him.
Archernar's teeth flashed again. "Yes, very much so. I must also admit how very attracted I am to strong women, especially those with such husky undertones in their voices."
Her eyes narrowed, warning him away. It fed his smile.
Spock began to rethink stopping Sumic from striking the Romulan again. "We have gotten off track."
His prisoner replied cheerfully, "I heartily agree, Cousin, but surely even Vulcans realize you must stop a headlong dash to enjoy life's beauty? Perhaps you have grown too used to the loveliness here." Again that flirtatious glance at Saavik. "You take it for granted."
Spock drew a long, slow breath. Outside, the Romulans called out, only once or twice, unsure of what was going on. The calls were in their own language. He raised his voice.
"Mr. Archernar," he spoke with calm, strong force. "I remind you, you asked for this conference. You will either start proving you have worthwhile information or take the consequences."
The Romulan shook his head sadly. "I worry about Vulcan's future, Cousin Spock. I honestly do when you show me what blinders you wear. However, I respect your dedication to business even if that's all you see. I will uphold my end of the deal we draw--"
Now the calls from the cells were again in Prisonspeak. Archernar's voice dropped. "But the price just went up if you want my silence about--" He jerked his head at Saavik.
Spock put the price issue aside for the moment before he gave in to the temptation to throw the man through the nearest bulkhead. "This information, I require more details."
Archernar bowed again to Saavik and sat down on the bench obviously trying to hide how much he needed its support. "I already said, it's a biological weapon affecting Vulcans only."
"It kills?"
"It can."
"Then there's an antidote."
Archernar smirked. "Yes. We do not always give it."
Typical. "But you have?"
"If we get something out of it, yes."
Of course. "This bioweapon... you developed it on Thieurrull?"
Sumic fumed at the idea, but Spock expected that. Archernar shouted in Prisonspeak; Spock didn't expect that and whatever the Romulan had said, Saavik obviously didn't anticipate.
The clamor from the cells abruptly stopped. He looked to Saavik and she nodded: Archernar had warned them to shut up. But she was frowning over something she didn't understand and sending sideways glances at the Romulan. He saw them, and his return gaze and smile were warm, not arrogant.
"You ruined your deal," Spock declared and signaled the guards to lower the field.
"No, Cousin. I saved my deal. What good does it do me if you learn everything through your translating tricks? I offered you an honest trade. You cannot have the information without paying for it. She got enough to wet your appetite."
Sumic interrupted. "And we are supposed to believe rumors delivered in mongrel speech?"
"Proof, is that what you want? Why did you not say so before?"
Spock's raised eyebrow was the only sign of his surprise. "You have proof?"
"Oh yes. Right on board. Now, as to my price -- since the lovely Lieutenant is the reason it's higher, perhaps I can work out a personal deal?" He stretched out on the bench and patted the slim space next to him.
Spock's eyebrows mirrored the thin line his mouth formed. "Your proof?"
"Simple. One of my people, a woman, splashed a number of Vulcan guards with the contents of a container at the beginning of the last prison riot. Check any of Sumic's people caught by it."
Spock felt his skin draw tight at the bad news. Saavik's breath hitched in an unnatural rhythm before settling. He saw her reaction as she saw his. "The liquid was the bioweapon?"
Archernar nodded. "You do have people on board that were hit by it?"
Spock replied tightly. "Yes."
"It should take affect soon if it hasn't already. The condition stands out. You'll see it."
Spock wanted Saavik rushed to Sickbay, but a physical exam would reveal whether she was pregnant or not. Her one lifeline was threatened. "Are you willing to give the antidote?"
The man's answering smirk was wicked. "Maybe. It depends. Say," he talked to Saavik now, "you were hit by the liquid. I'd definitely give you the antidote."
The Romulans in the other cells laughed, their calls lustfully describing in their own language what Archernar wanted to give her. The edge in Spock's voice got more lethal. "We'll discuss price later, Archernar, once I determined if you speak the truth."
He motioned the others to follow him. Sumic had already crossed outside the security field when Archernar spoke.
"Then I will see you later, Cousin Spock, Commandant Sumic, Lieutenant... Saavik."
She stopped in mid-stride. He did it. He guessed her name. "How?"
His eyes twinkled. "What other name for someone whose ears perk up when they catch a sound? Whose hackles rise when she spits with fury? Who moves so gracefully? You should dance with such natural grace."
Spock's teeth clenched hard together.
"If your name wasn't Little Cat, it should be."
She drew up raging when he spoke her name's meaning aloud. He chuckled happily. "There's the hackles I referred to and I'm sure I'm about to hear you hiss and spit. What it must be like to hear you purr."
She stood over him. Her voice was hard. "Never speak my name again."
He wiped away his smile, gazing up at her solemnly. Suddenly, he captured her left hand, shoving up the sleeve and exposing her POW tattoo. He tapped it with a fingertip. "It's a bitch when someone translates something you didn't want others to hear, isn't it?"
She snatched her arm away and stalked from the cell, stopping only long enough to say at the door, "The warning still stands." She was gone.
Spock looked back at Archernar and raised a satirical eyebrow. "I question your approach with women... Cousin. At least it is highly entertaining."
The Romulan chuckled. "Why, Cousin, are you going to give me tips for winning her over?"
Spock walked away.
She waited in the hall next to an unconcerned Sumic, Soluk now her familiar shadow. She was stripping off the uniform jacket and long sleeve tunic, her bolero top underneath. Spock kept his eyes from the display and swept them up in his wake. We are becoming quite the pack, but the thought was grim. Twice today Saavik's life was threatened, first by Vulcans and this time by the Romulans. He refused to dwell on the irony.
"Lieutenant, report."
She did so as they made their way to the lift. "The bioweapon is legitimate, undoubtedly developed within the Romulan Empire as an interrogation tool. It breaks down a Vulcan's disciplines making him or her more susceptible to questioning. The prisoners did not say what the antidote is."
"How was the bioweapon smuggled onto Thieurrull?"
"It wasn't. Its formula was known by more than one captured officer. They created the batch used during the riot while working in the prison labs."
The slaves use the master's weapon against him. Spock ordered the lift to the deck for Sickbay. "If he had not told the other prisoners you were translating, we may have that antidote."
Saavik's eyebrows drew together and her voice showed she was more than a bit confused. "Actually, sir, he did not tell them I was translating. He said the computer created an algorithm. I do not understand why he did not betray me to them."
He could think of a reason. "Who knows what goes on in such a mind? Commander Sumic, you must have your people report to Sickbay immediately."
He had been keeping Saavik from a medical examination all day, and now she was forced to go. Sumic knew she was hit by the bioweapon and would question it if she wasn't examined. If they only knew the antidote.
The other Vulcan nodded, but argued, "Your medical staff cleared them for duty."
"They did the same with me," said Saavik.
Sumic dismissed it. "Naturally. The weapon works only on Vulcans."
Immediately, Spock had Stron and Soluk box the Vulcan commander in. "I warned you, Sumic." He pulled his dagger from its sheath. "Perhaps a half hour in the agony booth--"
"Captain."
He stopped at Saavik's voice. At her touch on his arm, he stepped back and the two guards with him. He was proud of the way she spoke calmly, "Permission to speak freely, Captain?"
He nodded.
"To everyone?" she said pointedly.
"Granted."
The space in the lift was tight already. When Saavik stood before Sumic, they were shoved close together, the commandant making a point of stepping back from her. Her body was tightly coiled, yes, but still displayed a Vulcan's control. Sumic, in fact, stood more aggressively than she did. Spock filed the fact away for future use.
"You have a problem with me, Commander." She said it evenly. "I am your worst nightmare come true: a former prisoner who escaped your heel at her throat, and who you are forced to recognize as an officer and an Imperial citizen. Your opinions outside that recognition are your own. Unfortunately I cannot change them, but they will not affect your duties or the running of this ship. I am touched by this new threat and I must be included in all we do to counteract it or you will interfere with Enterprise running efficiently. I can do nothing about your bigotry, but affect this ship and I can bring down the repercussions."
His head came up; without a height advantage, it was the only way to intimidate her. "Do not threaten me."
"We are Vulcans. We do not threaten, we state facts. I would expect you to know that difference."
The lift doors open, Stron and Soluk taking the point and scanning the corridor. She marched out without looking back. Spock raised an eyebrow at Sumic and followed. As he reached her, she fell into easy place at his shoulder and they left the other Vulcan behind.
"You are more like them than you are willing to see." Sumic's voice made them pause together. "And you give them more credit than they deserve."
He stalked out of the lift and pushed past them, forcing them abruptly from hunter to hunted as he spun on them. "I agree we must take the threat of a bioweapon seriously, but I do not automatically jump to the word of a prisoner."
"Saavik confirms what they said."
"And it never occurred to you they might be using you? Giving you exactly what you want? You react without logic. You assume faith where there is none. He's playing you. Do you actually think the man pulled a name out the myriad of possibilities based on a few pathetic physical characteristics?"
Spock frowned on that, but Saavik's eyes tapered dangerously. "You told him about me."
Sumic's face twisted arrogantly. "Of course. Yet he convinced you otherwise."
Spock wondered what else the Romulan was told. "You, yourself, said the man had vital information based on the other Romulans' treatment of him. Did you mislead me?"
"I did make that statement. I also said we must treat this threat seriously, but not assume it is real when they overreacted in their efforts to convince us." He spun on his heel and marched away forcing them to follow.
It was a galling thing.
Sickbay was finally clear of the dead and wounded from the battle above Thieurrull, so they had the medical staff's full attention. Spock explained the situation by the time Sumic's people arrived. McCoy himself worked on Saavik and she swore to herself that if he didn't warm up his clammy hands before touching her, she'd --
She caught hold of herself and found Spock's eyes on her. Mere hours after they decided to avoid her getting a physical examination, here she was. She gritted her teeth. They were going to lose whatever McCoy found. The only difference would be her killer. The Vulcans or Kirk.
But if Kirk found out she carried Spock's child, she faced a different death sentence.
Saavik suddenly frowned. Was that why Spock had never made her his woman? Kirk couldn't kill Spock because of his Imperial Investigator position, so the admiral would kill those important to him.
She shook the thought away; it was illogical to wonder about a man that couldn't be hers.
As tense as the situation made her, the whine of the Feinberger made her recoil slightly, and she wanted to curse out loud because she knew McCoy saw it.
"Why are you hanging around?" McCoy snapped at Spock. "Doesn't the captain of this ship have better things to do?"
"I want to know the results of this bioweapon immediately."
"And I'll give them as soon as I know. What's so different about this time? Get out of here." The doctor switched the Feinberger back on and suddenly off again. His sudden grin was ugly. "You know what? I never got you to take your physical."
Of course not, Saavik thought. He was in pon farr.
"If you're going to hang around, do something useful." McCoy whistled to another one of his staff, quickly giving orders. Spock swung up on the next bed, and McCoy's mouth turned into a suspicious frown at the obedience.
Spock opted for the easiest tactic. Diversion. "You are coordinating all the results, of course."
It worked, McCoy's attention instantly shifted to Sumic's people. Saavik managed to keep her face still.
"I would if you'd stop interrupting me, dammit!"
The Feinberger whined over Saavik and the diagnostic levels above her head came to life with beeps and pulses.
"What have you found so far?" Spock asked, checking the readouts on the overhead panel.
"Not much. Fatigue, a little higher hormonal levels..."
That was the aftermath of her pon farr. Better to let McCoy think it might be the first signs of the bioweapon.
He took hold of her arm while running his diagnostic device over her. His hand was cold. She glared at him. The man had worked on Vulcans for years. Why couldn't he realize the outcome of touching someone with a dryer, higher body temperature?
That was when she saw his eyes widen. She forced herself to be calm. "What is it?"
He looked up over the medical scanner. "Just surprised as always by all the internal scarring you've collected. Broken bones, old puncture wound on your lungs, a mess of other things. There's no such thing as a Starfleet officer without scars, but you win the lifetime achievement award, Miss. Romulans must get off on beating their children."
"Pit fighting, Doctor." Sumic joined them, looking placid over McCoy's findings. "I had forgotten the lieutenant's," he stressed the rank but only Spock and Saavik knew why, "former distinction until you mentioned it."
"Some of it," she spoke through clenched teeth, "was beatings from the guards."
Sumic nodded, not at all thrown off by the accusation. "Naturally. If a prisoner will not stay in line, a guard must award punishment."
McCoy was still on the first point. "The Pits? I didn't know you made kids fight in them."
Pit fighting existed throughout the Empire, from simple excavated holes in the ground to fancy arenas in expensive establishments. People fought to the death against wild animals or each other, either unarmed or with nothing more than a club or knives. Starfleet officers used to settle battles amongst themselves in the Pits until the current Empress grew tired of losing her Fleet's crew and banned it. At least officially.
Sumic sneered at McCoy. "Not Vulcans, Doctor. It was the human personnel on Thieurrull that dug the Pits there, and it was the humans who found POWs killing and dying in them amusing."
McCoy raised an eyebrow, confused again. "Thieurrull? Oh, Hellguard."
Saavik suddenly smelled the dirt from the Pit's floor and walls in her nostrils again, the sweat of her challenger, the yells from the crowd or the snarls if she fought an animal.
"I will admit," Sumic said at length, "I found the half-breeds capabilities in the Pits fascinating. Many of them are born with an increased killing anger. It strikes like a madness, giving them greater strength and agility - as well as increased resistance to such things as stun charges. However, it leaves them completely drained and vulnerable the moment it leaves them. Interesting to see. One half-breed was able to release the anger at will. Very powerful weapon."
Catching the doctor's glance at Saavik, Sumic shook his head. "No, a male. We put him down when he reached adolescence. He became too much of a threat."
Shaljahn, Saavik thought. I remember him. He died when I was very young.
When her mother discovered Saavik couldn't release the madness at will like Shaljahn did, she said dryly, "I don't know if you just bought yourself some years or lost them. That madness could keep you alive in the arena, but the guards gun you down if you're too successful."
"What kind of mother lets her kid fight in the Pits?" McCoy asked.
Saavik resented his injured innocence when it was the humans that created and supported the fighting. "One who has no choice."
"One who gets rewarded for it," Sumic contradicted. Then he conceded, "And one who has to do it herself. The prisoners receive extra rations, a blanket, or other dividends if they win."
"Such as the guards not beating you that night."
Sumic matched her glower. "I see no reason for you to complain, Lieutenant. You have obviously taken the experience and turned it into a career." He looked pointedly from her to the others in Spock's personal guard.
She wanted to spit back that she was the science officer here, but she knew the futility in it. She only had one way to win with Sumic. "Commander, you are keeping the doctor from his duty." She tilted her head, wondering if he caught the significance of what she said.
Next to her, the doctor giving Spock his checkup suddenly raised his voice. "Captain, I need you to get back on the examination bed."
From the corner of her eye, Saavik saw Spock had swung his legs off the bed, his hands clenching its edge as if he was going to launch himself... at Sumic.
The commandant saw the same thing and his voice took on an edge of disdain. But he backed down. "By all means, Doctor McCoy must have a number of tests to perform. Let us see if this bioweapon exists."
Saavik was pressed back, and as the Feinberger hovered over her abdomen, she didn't remember to complain about McCoy's cold hands.
She and the other Vulcans were released with no word on the results of their testing. No word if McCoy discovered a pregnancy. The added stress tunneled into her nerves like vermin.
Her bridge shift was long over. She went to the labs and lost herself in her research work. A Vulcan didn't worry. She couldn't control what the tests showed, she could only deal with the results when she got them. Therefore, logically, she gave full attention to her research, but it was difficult. It was one thing to say she shouldn't worry, and another to do it.
After hours in the labs, her fatigue hit full force. Her vision swirled at times, refusing to focus, and her head buzzed, even the soft sounds from the other scientists making it ache. She felt the room pull away as if she was at the end of a tunnel and snap back to stark, harsh existence.
The others were working well, and she didn't want anyone but T'Mes knowing the reason for her exhaustion. She excused herself to her office, hoping meditation would give her back some energy.
But it didn't. Instead of calm, peaceful meditation, her presence swam, even gave off an echo of itself. Her eyes closed into sleep and her body pitched forward from where she kneeled, startling her upright, but not enough to wake up. She dozed again, her head drifting slowly down to her chest, until the door whispered open. Even exhaustion couldn't override her survival instincts. Her eyelids fluttered open, seeing Spock. She didn't even finish the muzzy thought that it was a good thing it was him, because she wouldn't be able to defend herself if she was attacked.
This time, when her slumbering body leaned over, it was into his chest. He was crouching before her and caught her. As she had pillowed her head there the last few days when she slept, she unconsciously burrowed into the curve where his neck joined his shoulder.
She didn't hear his remorseful sigh before gently shaking her awake.
"Enough," he said. He overrode the protesting sounds that she thought were words. "You have been at this for twenty-four hours nonstop. This after days with little sleep. You are only endangering yourself."
He said the one thing to always reach her. She stumbled to her feet, forcing herself to at least appear awake, and left with him. T'Mes was ordering the staff into a shift change and was leaving herself anyway. They had a good jump on their work and would be ready when they reached Warbase 5 tomorrow.
Stron and Soluk were replaced twice already, the current guards following them being S'Lev and Sessak. How she ever got to her cabin, she didn't know, but she didn't protest when Spock scooped her up after the door closed behind them and carried her to her bed. Or when he disrobed her, carefully setting her dagger and phaser within reach. She was already asleep. She missed again his reluctance in leaving her.
