Spock struggled to his feet, using almost all of his mental energy to block the pain from his wound. He grabbed Saavik's arm and toggled his communicator so that his ship would automatically transport them back.
Inside of the small vessel, Spock slipped into the pilot's seat and brought the engines online. A course back to the Neutral Zone was already plotted and ready. All he had to do was get them away from the moon and execute it. However, they'd barely started moving before they were jolted by enemy fire. The Romulan ship had found his hiding spot.
Alarms began to wail as the ship was hit a second time. Spock powered the weapons systems, acquired a lock on Romulan vessel's engines, and fired torpedoes. He watched in surprise as the weapons hit home; apparently the Romulans had decided the tiny transport vessel wasn't enough of a concern to have their shields up.
Underestimating their enemy would be their downfall; the ship's weapons fell silent as an explosion emanated from their wound. That burst of fire quickly spread, engulfing the entire vessel. It blew apart in a brilliant burst of light that made Spock raise a hand to shield his eyes. Destroying the ship hadn't been his intention, but it would allow them to escape.
As the debris cleared, Spock took stock of his own systems. Long-range communications were gone, and the engines had been damaged, though were at least still functional. Three-quarters impulse was the best they could do for speed, and it would have to suffice. He set them on their course for Federation space and then turned to Saavik.
She was exactly where he'd left her, though was now sitting on the floor instead of standing. Her knees were tucked under her chin, and he could see her shiver. The shuttle's environmental systems kept the air considerably colder than the planet she'd just been on. She would need fresh clothes, but probably needed to have her injuries tended to first. Gritting his teeth against the pain that moving caused, Spock got up and headed to the rear section of the ship to find the medical kit that he had brought.
"Saavik, come here," he told her as he sat on one of the benches. Walking back to where she sat would take more energy than he currently had. He knew that his injury was bad, but that didn't matter at the moment. He would take care of her first, and then worry about himself.
Saavik didn't acknowledge his request in any way; her eyes remained fixed staring at nothing and she was still motionless. "Saavik," he tried again, "H'tah-fvienn!"
The Romulan word got through her overstressed mind; she flinched horribly at the command. Spock instantly regretted frightening her.
"H'tah," he repeated, softer this time. After a slight pause, she obediently got up and joined him. "Khnai'ra, Saavikam," he quietly thanked her. He knew that he was supposed to stop using that nickname for her, but old habits were difficult to discard and it seemed wrong not to be as gentle with her as possible right now.
Saavik's hands were stained green with blood; her fingers and palms had been badly cut by rocks as she'd scrambled around trying to run from the Centurion. It was possible there was nerve damage a trained doctor would need to look at, but at least Spock could use the dermal regenerator to repair the skin.
He did the same for a jagged gash on her left arm, a cut across her stomach, and her split lower lip before tending to the serious sunburn that covered her back and shoulders. After scanning her to the best of his ability, he didn't think that there were any critical internal injuries. She would be all right until they got back to the Federation.
"Just rest now," Spock told her as he coaxed her to lie down on the bench and placed a blanket over her. "Ehhaai." She didn't resist, but her eyes remained open. Sleep would not come easy.
Now that he knew she was all right, Spock could retreat to the forward cabin to deal with his own wound. The left side and back of his jacket was dark with blood, though it seemed that the weapon had both damaged and cauterized at the same time. He carefully pulled off the jacket and the shirt that was underneath, working very hard to keep from crying out in pain. The wound was about the size of his fist, angry and dark with dried blood. He could fix the external damage, but anything beyond that was more than he could deal with.
He gave himself an injection of local anesthetic before picking up the regenerator once more. However, even with the drugs, he found it nearly impossible to reach the wound without the pain spiking above tolerable levels. A hand suddenly closed over his, and he looked to see that Saavik had gotten up and joined him.
"Let me," she whispered. She gently pulled the regenerator from his grasp, although her eyes didn't meet his. She still had the blanket wrapped around her as if it was her shield from the universe, but Spock was encouraged to see that she was starting to return to reality. She carefully tended to him, removing all external traces of the wound. Once that task was complete, she reached for the scanner and checked to see how bad his internal injuries were.
"Your kidney is damaged," Saavik softly reported. "And there is still bleeding." She reached for the medical kit and pulled out a cartridge for the hypospray. "This will help stop it," she told him.
Spock nodded. "Thank you… Saavik, are you aware of where you are?"
Her eyes were trained on the floor. "A ship."
"Are you aware of whom I am?"
"Spock."
"Yes. I will do everything I can to keep you safe. Do you understand?" She didn't answer. "None of this was of your doing, Saavik. You do not have to be afraid anymore." But his only answer was silence. "You should rest. Will you go lie down again?" Wordlessly, she got up and returned to the aft section of the ship.
Spock sighed slightly as he settled back in his chair. Why should she believe my words? he asked himself. He had already promised her that what had just happened would never be possible. And now she had lived through hell once more.
The computer beeped, and he looked down at the console. The ship had now re-entered the Neutral Zone. As long as the engines held together, they were just under 22 hours away from Federation space. The journey would be shorter if he could get the impulse engines back to full strength or, better still, get the warp drive back online, but at the moment he didn't have the energy for making repairs. He'd give the drugs he'd taken a little bit longer to work and then go see what could be done.
Despite her tranquil appearance as she slept, Saavik's dreams were anything but peaceful. Her mind returned her to the barren hell of a planet where she'd been born. Returned her to the brutal game of cat and mouse, to the painful existence of self-loathing that she'd worked so hard to bury. The Centurion was always right behind her, always taunting her with a death that she'd once craved but now despised. A blast of disrupter fire arched across the scorching sands, chasing faster than Saavik could run. It overwhelmed her body in light and heat and pain –
She awakened suddenly, a scream dying on her lips. Spock was beside her, a hand gently resting on her shoulder. "Are you all right, Saavikam?" he asked.
She started to nod, then thought better of it and shook her head no. There was no point in attempting to conceal the truth, not from him. "I-I dreamt…" She had no idea how to finish that sentence, how to convey all of the things that she now remembered.
Spock nodded slowly, understanding. "Show me what you cannot tell," he quietly said.
She understood what he was requesting – access to the darkest corners of her mind. They had spoken telepathically before several times, but never melded.
"Do you trust me?" he asked when he noticed her hesitation.
After everything he had just done for her? How could she not? Saavik slowly nodded, and Spock raised a hand to the side of her face, placing each of his fingers over the correct spot. "My mind to your mind," he quietly recited. She closed her eyes. "My thoughts to your thoughts…"
And then they were one.
The tranquil shores of her organized thoughts met the stormy raging seas of her long-suppressed childhood memories and recent experiences. Before Spock had a chance to get his bearings, he was pulled into the rough waters, her thoughts assaulting his mind.
He could see Saavik as just a toddler, innocent and small. He could feel her sense that she was being held secure by a comforting presence, someone that she had been too young to identify as anything other than 'safety'.
Was this your Vulcan parent? He asked her telepathically.
I…I don't know.
No matter how hard she tried to focus on the memory, the answer wouldn't come. There was no name or face associated with the person, whom she assumed was her mother. But the feeling that she recalled was overwhelming, causing tears to prick at her eyes. The person had loved her. Truly loved a little half-breed who had such shameful origins. She had never before been able to remember this person that had taken care of her. Loved her. Died for her sake.
After that, there was only pain and fear for a very long time. Saavik had been small, one of the youngest of the little child-animals. Outside on the surface of the planet, an older boy nearly killed her in a struggle to earn dinner. She'd been left dirty and bleeding and there was no one to care. She could have died there in the scorching sand, ended the torment once and for all. No one would have ever missed her. But she didn't. She got up, returned to her cage, and rested. The next time that the guards teased the little savages with food to make them fight to the death, she won.
Spock felt her shame over that recollection, over the idea that she had taken another life to save her own. You did not know any other way, he tried to tell her. It was of little comfort.
They made us what we were. They made us less than people and they were amused by it. They bet on us in fights and discarded the bodies of the losers like trash. They were the savages, not us. Spock did not disagree.
He suddenly realized that she was trying to steer him through the torrents, attempting to avoid a particularly nasty squall. Do you trust me, Saavikam? He asked her again. Do you trust me with it all?
You will hate me, she warned.
That would never be possible. After a final moment of hesitation, she allowed him to proceed.
The Centurion's smile was the first thing he saw, false and slimy and evil. He beckoned little Saavik to his office, bribed her with the food that her starving body needed. The first time his hand landed upon her shoulder, she knew that she'd made a deal with the devil, but it was far too late to escape. There was nowhere to run to, and her efforts only brought him amusement. The 'Little Bird' couldn't fly away, not here. She may have been strong enough now to keep up with the other children, but she was no match for the Romulan officer, powerless against him.
I never accepted anything from him again, she explained, but it didn't matter. I was stunned, drugged… whatever he needed to get what he wanted.
The scene shifted, changed to the very recent past. Saavik was older now, but height and strength didn't help her. She was still powerless, still couldn't fly away. Spock struggled to keep his own thoughts carefully in order.
I can take it all away, he offered. You will never again have to remember any of this. He had a much higher psi-rating than she did; Saavik knew that it was possible for him to cut off her conscious access to the thoughts. Simply tell me what you want.
She was tempted. Her mind held years of memories that no one would ever want to have. All of the horrible things that had been done and said, all of the pain and anger would be gone. But so would things that she wanted to remember. The feeling of love from being taken care of by the person she assumed to be her mother. The feeling of wonder she'd had the first time she'd seen the stars from the surface of her world and dreamed of someday being among them. The feeling of pride that she currently had from realizing that maybe her past finally was now left in the past.
No, she told him. No, don't.
It is an incredible burden, one you should never have been given.
But I was. I can't change the past, I never could…That place has always been a part of me, and it always will be. It is who I am – not all of me, but still an important part.
Are you certain? Spock asked. He suddenly realized that all around them the seas were beginning to calm. It would always be painful, but she could move on. She was stronger than anyone else he had ever known.
I am, she confirmed. Thank you, Spock.
A shrill beeping cut into their conversation, and both paused in confusion.
What is that? Saavik finally asked.
Spock was unsure. If it wasn't something of her doing, or something of his, then…
In the real world, he abruptly pulled his hand from her face, and they both took a moment to get their bearings. The beeping noise was louder now, coming from the computer system. Spock moved to his console to shut it off.
"It is quiet," Saavik realized. Too quiet. Disturbingly quiet.
Spock nodded as one of the messages on a display confirmed her observation. "The engines have overloaded."
TBC...
