Title: Impromptu Bondmates
Author: Nemo the Everbeing
Rating: R
Author's Note: I enjoy the notion that a human wouldn't react well to a Vulcan bonding, which would normally require psyonic abilities. So, don't expect your normal easy bonding. This one is going to be a very bumpy ride.
Disclaimer: Gene Roddenberry dreamed them. Desilu made them. Paramount owns them. I just pay homage in my own, quirky way.
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Chapter 3Sometime during the night, after attempting numerous sleeping arrangements with just the one cot, and McCoy unwilling to allow the recently injured Vulcan to sleep on the floor as he had suggested, both were forced to resign themselves to the fact that they needed to share the bunk.
It was not an easy task. While neither could be called large, they were still of average size for two grown men of their relative species, and trying to fit themselves on the same twin-sized cot proved to be a definite logistical challenge.
Spock was quite certain that he'd fallen asleep entirely separated from the human. In spite of his advocacy of physical contact to help McCoy recover from their recent bonding, he could not bring himself to fall asleep in such a precarious position.
Honestly speaking, he had no more wish to fully integrate himself with the doctor than he knew McCoy had to do so with him. The idea that his logic might very well be compromised by this human's mind was virtually unacceptable to him, and, while he thought that he could handle any difficulties that might arise while he was conscious, he did not want to know what might happen should the link be reestablished in his sleep.
So, they tried to go to sleep with their backs to one another, not consenting to any more contact than that.
It did not seem to have worked out as planned.
First came the dream, the quality of which Spock had been completely unprepared for. It was not that Vulcans did not dream, it was simply that Vulcan dreams were routine. They were in no way the violent tapestry that painted itself in Spock's stunned mind:
He was on Vulcan, he was certain, but things were not as they should be. The cities were collapsed in what seemed to be tremendous violence. There were fires, and Vulcans milling about in a decidedly illogical manner. He moved through them, feeling, oddly enough, like he had a very good reason for being where he was. He moved purposefully into one of the buildings, and staggered. Could this possibly be his hospital?
There was so much death. How could he prevent that which was so much larger than he? Still, in a motion that Spock could not explain, he pushed up his sleeves and moved about the small, makeshift hospital.
He knew, without knowing how, that this was the children's ward, and he was the doctor in charge of all of this. It was his job to save all these little lives.
And he went to work, doing things he shouldn't have the knowledge to do, working at a pace that could only be described as frantic, as if he was affected by some sort of emotion.
Which, in all honesty, he was. He was desperate, and despairing of his race. How could we possibly have done this to ourselves? he mentally demanded. For all our so-called civilization, how can we be so advanced if we still have this within us?
Then, the blast hit. Spock was thrown against a wall, dizziness and nausea sweeping over him in equal parts. A section of the roof collapsed before his disbelieving eyes. He heard the children screaming. Shaking his head and looking up, he saw half of the room completely decimated, small bodies broken and trapped under the rubble.
And Spock began to weep.
Then, abruptly, he awoke. When Spock opened his eyes, he found that, sometime during the night, they had both managed to turn themselves over, and now the Vulcan was unable to move without waking the doctor, as they had become so entangled.
So, the most logical course of action would be to wake McCoy and work to extract themselves as a mutual effort.
"Doctor," he said putting gentle pressure on the human's back where his hands had come to rest.
McCoy twitched, winding his arms more securely around Spock and burying his head in the Vulcan's chest. "Jesus," he muttered, obviously still asleep, "there's too much damage. Have to get everybody out."
Spock raised his eyebrows as he realized the implications of that statement and repeated his efforts. "Doctor," he called again, more firmly and with a bit more volume.
It seemed to work. McCoy's heart rate, very apparent to Spock in such close proximity, sped up as he came out of his torpor, and the man's blue eyes opened, blinking up at Spock in bafflement. That was almost immediately replaced by shock. "Christ!" he exclaimed.
"Indeed," Spock concurred, "I believe we were sharing the same dream."
McCoy shook his head, seeming to try to clear it. "The link?"
Spock searched his mind, which immediately responded in echoes. "Established, on some basic level," Spock informed his human bondmate, "and more than likely responsible for the occurrence."
McCoy looked away. "That would explain everyone being Vulcan."
Spock understood immediately. "They were actually human."
McCoy glanced at him once more, looking slightly haunted. "Yeah. The Chara IV colony. They were . . . well, it was sort of like the situation here. Various factions fought each other, made bombs. I was doing my Starfleet residency when they sent me there to work in the relief effort." He snorted. "Nothing on Earth prepares you for that sort of thing."
"You were assigned to the children's ward."
McCoy nodded. "It nearly killed me every time one of them died, but I was saving a lot of them, too, so everything . . . I could get through it. I could ignore the fact that every time I looked at one of those kids, I saw my own daughter. After the collapse, though . . . they reassigned me." He shook his head. "I had even pretty much gotten over the nightmares until Jim sent us to this hellhole."
McCoy glared at the ceiling, seeking to mask his feelings in his universal gruff façade. Spock was fascinated to realize that, despite the human's staunch advocacy of the expression of emotions, he seemed to cover them almost as well as a Vulcan, only letting certain, obviously more acceptable variety show.
Finding no other alternative, he asked mentally, 'Why is it that you express anger, yet will not allow yourself to display remorse?'
McCoy blinked at him, then scowled, replying in kind, 'You were in my head the entire time, weren't you?'
'As you were in mine, had you taken the time to notice.'
McCoy rolled his eyes, still holding that mask of anger.
'Shall I repeat the question, Doctor?'
McCoy sighed, shifting slightly, and reminding Spock that they were still tangled together on the narrow cot. "Remorse is weak," the doctor stated aloud. "That's not something I can afford myself right now."
"Probably an intelligent choice," a voice broke in to their exchange.
Two heads both looked up to the door, which now stood open. Standing there was a tall, statuesque woman with graceful, pointed ears, and an icy smile.
Spock arched an eyebrow, ignoring the rather awkward position she had found them in. "I was not aware that the Romulans had ventured this far into Federation territory."
"Then there are many things of which you are not aware," she replied smoothly. "I am Telara, Intelligence Officer of the Romulan starship Kaleh. I've been an acquisition here longer than anyone."
"A slave, you mean," McCoy corrected her.
Telara shrugged. "Call it what you will. It's my job to teach you enough to keep you in line." She motioned, a sneer curling her lips, and aimed directly at Spock. "Now, get up. You can hold one another later."
When she had turned away, McCoy glanced at Spock and gave him a quick, amused grin. "Never a moment to ourselves. Some honeymoon, huh?"
"Honeymoon, Doctor?"
McCoy gave him a sharp glance. 'Well, we are technically newlyweds,' he thought before they let go of one another and severed the bond. 'And it's Leonard, Spock! I think they might question this whole bond thing if you keep calling me Doctor.'
Spock considered that, released McCoy's hand, and then nodded his agreement. "It is, indeed, not the ideal honeymoon . . . Leonard."
McCoy smiled at him. 'Once again, with feeling.'
'I do not express feeling. You, more than most, should know that.'
McCoy rolled his eyes. 'Perfect. I just married myself a man who thinks that the Enterprise computer's the ideal role model.'
Spock arched an eyebrow at his bondmate, wondering at his propensity for hyperbole. Then, he rose, tested his injured leg, and then crossed to stand next to the Romulan woman with only a slight limp, who looked him over coldly.
"Mr. Spock, the man who has helped destroy numerous Romulan ships and killed dozens of loyal citizens," she stated. "I assumed that you would be taller."
His other eyebrow joined the first. "I was unaware that our status as Federation representatives was known here."
She snorted. "The humans who bought you know nothing beyond what they see with their own eyes. Whether or not they know what value you truly hold makes no difference to me." Her teeth gleamed in a smile. "I, on the other hand, am Romulan. I keep my eyes and ears open, and knew who you were the instant I saw them bring you in."
"Well, I'm flattered," McCoy drawled.
Telara either didn't catch his sarcasm, or deliberately ignored it. Spock, observing her closely, believed the latter to be the case, as she replied, "You should be. Few humans, indeed, warrant my attention. However, your very humanity is, in this case, what intrigues."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" McCoy demanded.
"A Vulcan bonded with you, and as pathetic as the race is, they are far superior to humans. So, Doctor McCoy, tell me: what it is about you that has merited such interest from an otherwise greater being?"
McCoy snorted. "Guess it was just my lucky day," he groused.
She arched an eyebrow at the exact same time as Spock. "Indeed," she murmured, and then turned away from them. "We'll be late. Move, Acquisitions."
Spock rose, glancing back to make sure that McCoy followed.
"This just keeps on getting better and better," the human groused.
Spock decided that McCoy was still basically intact if he could still grouse. It was when he stopped that Spock should become concerned for his bondmate.
They followed Telara out into a larger, plush room. In this stripped down, broken world, seeing such luxury seemed odd, not to mention inappropriate.
And there, sitting, seeming in deep conversation, were two new surprises. One was an alien the likes of which Spock had never seen. He had gray, slightly scaled skin, with prominent ridges on his forehead and along the sides of his wide neck.
The other was a Klingon.
"And I say again," McCoy breathed, eyes widening.
The Klingon stood, drawing lips back from his teeth in a grimace. "As if there weren't enough humans here already."
Telara smiled at him. "Very few, I suspect, who are bonded to Vulcans."
The other alien rose, crossing the room to circle Spock with a serpentine grace. "Vulcan?" he queried, shooting a look at Telara out of eyes the color of ice. "He looks as if he were your species."
She snorted.
Spock arched an eyebrow. "We belong to sister races. However, she is Romulan, while I am Vulcan."
The alien seemed to have no problem invading Spock's space as he peered closely. "Physiological differences?"
"More a matter of philosophy," McCoy corrected. "Vulcans repress their emotions. Romulans don't seem to have that problem."
"We prefer the word 'control' to 'repress'," Spock stated. "It has less of a loaded meaning."
Brilliant white teeth flashed as the alien smiled. "Of course," he said, seeming thrilled. "At last, a man who knows the value of words. Having conversations with this lot has been like carving a statue with a vole's tail."
Even McCoy looked lost after that choice of phrasing.
The alien, seeming to realize he had lost the understanding of his companions, shrugged. "It's been a difficult time."
"Especially for a man who likes to talk so much," spat the Klingon.
Telara turned to Spock and McCoy, an ironic eyebrow arched. "Gentlemen, may I present the other two acquisitions."
The Klingon nodded tersely. "I am Kataq, helmsman of the Batl'h."
"And I," the alien said, bowing slightly from the waist, "am Gessad, xenobiologist on the Daltav'u, of the Cardassian Deep Space Exploratory Fund."
"Cardassian?" McCoy asked. "I don't know as I've heard of that species before, and I know I haven't seen anything remotely like you."
Gessad's face broke into a smile. "Nor are you likely to. I am all that's left of my crew, and my home has not yet even been reached by your people."
"What brought you out so far?"
Gessad's smile faded. "Famine," he replied. "We went out looking for possible avenues of expansion." He shrugged. "We're not a people disposed to empire building, but we must do what we must to survive."
"As I have tried to tell you," Kataq stated, "empire building is nothing to be ashamed of. To expand is a natural state, and there is much honor to be found in it."
"Yes, well, that remains to be seen," Gessad replied noncommittally.
McCoy was immediately drawn to his fellow scientist, Spock noted, as well as the convivial and non-threatening appearance the Cardassian put forth. Spock had the suspicion that the façade was just that, but, being that he had no evidence, had no reason to warn the doctor away. He listened as they began questioning one another on relative biology, watching McCoy's face seem to sharpen in interest as Gessad explained that his people were renowned architects and craftsmen, raised to have an appreciation of arts and life. Their minds, he expounded, were radically different from any other race Gessad had yet encountered, having a completely different sense of the passage of time, as well as being drawn to good conversation and games of strategy.
In turn, McCoy tried to explain human life as best he could to the Cardassian, who listened as well as he spoke.
"I would watch out, if I were you," Telara said softly, standing next to Spock. "Gessad is an extremely charming man, but I trust him about as far as your bondmate could throw him."
"You are saying that he is dangerous?"
"I'm saying nothing of the sort. I'm only noting that out of the five slave traders who promised to deliver him to our owners, only two arrived." She shot Spock a superior look. "Perhaps xenobiologists perform different functions on Cardassian ships than we are used to."
Spock did not respond, but stored the information away for future reference, determining that it would be necessary to keep a closer watch on the strange, friendly alien from now on.
Suddenly, the doors opened, and a veritable entourage of humans filed in. Spock felt Telara go tense next to him, and felt McCoy's anger from across the room as the man in the lead of the column of people looked over them like prize livestock, or a particularly interesting museum display.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, "these are my newest acquisitions: a Vulcan, and his human bondmate."
One of the other men peered at them. "Is that uncommon?"
"Very," a woman draped in animal skins and silk explained. "They are a private sort of people, and don't generally enjoy the company of our species. Really very interesting to see one so close."
Spock raised an eyebrow at that.
"And the best part," McCoy drawled, crossing his arms over his chest, "is that they actually understand every word you say. So, talking about them in the third person isn't actually as polite as you might think."
Telara stiffened at Spock's side, even as the leader of the human group glanced at a bracelet he wore, then pressed one of the jeweled buttons adorning it.
McCoy immediately doubled over, choking out a colorful expletive. However, when no more were forthcoming, Spock became seriously worried and crossed to the human's side in a few steps.
The thing he noticed immediately upon arrival was that McCoy's mouth was open, and he was making strange, soft wheezing noises. Spock reached out, placing a hand on the man's back, immediately assailed by terror and a desperate need for oxygen.
He turned his gaze sharply to the man he had interpreted as their owner. "I request that you desist."
The man smiled, but didn't do a thing. McCoy dropped to his knees.
Spock spoke quickly. "This man is a valuable acquisition. To destroy that which you bought for such a petty reason is illogical."
The man cocked his head, then pressed the button again.
McCoy drew in a deep, gasping breath.
The man turned to the rest of the group. "I'm terribly sorry you had to witness that, but without discipline, there would be chaos."
The group tittered, and followed him out of the room.
"Leonard," Spock said when they had left. "Are you—?"
"No." McCoy pulled himself to his feet and almost collapsed before Spock caught him and guided him to a chair. "Jesus Christ, I feel like I've been socked in the gut."
Gessad joined them. "Actually, that's essentially correct. They've developed a device which targets the diaphragm."
McCoy blinked up at the Cardassian. "How the hell do you know that?"
Gessad gave him a smile that suddenly seemed chill. "Information is available to us, we just have to know where and how to look." Then, just as quickly, his demeanor became affable and harmless once more. "At any rate, this device sends electrical impulses to your diaphragm that contracts it, and then doesn't allow it to relax."
"Long-distance suffocation," Telara expounded. "It works on all of us."
"But not quite as well on me," Kataq added. "I can remain active for several minutes after the initial contraction, so long as I do not attempt to speak."
Gessad rolled his eyes, "Which never seems to be a difficulty."
Kataq glared at the Cardassian scientist. "I do not waste time on words that can be heard and used against me by my enemies."
"Gentlemen," Telara broke in, "before we engage in another wordy debate," she ignored Kataq's glare, "I might point out that we have a problem, here."
Kataq snorted. "So the humans are targeting one of their own. I do not feel overly concerned."
McCoy glowered. "Well, I damn well do."
Spock looked at Telara. "You believe they will continue to pursue him?"
She shrugged. "He ruined one of Amos' tours. Amos is not the type to forget that."
"Why should we care?" demanded Kataq.
"Because, to watch him more closely, they'll increase surveillance on all of us," Gessad murmured, hissing slightly. "It will interfere, and even you should understand the potential ramifications of that."
Kataq turned furious eyes on a very baffled McCoy. "So, why don't we kill him now and be done with it?"
"That, too, would draw attention," Spock pointed out.
Telara glanced at him appraisingly, and Spock met her stare with a steady resolve. "Then you've determined what we plan to do already?"
"It is only logical."
She nodded, her eyes fixing on McCoy. "Since you know, you should give me a single good reason why I shouldn't do what Kataq suggests. It would create a stir momentarily, of course, but nothing that won't settle down. So, Vulcan, dazzle me with your logic."
"He is human," Spock stated. "On this planet, that is his finest asset."
"If you all are talking about what I think you're talking about, you'll need a beard," McCoy agreed.
Four equally confused glances turned on the human.
McCoy sighed. "You're going to need some sort of cover."
"We shall simply have to keep him out of Amos' notice from here on out," Gessad concluded.
"You are so quick to jump to his defense?" Kataq demanded.
"His life gives me an advantage I didn't have before," Gessad stated, drawing himself up. "It's a good enough reason for me."
"I say he is human, and cannot be trusted. He will betray us to his own species."
"I am his bondmate, and say he will not," Spock stated, in that unequivocal tone that did not brook any type of dissention.
McCoy pushed himself to his feet, barely even swaying, Spock noted with the barest touch of pride. "I may be human, but I've got no love for this bunch," he told them all. "If you don't want to trust me personally, be my guest, but trust that I want off this rock, and that I'll do what it takes to get us there."
Telara inclined her head. "Very well. We let you live," she held up a hand to cut off Kataq's growl of protest, "for now. But, like any of us," she informed him, "should you show the slightest sign of betrayal, we will kill you."
"Sounds fair," McCoy told her.
The noise at the door returned, softer than before, and all the acquisitions fell silent. In came the man Spock now knew was called Amos, who stared at them in rancor. "You now know the punishment for disobedience," he snapped. "I do not tolerate acquisitions speaking unless spoken to, is that clear?"
Nods from the group, though Spock had to take McCoy's shoulder in his hand and mentally nudge the man before he did so.
"Now," Amos said brusquely, eyes lighting on McCoy, "we will test the validity of your bonding. If the two of you pass the test, we'll find you some clothes more befitting two of my acquisitions, and heal what remains of the wounds you acquired upon capture."
Spock had noticed the fine quality of the garments adorning his fellow captives, but when he looked more closely, he realized that they were, in fact, wearing what he could only assume were traditional clothing of their individual race.
"If you do not pass the test," Amos intoned, "well, there really won't be any concern for your clothes, then."
He turned and led the way out of the room, gesturing imperiously for the small entourage to follow. Spock noted that there were no guards accompanying them, but knew from the previous attack on Dr. McCoy that they were not necessary.
Surreptitiously, he reached out and brushed the human doctor's hand with his own. 'Are you prepared?' he queried.
'Probably would be more so if I knew what we were in for,' McCoy thought wryly back at him.
'We shall pass,' Spock insisted.
'Spock, I'm inside your head. If you're trying to be brave on my account, don't bother. I see right through you.'
Spock raised an eyebrow, which caused McCoy to fight a smile as it tugged at the corners of his mouth.
Spock felt confident in their abilities. It was definitely true that their bond was still very unstable, but they were capable men, and they had weathered many more difficult trials than this. Logic dictated that they must have some sort of basis between the two of them for whatever this man may have devised. The statistics were very simply in their favor.
Amos spoke up as they reached another door. "I'll have you know that I am aware of your status as Federation agents. It was one of the reasons I purchased you." He looked at Spock. "You hadn't met with me when you were taken."
Spock mentally reviewed the list of mafia leaders he was to meet with, and then stated, "Amos Chamberlain."
"The very one. At any rate, before I even bought you I was able to examine what records I was given of you both very carefully. You will, then, understand why I selected this particular test."
With that, he opened the door and, before Spock could stop him, motioned. Immediately, two large men emerged from the shadows of the room, took hold of Dr. McCoy, and pulled him in.
Spock followed swiftly, but not nearly enough so. The two men grasped his bondmate, and, with a mighty heave, flung him out, and into the pool inside this particular space.
McCoy hit the water gracelessly, immediately submerging before coming back up, choking and flailing.
Spock did not need to ask Amos what he had gleaned from the doctor's records. He knew.
Leonard McCoy could not swim.
"Save him, Mr. Spock," Amos ordered, "without touching him."
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Next: Salvation, Damnation, and everything in between.