Chap 24: Debt of Dishonour

Chapter 24: The Best Defence…

Kirk extended a hand, supporting Spock quickly with an arm around the waist as the Vulcan swayed forward.

Spock did not reject the help but looked down at himself, one eyebrow raised in polite query, "I…am going to be somewhat conspicuous, Captain."

Kirk took in Spock's obvious lack of clothing as if it the fact had only just become apparent. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and shut it again, shrugging at McCoy. "Suggestions, Gentlemen?"

McCoy spotted T'pavan's robe, picked it up off the floor. "This might stop him frightening any horses…"

Kirk nodded, playing along, aware that something had changed in the long-standing relationship with his First Officer but yet not quite sure what it was. He experienced a quiver of sensitivity, receptive to Spock's injuries, his sudden frailty. The Vulcan's heat was palpable against his side and caused an unexpected responding warmth beneath his sternum. A subtle, understated reaction that none-the-less took him by surprise. "You think it might prove an advantage in the long run, Bones."

"In what way, Jim?" McCoy asked, taking Spock's other arm.

"Well, even a Klingon has to be wary of a naked, berserker Vulcan, don't you agree?"

"And that's a fact." McCoy granted, his grin wicked. He turned to Spock, solemn once more. "Can you walk?"

"I believe so. However, I hardly feel this is a time for frivolity, Gentlemen." Spock concentrated on his body afraid that it might still fail him. He had sorely missed his friends' banter, their easy familiarity and affection. Whatever he said, he wanted it to continue.

McCoy obliged, "Why do you always have to be such a party pooper, Spock? Enter into the spirit of the thing, for once."

Spock's eyebrow rose. "At the moment, I am finding the physical reality quite enough to cope with, thank you, Doctor…"

His back and internal organs were on fire as they steadied him between them. McCoy slipped the robe about his shoulders, before they headed for the door of the cell. Outside in the corridor, Sulu and Chekov joined them once again.

Stealing like shadows through the dim reaches of Kor's ship, each step drove a burning nail through Spock's tortured feet, legs and abdomen. Disorientated by their swift passage, he lost all track of time. He kept on his feet only by will power alone, aware that he slowed them all down.

He drew on the choi'renh for strength, recognising what it would eventually cost him as the hormonal levels in his bloodstream increased. Huge amounts of adrenalin flooded his muscle cells, stimulating his heart and liver, depleting his reserves of energy, vital for cell repair and the production of anti-bodies. It had the effect of making him light-headed, and dizzy, until he relied entirely on Kirk and McCoy to guide him through the alien ship.

Eventually, they came upon a lift-shaft. The duct was so narrow that only two could enter at a squeeze. Kirk held him close once more and together they ascended swiftly to an upper level. Nauseated, Spock could only shut his eyes and cling on until they reached the top.

Chekov, who had gone first, helped them out, supporting Spock until McCoy and Sulu had chance to join them. Spock, wavering on his feet, opened his eyes to find the young ensign watching him. "Ensign?"

"Mister Spock…I…wish to take this opportunity to apologise."

"For what, Mister Chekov?"

"For calling you a murderer, sir." His slight Russian accent was only just noticeable. "And for hitting you with the transceiver, Mister Spock."

Spock rubbed absently at the yellowing bruise on his forehead. " Considering the circumstances, no apologies are necessary, Ensign. However, I do envy your reflexes – and your aim."

"It was a googly, from the Russian game of cricket, Mister Spock. I will teach it to you, if you wish, when we return to the Enterprise."

"I… will look forward to that, Ensign…."

The corridors being wider and brighter in this higher section, each of the Enterprise crew suffered agonies of fear that their hastily applied disguises would not pass the decisive test of confrontation. However, the ship about them continued quiet, untroubled but for the occasional, far away echo of footsteps or the quick bark of Klingon voices.

Guided by some inner directional sense and the knowledge he had gleaned from his young Klingon captive Kirk continued to lead them but before long the hallways unbroken by doors began to look increasingly alike. Hastily Kirk turned into a side passage only to be confronted by a dead end.

"Jim?" McCoy queried in a whisper, tensely waiting for the howl of an alarm that he had been expecting for some time.

"Back up," Kirk ordered. "We must have taken the wrong turning…"

Yet, he was convinced he had followed his instructions to the letter. The only explanation was that the Klingon boy had played him false. He had to fight against an up-rush of rage, using the vestiges of the emotion to sharpen every sense he had. There was only one way of tracing T'pavan and the child now. Quickly he flipped the dial on his communicator, opening a channel to the Enterprise.

"Captain… " Spock broke in, his voice low, "Kor will be prepared for any eventuality, sir. If you use your communicator, he will trace our whereabouts and take the appropriate steps to recapture me."

"I know, but we're running out of time, Spock. We have to locate the hostages, and quickly."

"I…sympathize with your anxiety, Captain. There is a way, sir. T'pavan is known to me. I…may be able to contact her using the Vulcan mind meld."

Kirk searched his First Officer's impassive face, which had become hard and delicate like carved stone, the bones standing out beneath the skin. "Won't that be hard on you, after all that's happened? To be brutally frank, I can't take the chance of having a catatonic Vulcan on my hands, Mr. Spock."

"There is little danger of that, Captain," Spock acknowledged tiredly. For the present, at least. It was true the short-term benefit of choi'renh had already passed, leaving him close to collapse, but he was reasonably certain that he had the requisite stamina to complete the task at hand. In any event, Kirk had no other choice.

The same thought had evidently crossed Kirk's mind. He continued to deliberate for an instant before making his decision. "I suppose when the going gets as tough as this, the tough just have to pray. All right, go ahead, Mr. Spock."

"Thank you, Captain. It may take a few moments to initiate contact."

It would be easy, all too easy, he realised in a flash of insight that left him shaking, for on that beach at Es'sarhan, T'pavan had become his bondmate. Illogical, he thought vehemently, but it had to be so. There would have been no child otherwise. Moreover, his continuing awareness of her, even attenuated as it had been by time and distance, seemed to bear out the truth.

They had been friends from childhood, lovers only once, but they were joined together for the rest of their lives. Yet, he could not allow that understanding to interfere with his present undertaking. In any event, his emotions were far too mixed to contemplate at such a time.

With Chekov's support, he moved over to the bulkhead and leaned his flank against it, turning from the huddle of uneasy Humans to raise one gaunt hand to his temple.

Spreading his fingers over brow and cheek, he closed his eyes, composing himself as he reached out into the darkness, mental shields wide open.

#T'pavan#.

The response was immediate. #Spock. I hear thee#.

The warmth of her recognition, overlaid by a deeper, primitive fear, was as real to Spock as if he had generated it himself. #Where are thee#?

In answer, Spock received a muddled picture of a dark room which could have been anywhere on the Klingon ship. T'pavan's fear intensified ten-fold.

#Calm thyself#. He urged, feeling his own heart pound in sympathetic terror, the sweat starting from every pore in his body. #Are thee unhurt? Have they harmed the child#?

#We are both undamaged. But Kor will not hold off long. He means to torture us as he did thee. I beg thee again, Spock. T'pavahna is thy daughter. Help the Klingons and save us#.

The panic battered at his mind, but it was for the child she was so afraid, not herself.

#Kroykah! T'pavan#. He remonstrated sternly; overwhelmed by the rush of turbulent emotions she was sending. #I bring help now, but need information. Location of thyself and the child. Be clear. Remember thy training. I must see#.

#They will torture us, and through us, thee. Help us, Spock-neha#.

The dread raged about him like a wind-whipped sandstorm, tearing at his self-control, the thought of what was to come echoing and re-echoing along the linkage that bound them. #Enough. Be still, T'pavan. Thee is not alone. Have trust. I will help if thee will allow it#.

His backlash of anger and resentment was surprisingly fierce and he felt her withdraw from him in shock, shielding her mind so that he could no longer reach her thoughts. It was his turn to pummel at her defences until she allowed him entry.

#I am dishonoured. I have wronged thee, without pity. I do not deserve thy help. Why does thee not flee, escape while thee is able#?

#We are one#. He sent at last, relieved to find her thoughts more ordered as if his anger had somehow brought her to her senses. #Thy comfort and well being are my own. I cannot leave thee now or ever, T'pavan. Tell me where thee is being held#.

Again, he received an image of the dark, smokey room but this time it was quite clear. He saw Kor standing impassive before the flames of the brazier, sura'Kul at his shoulder. Hazily, through his sense of memory and nightmare, Spock knew again the shapes of the torture implements around the walls, felt the pain of the electronic lash across his naked back, the humiliation of being exploited. At last, he knew where T'pavan and their daughter were.

#I am disgraced#.

The thought came to him mournfully, as if from a great distance, for T'pavan had shared his loathsome recollections. #Thee could not have known to what lengths Kor was prepared to go. Kaiidth#.

Her mental voice was ashamed, penitent. #I should have known. Thee is cruel in thy graciousness, Spock-neha. Come soon, please. And take care.#.