New Fic: Once More: Consequences (sequel to Once More) pt. 3/?
Here it is - as promised, part three of 'Once More: Consequences. And it is a little dark and about to get darker in the next part. Hope you like it...
Part Three
Warnings: Violence, torture, angst, and if you can stand all that surely some bad language won’t bother you. This part of the story took a darker turn than even I expected, I rewrote it three times and each time it grew darker until this came out. Light hearted readers may want to skip this part - the rest of the story might make a little less sense, but not have the darkness mentioned in anything but vague terms. Sorry for those looking for light hearted fare, sometimes my dark side comes out…Next part, more dark, but then some light will shine through. Because I’m a sucker for happy endings as my friends online well know so if the dark part scares you, fear not…at least not too much.
***
The whip hit McCoy’s back again and the newly electrified ends caused his body to convulse and finally a keening cry was forced past his lips - it didn’t sound like a sound he would produce at all. It sounded rather funny come to think of it and he decided to laugh, shaky as it sounded, just to piss off the bastard behind the weapon. He doubted it had the intended effect of bravado that he was going for - actually it sounded a bit like hysteria.
His nerve endings fired off and his body continued to convulse for a few minutes, but he did manage to maintain his bladder through sheer force of will. One more and he’d lose it and he really didn’t need to do that in front of his captors. He’d held up so far without too much loss of dignity, he thought, considering the level of skill his tormentors had. He’d bitten his lips bloody and he’d bitten his tongue and had had to spit out the blood or be forced to swallow it.
Overall, he’d bore up as well as could be expected, but this new level was a bit too much to bear. The wall in front of him was a mirror, and he’d kept his eyes down through most of the torture - not wanting to witness his own wounds, bad enough to feel them. And the chances were someone was simply watching behind it - god knows who. What with the long robes, gloves and hoods that covered every inch, he wasn’t sure what species they were. They’d taken his translator immediately and hissed in an unfamiliar language ever since. He’d given his name, rank and number as drilled into him at the Academy and nothing else so it was just as well. He’d be damned if he’d give any information on his friends, ship, Starfleet or the Federation so it was pointless to wish he knew what they were saying, he supposed. He had a feeling his torture was just for show or possibly for fun. An experiment, maybe? Whatever they were, they were a sadistic species he hoped never to meet again.
He worried about Jim and Spock - the thoughts of what they might be going through right now hurt more than the physical torture. The three of them had been on the Galileo heading back to the rendezvous point with the Enterprise after an away mission when they’d been shot down by a ship of unknown origin suddenly appearing from behind a small planet. McCoy grimaced as he remembered the two other crewmen who’d died on impact when they’d crash landed on the very same class M planet. He’d been knocked unconscious along with Jim and Spock. He’d woken up first, tried to save the other two crew members; hoping he could revive at least one. He remembered the beautiful young girl with chestnut hair who he’d admired simply for her classic features. They’d been pulverized as she’d gone head first into a bulkhead, her hair turned dark red with sticky blood. The other young crewmember had been a security fellow who McCoy had never met before, either, but he’d seemed a nice enough fellow. He regretted their loss, but terrible still had been to see Jim and Spock lying still and twisted in their seats. Luckily they’d both woken shortly after he’d crawled his way through the wreckage to them, unluckily, they’d suddenly been joined by the robed aliens.
They’d dragged them from the wreckage, vaporized the two dead bodies, McCoy jerking in his captors’ arms uselessly at the outrage. Then they’d been transported to the ship and just as quickly separated.
He’d been scanned by one of them, while another held him in place, the equipment was unfamiliar looking, but most likely similar to his medical tricorder. He’d then been taken to this torture chamber and the fun had begun.
If only he knew where Jim and Spock were - if they’d been injured in the crash internally, if they were being tortured…if they were dead. This last thought left him feeling hollow and hopeless. No, he couldn’t think that - if he did, he’d break. And he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t allow their captors the satisfaction. He could only hope the Enterprise would find them - and soon. Or that Kirk and Spock would manage one of their impossible and miraculous escapes. Hell, if they could handle Nero, they could handle these cowardly assholes, couldn’t they?
The whip hit again, this time the electric charge set higher, he shrieked and lost control of his bladder. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself to handle the embarrassment with the detachment of a doctor. If anyone else had done so - he would not blame them one bit…it didn’t make him any less of a man. He opened his eyes, looked into the mirror and likely more of an audience and said as cockily as his shaky voice would allow him, “Is that really the best you can do?”
No one had ever said Leonard McCoy’s mouth would not get him into deeper trouble if he could help it.
***
Jim watched the torture of his best friend and ground his nails into the palms of his hands. He was helpless - bound and gagged and forced to watch as a man whose entire life was devoted to healing others was tortured for no reason. The whip cracked for the first time with electricity crackling and he heard his friend finally cry out involuntarily - a cry that went straight to Jim’s heart, the laughter afterwards let Jim know just how badly he was hurting, but trying not to let on. Jim willed him to hold on just a little longer…
Spock, similarly situated next to him watched with a steely dispassionate mask on his face, yet his eyes seemed to drink in every detail. Jim had watched for a flicker of emotion, but saw none. He still wasn’t sure if he envied his First Officer’s control at times like this or if he wished for just one sign of his own anger shared. Either way he was emulating Spock as best he could, not reacting visibly as much as possible, but it was hard, his impulsive nature made him want to yell at them to stop and take him instead. Yet he had a feeling such an action likely would make matters worse for Bones.
Jim took as subtle of a calming breath as he could and reminded himself that he was Captain and like it or not - he must watch a member of his crew suffer until an opportunity presented itself in which he could save him. He couldn’t see the faces of the two guards on either side of the room with them, but he could feel their eyes focused on their reactions. He would not crack. How could he when Bones wasn’t?
The second whip crack was obviously at a higher setting and both Jim and Spock noticed McCoy’s loss in bodily functions, but neither judged him at all. Jim felt only sympathy at the embarrassment his friend must feel on top of the pain. ‘Let it stop now, please…he’s been through enough - what more can you want?’ he asked silently.
When he heard McCoy’s comment “Is that really the best you can do?” he wasn’t sure if he wanted to smile with pride or shake the man for provoking the torturers. Damn the man! He’d always known McCoy was tougher than he looked or acted. After all the man had a fear of flying and transporters and yet he’d joined Starfleet.
This wisecrack was rewarded with blows to the torso and the head, then the whip cracked again, stronger still. Finally McCoy mercifully passed out. For a moment Jim worried they’d wake him for another round, but apparently they’d judged it enough and McCoy was let down from the hook that had held him up and he was dragged out of sight.
A hooded alien cleaned the mess of blood, small torn pieces of skin and urine away and then the door opened to Jim and Spock’s room. Jim was roughly dragged without a word and the gag was removed - the better to hear him beg, he supposed. Not that they’d get the pleasure anymore than they’d gotten from McCoy. But knowing that Spock was watching whilst it seemed McCoy had had no idea who was in his audience probably made this just a little tougher for him to take. He would feel Spock’s judging eyes on him as well as their captors. Great.
****
The remnants of the Galileo were examined thoroughly by the away team led by Mr. Scott with Chekov eagerly chattering at his side with his tricorder. There were traces of two remains in the shuttle, two out of five, but which two? Scotty hated the thought of any of their crew dead, but he desperately hoped it wasn’t the Captain - ever since their adventurous travel to the Enterprise before they’d been formerly assigned to it he’d had a great deal of respect for the man. And as a Captain he’d earned even greater respect for him. And as for the doctor, he and McCoy got along just fine indeed - more than just a drinking buddy. And Spock was such a fine officer - such an asset to the ship. But could he wish the two dead were the younger crewmembers he didn’t know as well? It hurt his sentimental heart, but he was in charge and this was no time for it. He had Chekov do his best to get whatever dna readings might be left in the traces of the two burnt scorched areas that marked the final resting places of the dead and then they completed their investigation of the smashed shuttle and beamed back up to sort through all the information they had gathered.
Scotty wished desperately the science officer in charge was Mr. Spock, but they must make do without him. Uhura reported odd traces of communication that might be an unknown language and Scotty leaned over her consol to hear it himself. He caught a whiff of her sweet, but subtle perfume and found himself slightly distracted. Uhura glanced up questioningly and he realized he’d missed something. “Err, what was that again, lassie?” Focus, Scotty, the ship’s in your hands and she and Mr. Spock might’ve broken up, but no one wanted to get in the way of that Vulcan if he decided to mind any flirtation with his ex.
Uhura was utterly focused on the language - it seemed reptilian almost - all scans of similar based life-form languages had not matched and it was maddening to think she was of such little help. Mr. Scott’s closeness only reminded her of her last angry words at Spock, before she’d resolved to act as if nothing had ever happened between them. She regretted them. She wished she’d tried just a little harder to hold onto him, but Spock had been clear in his own wishes. Still, if she never saw his face again… She fiddled with her dials and tried again to catch any traces of similar verbal communication or reports by others of this particular language. She had to help find them. She didn’t dare think of the scorched remains found in the shuttle.
***
Jim was finally released and dragged out of the torture chamber. His had been an assortment of other techniques, no electric whip for some reason. There’d been some memorable electrodes to certain areas of his anatomy, though. The embarrassment of knowing Spock watched was probably part of the torture - messing with his head at the same time, if the aliens knew anything of human psychology. But what they didn’t know was Jim was a master at blacking out bad memories and he’d learned at a young age to take pain for no reason so while he’d had to react involuntarily to the electric charges just as McCoy had, he doubted it had disturbed him as much as it likely did to Bones. Perhaps Leonard didn’t need to know that his friends had witnessed the torture at all. He’d try to discretely ask Spock to not mention it. But then there would be reports - and as CMO they’d cross his desk…well, he didn’t need to know until then, until they’d been rescued or they’d escaped and healed and were away from the bastards who’d killed two of his crew and tortured the rest of them for seemingly no reason.
He was led to a room with a grate in the floor and before his muddled head could fathom what was about to happen ice cold water rained down from above. He shouted once and then began to shiver, but he also took the opportunity to wipe off what blood and other fluids he could before the water shut off. He was brusquely handed nondescript gray clothing - a shirt and pants, which he put on over his wet body and he was then shuffled out of the room. If his hands hadn’t been bound and he hadn’t been so weak he would have tried to fight, but he figured it was useless at this point, better to wait until he recovered slightly and then try to fight them off. He was led into a transporter room - the platform alien, yet similar enough to recognize and they were beamed into a room with no door or windows and a vent far out of reach. He saw a figure huddled in the corner of the room, Bones!
The captors released him and with a hiss, transported away. He quickly shuffled over to his friend who was similarly clothed. “Bones, are you okay?”
McCoy looked up with glassy eyes then blinked and they quickly turned watery, though he knew his friend would fight off the tears. “I thought you were both maybe dead…where’s Spock?” he glanced behind Kirk, but saw the empty room behind him.
“I assume he’s where we were before. Hopefully he’ll be along soon. Are you okay?” Jim worried he’d give away what he knew, but he had to know.
McCoy slowly sat up, groaning softly. “Just stiff, what did they do to you? Let me see. He lifted his bound hands and pushed Kirk’s shirt up without another word. Jim normally would have protested, but decided to allow it. “I’m fine - just some cuts and bruises…nothing you can’t fix later. And my nose, of course,” obviously indicating the throbbing mess on his face. He was used to broken noses, but that never stopped them from hurting so damn much. He swallowed painfully, but remained nonchalant. “What about you?”
McCoy ignored the question, he put his head on Kirk’s chest, his hair tickling Jim as he pressed his ear to different places, first his heart, then his lungs. “Take a deep breath through your mouth,” he ordered.
Jim obligingly tried, but then let out a grunt and admitted, “Okay, and maybe a cracked rib or two - nothing new. All those bar fights had to be good for something, right?”
Bones snorted and brought his bound hands up to his friend’s face, “Ready for me to fix it the old fashioned way?”
Jim winced at the idea, but nodded and closed his eyes, “Get it over with.”
*Crunch*
Jim howled in pain as he hadn’t even when it had been broken. Damn it hurt…he spat blood and wiped at the trickle of blood and snot coming from his now really throbbing nose. Leonard batted his head and pinched the nose despite Jim’s protests and had him tip his head back. “Don’t be a baby you’ve broken it more times than you can count, what’s one more?”
Jim desperately wanted to kick his friend right that minute, usually if the break was this bad he’d get a nice pretty nurse at the local med unit down in Iowa and she’d set it without any pain - and they had good meds.
Leonard inspected his handy work once Jim clotted enough and then gestured with his head for Kirk to come closer, “You’re still damp and it is fucking cold in here, we need to conserve body heat. When Spock comes in we need to do the same for him, his species needs a hotter climate, and you know how he is always complaining how the Enterprise is chilly? He’s gonna love this room.”
Jim sat pressed against his friend and decided to play along with Bones ignoring his own health for now. It was quite true; the room was damned chilly now that he had the time to notice it, and especially so after that shower. Kirk shivered and McCoy put his two arms bound at the wrists around him like a hug. Jim would have protested this intimacy forcefully, but he saw the pain in McCoy’s eyes that the physical movement had cost him and perhaps even mentally. Maybe it would be all right to allow it. For now. As Jim felt the warmth through their shirts begin to equalize their temperatures and he found his shivering lessen, he decided it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. But best to stop soon before the captors returned.
***
Scotty leaned excitedly forward in the command chair, a good part of him wishing he was down with his Engines trying to get just a bit more speed out of them, but he knew his team was doing their best and his duty was up here on the Bridge. Still his fingers itched to do ‘something’ - even Sulu and Chekov got to fiddle with their boards. It must drive Kirk mad not to have something of his own to do; maybe that was why the man paced from station to station so much - must be also why he enjoyed McCoy’s presence on the Bridge - at least it gave him someone to talk to who wasn’t busy with their work.
Scotty reflected for a moment on all his time spent starved for human interaction and some adventure on that icy planet only months ago. He’d been so glad to be a part in that rescue mission and honored with his new position as Chief Engineer of the Enterprise - something positively unthinkable until Jim Kirk and that old Vulcan from the future had shown up at his doorstep with their improbable tale. He was desperately glad how his life had turned around so suddenly, but he surely hadn’t foreseen just how making such great new friends and going off on daring adventures like this one could be so, so scary and frustrating all at once. It would take some getting used to, he supposed.
They were onto some warp traces Sulu had detected from an unknown ship and were following as fast as they dared while still keeping an eye out for a trap. They could be heading right into an ambush or every moment of caution they took could be costing their crewmembers their lives. It was not the sort of thoughts Scotty liked to deal with. He missed the simplicity of Engineering and he’d be glad to give it up to the Captain the moment he had them back. For by now they knew that it was not Kirk, Mr. Spock or McCoy amidst the scorched marks of the shuttle - sickbay had informed of this very quickly and he was relieved. They would mourn the poor lass and lad later - a proper wake to anyone that wanted to join in - he had a bottle tucked away that would do nicely. It would be Kirk’s job to write up the necessary paperwork and standard letter forms to their families.
But for now - all energy was spent on finding the, hopefully, still alive members of their crew. They just had to do it before it was too late.
****
McCoy cradled Kirk’s head on his shoulder and rolled his eyes as his friend snored loudly through his open mouth - his nose making the sound horrendous. But at least it kept him awake, they were seated, backs to the cold wall with McCoy’s arms still around his friend. His left arm was completely numb from Kirk’s weight, but he couldn’t bring himself to wake the man up. Especially if Jim was going to get chatty again. Besides, the cold wall, while hard and uncomfortable, numbed the electric burns on his back a little. He was worried what was taking so long for Spock to arrive. Surely neither McCoy nor Kirk’s sessions had taken this long.
Then, as if divining his thoughts, the sound of the transport announced the arrival as three forms shimmered into place. Spock was slung between the two of them, unconscious, or at least it seemed so. McCoy roughly jerked his arms off of Jim as the man was waking, Leonard struggled to his feet with difficulty and tried to catch Spock as the captors dumped the Vulcan on the floor unceremoniously.
He failed to catch him completely, but saved Spock’s head from hitting the concrete. Seeing huge turquoise splotches on the blue uniform he turned to the captors before they disappeared and leapt at them, unthinkingly. “What the fuck did you do to them, you bastards?! What is it you want?! Damn you! I need medical supplies, this man needs medical attention - what kind of sadistic bastards are you-” he was ranting and starting to not make any sense as Jim jerked McCoy back from the aliens who had at first been bemused at his tirade, but then stepped menacingly forward.
One alien reached a hand out as if to hit McCoy and Jim jerked his friend behind him. The alien stopped in mid gesture and a hissing chuckle could be heard from within their deep dark hoods. Instead of hitting them, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small device, apparently a translator. “How touching humans. Your pet Vulcan was quite an interesting subject. He proved entertaining. We will allow you some time to rest and tend to him as you wish. I regret to inform you - we have no medical supplies on board, even should we wish to supply them to you so you’ll have to make do for now.”
Jim stepped slightly closer, “You said you’d allow us time to rest and tend to our friend. Then what? I demand to know under what authority you have abducted us and treated us so.” he said defiantly, his commanding presence only slightly marred by his nasally stuffed up tone.
The alien chuckled again, “Such foul manners, I shouldn’t really be surprised, you humans are known for your arrogance…you are in the position to demand nothing. You are our guests for now - do not push the boundaries of our hospitality.” The alien’s voice sounded menacing and arrogant. It grated on McCoy’s nerves and, he knew, Kirk’s.
The aliens then transported away without another word and McCoy dropped to his knees again at Spock’s side. The Vulcan was breathing regularly, if anything, he seemed in a trance, for a moment he thought it might be a healing trance, the kind he’d learned about on New Vulcan, but it seemed lighter. McCoy pushed the blue and black uniform tops up and surveyed the damage with dismay - Spock’s torture had consisted of heavy blows that were already turning blackish green, possible internal bleeding, and there were many cuts all over the torso, and some trailed into his pants area, yet the uniform was intact, no rips visible so they must have stripped him. McCoy, leant forward first to listen to his breathing and heart before reluctantly unfastening the Vulcan’s uniform pants. He knew it was a gross violation of privacy for the man, but he needed to assess the damage -
Strong hands suddenly gripped his wrists tightly. Spock’s eyes fluttered open and he looked dazed, but then recognized McCoy as the one touching him. “Don’t.”
Jim stood well back, providing them as much privacy as possible, but he spoke up. “Mr. Spock, let the doctor examine you, that’s an order.”
Spock refused to let go of McCoy’s hands for several moments, but then awkwardly fumbled with the fasteners himself, opening them to show the ends of the wounds. “They are the same on the legs - no worse than what you see now - all clotting as they should. Now please remove your hands and allow me my privacy,” he said quietly but firmly.
“There’s no privacy between a doctor and his patient, but I’ll take your word on the legs if you’ll tell me everything they did to you in detail. Where you injected or forced to imbibe anything?”
Spock seemed reluctant to answer, but then admitted they’d given him a hypospray of something after roughly one and a half hours into the session. “I did not recognize the substance, but it created a distorted sense of time and awareness of my surroundings. I believe I was given it because I was not responding to their satisfaction.”
McCoy gently examined the bruises and tried his best to feel his way around the injuries without making them worse. “They said you were entertaining. They found you ‘interesting.’
“There is a Vulcan technique to distance oneself from pain and I believe they found that frustrating rather than interesting…their hypospray…I do not remember exactly what happened afterwards except I could not maintain the meditative state any longer and the pain seemed magnified. I suppose that was the entertainment portion of their ‘session.” Spock kept his eyes on the ceiling during his recitation in monotone.
“Do you still feel the effects of the drug?” McCoy kept his voice clinical and calm.
“It is subsiding.” Spock’s hair was wet, they’d given him a shower, but then put his uniform back on rather than the drab prison-like garb Kirk and McCoy wore. An odd detail Leonard filed away. It could mean that they’d run out of the clothes - maybe they weren’t set up for mass interrogations - they weren’t asking questions - they just seemed to be torturing the three survivors for the fun of it. Experimenting, perhaps. Whatever the cause, he could not help Spock any further at the moment, the Vulcan was right, he was clotting normally and he seemed stable. Leonard tugged on Spock to sit up with him against the wall.
“What are you doing?” Spock asked him, resisting weakly.
“Only the same thing I did for Jim, sharing warmth. Jim, get over here, get on his other side, between the three of us we should be okay - for now.”
Kirk reluctantly took one side of Spock while McCoy took the other, neither dared put their arms around the Vulcan, but pressed against him to spread the warmth. Eventually Jim fell asleep again, snoring and Spock looked over at Leonard in sufferance.
“Give him a break, they smashed his nose,” Leonard whispered, an almost grin on his face.
Spock raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “I know, I witnessed it. He took it better than most humans would. But then he has some past experience with physical violence.”
McCoy thought on his words. “You witnessed it? Did you see…” he couldn’t finish, the humiliation was too great.
Spock inclined his head, “You were surprisingly strong. You refused to break and you responded much as Kirk did, daring them to do more. A rather ill advised mode of conduct, I might note.”
Leonard turned his face away at the realization that likely both friends saw the whole scene. But then he turned back just as quickly, “You’re one to talk, your meditation technique only led them to drug you and make your wounds worse,” he said with only half hearted satisfaction.
Spock nodded at the logic of this, “In other situations it has proved useful, but in this case our captors were determined for reactions. I believe from my observations of their ill kept ship and lack of supplies that they are far from home and on a long running mission or unable to return to their home world. I believe we may have only stumbled into the path of bored sadists. They are unpredictable in what behavior they will exhibit next.”
Leonard was pleased that he’d been along the same track of mind as Spock for once. But the idea of unpredictable bored aliens that enjoyed torture did not ease his mind.
***
The captors listened to the human and Vulcan speak and their anger flared at their motives and lack of rank amongst their own people was so blatantly obvious even to these ignorant aliens.
Their robes lay in a heap behind their chairs of their viewing post of the small chamber. Smoothing back his black hair Gul Dinian always kept his hair impeccable and the hood had mussed it slightly. He hated the dratted thing. If it weren’t for the fact that they had strict orders not to reveal their identities to any aliens in the area he would never touch the dreadful garment.
Beside him Glinn Jakar repressed his annoyance at his superior’s vanity. He should not be stuck here with this stupid man - it was only Dinian’s family that had bought his title at all and even his family’s name could not save him from dishonoring it enough to banish him to this horrible assignment, Glinn Jakar and his two other fellow crewmembers were being punished for Dinian’s stupidity. Stuck on this subpar ship they’d been sent to this quadrant several years ago to unobtrusively observe various Federation outposts and write up reports that might never be read.
It was only because of Gul Dinian’s boredom that he’d broken protocol and decided to grab the Starfleet shuttle in the first place. Their ‘experiments’ were pointless - they were not even interrogating them efficiently - they were not even bothering with questions, it seemed the Gul was interested only in his own perverted pleasure in inflicting harm on the aliens they’d been sent only to observe and report on for now. It wasn’t that Glinn Jakar was unused to interrogations or torture for information, but this entire episode was not only a waste of resources, but dangerous if their vessel - their very species were detected by Starfleet as well.
If this leaked out on Cardassia Prime…this entire episode might be the final mistake of the Gul’s career and even his life - and Jakar would gladly turn the man in if it would not more than likely take the Glinn and the rest of the crew along with him in dishonor and death. Jakar wondered, not for the first time, if he should arrange for an accident to befall his superior. It wouldn’t be too hard. Dinian was too arrogant and assured of his family’s name to assume anyone would plot against him. Still, he was the Gul and Jakar decided to bide his time for now.
Gul Dinian stared at the three huddled aliens and grew bored once more. ‘He wanted more - more excitement - more fear and reactions from the aliens. They had barely scratched the surface of the ideas he was obsessing over in his mind right now. The Vulcan’s ability to maintain his meditative state had been broken with a simple drug compound the Gul had a small stash of - he could use that again - or the humans - the one they called Captain actually bored him - too used to physical torture and too bland, but the other, he had held up well and never broken, despite the fact that they had known he was simply healer. But then at the sight of the Vulcan harmed he’d reacted quite emotionally. Now that had been fun to watch.
Hmmm...perhaps the two together would make an interesting pair. Oh, and what could be more fun than his favorite form of torture? - only he wouldn’t do it himself - he’d give the Vulcan another drug he had available and watch him hurt the healer himself.
The pain, the humiliation and the ultimate betrayal! Oh to watch the emotional chaos that resulted from that. And how might the third one act once he knew? Oooooh, this was going to be fun,’ the Gul thought maniacally and he chortled to himself and slapped his second on the back as if he’d shared all his thoughts with him already. Glinn Jakar was far too proud and obsessed with duty. He just needed to see the full potential of the Gul’s ideas come to fruition - then maybe he’d have Jakar’s slightly disproving look wiped off his face.
“I’ve got an idea!” he said in none too stable a tone.
Glinn Jakar watched him carefully, but nodded in obedience as he’d been trained. “Yes, sir. May I ask what it is?”
***
The Enterprise was closing in on the trail; they felt they were getting very close indeed to the alien ship that might have their crewmembers aboard. The ship must be in less than optimal performance as the signature was growing stronger and easier to detect and Scotty shook his head at their shoddy maintenance. But for now, he was quite glad that someone wasn’t as diligent as he was in caring for their ship. Another hour maybe and they’d find the ship - now if only their weapons and shields were as badly cared for as their engines.
***
The three men slowly stood as three captors materialized in their cell again. They tried to hide the pain and stiffness, even knowing it was rather useless to bother - their captors knew full well the injuries they’d inflicted and left untreated. Jim took a step in front of his men and faced them head on. The damn robes and cowardice of their hiding behind them irritated him, but he held his temper in check and waited for the others to make the first move.
The one that had addressed them before slipped the translator out again. “Stand aside; it is the other two we’ve come for.”
Jim shook his head. “I’m their superior - you’ll talk to me.”
The alien laughed, it sounded unhinged even to alien ears, “Oh, there’ll be no need for talking…but you can come along, too, if you wish…yes, perhaps you’d like to watch this, too. Why waste the entertainment?” he asked as if being generous. With that he hissed a command and the three were transported back to the torture cell.
***
Part Three
Warnings: Violence, torture, angst, and if you can stand all that surely some bad language won’t bother you. This part of the story took a darker turn than even I expected, I rewrote it three times and each time it grew darker until this came out. Light hearted readers may want to skip this part - the rest of the story might make a little less sense, but not have the darkness mentioned in anything but vague terms. Sorry for those looking for light hearted fare, sometimes my dark side comes out…Next part, more dark, but then some light will shine through. Because I’m a sucker for happy endings as my friends online well know so if the dark part scares you, fear not…at least not too much.
***
The whip hit McCoy’s back again and the newly electrified ends caused his body to convulse and finally a keening cry was forced past his lips - it didn’t sound like a sound he would produce at all. It sounded rather funny come to think of it and he decided to laugh, shaky as it sounded, just to piss off the bastard behind the weapon. He doubted it had the intended effect of bravado that he was going for - actually it sounded a bit like hysteria.
His nerve endings fired off and his body continued to convulse for a few minutes, but he did manage to maintain his bladder through sheer force of will. One more and he’d lose it and he really didn’t need to do that in front of his captors. He’d held up so far without too much loss of dignity, he thought, considering the level of skill his tormentors had. He’d bitten his lips bloody and he’d bitten his tongue and had had to spit out the blood or be forced to swallow it.
Overall, he’d bore up as well as could be expected, but this new level was a bit too much to bear. The wall in front of him was a mirror, and he’d kept his eyes down through most of the torture - not wanting to witness his own wounds, bad enough to feel them. And the chances were someone was simply watching behind it - god knows who. What with the long robes, gloves and hoods that covered every inch, he wasn’t sure what species they were. They’d taken his translator immediately and hissed in an unfamiliar language ever since. He’d given his name, rank and number as drilled into him at the Academy and nothing else so it was just as well. He’d be damned if he’d give any information on his friends, ship, Starfleet or the Federation so it was pointless to wish he knew what they were saying, he supposed. He had a feeling his torture was just for show or possibly for fun. An experiment, maybe? Whatever they were, they were a sadistic species he hoped never to meet again.
He worried about Jim and Spock - the thoughts of what they might be going through right now hurt more than the physical torture. The three of them had been on the Galileo heading back to the rendezvous point with the Enterprise after an away mission when they’d been shot down by a ship of unknown origin suddenly appearing from behind a small planet. McCoy grimaced as he remembered the two other crewmen who’d died on impact when they’d crash landed on the very same class M planet. He’d been knocked unconscious along with Jim and Spock. He’d woken up first, tried to save the other two crew members; hoping he could revive at least one. He remembered the beautiful young girl with chestnut hair who he’d admired simply for her classic features. They’d been pulverized as she’d gone head first into a bulkhead, her hair turned dark red with sticky blood. The other young crewmember had been a security fellow who McCoy had never met before, either, but he’d seemed a nice enough fellow. He regretted their loss, but terrible still had been to see Jim and Spock lying still and twisted in their seats. Luckily they’d both woken shortly after he’d crawled his way through the wreckage to them, unluckily, they’d suddenly been joined by the robed aliens.
They’d dragged them from the wreckage, vaporized the two dead bodies, McCoy jerking in his captors’ arms uselessly at the outrage. Then they’d been transported to the ship and just as quickly separated.
He’d been scanned by one of them, while another held him in place, the equipment was unfamiliar looking, but most likely similar to his medical tricorder. He’d then been taken to this torture chamber and the fun had begun.
If only he knew where Jim and Spock were - if they’d been injured in the crash internally, if they were being tortured…if they were dead. This last thought left him feeling hollow and hopeless. No, he couldn’t think that - if he did, he’d break. And he had sworn to himself that he wouldn’t allow their captors the satisfaction. He could only hope the Enterprise would find them - and soon. Or that Kirk and Spock would manage one of their impossible and miraculous escapes. Hell, if they could handle Nero, they could handle these cowardly assholes, couldn’t they?
The whip hit again, this time the electric charge set higher, he shrieked and lost control of his bladder. Closing his eyes, he steeled himself to handle the embarrassment with the detachment of a doctor. If anyone else had done so - he would not blame them one bit…it didn’t make him any less of a man. He opened his eyes, looked into the mirror and likely more of an audience and said as cockily as his shaky voice would allow him, “Is that really the best you can do?”
No one had ever said Leonard McCoy’s mouth would not get him into deeper trouble if he could help it.
***
Jim watched the torture of his best friend and ground his nails into the palms of his hands. He was helpless - bound and gagged and forced to watch as a man whose entire life was devoted to healing others was tortured for no reason. The whip cracked for the first time with electricity crackling and he heard his friend finally cry out involuntarily - a cry that went straight to Jim’s heart, the laughter afterwards let Jim know just how badly he was hurting, but trying not to let on. Jim willed him to hold on just a little longer…
Spock, similarly situated next to him watched with a steely dispassionate mask on his face, yet his eyes seemed to drink in every detail. Jim had watched for a flicker of emotion, but saw none. He still wasn’t sure if he envied his First Officer’s control at times like this or if he wished for just one sign of his own anger shared. Either way he was emulating Spock as best he could, not reacting visibly as much as possible, but it was hard, his impulsive nature made him want to yell at them to stop and take him instead. Yet he had a feeling such an action likely would make matters worse for Bones.
Jim took as subtle of a calming breath as he could and reminded himself that he was Captain and like it or not - he must watch a member of his crew suffer until an opportunity presented itself in which he could save him. He couldn’t see the faces of the two guards on either side of the room with them, but he could feel their eyes focused on their reactions. He would not crack. How could he when Bones wasn’t?
The second whip crack was obviously at a higher setting and both Jim and Spock noticed McCoy’s loss in bodily functions, but neither judged him at all. Jim felt only sympathy at the embarrassment his friend must feel on top of the pain. ‘Let it stop now, please…he’s been through enough - what more can you want?’ he asked silently.
When he heard McCoy’s comment “Is that really the best you can do?” he wasn’t sure if he wanted to smile with pride or shake the man for provoking the torturers. Damn the man! He’d always known McCoy was tougher than he looked or acted. After all the man had a fear of flying and transporters and yet he’d joined Starfleet.
This wisecrack was rewarded with blows to the torso and the head, then the whip cracked again, stronger still. Finally McCoy mercifully passed out. For a moment Jim worried they’d wake him for another round, but apparently they’d judged it enough and McCoy was let down from the hook that had held him up and he was dragged out of sight.
A hooded alien cleaned the mess of blood, small torn pieces of skin and urine away and then the door opened to Jim and Spock’s room. Jim was roughly dragged without a word and the gag was removed - the better to hear him beg, he supposed. Not that they’d get the pleasure anymore than they’d gotten from McCoy. But knowing that Spock was watching whilst it seemed McCoy had had no idea who was in his audience probably made this just a little tougher for him to take. He would feel Spock’s judging eyes on him as well as their captors. Great.
****
The remnants of the Galileo were examined thoroughly by the away team led by Mr. Scott with Chekov eagerly chattering at his side with his tricorder. There were traces of two remains in the shuttle, two out of five, but which two? Scotty hated the thought of any of their crew dead, but he desperately hoped it wasn’t the Captain - ever since their adventurous travel to the Enterprise before they’d been formerly assigned to it he’d had a great deal of respect for the man. And as a Captain he’d earned even greater respect for him. And as for the doctor, he and McCoy got along just fine indeed - more than just a drinking buddy. And Spock was such a fine officer - such an asset to the ship. But could he wish the two dead were the younger crewmembers he didn’t know as well? It hurt his sentimental heart, but he was in charge and this was no time for it. He had Chekov do his best to get whatever dna readings might be left in the traces of the two burnt scorched areas that marked the final resting places of the dead and then they completed their investigation of the smashed shuttle and beamed back up to sort through all the information they had gathered.
Scotty wished desperately the science officer in charge was Mr. Spock, but they must make do without him. Uhura reported odd traces of communication that might be an unknown language and Scotty leaned over her consol to hear it himself. He caught a whiff of her sweet, but subtle perfume and found himself slightly distracted. Uhura glanced up questioningly and he realized he’d missed something. “Err, what was that again, lassie?” Focus, Scotty, the ship’s in your hands and she and Mr. Spock might’ve broken up, but no one wanted to get in the way of that Vulcan if he decided to mind any flirtation with his ex.
Uhura was utterly focused on the language - it seemed reptilian almost - all scans of similar based life-form languages had not matched and it was maddening to think she was of such little help. Mr. Scott’s closeness only reminded her of her last angry words at Spock, before she’d resolved to act as if nothing had ever happened between them. She regretted them. She wished she’d tried just a little harder to hold onto him, but Spock had been clear in his own wishes. Still, if she never saw his face again… She fiddled with her dials and tried again to catch any traces of similar verbal communication or reports by others of this particular language. She had to help find them. She didn’t dare think of the scorched remains found in the shuttle.
***
Jim was finally released and dragged out of the torture chamber. His had been an assortment of other techniques, no electric whip for some reason. There’d been some memorable electrodes to certain areas of his anatomy, though. The embarrassment of knowing Spock watched was probably part of the torture - messing with his head at the same time, if the aliens knew anything of human psychology. But what they didn’t know was Jim was a master at blacking out bad memories and he’d learned at a young age to take pain for no reason so while he’d had to react involuntarily to the electric charges just as McCoy had, he doubted it had disturbed him as much as it likely did to Bones. Perhaps Leonard didn’t need to know that his friends had witnessed the torture at all. He’d try to discretely ask Spock to not mention it. But then there would be reports - and as CMO they’d cross his desk…well, he didn’t need to know until then, until they’d been rescued or they’d escaped and healed and were away from the bastards who’d killed two of his crew and tortured the rest of them for seemingly no reason.
He was led to a room with a grate in the floor and before his muddled head could fathom what was about to happen ice cold water rained down from above. He shouted once and then began to shiver, but he also took the opportunity to wipe off what blood and other fluids he could before the water shut off. He was brusquely handed nondescript gray clothing - a shirt and pants, which he put on over his wet body and he was then shuffled out of the room. If his hands hadn’t been bound and he hadn’t been so weak he would have tried to fight, but he figured it was useless at this point, better to wait until he recovered slightly and then try to fight them off. He was led into a transporter room - the platform alien, yet similar enough to recognize and they were beamed into a room with no door or windows and a vent far out of reach. He saw a figure huddled in the corner of the room, Bones!
The captors released him and with a hiss, transported away. He quickly shuffled over to his friend who was similarly clothed. “Bones, are you okay?”
McCoy looked up with glassy eyes then blinked and they quickly turned watery, though he knew his friend would fight off the tears. “I thought you were both maybe dead…where’s Spock?” he glanced behind Kirk, but saw the empty room behind him.
“I assume he’s where we were before. Hopefully he’ll be along soon. Are you okay?” Jim worried he’d give away what he knew, but he had to know.
McCoy slowly sat up, groaning softly. “Just stiff, what did they do to you? Let me see. He lifted his bound hands and pushed Kirk’s shirt up without another word. Jim normally would have protested, but decided to allow it. “I’m fine - just some cuts and bruises…nothing you can’t fix later. And my nose, of course,” obviously indicating the throbbing mess on his face. He was used to broken noses, but that never stopped them from hurting so damn much. He swallowed painfully, but remained nonchalant. “What about you?”
McCoy ignored the question, he put his head on Kirk’s chest, his hair tickling Jim as he pressed his ear to different places, first his heart, then his lungs. “Take a deep breath through your mouth,” he ordered.
Jim obligingly tried, but then let out a grunt and admitted, “Okay, and maybe a cracked rib or two - nothing new. All those bar fights had to be good for something, right?”
Bones snorted and brought his bound hands up to his friend’s face, “Ready for me to fix it the old fashioned way?”
Jim winced at the idea, but nodded and closed his eyes, “Get it over with.”
*Crunch*
Jim howled in pain as he hadn’t even when it had been broken. Damn it hurt…he spat blood and wiped at the trickle of blood and snot coming from his now really throbbing nose. Leonard batted his head and pinched the nose despite Jim’s protests and had him tip his head back. “Don’t be a baby you’ve broken it more times than you can count, what’s one more?”
Jim desperately wanted to kick his friend right that minute, usually if the break was this bad he’d get a nice pretty nurse at the local med unit down in Iowa and she’d set it without any pain - and they had good meds.
Leonard inspected his handy work once Jim clotted enough and then gestured with his head for Kirk to come closer, “You’re still damp and it is fucking cold in here, we need to conserve body heat. When Spock comes in we need to do the same for him, his species needs a hotter climate, and you know how he is always complaining how the Enterprise is chilly? He’s gonna love this room.”
Jim sat pressed against his friend and decided to play along with Bones ignoring his own health for now. It was quite true; the room was damned chilly now that he had the time to notice it, and especially so after that shower. Kirk shivered and McCoy put his two arms bound at the wrists around him like a hug. Jim would have protested this intimacy forcefully, but he saw the pain in McCoy’s eyes that the physical movement had cost him and perhaps even mentally. Maybe it would be all right to allow it. For now. As Jim felt the warmth through their shirts begin to equalize their temperatures and he found his shivering lessen, he decided it wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. But best to stop soon before the captors returned.
***
Scotty leaned excitedly forward in the command chair, a good part of him wishing he was down with his Engines trying to get just a bit more speed out of them, but he knew his team was doing their best and his duty was up here on the Bridge. Still his fingers itched to do ‘something’ - even Sulu and Chekov got to fiddle with their boards. It must drive Kirk mad not to have something of his own to do; maybe that was why the man paced from station to station so much - must be also why he enjoyed McCoy’s presence on the Bridge - at least it gave him someone to talk to who wasn’t busy with their work.
Scotty reflected for a moment on all his time spent starved for human interaction and some adventure on that icy planet only months ago. He’d been so glad to be a part in that rescue mission and honored with his new position as Chief Engineer of the Enterprise - something positively unthinkable until Jim Kirk and that old Vulcan from the future had shown up at his doorstep with their improbable tale. He was desperately glad how his life had turned around so suddenly, but he surely hadn’t foreseen just how making such great new friends and going off on daring adventures like this one could be so, so scary and frustrating all at once. It would take some getting used to, he supposed.
They were onto some warp traces Sulu had detected from an unknown ship and were following as fast as they dared while still keeping an eye out for a trap. They could be heading right into an ambush or every moment of caution they took could be costing their crewmembers their lives. It was not the sort of thoughts Scotty liked to deal with. He missed the simplicity of Engineering and he’d be glad to give it up to the Captain the moment he had them back. For by now they knew that it was not Kirk, Mr. Spock or McCoy amidst the scorched marks of the shuttle - sickbay had informed of this very quickly and he was relieved. They would mourn the poor lass and lad later - a proper wake to anyone that wanted to join in - he had a bottle tucked away that would do nicely. It would be Kirk’s job to write up the necessary paperwork and standard letter forms to their families.
But for now - all energy was spent on finding the, hopefully, still alive members of their crew. They just had to do it before it was too late.
****
McCoy cradled Kirk’s head on his shoulder and rolled his eyes as his friend snored loudly through his open mouth - his nose making the sound horrendous. But at least it kept him awake, they were seated, backs to the cold wall with McCoy’s arms still around his friend. His left arm was completely numb from Kirk’s weight, but he couldn’t bring himself to wake the man up. Especially if Jim was going to get chatty again. Besides, the cold wall, while hard and uncomfortable, numbed the electric burns on his back a little. He was worried what was taking so long for Spock to arrive. Surely neither McCoy nor Kirk’s sessions had taken this long.
Then, as if divining his thoughts, the sound of the transport announced the arrival as three forms shimmered into place. Spock was slung between the two of them, unconscious, or at least it seemed so. McCoy roughly jerked his arms off of Jim as the man was waking, Leonard struggled to his feet with difficulty and tried to catch Spock as the captors dumped the Vulcan on the floor unceremoniously.
He failed to catch him completely, but saved Spock’s head from hitting the concrete. Seeing huge turquoise splotches on the blue uniform he turned to the captors before they disappeared and leapt at them, unthinkingly. “What the fuck did you do to them, you bastards?! What is it you want?! Damn you! I need medical supplies, this man needs medical attention - what kind of sadistic bastards are you-” he was ranting and starting to not make any sense as Jim jerked McCoy back from the aliens who had at first been bemused at his tirade, but then stepped menacingly forward.
One alien reached a hand out as if to hit McCoy and Jim jerked his friend behind him. The alien stopped in mid gesture and a hissing chuckle could be heard from within their deep dark hoods. Instead of hitting them, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a small device, apparently a translator. “How touching humans. Your pet Vulcan was quite an interesting subject. He proved entertaining. We will allow you some time to rest and tend to him as you wish. I regret to inform you - we have no medical supplies on board, even should we wish to supply them to you so you’ll have to make do for now.”
Jim stepped slightly closer, “You said you’d allow us time to rest and tend to our friend. Then what? I demand to know under what authority you have abducted us and treated us so.” he said defiantly, his commanding presence only slightly marred by his nasally stuffed up tone.
The alien chuckled again, “Such foul manners, I shouldn’t really be surprised, you humans are known for your arrogance…you are in the position to demand nothing. You are our guests for now - do not push the boundaries of our hospitality.” The alien’s voice sounded menacing and arrogant. It grated on McCoy’s nerves and, he knew, Kirk’s.
The aliens then transported away without another word and McCoy dropped to his knees again at Spock’s side. The Vulcan was breathing regularly, if anything, he seemed in a trance, for a moment he thought it might be a healing trance, the kind he’d learned about on New Vulcan, but it seemed lighter. McCoy pushed the blue and black uniform tops up and surveyed the damage with dismay - Spock’s torture had consisted of heavy blows that were already turning blackish green, possible internal bleeding, and there were many cuts all over the torso, and some trailed into his pants area, yet the uniform was intact, no rips visible so they must have stripped him. McCoy, leant forward first to listen to his breathing and heart before reluctantly unfastening the Vulcan’s uniform pants. He knew it was a gross violation of privacy for the man, but he needed to assess the damage -
Strong hands suddenly gripped his wrists tightly. Spock’s eyes fluttered open and he looked dazed, but then recognized McCoy as the one touching him. “Don’t.”
Jim stood well back, providing them as much privacy as possible, but he spoke up. “Mr. Spock, let the doctor examine you, that’s an order.”
Spock refused to let go of McCoy’s hands for several moments, but then awkwardly fumbled with the fasteners himself, opening them to show the ends of the wounds. “They are the same on the legs - no worse than what you see now - all clotting as they should. Now please remove your hands and allow me my privacy,” he said quietly but firmly.
“There’s no privacy between a doctor and his patient, but I’ll take your word on the legs if you’ll tell me everything they did to you in detail. Where you injected or forced to imbibe anything?”
Spock seemed reluctant to answer, but then admitted they’d given him a hypospray of something after roughly one and a half hours into the session. “I did not recognize the substance, but it created a distorted sense of time and awareness of my surroundings. I believe I was given it because I was not responding to their satisfaction.”
McCoy gently examined the bruises and tried his best to feel his way around the injuries without making them worse. “They said you were entertaining. They found you ‘interesting.’
“There is a Vulcan technique to distance oneself from pain and I believe they found that frustrating rather than interesting…their hypospray…I do not remember exactly what happened afterwards except I could not maintain the meditative state any longer and the pain seemed magnified. I suppose that was the entertainment portion of their ‘session.” Spock kept his eyes on the ceiling during his recitation in monotone.
“Do you still feel the effects of the drug?” McCoy kept his voice clinical and calm.
“It is subsiding.” Spock’s hair was wet, they’d given him a shower, but then put his uniform back on rather than the drab prison-like garb Kirk and McCoy wore. An odd detail Leonard filed away. It could mean that they’d run out of the clothes - maybe they weren’t set up for mass interrogations - they weren’t asking questions - they just seemed to be torturing the three survivors for the fun of it. Experimenting, perhaps. Whatever the cause, he could not help Spock any further at the moment, the Vulcan was right, he was clotting normally and he seemed stable. Leonard tugged on Spock to sit up with him against the wall.
“What are you doing?” Spock asked him, resisting weakly.
“Only the same thing I did for Jim, sharing warmth. Jim, get over here, get on his other side, between the three of us we should be okay - for now.”
Kirk reluctantly took one side of Spock while McCoy took the other, neither dared put their arms around the Vulcan, but pressed against him to spread the warmth. Eventually Jim fell asleep again, snoring and Spock looked over at Leonard in sufferance.
“Give him a break, they smashed his nose,” Leonard whispered, an almost grin on his face.
Spock raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “I know, I witnessed it. He took it better than most humans would. But then he has some past experience with physical violence.”
McCoy thought on his words. “You witnessed it? Did you see…” he couldn’t finish, the humiliation was too great.
Spock inclined his head, “You were surprisingly strong. You refused to break and you responded much as Kirk did, daring them to do more. A rather ill advised mode of conduct, I might note.”
Leonard turned his face away at the realization that likely both friends saw the whole scene. But then he turned back just as quickly, “You’re one to talk, your meditation technique only led them to drug you and make your wounds worse,” he said with only half hearted satisfaction.
Spock nodded at the logic of this, “In other situations it has proved useful, but in this case our captors were determined for reactions. I believe from my observations of their ill kept ship and lack of supplies that they are far from home and on a long running mission or unable to return to their home world. I believe we may have only stumbled into the path of bored sadists. They are unpredictable in what behavior they will exhibit next.”
Leonard was pleased that he’d been along the same track of mind as Spock for once. But the idea of unpredictable bored aliens that enjoyed torture did not ease his mind.
***
The captors listened to the human and Vulcan speak and their anger flared at their motives and lack of rank amongst their own people was so blatantly obvious even to these ignorant aliens.
Their robes lay in a heap behind their chairs of their viewing post of the small chamber. Smoothing back his black hair Gul Dinian always kept his hair impeccable and the hood had mussed it slightly. He hated the dratted thing. If it weren’t for the fact that they had strict orders not to reveal their identities to any aliens in the area he would never touch the dreadful garment.
Beside him Glinn Jakar repressed his annoyance at his superior’s vanity. He should not be stuck here with this stupid man - it was only Dinian’s family that had bought his title at all and even his family’s name could not save him from dishonoring it enough to banish him to this horrible assignment, Glinn Jakar and his two other fellow crewmembers were being punished for Dinian’s stupidity. Stuck on this subpar ship they’d been sent to this quadrant several years ago to unobtrusively observe various Federation outposts and write up reports that might never be read.
It was only because of Gul Dinian’s boredom that he’d broken protocol and decided to grab the Starfleet shuttle in the first place. Their ‘experiments’ were pointless - they were not even interrogating them efficiently - they were not even bothering with questions, it seemed the Gul was interested only in his own perverted pleasure in inflicting harm on the aliens they’d been sent only to observe and report on for now. It wasn’t that Glinn Jakar was unused to interrogations or torture for information, but this entire episode was not only a waste of resources, but dangerous if their vessel - their very species were detected by Starfleet as well.
If this leaked out on Cardassia Prime…this entire episode might be the final mistake of the Gul’s career and even his life - and Jakar would gladly turn the man in if it would not more than likely take the Glinn and the rest of the crew along with him in dishonor and death. Jakar wondered, not for the first time, if he should arrange for an accident to befall his superior. It wouldn’t be too hard. Dinian was too arrogant and assured of his family’s name to assume anyone would plot against him. Still, he was the Gul and Jakar decided to bide his time for now.
Gul Dinian stared at the three huddled aliens and grew bored once more. ‘He wanted more - more excitement - more fear and reactions from the aliens. They had barely scratched the surface of the ideas he was obsessing over in his mind right now. The Vulcan’s ability to maintain his meditative state had been broken with a simple drug compound the Gul had a small stash of - he could use that again - or the humans - the one they called Captain actually bored him - too used to physical torture and too bland, but the other, he had held up well and never broken, despite the fact that they had known he was simply healer. But then at the sight of the Vulcan harmed he’d reacted quite emotionally. Now that had been fun to watch.
Hmmm...perhaps the two together would make an interesting pair. Oh, and what could be more fun than his favorite form of torture? - only he wouldn’t do it himself - he’d give the Vulcan another drug he had available and watch him hurt the healer himself.
The pain, the humiliation and the ultimate betrayal! Oh to watch the emotional chaos that resulted from that. And how might the third one act once he knew? Oooooh, this was going to be fun,’ the Gul thought maniacally and he chortled to himself and slapped his second on the back as if he’d shared all his thoughts with him already. Glinn Jakar was far too proud and obsessed with duty. He just needed to see the full potential of the Gul’s ideas come to fruition - then maybe he’d have Jakar’s slightly disproving look wiped off his face.
“I’ve got an idea!” he said in none too stable a tone.
Glinn Jakar watched him carefully, but nodded in obedience as he’d been trained. “Yes, sir. May I ask what it is?”
***
The Enterprise was closing in on the trail; they felt they were getting very close indeed to the alien ship that might have their crewmembers aboard. The ship must be in less than optimal performance as the signature was growing stronger and easier to detect and Scotty shook his head at their shoddy maintenance. But for now, he was quite glad that someone wasn’t as diligent as he was in caring for their ship. Another hour maybe and they’d find the ship - now if only their weapons and shields were as badly cared for as their engines.
***
The three men slowly stood as three captors materialized in their cell again. They tried to hide the pain and stiffness, even knowing it was rather useless to bother - their captors knew full well the injuries they’d inflicted and left untreated. Jim took a step in front of his men and faced them head on. The damn robes and cowardice of their hiding behind them irritated him, but he held his temper in check and waited for the others to make the first move.
The one that had addressed them before slipped the translator out again. “Stand aside; it is the other two we’ve come for.”
Jim shook his head. “I’m their superior - you’ll talk to me.”
The alien laughed, it sounded unhinged even to alien ears, “Oh, there’ll be no need for talking…but you can come along, too, if you wish…yes, perhaps you’d like to watch this, too. Why waste the entertainment?” he asked as if being generous. With that he hissed a command and the three were transported back to the torture cell.
***