He looked good, Spock mused. He adjusted a pin on McCoy's shirt as if fixing up a mannequin, then drove his fingers through the human's hair to smooth it out. McCoy flinched and closed his eyes as if expecting to be burned, and Spock chuckled softly. Spock took his time dressing his slave, smoothening out wrinkles on his shirt, stroking strands of hair from the human's brow, fluffing it in places for aesthetic purposes, while McCoy simply stood there. The other one had to be drugged and/or beaten before he'd be so still and compliant.
As he straightened the collar of McCoy's dress uniform, Spock had the notion to inspect his neck. The flesh around the recent bites was so smooth and healthy, not at all what he was used to. Just another weakness, Spock thought to himself, running his thumb across that relatively unmarked, fresh skin; this McCoy was not used to regular injuries. It would take a lot to get him to the other's pain threshold. The Vulcan spent a few moments gazing at McCoy, softly stroking his face with hands that could so easily shatter his skull. McCoy shivered and refused to look at him.
But there would be time for recreation later. "Admiral Dorek's inspections officially start today, Doctor," he said, turning back to his bureau. "Starting with Sick Bay." When he turned, he saw McCoy glaring at him. "Is there a problem?"
A bit of the same, familiar fire was there in the human's voice when he answered, but much of it was held back. "There's a lot wrong with throwing me in the fire just like that." There was something in the way he growled and especially in how he used a hand gesture for emphasis that strongly reminded Spock of the one he had left in the other universe; but Spock had no doubt he could control the attitude in this one. "I won't have a clue what I'm doing, I won't know how to address that...Romulan, and everyone in Sick Bay wants to kill me. Something's gonna go wrong and you're gonna blame me for it!"
Spock sniffed derisively and turned back to his dresser, where he took out a small perfume bottle and sprayed a little bit on his neck and wrists. "On the first issue, Doctor, the admiral won't be ready to start for a few hours yet, giving us enough time to make sure you're properly situated." He then turned to spray McCoy on the neck, but the doctor jumped back.
"What is that?" he snapped, taking a few steps back. The look on the doctor's face was hauntingly similar to the other one; not quite as animal-like, but it still encouraged a strange sensation in Spock. But he ignored it and took hold of McCoy's wrist and pulled him back.
"Obviously it's not anything toxic if I applied it to myself," Spock said as he sprayed cold liquid on McCoy's neck and then the wrist.
As soon as he let go, McCoy threw his wrist to his nose, glaring at Spock as he took a whiff. He smelled louder and frowned. "If this is supposed to be cologne--"
"Pheromones, Leonard," Spock corrected, setting the bottle back in his drawer. "Just pheromones. They will not harm you."
"Pheromones?" McCoy demanded. Spock noticed that McCoy's fear decreased inversely with his anger. It would be interesting to manipulate. "What are you, a dog? You're marking me now?"
"Technically that wrist cuff is enough of a marker, and is more than enough to show your status on board," Spock replied, noting how generally relaxed he felt. He didn't know it was possible to get into an argument with McCoy without knocked over furniture or breaking bones. "But with our new guests, I did not want to take the chance of anyone...missing that. If you take care to properly analyze the scent, Doctor, you will notice it to be unique. You and I will be the only ones on this ship to share it."
"How romantic," McCoy snarled under his breath.
Spock raised an eyebrow and turned that phrase over in his mind for a second. "If that is how you chose to see it, very well, I suppose. I am merely taking an effort to protect my property." He took a second to relish in McCoy's miserable expression and pushed him towards the door, fingers light on the shoulder.
But before he opened it, he pushed McCoy into the wall and watched the human's face screw into a pained grimace and try to turn away. While one hand drove through McCoy's hair, the other forced between his legs. "It remains," he growled softly, hand pressing upwards against it. McCoy gasped and writhed, but made little attempt to stop him. His face, reddened, was still turned downwards as the human tried to hide his feelings; of course Spock was able to read the strong, basic emotions that bled from the man's mind as easily as he could his expression.
Spock roughly turned McCoy's face to force the human to look at him, and yet McCoy still tried to look away. His eyes were red, and he groaned loudly. "Please, don't!" he sputtered through clenched teeth.
Rubbing him, Spock kissed his cheek softly, hiding a grin just out of the corner of the doctor's eye. "You wish me to stop?"
McCoy grabbed Spock by the shirt and leaned his head on his shoulder when Spock started to squeeze much harder. "Either finish or lemme go, for God's sake! You're killing me!"
//Take your hands off me// he transmitted, his free hand firm on the base of McCoy's neck. He repeated himself when McCoy just growled an answer, clutching even harder. So he leaned closer and hissed in his ear, "Take your hands off me, slave."
Slowly McCoy obeyed, and had to hold his hands shaking at his sides. His body was not even an inch from Spock's. //Good// Spock stroked him slowly as a reward, just for a moment. //You must earn the privilege to touch me//
"Godamn control freak--" McCoy found the strength to hiss back at him, and then bit his lip when Spock dug his fingers painfully in.
//Do you understand?// He snaked his hand up McCoy's shirt now, letting his fingernails drag along the flesh.
"Yes," McCoy whispered, although he hesitated.
Spock offered a shadow of a grin as he slid his hands around McCoy's throat. The man's pulse beat into his fingers, and the smell he had put on him was heavy in his nose. //Control is part of protection, slave//
//Don't pretend to give// "a shit about me!" The human had spoken the second part of that sentence, but Spock could tell he was trying to focus his mind on communicating, while at the same time trying to breathe.
It amazed Spock how open, how vulnerable the human mind really was, and while this human may have had a will stronger than most on the ship, his mind was still easy to tap into. If he were even capable of blocking a mental probe, or even trying to hide his thoughts, he obviously didn't know how. Even a Romulan was able to slow the course of a mind meld, of course if he focused every shred of will to the task.
//Obey me, and you will find I am very fair// He held McCoy's throat tightly, but he knew exactly when to let go.
He felt raw hatred emanate from McCoy. Although the human was shaking with need of air, he was not trying to claw Spock's hands off his throat. Spock released just a bit to give him a snatch of breath, and squeezed again.
//Speak//
McCoy's body shuddered as he fought for breath, those formless thoughts in his mind roiling, unfocused. It was always Spock's greatest regret that he never got a chance to complete his training on Vulcan, not with his father denouncing his tutors as shamans and driving them off. The young Spock had been shipped off to serve the Empire before he could learn how to effectively probe another's mind while defending his own.
Just another thing he'd have to teach himself.
"Pathetic!" McCoy sputtered, clawing at the wall behind him.
//What is?// Spock's eyes narrowed, but he was more curious than insulted.
"You have to--" he hissed, but Spock squeezed his throat harder to cut off the words. He would force the human to find other ways to communicate.
He could feel the human's body screaming for breath, his blood rushing through veins beneath his fingers. But Spock also understood that that the human body, as frail as malleable as it was, could withstand so much more than what the human himself believed. The two became as one mind off and on as McCoy's life drained and his struggling weakened, but Spock could not keep the link going for more than a few seconds at a time; it was too difficult to do that while monitoring McCoy's vitality.
But there was still defiance there, even after Spock transmitted the wordless idea to McCoy that his life was literally in his hands. McCoy was unable to form the words, but Spock could still tell what he was thinking: he could only get McCoy to obey him out of fear, and to the human, that was pathetic. Even as McCoy's eyelids drooped, he was still projecting disgust.
For a second Spock considered killing him. The urge was so strong it brought life into McCoy's eyes as he stiffened with fear. But the urge passed as he reminded himself that certain things take time. It had taken Spock nearly two years to locate a follower of Surak that would come to his home, and even longer to grasp even the most basic of lessons she could impart.
So too with McCoy. Yes, he obeyed out of fear alone, but Spock was confident things would change.
Separating himself from McCoy's mind, even with so many barriers between them, was painful on them both. Spock had tried to encourage McCoy's mind to open itself further than it had so far, and having to remove his presence now meant leaving them both with loose ends.
Breath rushed back into McCoy's lungs as Spock removed his fingers from his throat. The human's erection had passed as his body fought for survival, and he was left visibly weakened, vulnerable. McCoy's accusation bothered him, but only briefly. Of course McCoy would be easier to control with threats, of course fear was an efficient motivator. Everyone was afraid of something, just as anyone could be bought.
McCoy could judge as much as he wanted, Spock thought. It really didn't matter as long as that fear eventually turned to respect. And then perhaps, it would transform again.
"Try to avoid speaking to the Admiral directly," he said as McCoy leaned against the wall. "If he asks you a question, it is perfectly acceptable for me to answer for you."
"In other words, don't say anything," McCoy grunted under his breath.
"That would be preferable," Spock replied coldly, and lead him out of his room. Where he would have avoided touching McCoy out in the open, for fear of another attack, he held him tightly by the arm now all the way to Sick Bay, figuring that the human would be too weak to attempt anything. He was correct.
They met Kirk on the way, who looked considerably irritated. A smile lit up his face, but his eyes remained cold. Spock immediately stopped and saluted, and even McCoy straightened up a little.
"Everything going well, Captain?"
"Godamn admiral is a pain in my ass," he growled, casting an evil look down the passageway. "It's trouble enough having to watch out for those demons on my ship, but at least those are under my control!" He looked to Spock and grinned. "No offense."
Spock shrugged. "I am not of their kind, Captain, so there is no offense to be taken."
Kirk's grin stretched. "Of course, Mr. Spock," he joked. "How often I forget. In any case, the next Romulan, disciple of yours or not, that so much as looks at me for the next twenty-four hours is going to regret it." He patted Spock's shoulder. "Present company excluded of course! When you're finished in Sick Bay, come see me."
Spock cast a quick glance to McCoy.
"Leave that in Sick Bay until I've spoken with you," he sneered, and then left.
The Admiral and his attendants were already in Sick Bay when Spock got there, a fact that deeply irritated him. Spock was certain that Dorek had come early to catch him off guard. Perhaps if he weren't slowed down by McCoy...Spock pushed that out of his mind. There were much worse ways of being slowed down.
"Admiral," he greeted, complete with a salute and a perfunctory nod to the accompanying officers. He noticed that McCoy did not salute any of them, but the Romulans didn't. Or if they did notice this, they didn't say anything; the latter was more their style anyway.
"Greetings, Commander," Dorek said pleasantly, and began to walk deeper into Sick Bay, compelling Spock to follow behind him. With the other Romulans hovering around, Spock had the vague sense of being led into a trap. He had to remind himself that this was just a routine inspection, just like all the others he had successfully performed.
"Well, we've already been shown most everything by your Doctor M'Benga, but it is still a pleasure to see you, cousin," Dorek said.
"I trust everything is satisfactory?"
"Satisfactory?" Dorek smiled, his dark green eyes dancing for a moment. Almost every memory Spock had of this young officer was of him being constantly amused. It was unnerving. "More than satisfactory, I assure you, Spock. I am a little disappointed that we were not lucky enough to walk in on an interrogation, though."
"Unfortunately for you, Admiral," Spock retorted. "The crew has been performing quiet well lately."
"Just to spite me, I'm sure," Dorek laughed, and started pawing through the overhead shelves, making a small grunt or whistle at the objects he found. With everyone in the room waiting on his next order, Dorek must have felt rather the center of attention, Spock thought with derision. How tiresomely predictable for a man of such a young age at such a high rank.
Then Dorek came across a small device that he frowned over. "Is this one of those...?"
"That is an agonizer, Sir," Spock finished for him in a neutral tone. He knew damn well that Dorek knew what that was. Only the most backwards of outposts might not have been familiar with that technology, as relatively recent as it was. But still, if the Admiral of the Second Fleet wanted to play games, then he would have his games.
"I see," the Romulan said, gazing at it, and then pocketed it. Spock watched Dorek in his discreet way as he gave the major facilities another look-over. Dorek enjoyed a meaningless conversation with Spock, but the Vulcan was certain that was to some other purpose.
Finally, when they had wasted enough time, Dorek leaned on a biobed and gestured to McCoy, who had this entire time followed the Spock in silence. "Is it not unusual for slaves to continue their previous duties, Spock?"
Spock stiffened, and resisted the urge to grip McCoy's arm. He shrugged and acted as though the human were not there. "Not entirely, Admiral. The captain himself owns several whose professional lives have not changed." This was only partly true, but he was sure that Dorek would not ask Kirk about it himself.
"You haven't found that such an...arrangement interferes with the smooth operation of the ship?" Dorek asked, eyes narrowed slightly.
It took Spock effort to keep from sneering at the man's insolence. Even the admiral's attendants could not resist a small smile amongst themselves, hidden safely behind the admiral's back. It was ludicrous for a Romulan to question the taking of slaves; the Romulans were the ones that started the practice in the first place. By now Spock was suspicious to the point of rage; just what was that upstart trying to do?
"Unless relieved of duties, every member of this ship holds himself to the highest professional standard, slave or free," he answered coolly, and added as an afterthought, "Sir."
Dorek's smile widened as his eyes narrowed into slits. "How noble," he sneered. "Looks like we have much to learn from the Enterprise." His companions indulged in mocking grins when he regarded them, while Spock clenched his teeth.
"Show me how this works," he said eagerly, tossing the agonizer to Spock. With a tight smile set on his lips, the Romulan glanced slowly at McCoy and back at Spock.
Spock tried to read the look on Dorek's face as he decided what to do. If the human at his side meant nothing to him, then he would be obvious victim for this demonstration. Spock took hold of McCoy, and hoped the Romulans had not noticed his hesitation.
Holding McCoy by the back with one hand, Spock pressed the activated device into the doctor's chest and kept it tightly pressed as his victim fought to hold himself still. His whines turned to screams and he would have doubled over if Spock had not been holding him straight by the back of his shirt. Spock noticed with approval that McCoy avoided touching him and clutched at his own shirt instead, clawing desperately as the device tormented him.
Spock did not let up until Dorek said, "That's enough." He had to say it twice, actually, to be heard over McCoy's cries. As soon as Spock turned the device off, McCoy slumped, leaning on him. Without any hesitation this time, Spock shoved the human to the floor and stepped over him to put the agonizer away.
"Lovely little device," Dorek clucked, heading slowly to the door, his attendants regarding McCoy as a heap of garbage. "Is it true that it causes no permanent damage?"
"Of course, Admiral," said one of the attendants, a previously mute and sneering female. "Its inventor was a human."
"Yes of course," Dorek grinned. He was stared at McCoy as he struggled back to his feet, Spock could tell. But he had to pretend that he noticed nothing and waited for the group to leave. "For all their imitative tendencies, they really haven't changed a bit."
He and the others shared a derisive grin that only made the admiral appear even more childish to Spock. Some of the attendants even seemed to be mocking the admiral himself, but Spock didn't expect the young admiral to realize that as he laughed with them. Dorek turned to Spock. "I hope to dine with you later tonight, cousin."
"It would be my pleasure, Sir," Spock replied emotionlessly.
Dorek barely contained a mocking chuckle. "If you say so, Vulcan!" The others regained their professional composure when Spock saluted them, and left. Spock waited a few minutes before going to McCoy, worrying that one of them would return for some false reason or another.
McCoy was leaning over a desk, panting. He didn't react when Spock took hold of his shoulders and helped him into the chair by the desk. A part of him considered trying to explain his actions to McCoy, that he had acted so cruelly to protect him from the Romulans' attention, but reminded himself that he had no obligation to explain himself to a slave. McCoy wouldn't understand anyway, he was sure.
"Well, at least I can count on one thing," McCoy grumbled, lazily rubbing the spot on his chest. "Never trust a Romulan."
Spock crossed his arms and glared towards the door. "Indeed."
McCoy looked up at him and offered a half-hearted smirk. "I didn't think you'd be so rebellious. From the looks of it, those assholes are your bosses."
"The Romulans control us all," Spock answered sharply. "But that does not change our silent hatred for their kind."
"I take it you Vulcans don't appreciate allying with them?" McCoy asked, and while the very subject raised Spock's ire to nearly intolerable levels, he still appreciated the discussion. There really wasn't anyone else on board he dared voice his opinions on this matter to.
"It was never an alliance, Doctor," he snapped. "It was a conquest. The Empire may call it whatever they wish, but that doesn't change the facts."
"A conquest?" McCoy asked in a whisper.
"You had Klingons in your universe, Doctor?"
McCoy's eyes widened and he nodded. "What happened?"
"They nearly destroyed us. Ravaging system after system. The situation was getting particularly desperate when a fleet reached Vulcan. They managed to besiege the planet for decades, bringing in more than enough forces to wipe out anyone who came to help."
"Good Lord..."
"So the Federation begged the Romulans for help," Spock sneered.
McCoy avoided Spock's blazing eyes when he asked, "And the rest is history, huh?"
"Every historian and tutor will tell you that that the races allied peacefully, that our treaty was mutually consensual." He snarled and tightened a fist. "You've seen them for yourself! Do you believe the treaty was consensual?" When McCoy flinched, Spock relaxed, realizing he must have been getting overly excited. "I don't care if the Federation were close to destruction, they never should have sold themselves. Cowards."
"What do the Vulcans think about it?"
Spock snorted derisively. "Vulcans? There is no room for that anymore." McCoy looked confused, so he tried to explain, although he came off as rather condescending, "Since 2195, Vulcan has been occupied and reinvented by the Romulans, so now it is merely a colony. By legal definition, I am a Romulan. That is what my father would call me."
"But you call yourself Vulcan."
"The modern use of that term applies to the followers of Surak," Spock explained emphatically. His heart quickened, but with pride rather than anger. He suspected McCoy wouldn't care about something like this, but it felt good to talk about it anyway. "It's nothing more than an obscure, meaningless term to anyone else."
"The Romulans don't see this as a rebellion?"
"As long as we're good and obedient just like everyone else, no one cares," Spock said with a slight baring of the teeth. "There are so few of us anyway. These days we're nothing more than an oddity. After all, who'd want to live as we do?"
McCoy had by now lowered his head, his expression blank. Spock would have to touch him to guess what he was thinking, but chose not to risk it. He'd already taken a huge risk by exposing this part of himself to McCoy. The McCoy he'd known would have surely used this information against him, one way or another. What about this one?
So to cover himself, Spock added with an impatient shake of the head, "It's not important anyway. The Romulans give us our space, and we are satisfied." Another half-truth he hoped would discourage any further questions. Already he felt he may have been too frank.
Regaining his composure, Spock took McCoy's cuffed wrist and entered data. Any closeness that may have forged between them during their conversation faded as their primary roles were once again reinforced by that simple act.
"I will return shortly," Spock said. "You will use this time to familiarize yourself with your station." He then handed McCoy his own knife. The human frowned, but took it. Taking a few steps back, Spock explained, "You should not have to worry about your staff. They know not to touch you. But of course there is the chance that someone will try something foolish. You know how to defend yourself?"
"Sure," McCoy said in a hollow voice, gazing at the bare blade.
"Good." Spock turned to leave.
"Wait," McCoy called after him, and Spock stopped. "Just out of...morbid curiosity," McCoy asked quietly, and almost stopped. Spock waited, watching him. "That thing up there, the...agonizer. Who was it that invented that thing?"
"A rather weak-hearted human who wanted a new way of inflicting pain without causing excessive bodily damage, back when he was a lowly orderly on some obscure outpost." Spock gave a pale grin. "His name was Ensign Leonard McCoy."