Chapter Fifteen
No!" T'Sorf's voice as he lunged in front of Spock.
"T'Sorf!" the boy's father yelled, reaching out for his son in astonishment. For a split second, the Starling stared from one to the other of them, before stepping towards the Vulcan and felling him with a blow to his stomach, swiftly followed by another to his face. Green blood filled Spock'smouth and he tasted copper. The colour of his blood probably saved him from a more sustained beating. His attacker stopped to stare at the emerald liquid seeping from Spock's burst lip. Spock cocked an eyebrow at his assailant and returned the stare.
"What devil is this?" asked the one the leader had called Nor. "His blood is not of our colour."
"I am a Vulcan. The oxidising agent in our blood is copper, not iron as in many other humanoids." Spock explained. To his astonishment, the leader seemed satisfied with the explanation. Nor hauled Spock to his feet, bound his hands behind his back and pushed him towards the others.
"Who is the prisoner now, Vulcan?" The familiar voice startled the group of captives. H'Narth stepped out of the undergrowth. He scowled at T'Sorf, saying,
"Dare to interfere again and I will kill you, half-breed." Then, turning to the leader of the aliens, he said, "The Vulcan may be of use to us."
"What's going on H'Narth?" T'Hana asked, "Is this why we came to Skara – to meet with these aliens?" H'Narth ignored the question. Kort, overjoyed to see his son again, turned now to H'Narth angrily, "How dare you take my son." He strained at his restraints. H'Narth spat at his feet, "Your son will remain with me as a guarantee of your good behaviour." He signalled to the boy to stand near him. T'Sorf laid a hand on Spock's arm as he passed. The Vulcan was on his knees, still weakened by the guard's assault, but thanks to T'Sorf, he was alive and he did not flinch at the boy's contact.
Nor spoke with the leader, in a quick, harsh-sounding language for a few moments before turning to the captives. "You will come with us." He commanded. At his order, the Starlings surrounded the group of captives levelling the pen-like weapons at them to demonstrate that non-compliance was not an option.
As they walked, Spock quizzed Hunter. "Were you aware of the existence of this race?" Hunter shook his head, "Only of the Skarrans. The hairy ones. But Skara's a big planet. We've seen only a tiny part of it."
"Our preliminary scan of the surface revealed no significant settlements, no evidence of evolved or advanced civilisations. Yet these people are evidently technologically advanced."
"Perhaps they didn't want to be scanned." Hunter suggested.
"Yes. It is possible to evade our sensors with shielding but as you are no doubt aware, the level of technological expertise required would be roughly equivalent to our own."
"Roughly, Mr Spock?" Hunter said, smiling.
"It was not my intention to be imprecise, merely…" Hunter interrupted before Spock could continue,
"It's okay, Mr Spock, I was joking."
"It never ceases to amaze me how humans insist on extracting humour from any situation."
"It's our nature, Mr Spock. Besides, humour is not always an end in itself; it has a purpose." Spock did not inquire as to the purpose of the humour in the present situation.
"Where do you suppose they're taking us?" Hunter asked.
"I do not know." Spock answered, honestly.
Hunter's question was answered moments later when they found themselves at the river they had crossed to escape the Skarans the day before. Spock shivered involuntarily, remembering his ordeal in the icy water.
"I believe we are going on another boat trip." Hunter said, with no enthusiasm in his voice. The prisoners were ushered onto the boat, still bound, and made to sit on deck.
"Why won't they communicate with us?" Kort asked. Spock and Hunter had made several attempts at communication during the walk to the river, only to be met with silence.
"Why would they? It is a fact that the unknown breeds fear in many species." Spock pointed out, "Clearly, the Starlings are cognisant of techniques of psychological intimidation."
"Starlings?" Kort asked, puzzled. Hunter smiled,
"Yes I see. Their hair – the iridescent quality. You are familiar with the birds of Earth, Mr Spock?" Spock reminded Hunter that his mother was human and added, "On visits to Earth as a child I made a study of the natural history to be found there. I had a particular interest in ornithology."
"Well the name is apt." Hunter approved.
"They're about to communicate now, I believe." Kort said, nodding in the direction of the Starling leader who was approaching them with H'Narth and another Starling male. Spock was singled out.
"You will come below with us." The leader said, ushering them to their feet.
Below deck, the Starling leader addressed Spock, "What is your business here?"
"The two Klingons and I are here as a result of an ion storm. The others have been here somewhat longer, but not because they wished to be. They crash landed on this planet." Their captor nodded.
"I am Piklamer." He gestured at his companions, "We are Morana. You must understand that I have no reason to trust any of you." Piklamer said, "Therefore you must be kept under restraint for the time being so that you do not interfere with our interests on this planet." Spock's eyebrow climbed into his brow at Piklamer's words, but it was Hunter who asked the obvious question,
"And what exactly are your interests on this planet?"
"That is not your concern. You will be treated well but resistance to your captivity will not be tolerated." The conversation was over.
"It seems that we are no longer your captives." T'Hana observed.
"Yes, that would appear to be the case." Spock observed. "However your situation has not improved. To use a metaphor favoured by an acquaintance of mine, we are now all in the same boat."
"Quite literally" Hunter said.
"We must determine a course of action." Spock continued, "Since for the time being, the Starlings are our common enemy, it might be propitious to work together to effect an escape."
"Piklamer was anxious that his people's interests on this planet were not threatened. Do either of you have any idea what those interests might be?" Spock was addressing Kort and Hunter. The two exchanged glances, then looked at the Klingons. Spock sighed; he was close to experiencing exasperation and impatience. What did Kort and Hunter know that they did not wish to reveal?
"Very well. I am unable to speculate in the absence of facts or evidence." In his experience, humans, and many of the other species he had encountered on his travels were satisfied to formulate hypotheses based on the most meagre of details. Such flights of fancy were not the Vulcan way. If he were Jim Kirk, he would have admitted to having a hunch that Kort and Hunter knew more than they were revealing, that this too had something to do with why they were here.
"The boat's moving." Hunter said.
There was no point in speculating about where the Starling's craft was taking them. They were being held in a room without windows and up or downriver was meaningless.
Time stretched out interminably on the slow river journey. Kort was alert and watchful; relief at knowing T'Sorf was alive, being replaced by anxiety about H'Narth's intentions towards the boy. Spock conserved his energy, resting but neither meditating nor sleeping. Pain pulsed through him as though his body were a conduit. The wound on his foot was infected, as were the deep scratches inflicted by the sardur's claws, and he suspected that the Starling's blow had cracked ribs, the pain of which was exacerbated by his racking cough. With the right treatment and some rest, these were ailments that would easily heal, but in this environment and in his exhausted mental state, Spock was unsure of his chances.
"One named Spock." The Starling whom the leader had addressed as Nor, stood in the doorway, seeking out the Vulcan. Everyone stirred at the sound of his voice. Kravok was on his feet instantly, adopting a fighting stance, despite his bound hands. Kort regarded him with seeming amusement, "Once a warrior, Kravok." He remarked.
"I am Spock." The Vulcan struggled to stand.
"Piklamer will speak with you." Spock nodded.
"My companions need water, food." He said.
"That will be taken care of." Answered Nor. "First, you must come with me."
Kort and Hunter had also stood up and moved to accompany Spock.
"Only the one named Spock has been summoned by Piklamer. You will stay here." To reinforce his command, Nor raised the instrument he was holding and aimed it in their direction. It was the same weapon that he had used to torture them earlier.
"That will not be necessary." Spock said, stepping in front of Kort and Hunter. "I will come with you."
"Take care, friend." Said Hunter softly as Spock walked to the door.
Piklamer spoke directly to Spock. "I trust you slept well?"
"I was troubled by my injuries and was unable to rest much." Piklamer ignored the comment. He signalled to Nor who advanced on Spock, the same pen-like instrument in his hand that he had used to torture Kort. Before Spock could resist, the Starling had pressed the instrument against his forehead and Spock felt an agonising pain followed by an uncomfortable tingling sensation.
Piklamer pressed Spock into a chair and pulled another close to him for himself. He took the instrument from Nor and for a few moments, his eyes bored into Spock's and the Vulcan had the distinct and unpleasant sensation that his mind was being invaded. Violated. Amongst Vulcans, this practice was abhorrent and those who violated another's mind without consent were shunned.
Disbelieving, Spock flinched from the contact as he felt the Starling leader scanning the layers of his mind, rapidly, expertly, effortlessly dismantling barriers erected by years of Vulcan discipline. But Piklamer was not merely in Spock's mind; rather Spock was revealing his thoughts to his captor. Piklamer asked questions and Spock answered. On and on the questioning continued until Spock had lost all sense of time passing, all sense of what had been asked, or what revealed. When it was over, he sat still, in shock,
"Forgive the intrusion." Piklamer said when he was finished. "It was necessary for me to obtain information quickly and the normal method of extracting information is so slow. I appreciate that it is not the way of you Vulcans to probe minds without the consent of each party, however, the customs of other peoples are not my concern."
"Indeed." Spock commented, struggling for composure. "Your telepathic skills are admirable, your appreciation of the rights of others, less so"
"Sarcasm, Mr Spock? I trust that is a trait of your human half."
"No sarcasm was intended. I was merely stating a truth."
"Perhaps you are unaware of how well integrated your human and Vulcan identities have become. The one speaks for the other – when they are not in conflict, of course. No sarcasm intended." Spock made no comment.
"These Klingons. They are your enemies and yet you try to rationalise your fear of them."
"Hate is illogical and a waste of energy."
" The Klingon, Kort and two of the others interest you. H'Narth not so."
"I have met many like H'Narth before."
"And the others?"
"Kort interests me because he is against the Klingon mould. Kravok and T'Hana I barely know, but they are not like H'Narth."
"On what do you base that judgement, Mr Spock? A feeling? An intuition? Or is it logic arrived at through careful observation and deduction? Which head are you wearing now, Spock - Human or Vulcan. Oh, you will say Vulcan, of course, that is how you like to see yourself – in control. Your friends know you better than you know yourself." Spock looked up.
"This Captain Kirk, this Jim. And McCoy – the doctor. They mean a lot to you, am I correct?" Spock said nothing, only looked at Piklamer, his expression inscrutable, but Piklamer smiled knowingly.
"Don't worry, Mr Spock. Your secret is safe with me." Piklamer said, enigmatically.
Again, Spock said nothing. He was uncomfortable with the conversation and still reeling from Piklamer's brutal violation of his inner self.
"You interest me, Mr Spock. You have an excellent mind – well disciplined. I admire that. But you Vulcans do not use your telepathic ability to your advantage. That is a failing." Piklamer slumped suddenly into a seat. "Take him back to his companions, Nor. I have finished with him - for now" he said, sounding suddenly bored.
Spock knew that he must appear shaken. Hunter made to lay a hand on his shoulder and he flinched, unable to bear the contact.
"What happened, Spock?" Hunter asked, gently. Spock stared at him for a moment, unsure how to answer. How to explain that his whole inner being had suffered an intolerable assault? Rather than try, the Vulcan opted for silence. Thankfully, Hunter let him be. Spock sat down, steepled his hands and pressed his fingertips to his chin, as though in meditation. He was half aware of the conversation that sprang up around him.
"Do we sit here and wait for them to take us one by one and reduce us to this?" Kravok said, pointing at Spock.
Hunter looked at Kort. "He has a point." Kort said.
"We have no weapons." T'Hana said.
"What did they do to you, Spock?" Hunter asked, gently, after a while. Spock explained as best he could. He was still in shock.
Hunter looked at Spock with concern. "I am sorry you had to experience that, Spock."
"Devils" Kort exclaimed. "I too, am sorry for your ordeal, Mr Spock."
Spock nodded and looked away. Not since the weeks following his ordeal with the mind-sifter had he felt so vulnerable. He needed time and quiet to restore himself. There was no chance of either. Pain and weariness and his present unstable state of mind could all be controlled. He would have to manage for now, retreat to a still, quiet corner of his mind and concentrate on - what? On simply keeping himself sane.
A contemplative hush descended over the prisoners as though each was pondering how they might have reacted to being put through a similar trial. It lasted until a sudden jolt signalled that the vessel had run aground, by accident or intent, they had no way of knowing.
"You will come with us." Nor ordered when at last the door to their prison was opened again.
It was mid morning on Skara, a pallid sun was climbing reluctantly towards its zenith without warmth. Spock shivered, unconsciously shrugging his shoulders and rubbing his arms for warmth. It was as though the season had advanced by several weeks into Winter in only a few short hours.
He regretted not spending more time acquainting himself with the planet's climatology before beaming down, but the time between receiving the distress signal and responding to it had been short. "Who had sent the distress signal?" The source had been Skara, then mysteriously not Skara. Spock remembered an embarrassed Uhura trying to explain to the captain that she had lost the trace. Could the signal have been sent by the Starlings to summon them here? For what purpose? Had they known of the Enterprise's presence in the space around Skara and deliberately lured her in? Spock looked up and saw the faint crescent trace of one of the planet's moons, and for a fleeting second, he imagined that the Enterprise was up there somewhere, orbiting Skara. A comforting, if illogical thought.
A short distance from where the Starlings craft was moored, was an incongruous sight – a stockade constructed of polished tall metal palisades that had clearly not been hewn from the encroaching forest, despite the sizeable clearing nearby. A defence against the hairy Skarran natives, no doubt. The group of prisoners was ushered through a gate and into the enclosure behind the perimeter fence.
Inside was another world. The small band of captives looked around them, taking in a cluster of timber-built huts interspersed among the trees, some small, but there was one long, low hut that had obviously been constructed as some kind of laboratory judging by the equipment just visible through the windows. "Fascinating." Spock said, "This would appear to be a base of some kind, a science station, a scaled down version of one of our own scientific bases." They were given little time for speculation.
Spock and the others were ushered inside one of the buildings and led to what was obviously living quarters, a long, narrow room with a eight cots arranged in rows; they were imprisoned without further explanation. Of them all, Kravok was the least able to contain his frustration. He punched the wall of their cell and paced the room, like a captured animal. The others were no less frustrated.
"What now?" Hunter asked of anyone who was listening. Spock looked thoughtful.
Kravok hissed, impatiently, "I say we force the door now."
"And do what, Kravok?" T'Hana said, "We must think before acting rashly." Kravok was not skilled at hiding his emotions, "Bah!" he exclaimed, "The longer we wait, the weaker we will seem to our captors."
"May I?" Hunter asked, seeking Spock's consent to sit on a chair next to the farthest bunk where he had retreated to upon entering the room, still recovering from his ordeal. Spock shrugged. He was finding it difficult to think with any clarity because of his continuing pain and the discomfort of the cold, which, as a Vulcan he felt more keenly than the others. Moreover, his forays into the deepest recesses of his own mind to make sense of the traces left by Piklamer's intrusion were disturbing and exhausting.
"Any ideas, Mr Spock?" asked Hunter, studying the Vulcan. If Vulcans sigh, then Spock did so now.
"He has been inside my mind – such intimacy is not possible without leaving something of oneself behind." Spock said, quietly. Hunter nodded, but Spock sensed that he did not understand. How could he? He was not a telepath.
"Telepathy is not a one way experience - I caught glimpses of Piklamer's mind also - he has left imprints in my mind and I must seek to understand him." There was an edge to Spock's voice – he was aware of it too and inwardly questioned his motive – was it simply revenge he sought?
"I must engage Piklamer's mind as a distraction and to weaken him." He said, as though he were suggesting something commonplace. Spock marvelled at the steadiness of his voice that in no way matched his inner turmoil. The very idea of having the Starling leader inside his head again, filled him with revulsion, made him feel physically sick.
"We can't ask that of you, Spock." Hunter said.
"There is no need. It is what I must do. And besides, he will be back. I must be ready."
"What did you mean just now when you said that engaging Piklamer's mind would weaken him?"
"Piklamer is not a natural telepath. To meld his mind with mine, he required the assistance of the pen-like instrument that Nor used to torture you. Somehow, it acts as a conduit to facilitate telepathic communication. The experience exhausts him. He tried to mask it by pretending boredom."
"You believe that Piklamer will force another meld?" Spock's features tightened; he gave the slightest of nods.
"I must be ready." He repeated.
"Can you resist him, Spock?"
"I am working on that." The Vulcan answered.
Hunter raised an arm as if to lay it on Spock's' shoulder, then retracted it. The gesture reminded Spock, suddenly, viscerally, of Jim, and McCoy at once. Heacknowledged Hunter's concern with a slight incline of his head. Sometimes the intensity of this man's personality made him uncomfortable, and the last thing he needed was a torrent of emotion resulting from a sudden contact, however well intentioned.
He could not admit distractions. In his already weakened state, he could not hope to survive any future encounter with Piklamer unless he was mentally prepared. Self -doubt was illogical; Spock would not waste time or energy indulging in it but he was conscious of a nagging feeling of uncertainty about the outcome of any such meeting of minds and he did not look forward to the encounter.
"Be careful, friend." Hunter cautioned, "You have too fine a mind to risk insanity, for that surely is what would ensue from playing mind games with Piklamer."
Beneath his mask of outward composure, Spock was conflicted. The mindsifter had almost robbed him of his sanity once – endangering his mind was not a risk he wanted to take again unless the stakes were very high and logic dictated that no other course of action was viable.
"When Piklamer was in your mind, you say you caught glimpses of his mind?" Hunter asked, cautiously.
"Fragments, flashes, impressions. Nothing coherent." It occurred to Spock more slowly than it should, that Hunter was fishing for something specific. He asked,
"Mr Hunter, do you not think that it is time for you and Kort to tell me all that you know? Were you aware of the Morana's presence on Skara?" Hunter sighed.
"As I may have hinted at before, Spock there's a conspiracy surrounding Skara and the Morana – and Ravik and the Curie incident too. It goes right to the heart of Starfleet. And yes, you deserve to hear the truth."