6.

Spock was sitting on his bed mat some days later, leaning against the wall of the slave room, when there was the first hint of something happening. He had woken before the bell, and sat up to meditate while he awaited its chime – but gradually he became aware that it was well past time for the bell to ring, and it had not sounded.

Spock straightened up. This was unprecedented. The bell rang out, *always*, at the same time every morning, and yet today it *had not rung out*. He reached out a hand to where Delash lay sleeping, and shook him by the shoulder.

Delash woke with a start.

'What? What? Gods, did I sleep through – '

Spock shook his head vehemently. *The bell did not ring,* he signed.

'What? Too early?' Delash muttered. It was clear he was not completely awake. 'What's wrong, Spockesh?'

Spock shook his head again, reiterating, *The bell did not ring. It is past time.*

Delash sat up abruptly, calling out, 'Wake up, boys. It's past alarm time, and it hasn't rung out!'

There was a noise of general stirring as the five other men in the room woke and realised the oddity of the situation. It was clear to Spock that this had never happened before, and no one was sure what to do. The schedule in this place was so rigorously enforced that none of them seemed to be able to cope with the idea of any disturbance to routine.

'Will we be punished if we don't go out?' Lamesh asked anxiously.

'Don't be silly,' Andresh rebuffed him. He got up and moved across the room, and there was the noise of the door's energy field being touched. 'See. The door's still locked. We couldn't go even if we wanted to.'

'But why wouldn't the bell ring?' Delash asked in bewilderment.

'Fire,' Valensh hazarded. 'War. Sickness…'

'Fire?' Lamesh echoed in alarm. 'And we're trapped in here?'

Spock shook his head quickly, indicating with swift signs to Delash that he could hear and smell no signs of fire. The suggestion of war suddenly seemed more apt, however, as his ears caught distant sounds of weapons fire. He had no idea how to sign this, so he sat still, listening intently, trying to ignore the wondering of those around him in order to best interpret the sounds he heard from outside.

There was a sudden sound of commotion close outside, and weapons fire again – and then the latent background noise of the force field dropped away, and someone ran into the room. Spock turned instantly. He – *recognised* – that mix of emotions and impulses. He thought he even recognised the scent and the footfall – but he didn't dare to hope.

'It's a stranger,' Lamesh said quickly. 'I don't know – '

Then the man said, 'Spock!' and Spock recognised with a surge of relief the voice of his captain.

He got to his feet, moving towards him with one hand held out.

'Spock, thank God,' Kirk said. 'Finally… Are you all right? Have you been harmed?'

Spock reached out to touch him, feeling the wonderful familiarity of Starfleet material and Jim's solid flesh under his fingers before dropping his hands back to his sides.

'Spock, what's – What've they done to him?' he asked sharply, his attention moving to the others in the room.

'They blind and mute the chamber slaves,' Lamesh said, coming over to him. 'Are – you the one from his ship, sir? The friend? His captain?'

'Yes,' Kirk said distractedly. 'He's – Spock, is it true?'

Spock nodded silently.

'Is it reversible?'

He shrugged, then turned toward Lamesh, making a sign with his hand. He would have rather signed through Delash, but Delash, always the most reticent of the group, seemed to have dropped away to the back of the room at the sight of the captain.

'He says, maybe, maybe not,' Lamesh interpreted. 'He says, it's good to see you,' he translated again as Spock made more signs. 'He says, what's happened?'

Kirk twisted around, his focus suddenly sharpening. 'What? Did he hear something?'

Spock shook his head as Lamesh said, 'No, sir, I think he means, how did you find him, how did you get here?'

Spock nodded quickly, and Kirk replied, 'We've spent months searching for you, Spock. We've had all ships and bases on alert. Then someone heard a merchant saying something about a Vulcan slave at a manor on Villanesh 4 who helped his daughter somehow, and we came straight here.'

Spock nodded, a certain relaxation of relief sinking through his frame. Obviously helping the girl had been worth the pain of the punishment, since it had led to his discovery. Then he pointed to himself, and up towards the ceiling, with a questioning expression.

'Up,' Lamesh muttered. 'You want to go upstairs?' he asked confusedly.

'You want to beam up?' Kirk asked quickly. 'Is that it?'

Spock nodded swiftly, reaching out to Kirk's hand. He had no idea of how to sign for a doctor, so he touched his hand to his eyes and throat, and then traced the beginnings of the word 'McCoy' on Kirk's palm.

'You want to see Bones? I'm sure you do,' Kirk said. 'Hang on.' There was the noise of his communicator opening, then he said, 'Scotty, I've got him, but he needs to go to sick bay. Stay down here and secure things. I want whoever's in charge held to account for this. Kirk out.' He closed his communicator, and said, 'You seem to understand him a little. Are you willing to beam up with us?'

'I – have no will, sir,' Lamesh said slowly, taking a step backwards. 'I'm a slave. You'd best ask Master Robbesh.'

'I don't acknowledge slavery,' Kirk said tightly. 'If I was going to ask anyone's permission I'd ask yours.'

Spock signed again, and Lamesh said, 'If you're sure – I don't want punishment… He says to beam up, and it's *your* responsibility, Captain.'

'If anyone asks, I did it against your will,' Kirk said softly. 'I've got a weapon – you haven't. I'm kidnapping you, like it or not. Spock, are you ready?'

Spock hesitated, turning towards the others in the room and reaching out a hand to them.

'Don't worry about us,' Delash said, but there was sadness in his voice. 'It's our life.'

Spock pressed his lips together, and shook his head, signing, *Delash, come.*

'What, come with you?'

Spock nodded, signing, *You understand more than Lamesh.*

'Well, that's true,' Delash said reluctantly. 'He – does miss the subtleties sometimes.'

'What's he saying?' Kirk asked impatiently. 'We don't have a lot of time here.'

'He wants me to come too, sir,' Delash said awkwardly. 'I – sometimes understand him better than Lamesh.'

'Oh, what the hell,' Kirk muttered. There was a short pause, then he opened his communicator again, and said, 'Enterprise, Kirk here. Eight to beam up.'

******

When Spock materialised into the familiar scents and sounds of the Enterprise transporter room it was as if a tension that had been holding him rigid for six months had suddenly melted away. He stepped down into the room without waiting for assistance, confident of what was around him, and allowing himself a brief indulgence by stepping forward to run his hands over the transporter controls, ignoring the confusion of the operator on the other side of the desk.

'Come on. Let's get to sick bay,' Kirk said, touching his arm.

Spock nodded, but he firmly moved Kirk's hand from his arm. He was used enough to managing without guidance, and he was sure that he didn't need it now, with seven sets of footsteps to follow.

'You're sure you don't need help?' Kirk asked him.

'He's never been allowed guidance, sir,' Lamesh explained for him. 'He can manage fine.'

Spock inclined his head in agreement, then began moving toward the door, impatient to see the doctor. The journey through the corridors was simple with the small group gathered around him.

'Spock, you've got an entourage!' McCoy said in a delighted voice as they finally entered sickbay. 'By God, it's good to see you!'

Spock signed, then Lamesh said, 'What's that? I didn't catch it.'

Spock signed again, and Lamesh translated. 'He says, good to see you too. Are you the doctor, sir?'

'Spock?' McCoy asked curiously, coming forward with his scanner whirring. 'What's wrong? You can't talk?'

'They blinded him and muted him,' Kirk said bitterly, pushing through the small group around Spock.

'Blinded?' McCoy echoed in horror. 'Good God, Spock, come and sit down.'

Suddenly Spock found himself being hustled across the room, and he stood firmly, shaking his head. He signed, and got no response, so he clapped his hands sharply as he had learnt to do to get attention.

'Sorry, Spockesh,' Delash said quickly. 'I'm looking now.'

Spock signed again.

'He doesn't need to sit,' Delash interpreted. 'He – Sorry, Spockesh, do it again… Blindness – or muteness – doesn't mean he needs to sit. He's fine standing. He says – don't treat him as if he's sick – he isn't sick.'

'Maybe,' McCoy said gruffly. 'But I need to examine him, and for that I want him on the examination table – so that means I want some privacy. Jim, will you take this lot next door and ask M'Benga to look them over?'

'Sure, Bones,' Kirk nodded.

*Delash here,* Spock signed quickly.

'He wants me to stay, sir,' Delash said. 'So I can speak for him.'

'That's fine,' McCoy nodded. 'But the rest of you – out. Now, you – what's your name?'

'Delash, sir,' he said.

'Do you know what they did to him?'

'I don't know, sir.' He turned his attention to Spock, watching his hands. 'Heat, I think. Something small, touching his eyes and throat with heat.'

'O-kay,' McCoy said slowly. 'Spock, can you get up on the table? Do you need help?'

Spock shook his head, finding the table quickly and getting onto it. He listened to the noise of the scanner, trying not to let his anxiety show in his face. Perhaps Delash would know what he was feeling – he had become at expert at reading body language that Spock didn't know he was giving out, just so that he could understand what he might want to be saying. McCoy, thankfully, was not nearly at good at reading his minute expressions.

'Heat's right, Spock,' he murmured as he scanned. 'It looks like they burned out your optic nerves and the nerves that control your vocal cords. They've just been destroyed, completely.'

Spock pressed his lips together, frustration surging through him. He didn't know how to sign to ask what could be done. But Delash asked anyway, 'Can you fix it, Doctor?'

'I – don't know,' McCoy said reluctantly. 'Not straight out. I know some people who are experts in nerve regrowth – human nerve regrowth, at least. I'll have to talk to them about it. Spock, can you touch type?' he asked curiously.

Spock nodded. He signed, and Delash said, 'Can he sit up, sir?'

'Sure,' McCoy nodded. 'There's nothing physical I can do right now. Spock, I don't think we have anything portable,' he said as Spock sat, 'but if you can touch type you can write down what you want to ask and have the computer read it out.'

'He can write with a pen, too,' Delash said as Spock signed. 'He can try, anyway.'

'I'll look up some sign language too – we might be able to expand your vocabulary, Spock.'

Spock nodded, and signed again, holding up his wrist with the band on it. He had had momentary qualms on beaming up, in case leaving the vicinity of the mansion set off the incapacitating charge that the band held, but no such thing had happened.

'I should be able to cut that off,' McCoy muttered. 'Hang on,' he said. He moved across the room, rummaged in a cabinet, and then returned. 'Here – hold out your arm.'

Spock raised his arm, and McCoy took his hand. A moment's work with the tool he had fetched, and the band clattered to the floor.

'Let me do yours, too,' the doctor said to Delash. He removed the band quickly, then turned back to Spock. 'Anything else, Spock?' he asked, and Spock signed quickly.

'He says, look here,' said Delash.

Spock lifted his kilt a little, showing the thick scar that covered his left thigh.

'Jeez,' McCoy murmured, running his scanner over it. 'I guess that's painful.'

'A little,' Delash interpreted.

'What was it? Hot water?'

'A kettle of ny'ar, sir,' Delash said. 'I saw it happen. It wasn't long after he came, and he knocked the table with his side, and the ny'ar spilt right down it. It goes all the way up over his hip.'

'Did no one treat it when it happened?'

Spock shook his head, and Delash said, 'We took him and sprayed cold water on it, but no more than that. He had to learn not to be clumsy. They don't treat things for the blind ones if they do it through clumsiness.'

'Well, I thought you seemed pretty capable,' McCoy muttered. 'But now I see why. I can't do anything straight off, Spock. I'll need to clone some skin from your other thigh and graft it in place of the scar. Have you got anything else that needs looking at?'

Spock considered, then touched a hand to his back.

'They whipped him a week ago,' Delash said. 'It's still healing. He's pretty badly scarred there too – they've beaten him before.'

McCoy lifted his top, drawing in breath through clenched teeth when he saw the state of Spock's back. It was covered with tight scars from top to bottom, that were layered over with more recent scabbed and infected welts. 'It looks like it's been treated at least,' he muttered. 'But it's not pretty, Spock. I can clean up the more recent ones, but you might need some grafts there too if you want to be free of scars. Is that it now?'

Spock dropped his head a little, tracing his hand over the surface of the examination couch. He needed to tell McCoy something he had never even revealed to Lamesh or Delash, and he hardly knew how.

'He doesn't like to say,' Delash said, his attention fixed on him.

'You don't say,' McCoy said with gentle sarcasm. 'Spock, what is it? Is it too complex to sign? Do you want me to get a keyboard for you?'

Spock shook his head. He pressed his lips together, then turned to Delash and signed, *My master.*

'Lord Milaresh, or Robbesh?' Delash asked.

Spock signed, *My high master.*

'What?' Delash asked. 'Did he injure you?'

Spock bit his lip into his mouth, then very slowly lifted his hands, using a sign he only had rare occasion to use. He made a circle of his thumb and forefinger, and then pushed his straightened index finger on his other hand through the hole.

'Not *you*, surely?' Delash hissed.

Spock sat still, waiting for his shock to calm. Just telling Delash seemed to make all the memories flood back around him. Delash reached out to touch his shoulder, and he almost flinched away, before controlling his reaction and accepting the comfort.

'I – just didn't think you were the type he'd do that to,' Delash faltered. 'You have too much dignity.'

Spock shrugged, touching his eyes briefly. He felt as if he had very little dignity at this moment, confessing to what had happened to him. He was grateful in a way that he wouldn't be able to see McCoy's face as he told him.

'You still have dignity, even if you are blind,' Delash said firmly.

'What is it?' McCoy asked curiously. 'What's he telling you?'

'Please,' Delash said as Spock cringed minutely. 'Let him tell me it all first. How many times, Spockesh?'

Spock shook his head, then shrugged, making a revolving motion with his hand.

'You don't know how many – but a lot? And he hurt you?'

Spock nodded, performing a more complex series of signs that appeared to be full of emotion, or at least of movement and drama.

'For God's sake,' McCoy said impatiently. 'I'm the doctor here – will you tell me what was done to him?'

Spock closed his eyes briefly, then turned towards Delash and nodded.

'His master – buggered him,' Delash said carefully. 'It was forced, and he was violent.' He watched Spock signing again, and said, 'The first time, it was as a punishment – he hasn't got the words to tell me why. So – he was beaten and tied down, and it was very violent and painful. The other times it was – ' He paused as Spock stopped to consider his words. 'There were no women in the house – so he means it was out of need, essentially,' he interpreted, and Spock nodded. 'It was still painful,' he continued, watching Spock intently, 'but it wasn't so violent, and he wasn't tied. There were other times too, he had to use his mouth, or his hand.'

McCoy exhaled slowly, unsure of what to say. He couldn't imagine the emotional trauma that such an abuse would force on the highly private Vulcan. Ordinarily he would prescribe counselling – but Spock could not even speak.

'Spock, is it likely that he had any sexually transmitted diseases?' he asked. Best to focus on physical concerns for now.

Spock shrugged, signing again, and Delash said, 'He had many encounters with many women – so perhaps. And often there were two men – the master and his friend.'

'Okay,' McCoy said carefully. 'The first time, when he was very violent – did you bleed at all?'

'A little,' Delash interpreted. 'He's not sure how much, because he can't see. It *hurt* – a lot.'

'Okay,' McCoy said again. 'What about the other times? Did you bleed then?'

'Perhaps,' Delash said, watching Spock's hands. 'It wasn't as painful. He sometimes...' He hesitated, watching Spock closely. 'He poured something… rubbed it on. What is that, Spockesh? What – oil?'

Spock nodded once.

'Right,' McCoy said softly. 'Well, I'll scan you for any diseases, Spock. I've already run a base scan that hasn't shown anything, but I'll go into more depth, just in case. And – I'm afraid I'll need to examine you physically. How long ago did this happen?'

'The first time was – four months ago,' Delash translated. 'Oh Gods, Spockesh,' he said suddenly. 'That night after you saved the Lavorian girl. He took you in her place, didn't he?'

Spock nodded slowly, his head cast down.

'I thought he'd just beaten you! Spockesh, why didn't you tell me?'

Spock shook his head. He didn't know how to reply to that. *You helped me,* he signed.

'Spock, do you want to be alone when I examine you?' McCoy asked carefully.

Spock pressed his lips together, considering. He had spent so long in such intimate company with all six of his roommates that having Delash there did not seem too much of an intrusion.

*I need you to speak,* he signed. *But don't look.*

'I'll stand at your head and face you,' Delash promised. 'Don't worry,' he said quietly. 'This is the last time – isn't it, Doctor?'

McCoy hesitated. 'I can't promise I won't need to examine you again, Spock,' he said. 'But I'll try to get it all over with this time.'

******

Spock slipped off the examination table with McCoy's reassurance that there was no treatment he needed but a little more time to heal. It had been too long since that first time for him to need invasive treatment. Even he had needed it, he was not sure if he could have borne lying there being touched in that way ever again.

'I've recorded all the evidence I need, so I shouldn't need to subject you to that again,' McCoy promised him.

Spock nodded, signing, *May I go?*

He didn't want to spend any more time in sick bay – it suddenly did nothing but remind him of all those times of helplessness in his master's bedchamber, forcing himself to lie motionless under his heavy, sweat-sheened body.

'Just let me take a few more scans of your eyes and throat,' McCoy said at Delash's translation.

*My clothes,* he signed. The sick-bay robe he had changed into was far too flimsy for his liking.

'He wants his clothes,' Delash said.

'I'll send someone for your uniform,' McCoy told him, going to the door and passing on the order to someone in the outer room. 'Now, just come over here and sit down,' he said, grasping Spock's arm.

Spock stiffened, uncurling the doctor's fingers. His initial induction into managing without assistance had not been pleasant, but he was grateful now that it allowed him to function more independently – as long as those around him remembered that he could.

'There's a chair on the other side of the room by the medicine cabinet,' McCoy told him, restraining his natural urge to snipe at the Vulcan. 'Do you remember?'

Spock nodded, moving swiftly to the chair and sitting down.

'Just hold still for a few minutes while I take some more exhaustive scans.'

Spock sat patiently as McCoy fussed around him with various instruments – then finally the doctor straightened up and moved away.

'Are you finished?' Delash asked as Spock signed.

'All done now – you're free to go, Spock. Your clothes are over on the counter by the door.'

Spock nodded, moving quickly over to the counter and finding the familiar feel of his uniform waiting for him. He changed quickly, pulling on boots over feet that had been bare for months.

'He wants to see his master,' Delash said in a confused tone as Spock signed. 'Your master, Spockesh? Surely – '

Spock shook his head, pressing his lips together in annoyance. He would have to create a whole new realm of signs to describe this new environment.

'You mean Jim?' McCoy asked, and Spock nodded. 'Well, he's waiting for you in my office. Are you taking your friend?'

Spock turned his head in Delash's direction, and nodded.

'Just let me scan him to check he's well,' McCoy muttered, as the warble of the scanner began. 'Have you got any problems you want me to look at, Delash?'

'No, sir – none at all,' he said quickly. 'I haven't been beaten in a long while, and I haven't been ill, either.'

'I'm reading a lot of scar tissue here, in your back and in your legs' McCoy said. 'Let me just look at you – '

There was silence, but Spock could feel a strong sense of reluctance from Delash. He reached out to touch the doctor, shaking his head.

'He says, wait,' Delash said awkwardly. 'He says – I don't have to let you look at me. You're not my master.'

'Well, that may be so, but you've got a lot a scar tissue binding the movement in your back, and something's been done to the ligaments in your knees. If you let me look at it I might be able to treat it.'

Spock touched Delash's arm, and signed, *What's wrong?*

'There – are just some things I don't want to remember, Spockesh,' Delash said quietly.

Spock signed, *If you remove the pain in your body, you won't remember so well. He can help you. What happened?* he asked.

There was a long silence, then Delash said finally, 'I tried once to escape – years and years ago when I was new to the place. I was caught. Master had me punished. They – hurt me very badly. It was – a very bad year that year. That's why I work in the house now instead of outside.'

Spock nodded slowly. *You can't run,* he realised suddenly. He had a vague awareness that Delash moved relatively slowly, but had never really considered why.

'No, I can't,' he said quietly.

Spock nodded again, acknowledging that Delash obviously did not want to talk about it. Presumably from what the doctor had said they had somehow deliberately injured the ligaments in Delash's knees in order to prevent him from running.

Then he signed, *Ask him, must he do it now?*

Delash asked, and McCoy said, 'That scar tissue's at least ten years old – a little more time won't change anything.'

Spock nodded, signing, *See him later. He'll help you. Be strong for a short time and you will be good in the future.*

'You trust him well enough, don't you?' Delash said.

*He's my friend,* Spock signed.

'I've just about given up trying to understand those signs, Spock,' McCoy muttered half-apologetically. 'I have no idea what you're saying.'

'He says I should let you treat me – later,' Delash explained. 'I should trust you.'

'Well, that's gratifying at least,' the doctor said dryly. 'I hope you'll take his advice. Go on, Spock,' he said, touching a hand to his back with an unwonted gentleness in his tone. 'Go see Jim. I'll keep looking over this data and see what I can do for you.'

Spock nodded, turning toward the door.

*Delash,* he signed, and Delash said quickly, 'Yes, I'm coming.'

*Watch for me,* he signed, suddenly unconfident about his knowledge of the space about him. He *thought* he knew it, but it was a long time since he had last been in this room.

'It's all clear,' Delash reassured him. 'Don't worry – I'll look out for you.'

Spock nodded, moving forward to the door.

'Will you tell him – about what you suffered?' Delash asked softly as he followed him.

Spock dropped his head for a second, then signed, *Maybe.*

Telling McCoy had been hard enough. The thought of confessing all that had been done to him to Jim, through sign language and Delash's translation, was too much to consider.

He crossed the space to McCoy's office, and heard the door swish open in front of him.

'Spock,' Kirk said warmly as he entered. 'Come sit down.'

'Just here,' Delash said quietly. 'A chair on the near side of the desk he's sitting at.'

*Are there two chairs?* Spock asked.

'No – oh, there's one over there. I'll – '

'I'll get that for you,' Kirk said quickly, rising to fetch the chair and putting it beside the other one.

'Is this your master, Spockesh?' Delash asked in an undertone as Spock found his chair and sat down.

Spock raised one eyebrow, shaking his head. *I am free here,* he signed. The only sign he had for 'free' was a slightly derogatory one, but it was one Delash would understand.

Delash laughed. 'Then you're one of *them* now?'

Spock nodded, a noticeable look of relief on his face at the idea.

'Must I call him sir?' Delash asked. 'Must I call *you* sir?'

Spock raised an eyebrow again, shaking his head and signing, *You are free too. Stay here, and you will stay free.*

'I can stay here?' Delash asked in surprise.

Spock nodded, turning towards Kirk, waiting for him to elucidate. There was a long silence, then Kirk said, 'If you wanted to stay, and you asked for asylum, I can't see that you'd be denied it, considering the conditions you've escaped from. You'd stay on this ship until we could find somewhere for you to go, then there are people who'd help you set up your new life.'

'I – can only thank you,' Delash said slowly. 'I never thought I would see freedom again.'

'Well, here it is,' Kirk smiled. 'All around you. Spock, I don't know what command's going to say about the way we've opened diplomatic relations with this planet – but to be honest I'm so glad to have you back that I don't really care.'

Spock nodded, turning towards Delash and signing quickly.

'He says he's very glad to be here,' Delash said. 'He had given up hope of seeing you again. He didn't think you'd be able to find him.'

'Does he really say all that in those few signs?' Kirk asked in wonder.

'No, not exactly,' Delash admitted. 'I interpret, I don't just repeat it. I try to understand what he wants to say, not what he *can* say.'

'What's that?' Kirk asked as Spock signed again.

'He says I'm good,' Delash said rather bashfully.

'Coming from Spock, I know that's a compliment. Spock, did Bones say he could fix what they did to you?'

Spock half shook his head, turning towards Delash for elucidation.

'He said he will look at his data. The nerves have been destroyed. He needs to talk to people who know about such things.'

There was a brief silence, then Kirk said, 'I'm sorry, Spock. I can't imagine how frustrating it must be…'

'The muteness is more frustrating right now,' Delash translated. 'But – Sorry, Spockesh, I don't understand…'

Spock signed again, slowly and carefully trying to create a sign for the word.

'Over…' Delash murmured. 'Come here… Oh! It's easier to overcome than the blindness,' he realised, and Spock nodded. 'He can learn more signs to talk with. But the blindness… it hurts him in his heart,' he said slowly, watching Spock intently. 'Spockesh, I'm sorry,' he said softly, touching his arm. 'I thought you'd grown used to it.'

Spock tilted his head, then shook it briefly. He couldn't imagine growing used to being in constant darkness.

'Spock, I need to try to get a report from you on what happened down there,' Kirk said gently. 'Do you feel able?'

Spock paused. Jim didn't know everything that had happened to him, but he would have to put it in the report that Jim would then read. But there was little choice. It was his duty both to Starfleet and to everyone else on the planet suffering as he had to report the truth. He nodded, and signed to Delash.

'He can – what's that, Spockesh?' Delash asked as Spock mimed moving his fingers on something.

'Type,' Kirk realised. 'He can type on the computer. Well, that's good, Spock. How about we leave that until later, then – you try to get a report written up for me, and we can take it from there?'

Spock nodded, feeling illogically as if he had been given a reprieve. He turned to Delash, touching his arm and then touching his own stomach.

'Yes, I suppose we missed breakfast, didn't we?' Delash said in an amused tone. 'I am hungry.'

'Well, it's coming up for lunchtime ship time,' Kirk smiled. 'What say we go on down to the rec room and get something to eat?'

Spock nodded, signing, and Delash translated, 'It's a long time since he's eaten good food.'