Title: Impromptu Bondmates

Author: Nemo the Everbeing

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Do people read these things? Seriously, I don't own them, and I don't make any money.

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Chapter 6

"Good heavens!" Gessad exclaimed as they walked into the room. Or, more accurately, when Spock walked into the room, and McCoy, feeling like a prize idiot, was carried in.

Kataq looked astounded. "I specifically told you not to duel." He shot a glare at Spock.

"We did not," Spock responded to the Klingon's building animosity towards him, even as he set McCoy gently down on a chair, righting him as the doctor immediately began to list to one side.

"It's the bond," McCoy added when he was vertical once more. "Targeted my cardiopulmonary system, but Spock managed to reroute it."

"Of course," Gessad murmured. "The brain stem would be a very likely target for such a phenomenon."

"What faculties have you lost?" Telara demanded, sitting in an over-large chair like some sort of judgmental bird of prey.

"Sense of balance. I can't walk."

Gessad blew out his breath in frustration. "That will cause distinct difficulties. Amos doesn't like damaged goods."

"He will kill Leonard," Spock realized.

"After his performance during Amos' tour? I wouldn't doubt it."

"You know," McCoy groused, "I'm getting damn sick of my life being in danger."

"I, too, am growing weary of it," Spock commented archly.

McCoy shot him a venomous look which the Vulcan apparently chose to ignore.

"We must escape immediately, then" Kataq pronounced. "It would be dishonorable of us to sit by as a man such as Tiny McCoy is given an ignoble death."

"So, if he were dying in a battle, you wouldn't lift a finger?" Telara demanded.

"To die in battle is a great honor. Why would I stop such a thing?"

"Typical Klingon."

"Can we please get back on track?" Gessad broke in, thoroughly exasperated.

"Thank you," McCoy supported.

Gessad shot him a smile before continuing, "It's clear that the times will have to be moved up considerably. How fast can we be ready?"

"We can't," Telara snapped. "We had a schedule. If we work according to it, we'll escape without difficulty. But if we attempt to change the times, we'll run undue risks." She stared down Spock, as if it were his decision that would decide the matter. "It would be logical to let one die, if it means that four others can live."

Spock reached down and placed a hand on McCoy's shoulder, squeezing in reassurance. "Do not lecture me on logic."

"Someone should," she snapped. "You'd let him live for personal reasons, for your feelings. You are no Vulcan."

"Neither are you, so it is unlikely you would understand the calculations I've made to determine the proper course of action. To simply risk five lives to save one that would otherwise certainly be terminated is an acceptable risk. One cannot give in to a real danger to prevent a potential threat."

Telara fell silent, but her dark eyes glittered in malice. To his surprise, McCoy realized that it was not directed against the Vulcan, but against himself.

The whole universe was against him, he swore to God.

Well, maybe not Gessad, who immediately stated, "I agree. It's worth the risk if we all get out of here alive."

"Besides," Kataq enthused, "the greater the danger, the greater the glory."

"Unless that glory gets us killed because of some dead weight," Telara snapped.

Kataq gave her his toothy grin, which seemed much more pointed when it was turned upon the Romulan. "Heqhlu'meH QaQ jajvam," he enunciated.

Spock cocked an eyebrow at the Klingon, and McCoy blinked.

It was Gessad, though, who ventured, "Care to enlighten us as to what that means?"

"It is a great Klingon phrase: today is a good day to die."

"Thanks," McCoy stated, grimacing, "but I'd just as soon live."

"Quite," Gessad sniffed.

"What are the plans for our escape?" Spock prompted. "We must start implementing them immediately."

"Kataq is in charge of taking care of Amos and his device, since he can function longer than any of the rest of us after it's been deactivated," Telara snapped. "Gessad shall sabotage the comm. system so no one can call for reinforcements before I can take them down. My job is the guards."

"What must I do?" Spock asked.

"Keep your bondmate out of trouble, Vulcan. If we're going to do this, we're going to minimize the likelihood that we die on account of him."

"Glad to help," McCoy sniped.

Telara looked at him with loathing.

Gessad rose fluidly. "I'll get to work on the comm. system. Telara?"

"Don't get killed."

"Thank you," Gessad sniffed.

"We'll . . . stay here," McCoy concluded lamely, feeling like a particularly useless lump. A lump that couldn't even sit up without aid. Telara may be as cold as a well-digger's ass in the Klondike, but she was also decently accurate: he was a liability.

Kataq looked at him in sympathy, and McCoy realized that the Klingon was misinterpreting his remorse to mean that he wanted to get out there and get some of that glorious battle. "When I am done with Amos, I shall come back for the two of you. Can you carry a phaser, Tiny McCoy?"

"Carry? Yes. Aim? It's questionable." At the Klingon's look of disappointment, McCoy, to his surprise, found himself amending, "But I'll try."

He grinned, "Then carry one you shall. And your deeds will be the stuff of songs."

McCoy sighed. "Always been a fan of bluegrass."

Kataq blinked in slight confusion, but didn't ask McCoy to clarify that. The doctor was silently glad. He doubted if he had the strength to explain.

Gessad's eyes swept the assembled party. "I'll trip the alarm if I'm caught. Don't come for me."

"We won't," Telara purred.

"Be careful," McCoy added.

"I am Cardassian."

"Can I assume it's one in the same?" McCoy asked good-naturedly, a slight smile creasing his face.

Gessad grinned. "Well, I do hate to make broad generalizations."

"But you concede the point."

Gessad glanced at Spock, and for a moment, McCoy was aware that there was an unspoken communication between them. Then, Gessad looked back to him and nodded, "Be careful, yourself."

And, with that, the Cardassian slipped out of the room.

Telara rose. "I must get some supplies if I'm to fulfill my part in this." She nodded to the men, "Gentlemen, if you'll excuse me." She considered. "Or even if you don't."

And she, too, left.

Kataq watched her leave. "I admire a warrior woman," he muttered, "but I feel that there is something deceptive about her."

Spock glanced at the Klingon. "I was not aware that Klingons were so perceptive."

"A Federation perspective often dims one's view of Klingons," Kataq pointed out. "I believed before our meeting that humans were weaklings and Vulcans were cowards. But Tiny McCoy has power, despite his unfortunate size."

"And my courage?" Spock queried.

"Has yet to be seen."

Kataq pulled a short, handmade knife from his jacket.

"Whoa!" spluttered McCoy. "Let's save the fighting until after we escape, huh?"

Kataq laughed. "This is not for you, Tiny McCoy, nor for your parmaqqay. This is for Amos."

"Oh. In that case, make sure you say 'hi' from me," McCoy drawled.

Kataq nodded his shaggy head. "I shall."

And then he left, and they were alone.

"Well," McCoy said during the silence that drifted into the room.

Spock was staring at him.

"Yes?" McCoy prompted. "You wanted something?"

"You were very . . . familiar with Gessad."

McCoy regarded him for several seconds before breaking into a slight, mischievous grin. "Spock, are you jealous?"

"I am incapable of jealousy."

"Uh-huh. Sing me another one."

Spock, who still had his hands on McCoy's shoulders, instantly inferred his meaning and frowned. "Why must you constantly question everything I say?"

"Cause you need it, and 'cause I'm a contrary sort of fellow."

The tiniest of smiles tugged at the corners of Spock's mouth. "You are a very frustrating bondmate."

Looking as smug as a man could who currently needed aid just to sit up straight, McCoy drawled, "Admit it, Honey, you love it when I push your buttons."

"It may be true," Spock murmured, "but you will not hear me admit it."

"And, see, that's why I like you," McCoy said, feeling embarrassed, but this needed to be said, now that danger was looming up to overtake them. "I would have gone space crazy a thousand times over if I didn't have you around to frustrate all hell out of me."

"You, too . . . frustrate all hell out of me."

McCoy broke out into a grin. "Well, then, Spock, Honey, seems to me we're doing pretty well for ourselves."

Spock ran his fingers down McCoy's arm and took up his hand. Concentrating, McCoy extended his index and middle finger, and felt them press against Spock's.

McCoy looked up from their joined fingers, fighting down the nausea that accompanied the movement, and said forcefully, "We're gonna make it through this, Spock. We're two tough ol' birds who have seen too many things and fought too many battles to get ourselves killed by some backwater mafia boss."

"Although your wording leaves something to be desired, I must agree."

"I like Gessad," McCoy said, aware of his apparent non sequitur, but wanting to be very clear at this point. "He's intelligent, funny, witty, talks better than a liquored-up politician, and, speaking of, he's good to get drunk with."

Spock looked like he wanted to pull out of this two-fingered embrace.

But McCoy wasn't done, "But he doesn't drive me nuts. He doesn't want to debate every little thing. So, I'd probably get bored with him. Or he'd get bored with me. Either way, it's not something that lasts. I gotta have some conflict in my life or I get stir-crazy. That's you, Honey. Adversarial, Spock? You take the cake, and I love you for it."

Spock stared at him. "What—"

"You heard me," McCoy snapped, "I love you, you damn pointy-eared pixie. I like Gessad. I like him a lot. Under different circumstances, that might lead to some other things. But not now, 'cause I might like him, but I love you, and no alien xenobiologist's gonna change that unless you really get me mad."

Spock looked bemused. "So, then, you wish me to make you angry, but not too angry."

"Never said this relationship was going to be easy."

"And I never assumed it would be."

"Good, 'cause I want you in it for a damn long time."

"That, Leonard, seems to be inevitable."

McCoy laughed. "Look at us: about to face down death, and we're spouting poetry at one another. You do bring out some strange impulses in me, Mister Spock."

"And I would definitely agree that the reactions you have caused in me have been rather aberrant, Doctor McCoy."

"So, strange and aberrant, huh? Think we can make it work?"

"Do you wish me to quote you the odds?"

"Don't even think about it, Honey. I may not have a sense of balance, but I still think I can get one good wallop in if I really try."

"I will endeavor to remember that."

McCoy smiled and leaned in to kiss Spock. Unfortunately, he listed too far and his head ended up colliding with the Vulcan's shoulder instead of his face. Voice muffled in Spock's shoulder, he murmured, "All right, we need to escape if only so I can get my sense of balance back and ravish you properly."

"Ravish, Leonard?" Spock asked, sounding distinctly amused.

"You questioning my phraseology?"

"Every day."

"Shut up and kiss me."

Spock, maneuvering him carefully, to keep the now constant nausea at a minimum, pressed his lips to McCoy's.

McCoy hummed softly in approval. As much as he loved to argue with Spock, this new activity was definitely becoming a very close second. He couldn't help but wonder if there wasn't some way he could combine arguing and kissing. It would at least give him hours of amusement, and Spock did love experiments.

'Leonard, your thoughts are increasingly distracting.'

'Hey, you. Been a while since I've seen you around here.'

'You cannot see me. I am a disembodied presence in your mind.'

'It's an expression!'

'I know.'

'Heh.'

'Leonard?'

'There goes hours of experimentation.'

'You are referring to your desire to combine arguing and kissing?'

'Sure enough.'

'It does seem to no longer be an issue.'

'What are we going to do now, huh?'

Spock pulled back, arching an eyebrow at him. "Leonard, I believe that you, of all people, can come up with numerous activities that could occupy our time when we return to the ship."

McCoy's eyebrows shot up, even as he grinned in delight. "Why, Spock, that was almost overt of you."

"Indeed. You are a bad influence, I surmise."

McCoy reached out and grasped the collar of Spock's robes, keeping his eyes fixed on the Vulcan's for some sort of center. "Honey, you ain't seen nothin' yet." With that, he pulled Spock back down into the kiss, adding a fire to it this time around, wanting him to remember this during the coming trials.

'Kataq could walk in and see us thus,' Spock noted.

'Spock, if you hadn't noticed, Kataq wouldn't mind. In fact, come to think of it, he'd be thrilled.'

Spock's mental voice took on a tone of mild amusement. 'A romantic Klingon.'

'Wonders never cease.'

McCoy struggled to press closer, forgetting his own disability for a moment in his quest to break Spock's eternal composure.

It didn't work out as planned, though, as he toppled off the couch, caught by Spock just before his face had a rude and humiliating encounter with the floor. He stared at the ugly, shag carpeting and blinked, trying to clear his vision and his head as they both swam.

"I hate this planet," he stated.

"I've gathered this."

"We need to get back to the Enterprise before I keel over and die on account of all these near-misses we've been having, Spock. A man can only take so many of those, you know? Bound to be consequences."

Spock righted him once more, looking bemused, though his dark eyes were sympathetic. "It does seem that the circumstances have continually blocked our efforts at intimacy."

"The whole damn universe is conspiring against us, you mean," McCoy corrected.

"Being that we are only currently occupying a small part of the 'whole damn universe', that is a very risky assumption to make."

"And yet."

Spock considered him. "Perhaps it would be best if you lay down. Then, at least, you do not run the risk of 'keeling over' as you put it."

McCoy shook his head. "I'm not going to act like some damn invalid."

"Leonard," Spock said with infinite patience, "you are some damn invalid."

McCoy jabbed a finger at the Vulcan, then swayed woozily. "Now wait just one goddamn minute! I am absolutely not—"

Suddenly, the entire world seemed to turn upside down as McCoy's diaphragm contracted painfully. He was aware of Spock stubbornly attempting to hold on to him, but even the Vulcan could only go a few moments before his arms dropped away like leaden weights.

McCoy promptly fell off the couch again, and Spock wasn't there to catch him. He hit the floor hard, and his vision blurred even more as his head cracked against the carpet with an unsettling thunk. Instinctually, McCoy curled into himself, struggling to inhale. It was impossible, though, he realized.

He had stopped counting how many times in the past few days he was certain he was going to die. It had almost become routine. Even so, he hated this fiercely. It just seemed unfair that he should die here, especially considering all the things he was hoping to do with, and to, Spock.

And now, all of that was never going to happen.

Then, just as suddenly as it had contracted, McCoy's diaphragm released. He gasped in a lungful of air, heedless of the burning which immediately flooded his entire chest. It was oxygen, and for the moment, it was all that mattered.

Actually, for several moments it was all that mattered, and he lay, gasping in air like a landed fish and thanking whatever twist of fate kept saving his ass right in the nick of time.

Then, after about thirty seconds, he felt a hand settle on his arm. "It appears," Spock managed, his voice only slightly strained, "that Kataq has dispatched Amos."

"Didn't seem to work out quite as well as we'd hoped."

"And yet we are alive, so it is logical to conclude that Kataq was successful, at least."

"He was," a voice boomed from the door. McCoy didn't turn his head for fear of throwing up, but he knew the Klingon's voice anywhere. "Come Vulcan, gather Tiny McCoy. We must hurry."

McCoy felt arms gather him, and closed his eyes to attempt to quell the reaction that his quick ascent into Spock's embrace caused. When he was decently sure there would be no more fast dips or lifts, he opened his eyes and saw the Klingon extent an old-model phaser. "Here," he said, "you may carry Amos' weapon as we escape. Fight well."

McCoy smiled wanly. "I'll do my damndest."

So, they moved out. The Klingon led, the Vulcan took up the rear, and McCoy, the doctor mused, was left hanging in the middle.

Nothing else to do but make lousy puns, was there?

Then, from around the corner in front of them, Gessad moved quickly and quietly. "The comm. system is most assuredly down."

"It took you longer than expected," Kataq stated.

"Someone must have found our work. I was forced to backtrack a bit."

"That does not bode well," Spock noted.

"No," Gessad agreed quietly, "it doesn't. Hopefully Telara has held up her end of things. If not, this is likely going to be a very short escape." He glanced at McCoy, "How are you?"

"More seasick than I've ever been, possibly concussed, and pretty bruised, but still alive, so I can't complain." He considered that for a second. "Much."

"Leonard," Spock murmured softly, "I trust in your ability to complain in any given circumstance."

"Well, somebody's got to say what everybody else is thinking," McCoy grumbled.

"This is beginning to look bad," Gessad said, interrupting their muted conversation. "Telara should be back by now."

"It is possible that she was killed," Kataq pointed out.

"Which would mean that there is at least one armed guard on the premises, most likely looking for us as we speak."

"What would you have us do?" Kataq snapped. "Run and hide like sniveling rodents?"

"If I thought it would do any good, then, yes, I would have us do that." The Cardassian sighed. "However, since it's doubtful that running and hiding would actually keep us from summary execution, I suppose we might as well die in an attempt to escape."

"Then, on that at least, we agree," Kataq snorted.

"Wonders never cease," the sharp, clear voice of Telara sounded.

Everyone, even McCoy, looked to see her stride towards them briskly.

"I take it from your continued existence that your mission was a success?" Gessad inquired politely.

"Draw your own conclusions."

"How far to the exit?" McCoy asked.

"And what will we do when we actually escape?" Spock added.

This seemed to make their three companions pause.

Spock arched his eyebrow at them. "I see. Can I propose, then, that we do not attempt a physical escape from here, but instead reroute the communications system to broadcast to orbit?"

McCoy looked up at him. "The Enterprise?"

"I believe it should be here by now."

"That's actually a decent idea," Gessad mused. "After all, survival outside of this compound for such . . . colorful characters as ourselves would not be a likely occurrence."

"Especially now that we've killed a crime boss," McCoy added.

"This is ludicrous!" Telara snapped. "We would change our well-laid plans now? After all that we have accomplished?!"

"Even a warrior recognizes that to survive to revel in his glory is better than death. Especially death at the hands of such dishonorable mongrels," Kataq said.

Telara's eyes narrowed. "I should have known."

"What, that we'd want to give ourselves the best chances at survival?" McCoy drawled. "Yeah, you should have."

Spock was already on the move, passing Telara to go to the Cardassian. "Where is the nearest access port to the communications system?"

Gessad turned. "The one I sabotaged, actually. Come."

McCoy, bouncing unhappily in Spock's arms as they picked up the pace, found himself watching the Romulan woman who took up the rear. Her look was positively venomous, and McCoy began to have a distinctly uneasy feeling about this whole plan.

Too many variables that were just begging to go wrong.

However, despite his certainty that they were all going to die, the small group reached the access port without incident. After a moment's consideration, Spock set McCoy on the floor, and he and Gessad got to work on the panel.

The air was tense as they worked in near silence, only occasionally muttering in a language McCoy didn't understand, but often referred to as 'technobabble'. Their hands flew over controls, and unplugged wires only to put them in other terminals.

Then, suddenly, out of the speakers, a voice crackled, "—ise, please respond. I repeat, this is the U. S. S. Enterprise, please respond."

It was Uhura.

She had never sounded so damn good as she did just then.

Spock hit a button on the panel in a manner that could almost be described as hasty. "Spock here," he stated.

"Spock?!" the communications officer gasped. "Thank God! We were beginning to think—well, never you mind what we were beginning to think. I'll just—"

And then a voice cut in to the transmission. "Spock?" Kirk's voice asked, an edge of urgency to it, "is that you?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Is Bones with you?"

"He is, as well as three other aliens that have been imprisoned with us. It would be prudent to beam us up quickly."

"We've been trying to scan for you, but we think you're in a shielded location. We're tracing the comm. signal now. If we have to, we'll do a mass transport, so get everyone as close to the panel as possible."

"Noted, Captain. May I ask—?"

Suddenly, the panel exploded in sparks, and Spock leaped back to avoid them. Gessad was not so lucky, and was thrown against the wall next to McCoy, sliding down in unconsciousness.

The remaining three men turned to stare in horror at Telara, who stood with a Romulan disruptor in her hand. "We are not going to the ship," she stated flatly.

McCoy protested, "Now wait just one damn—"

She fired again, and the panel above McCoy exploded, raining sparks on him as he yelped in pain.

"We are not going to the ship," she restated. "I would rather die on this planet than in a Federation prison."

"We would not stop you if you wished to stay behind," Spock said, remarkably calmly, though he edged slowly towards McCoy.

Telara noticed. "If you move another inch," she stated, "the next shot goes through his throat." Calmly, she pointed the disruptor at McCoy.

Spock stopped.

"Why would you destroy all of our chances of escape merely to ensure that you alone stay?" Kataq growled. "Let us beam up and leave you to do as you please."

"I need you here. To survive in a place like this, one must have money," she said, her lips curling. "Amos cannot be the only mafia boss who is interested in collecting rare specimens from other worlds."

"And what makes you think they won't collect you, too?" McCoy snapped furiously.

"Because I'm better for them outside. If they capture me, I am a resource with only one use. Outside I can provide them with so much more."

"This is foolish!" Kataq snapped, charging forward.

Telara dropped him with one well-placed blast.

McCoy cried out, but couldn't move to check the Klingon's condition.

Telara strode forward, stepping over Kataq's body with lithe grace, her eyes fixed on Spock. She passed Gessad, who was still unconscious, and then, viciously kicked McCoy, knocking him to his side and nearly rendering him unconscious. He gagged and, before he could stop it, threw up for the second time in as many days.

Telara moved past him slightly, enough so Spock's view of McCoy was blocked.

"Now, Vulcan," she said, "not to be overly dramatic, but you have a choice to make. The fact is that I could use a partner in this venture. You would, of course, be ideal, what with your superior strength and your capacity for reason. Therefore, you can aid me, and I promise that your bondmate will be well cared for. If, however, you refuse, I will kill him myself."

"You are aware that I will kill you, even if you should succeed," Spock stated, his voice every bit as chill as Telara's.

"Of course," she acquiesced. "It is only to be expected."

"The Federation is a far better option than this planet."

"You will forgive me if I disagree, Spock. Any freedom is better than none."

"We would return your to your people."

"Disgraced. To be rescued by the Federation would ruin me. No, Vulcan, the only logical course of action is to stay here and make what life I can."

"Even at such a cost to those you have lived and worked with?"

"There is a Romulan saying that states: never make a friend you might have to kill later. These are not my friends. I would sell them as soon as look at them."

"Then why offer me a partnership?"

"Because I know that to survive in this place requires more than one person. You cannot lie to me, Spock, and you are stronger than any human. You are the ideal choice."

"It would mean leaving my bondmate, and that is something I cannot do."

"Come now, Spock, surely you don't think me a fool. I've already divined the true nature of your relationship. You bonded with the human to save him from execution. He is no more your mate than I am."

"You are correct in your first supposition, but he is my mate, and, therefore, I shall not leave him."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured in something almost approaching compassion. "You, of all of them, I did not actually wish to kill."

McCoy had heard enough. This scenario obviously made sense from her perspective, but he didn't actually care. Their fate wasn't this damned woman's choice to make.

Besides, she was threatening his bondmate.

So, he did the only thing he could do. He got his feet under him and, sending himself into a mess of vertigo, pushed himself roughly to his feet and let gravity and momentum propel him forward. He reached out, and, filled to brimming with nausea, he slammed his fingers home at the Romulan's juncture of shoulder and neck in a perfect Vulcan nerve pinch. Spock would be damn proud.

He waited for the Romulan to fall.

Only Telara didn't.

McCoy stared in cheated horror as she turned sharply and fired on him point blank. Even over the roaring in his ears, McCoy heard the whine of the disruptor. It felt strange, like someone had socked him in the gut, and he felt his body hit the wall, slewing over and down as he crashed to the floor in a graceless, boneless pile.

The last thing he saw was Spock lunging for Telara.

And then, strangely, he heard a hum.

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Next: Because some things are just harder to adjust to than others.