AN: Usual disclaimer, the rights to Star Trek etc belong to someone else. The entire story is complete on my PC, and I'll try to load up a new chapter every few days. Please read and review – constructive feedback will help me finalise the remaining chapters.

Chapter 15

A dishevelled Spock found himself escorted to Freedan's office. Stumbling on the uneven surface he unknowingly followed the same route Shyloh had several weeks earlier. Bound and gagged, he was unsure what his capturers now wanted. Over the course of the last few days, according to his internal body clock, various Perpetuans had been sent in to 'question' him. Some more aggressively than others. What they were seeking he didn't know, the questions were never the same. Withdrawing into himself, he worked through various permutations to separate mind from body.

The latest tactic was to deny him sleep and the opportunity to meditate. Sleep he could do without, meditation, well, that was a different prospect entirely. Experiencing occasional lapses of emotional instability, he willed himself to be strong. The aftermath of Theytan meant his mental resolve was firmer, but he still needed extended periods of rest to maintain it. His human heritage offered him a few more days longer without meditation than a full-blooded Vulcan. Pulled from his internal musing, his attention was piqued by one of the accompanying guards off-handed remark about a human prisoner. Before he could catch a name, he was presented to Freedan. Having not witnessed the awesome collection of weapons until this point, he theorised whatever was going to happen next would be substantially more invasive than previous encounters.

'Commander Spock...', Freedan gleefully addressed him from the shadows. As he emerged into view, he pulled a small trolley of assorted knives. Catching the light, the sleek edges glinted menacingly. 'These are my babies, the smaller the blade the more manoeuvrable I find it...' Slashing the air with a vicious looking instrument to demonstrate its agility. Approximately 10 cms in length the weapon had four sides, and on alternative edges mid way down, blades pointed out at irregular angles. As Spock assessed the sight before him, a pair of hands disrobed him exposing his bare chest. Dragged towards the hanging hooks Freedan commented, 'I've not used these on your colleague yet...I might do later...' as the first shallow pass sliced Spock's skin, he was left wondering who that might be.

As it turned 0200, Uhura returned back to the lab sure everyone who needed to be was asleep. The sight of two ensigns working at their terminals threw her. 'A bit late for you two isn't it?' Keeping her tone light. It was also late for her, but they were unlikely to question their superior. The reason, an upcoming exam this was the quietest place to study. Their quarters far too inviting for sleep. She recalled her academy days, they were right. Anywhere but your quarters was better for revision. 'Why not the mess?' She said moving towards her terminal, discreetly checking nothing had been disturbed.

'Everyone has that idea. Not many people are in here late at night. Usually its just us and Communication Officer Getta...' The female red shirted ensign replied.

Taking pity on them, she let them remain. It would look suspicious if she demanded they leave. 'Well, I'll be at my terminal if you need anything', casually walking away. Calling up the recording, it played in the background as she inputted the necessary parameters. The first filter ran; her work began.

'Commander...Commander...', the gentle voice cajoled her into consciousness. 'Here...' A steaming mug of coffee at the edge of her vision; footsteps moving away. Abruptly sitting up, she struggled to recall when she had fallen asleep. The remnants of her latest dreams drifting away, fragments of memories proving elusive. However, she was certain that it was something to do with being with Kirk, flashes of lights and sounds reminding her of a real life event. Whatever or whenever it was, it left her feeling highly aroused and very uncomfortable.

0443 blinked at the top of her monitor, thankfully her screen had gone to sleep so nothing had been seen. A mumbled gratitude, she clasped the mug for warmth, reassurance, and energy all the things black coffee was meant to do. Calling up a summary over the past couple of hours, nothing had been found...yet. Mug down, she stretched, arms above her head, the satisfying pop of joints reasserting their correct position. A heavy sigh, the brief respite replaced with impatience. Kirk was alive, Freedan had him somewhere on the planet, she needed proof. With nothing more to do, it was down to the many algorithms she had lined up, she looked up to an empty room. When the last ensign had left, she had no idea. Now that she was alone, the solitude was most unwelcome.

At last the paralytic had worn off, Kirk able to stumble around his cell had finally settled on his soiled threadbare mattress. Curled over on his side in the darkened room, he attempted to process Freedan's boasting. Deep down, he knew it to be true. Stupid, stubborn woman! She had knowingly gone up against Freedan with no regard for the consequences. He cursed McCoy for lying to him, for knowing him so well. He would have searched Freedan out and avenged Uhura. He would have gone to her side intervention be damned. His gut twisted at the realisation. He needed to escape; bring Freedan and Samson to justice, but most of all he wanted an opportunity to face down the psychotic Perpetuan. Touching his woman, was he fucking mad. Fury turned into frustration, over the past two weeks his plotting had been foiled at every turn, for now he had no idea how he would get out without help.

Outside his door the first voice shouted, 'stand up!' The second voice conspiratorially answered back, 'Freedan used the knives...' by way of explanation.

The sound of a limp body unceremoniously dumped in a cell opposite, and a door closing, roused Kirk, he strained to hear more. The person sounded like they were struggling not to cry out in pain.

'What's going to happen to him?' the second voice continued.

Nonplussed the first voice replied 'Dunno, who cares? What use is a Vulcan to us...' the multiple footsteps fading away.

Kirk sprung to his feet, and in no time was at his door determined to see who it was. His range of sight limited to a small opening 30 by 20 cm, lined by metal bars evenly spaced. However, he could see that no guard was standing outside. Taking his chance, he hesitatingly shouted 'Spock, Spock!' Silence, 'if it's you, and I sincerely hope it isn't, what the hell? Are you ok?' It was beyond his comprehension how or why it could be his friend,

'Captain? A few seconds later a gaunt Spock appeared at the bars to his cell. Ever to the point, 'Why are you here?' maintaining shallow breathing to reduce the pressure on his chest every time he inhaled. There was no rational reason for Kirk to be incapacitated as well.

Aware the camera in the corridor was probably focused on his every action, Kirk positioned himself so his face was partially obscured. Calculating it would only be a few minutes before a guard reappeared, he kept his voice low. 'Freedan and Samson stole the sunstones, somehow they found out I knew and here I am...', he quickly summarised the rest of his predicament, Uhura's attack and their relationship status. 'A shitty two weeks all round...anyway, we need to come up with an escape plan-'

'-The odds of us escaping without capture are extremely low', a weakened Spock interrupted. He wondered if he should offer some platitude about Kirk's relationship problems with Uhura, but decided against it in the end. He knew his friend well enough that the topic was no longer up for discussion.

'Oh ye of little faith...' Kirk's confident response. No longer speaking in low tones, 'are you alright, how did they get you, hell why did they take you?' Concern for his friend overriding any sense of self-preservation.

'I am injured...but will be fine', came the stoic reply. 'I believe Shyloh has been working with Freedan too, possibly unwillingly. We ventured too close to off limit areas, Miah and Turner were killed, and Shyloh and I were brought here 15 days ago'.

Kirk battled hard to keep his mind focused, the anger balled in his stomach. Two of his crew murdered in cold blood, he and Spock held against their will.

'You should rest, leave everything to me...' Kirk backed away from his door, gingerly touching his ribs, it seemed Freedan had no favoured method of brutality. As he lay back on the mattress, a guard resumed his careful monitoring of the two prisoners.

Samson's afternoon had been very trying, as predicted her buyer was incredibly irate. He wanted what he wanted, and he wanted it now. It was like dealing with a petulant child; she had been forced to cut off the call, his posturing and threats going over her head. She had been in the business long enough to know when there was legitimate danger, and he posed no threat. After all exposing her, meant exposing himself. No, he would not risk that. Even now he refused to participate in a face-to-face comms chat, instead insisting on a voice only interaction.

Treading a fine line as mastermind and investigator, Samson's order to move the Sunstones covertly without Freedan finding out, had been executed. He was not aware of it, but he was about to return the valuable artefacts in exchange for his freedom, and therefore hers; where Kirk fitted into the plan was still debatable. It would not be as easy to move him, but both had to be in place for the plan to work. Casting a cursory glance at her watch, she strode towards Irin's office. She and Kulj'ita summoned for an update.

Waved through the beefed up security, she waited for Irin to acknowledge her presence. Engaged in yet another conversation with Starfleet. Much to the surprise of Admiral Routledge and Samson, he proposed luring Freedan out by appearing to agree to the madman's terms. Ending the call, he dispassionately gazed at the head of security, 'find your cousin, or I will have to reassess my decision to pardon you...'. His cold missive, cutting Samson to the core, caught off guard she stared dumbfounded. At that moment Kulj'ita slipped into the room, Irin's reaction to his appearance certainly warmer than the reception given to her. Choosing to stand behind Irin's seated form, the Prime Minister continued, 'Samson is aware of the plan, she has 48 hours to end this misfortunate incident...' Her lover's face impassive, he nodded in agreement.

Careful to control her reaction, 'of course, I actually was coming to inform you that intel indicates Freedan may not be off planet and hidden locally...my people are examining the latest recording with the aim of pinpointing his location within the next day or so...'. Calculated and of course a lie, she now found herself in an impossible situation. She needed to buy more time.

Kulj'ita finally seeing fit to offer an opinion, it was not one she had expected. 'Freedan's actions have damaged our reputation with Starfleet and other federation members...you, of course are still regarded as a suspect in this matter and it is only because Irin requires your impressive tracking skills that you are still free...', aggressively addressing her 'prove your detractors wrong and bring Freedan to justice...'

With no choice, Samson skulked out. Angry to have been cornered, Kulj'ita should have warned her. Bypassing her office, she sprinted to her vehicle ignoring the vibration of her comms unit. No doubt Kulj'ita on an encrypted channel, excuse ready to justify his act. Quick tap to her headset, she called Freedan. He needed to be warned, and it was time to burn this arm of her business. The retirement plan she cultivated, immediately implemented. Sat beside her, her trusted aide frantically tapped away on his PADD. Contacts informed, funds transferred, she would address the situation one way or the other and get off Perpetous. In underestimating Irin, she had stupidly risked her freedom.

'Kulj'ita's sent an encrypted message...' the aide shouted over the roar of the engine. Still vexed, Samson refused to acknowledge it. 'We also have another issue...'

'What now?' she hissed at the aide. Giving him a dirty look, as she tried not to crash given the outrageous speed they were travelling at.

He shied away from his boss, aware she was liable to react unhappily, 'Shyloh has escaped, we don't know when and cannot find her...'

Samson slammed on the brakes, sending them both shooting forward luckily their seat belts held them in place. Expletive, after expletive was yelled, her palm thrown against the wheel. Stepping out of her truck, she screamed until her tantrum passed. Regretting her decision not to let Freedan kill Shyloh, she wondered what else could possibly go wrong.

Her aide quickly added 'we know she has not attempted to go home...our people are waiting there just in case.'

Climbing back into the truck, she continued on with the journey, in a scarily calm voice 'what was Kulj'ita's message?'

Back on the Enterprise in the lab, Freedan's petulant voice could be heard 'you know I can't stay underground much longer, I'm bored! What is happening about the exchange?' The message on repeat, over and over through Uhura's headset, until she no longer heard it. This was one of many she had scanned through. Sitting at her terminal she thought she should be celebrating. It was late afternoon and she now had proof incriminating Samson in Kirk's kidnap, yet, it was not enough, she needed his definitive location, only then could she take the evidence to Admiral Routledge. Samson had been strangely silent so it was the opportune time to leaf through her files. Activity logs showed Samson last logged in over 4 hours previously, and it was unusual for her not to check in at least once during that time. The final algorithm snaked its way through the files; Scotty had inadvertently given her the idea from a story she recalled about playing Marco Polo. She was cataloguing the files' geotagged location, building a map of their origins, which could be correlated, with a map of Perpetous. During Samson's debrief it had been said that she spent an increasing amount of time off site.

Movement at the corner of her eye, she instinctively switched programmes swiftly bringing up a star chart. 'How are you holding up commander?' Getta placed a mug of peppermint tea next to her. Swiftly her gaze moved from it to him. 'Oh, I've noticed you've been edgy and all that caffeine can't be good for you...'

Uhura knew he couldn't know about the baby, but yet his tone, his fussing over her; it was obvious something was different and that unsettled her. 'Thanks...' knowing he was right. All that caffeine was not good for her or the baby. She reciprocated with a hollow smile. Taking a sip, it tasted heavenly, this time the smile was genuine.

'Added special ingredient...' tapping his nose. Maybe she had misjudged him; he had been a godsend the last few weeks. She vowed to speak to him about working so late though, 0200 in the lab was ridiculous, even for her. Uhura lazily scrutinised him. Standing behind Behan's chair one arm resting on the headrest and the other manipulation data on the screen, his presence in her personal space was not unwelcome. After their earlier altercation a few weeks ago, Uhura could see something had developed. How and when, she was at a loss to explain. Least it will stop McCoy worrying about his interest in me she thought. Behan spending that fraction too long observing Getta when he spoke, and he surreptitiously casting looks her way when he thought nobody was looking. Office romances were part and parcel of the role, and it was sweet. She needed sweet; it was gratifying to feel something other than despair.

In sickbay Christine lay immobile, McCoy stood overhead with his tricorder criss crossing her head. It did seem unusual he wanted to conduct a physical now, of all times, but she acquiesced. The Chief Medical Officer knew what he has doing. McCoy gave a comforting squeeze to her shoulder, helping her off the biobed.

'You sleeping?'

'No' sounding exhausted, irritation masked her response.

'Do you want to sleep?'

'No, I want to see him again. I want him back...sleeping makes everything quiet'. She didn't question why he'd insisted on her telling him about her dreams of Spock. So vivid, he was somewhere dark and cold. So much pain surrounded him, yet he remained strong. At times his mouth moved as if he were speaking to her.

'Christine...' calling after her, he did not mean to push so hard, but he needed to be sure before raising her hopes. Pivoting to answer, she let out an audible sigh so he spoke before she said anything more, 'I'm here if you need anything...' and then she was gone out of sickbay leaving the tricorder feeling heavy in his hands.

'Doctor, the crew planetside are requesting additional support to deliver vaccinations. Seems there's been a small outbreak and people are now rushing to get immunised', nurse Kaele distracting him.

'Ok...' Signalling three nurses to preparing for departure. Once again packing his medibag, this time he would beam directly there. Since Enterprise staff was no longer official guest of the president, he could come and go as he pleased without checking in with Samson. Sure that everything was under control, entering his office the tricorder remotely communicated with his personal PADD, like Uhura he had taken to keeping unofficial enterprise activity off the main computer. He wedged his large frame between his seat and table, scattered in front of him reports he needed to complete to clear staff for vital away missions. Carefully brushing those to the side, he pressed the touch screen for a side-by-side comparison of Christine's brain scans to appear.

'Doctor McCoy, incoming plasma fire burn victims!', hearing the urgency in the call, he sprinted out to see how bad the situation was. Chaos all around him, for the time being Christine's scans forgotten.