Fic: Lies in Silence Ch 17
LIES IN SILENCE CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
by SlwMtionDaylite
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though.
Rating: MA/NC-17
Genre: Angst, Drama, Erotica, Hurt/Comfort
Characters/Pairing: Spock/Uhura
Word Count (Chapter Seventeen): 4105
Beta: jlneveloff
Warnings: Language, explicit and non-explicit sexual situations, slight dub!con, rape, violence, minor Fem!slash
Summary: Alternate Mirror Universe. He wants to protect me; I want that protection, need it, in fact. But I am willing to betray him if and when the time comes. We are not working together. I know my goals. But what are his?
Author's Notes: Umm, I won't lie...I'm a little nervous about this chapter (and the upcoming two)...which is one reason I've taken so long to update. But, I've decided to just not change it. This chapter...is NOT pretty; please keep in mind the warnings listed above.
We're somewhat nearing the end. At this time, I'm predicting about 24 or 25 chapters, maybe one more or one less.
I've also got two additional works-in-progress, if you are interested. :) Engulfment and Mes-torik T'khiori However, because I'm nearing the finish line with this story, special emphasis will be placed on getting this one done.
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Corrosion of the Shining Knight
I manage to make it out of the door without breaking into a sprinting run. I walk to the turbolift and press the button, desperate to get out of this building before Pike changes his mind. I feel like I’m being set up, even though that thought is entirely ridiculous. I have no reason to feel that way. I don’t even know why I do. But why does it feel like the Commander is being careless? Really, leaving his door to allow me entrance while he’s not here? Careless. Forgetful. So un-Vulcan. I wonder if he did it on purpose. If he somehow knew I would still drop by and stand in front of his door. And watch it open.
I shouldn’t have entered.
Then I wouldn’t have encountered Captain Pike. He would not have placed his hands on me, threaten me. Or at least, he wouldn’t have done it there. Now. I have no doubt he would have eventually.
At least I know that he is the one who snuck me in. Somehow, that thought doesn’t comfort me. Doesn’t relax me. In fact, it puts me on edge more. He wants something from me. He wants me to pay him for his...sacrifice. And there is only one type of payment he seems willing to accept.
Something I don’t want to give him. Something I don’t want to give to anyone else. Ever.
I should have turned right around and left when the Commander didn’t answer my call. I should not have entered and I should not have loitered after determining his absence. I shouldn’t have stared at the blood... Why did he leave the blood behind? And so much of it? It’s green. A part of me wonders if it didn’t belong to one of his prisoners at the Wall. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe it doesn’t belong to an unknown alien at all. Maybe it’s his.
There was a lot of blood.
And a disappearance not of his orchestrating would certainly explain the messy state of his quarters.
Maybe he was killed.
My heart seizes at that thought. And the turbolift opens. I shakily step inside. I lean against the wall, consciously focusing on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
Maybe he was killed.
I don’t know why this thought terrifies me.
If he is dead, then I am once again alone here. No one but Captain Pike would know my secret. My true identity. I should be pleased with this. I would be able to continue my mission without fearing his sudden change of heart and subsequent report of me. I wouldn’t have to worry about allowing him to fuck me. I wouldn’t have to ask myself every day why I let him, why I yearn for it. I wouldn’t have to see the blood on his hands anymore. I wouldn’t have to think of what he does when he goes to the Wall, wondering who he’s going to execute-murder-today. I wouldn’t have to think about anything but my mission, whatever that truly is. I sometimes wonder; Robau's orders seem so fluid, always changing, and I’m always left in the wake, struggling to understand what he wants of me. With Commander Spock dead, I wouldn’t have to wonder about a lot of things.
But...
I want him to be alive. I want him to come back. He is also my only emotional connection in this place, as twisted, as messed up as it is. As fucked up as it sounds. If he is dead, then I am once again alone here.
I don’t want to be alone.
But I’m not. I’m not alone here. Commander Spock is not the only one to know my secret. Captain Pike. My skin still crawls from his touch.
Tears burn my eyes. I rub them furiously with the heels of my hands. Not the place for this. Never the place for this. I drop my head and wrap my arms around myself, trying to...I don’t know.
The lift opens, having reached the ground floor, and I look up. I halt.
Kirk stands in front of me; a woman stands behind him, head down, hair covering her face. He smiles at me. It’s not kind. He steps forward. I step back. I cringe at my weakness. I don’t have anything to fear here, right? He surely wouldn’t try anything here, where the officers lived. Not that the officers would really care, I chide myself. They don’t care. They wouldn’t care if he suddenly stripped me naked right here in the turbolift, revealing my feminine body. Hell, they’d probably join in.
He chuckled slightly. And took another step. The woman followed as was expected of her. She didn’t meet my eyes, didn’t even look up. Kirk entered the lift fully, pressing a finger into my uniformed linen-clad chest and backing me into the wall behind me. He towered above me, standing closely; his breath hot on my face.
“Is Captain Pike in?” He runs his finger down my chest, across my bound breasts.
My blood freezes and I don’t look up at him-I am already so terrified of Pike, of the Commander’s disappearance-instead I focus my attention to his chest. Praying that he’s not about to discover my secret right here in the lift. Don’t look up, don’t look up. Don’t let him see your fear. Don’t let him see the vestiges of the tears. He’ll jump. He wouldn’t hesitate. I nod.
“Good.” He steps to the side, giving me just enough room to make my escape.
Which I gladly do, releasing a long breath, fighting the urge to cry. I steal one final look at the woman. I wonder who she is. Do I know her? Probably not. Does she want this, what’s surely coming to her? Who knows. I don’t. I wouldn’t want it. But, like I said, some women do. Some women are so beaten, so withdrawn that they don’t fight anything. They don’t fight the possibility of being used by two men-which I’m sure is what’s about to happen-for a night. They don’t question what life could be like if they weren’t subjected to this life. Unlike this woman, I have experienced what life could be, if only for a brief moment, if only a lie fabricated by a mastermind to get me to comply, to agree with his mission. But I have an advantage over this woman. I’ve tasted that freedom, and I long for it. God, how I long for it. I look at that woman, blond hair draped in front of her face. I want her to look at me. I want her to see me. But she doesn’t. She just stands beside Kirk in the lift, her scantily-clad body covered in bruises.
No, she’s not a fighter.
She doesn’t care.
She’s about to be fucked by two men, used in ways I had escaped, had fought. Am still fighting, if I’m completely honest with myself. And she doesn’t care. I can’t decide if that’s a blessing. Or a curse.
I would have fought. I have fought. I would rather be dead.
Or perhaps she is ignorant of other ways. Perhaps she doesn't know that there are some places that are safe, that care. That would protect her.
They do protect us, right? Robau is doing this to protect us, to safe us, right? I used to be so sure. Now...I'm not sure of anything other than the fact that Gaila is dead.
And Commander Spock is missing.
And I want him back.
I'm not sure why.
The door slides closed and she’s gone. With Kirk. And Pike.
And with a dreadful tug on my heart, I must try to forget her, to not wish for her freedom.
I walk down this sidewalk again. Toward the whorehouse. The breeze rustles my pant legs, my large uniform top and I wish that I could make my uniform larger. I wish it would swallow me up. On campus, I am Benjamin Uhura, the xenolinguistics major who is accelerating to the top of his class and talks to no one. Off campus, I am a woman again. This is my secret. No, that was my secret. That was how I moved around the city. My uniform, ill-fitting as it is...this is how I move around the city, now.
I can’t afford to take the risk of dressing as a woman again.
It would break me, I think.
I’ve already contacted Robau; Today I am to meet with him, discuss my progress. I suppress the urge to snort. Progress. What progress? The closest connection I had within Starfleet has vanished. Some say he’s on leave. But that blood. So much of it.
No.
I think he’s dead.
I should feel relief with that possibility.
But I don’t.
Robau is not going to be happy. I know he’s not. He’ll be furious about another setback. Another hitch in his plans, whatever those plans truly are. I am going to be punished.
I know I am.
I’m terrified to go to this meeting. But I know of no way out of it. Not without risking his wrath.
I approach the Wall. I dread this long unending slab of concrete. I dread the bodies I’ll see hanging from it today. But I only see one body today. This is unusual. Since Commander Spock took control, there’s been a significant increase in fresh corpses. Corpses that are always removed before the stench becomes too much to stomach.
Today, one body.
Only one.
One body that becomes clearly the closer I come.
Emerald liquid stains his body, pouring from beneath the bag. Long slashes of green. Gashes. Bruises. All old. He was tortured. The smell, God, the smell. He’s been here for a while. I feel bile rising in my throat.
The white bag stained green was placed haphazardly on his head; it doesn’t completely encompass his head. Whoever strung him up didn’t care. Or was in a rush. Or both.
I see the outline of a pointed ear, slightly curved at the tip.
Vulcan.
I halt, my breath trapped in my lungs. I’m afraid. Afraid to get any closer, even though I know I must.
It can’t be him. It can’t be.
Another step. I slowly move to stand in front of the hanging body.
Like all the other ones previously, this one is nude as well. Clothes are for dignity. I’m surprised they allow women to wear them out in public, those few times you see them out. The Admiral never allowed me to wear clothes. They just got in his way. Some of the women at the whorehouse don’t wear them. Probably for the same reason.
And these bodies don’t wear them.
They belong to the very dregs of our twisted society; that’s what the Empire tells us anyway. They don’t deserve the dignity of clothing.
I look at him. The cuts are jagged. The gashes deep. The bruises angry. The shoulders are too broad. The stomach not as lean, not as muscular. The hips, too wide. The body does not belong to Commander Spock. I can tell that clearly, so attuned to his body as I have become.
It’s not the Commander.
I release a breath.
Of course, it’s not. The execution of a high ranking officer would have been public knowledge. There would have been a gathering. An assembly. A public execution.
Yes, they only reserve those for executions they deem worthy of such spectacle. And the Commander’s standing within Starfleet would have garnered such worth. And people would have attended, because they were forced to. People would have cheered. People would have cried, begged for his life. The executed are the heroes for the broken and beaten people.
No, this is not Spock.
It’s somebody though.
I just don’t know who.
The bouncer at the entrance of the whorehouse waves me in. He is familiar enough with my presence that he doesn’t question me. Doesn’t ask where I’ve been. He doesn’t have any idea what I’m doing when I’m here-he knows I’m not one of their girls; he knows because he has seen me as a woman and as a man-but he doesn’t question me. It’s not his job. Not his place. Robau convinced the pimp to allow us to conduct our meetings here-I still don’t know how he did that-and that’s all the bouncer needs.
“He’s already inside.” He steps aside, allowing me to enter.
I nod, suddenly nervous. There’s no telling how Robau will react to this latest development. With anger, I’m sure. I just don’t know if he’ll lash out at me. And that’s my biggest source of anxiety. What is he going to do to me when he finds out?
I step through the door and walk down the short foyer until I enter a large atrium. Wide and open, with a large bar dominating the middle, this place is already busy. Men populate the room, surrounded by the pimp’s numerous women. Several are in various stages of sexual intercourse-fucking; some of the women are moaning, some are crying. It’s enough to make me cringe. I hate this place. Abhor it.
I spot Robau almost immediately. A statue among a rolling sea of rutting, fucking bodies. He’s wearing another suit-he loves his suits-and leans casually, gracefully against the bar behind him. He nods toward me, his eyes narrow, and he motions for me to follow; he’s already secured the room.
I follow, weaving past the undulating, thrusting bodies, ignoring the moans, the whimpers, the grunts.
We enter the room and Robau immediately seats himself on a chair placed before the bed. He motions toward the lumpy mattress, inviting-ordering-me to sit. I secure the lock on the door and do so, placing my hands in my lap. I look at him. I’m nervous, uncomfortable. I’m not used to doing these updates with him. It’s usually Gaila. But I guess it won’t be her anymore. She’s dead. Spock killed her. I still want to know how she was arrested. Did Robau give her up?
Would he do that?
My heart races.
No, I shouldn’t allow myself to think of him like that. He’s not. He’s not them. He is kind, gentle. He is my savior. My knight in shining armor in a world so dark, so harsh. He wouldn’t. He’s above such travesty.
I’m sure Janice thought so.
Gaila, too.
He sits before me, silent, stony. His posture in the chair is impeccable. Back straight. Legs crossed. Hands folded neatly on his thighs. But he’s silent. What’s he waiting for?
He lifts his eyebrows.
I take the chance and speak first. “Commander Spock is gone.”
“Gone?”
I nod. “Yes, sir. He’s on personal leave.” That’s what they say anyway; that’s the official word given out by the admirals and captains when curiosity became too much, when students’ mutterings in the hallways became a nuisance. Maybe he’s not voluntarily on leave, though.
His eyes widen. “Personal leave? When the hell did this happen?”
I hesitate. He’s going to be mad at me. I took so long to notice. It will infuriate him. “F-five days ago. I found out five days ago.”
He jumps to his feet, towering over me. I flinch. “Five days?! And I’m just finding out about this now?”
I drop my eyes and say nothing.
He scoffs and backs away, pacing the room. I release a small breath of relief. If he’s across the room, I’m safer. If he decides to come after me, I have enough space to attempt to escape. I hope he doesn’t. I hope he doesn’t punish me. I watch him like a hawk, my eyes glued to his pacing form. He’s muttering to himself, his face growing red. He’s angry. I guess I can understand that. This is another kink in his plan. A plan that’s been going on four years with no progress. I’m horrible at this.
I've spent four years concerned about my own success in the Academy, having tasted freedom for the first time in years, that I haven't given much thought about Robau's plan, about the Resistance's goal. Just mine. I've been selfish. And now, I'm supposed to be close to something, I'm supposed to be giving Robau vital information. But all I can think about is my pending graduation and Spock's disappearance.
If only I could understand what it was he was wanting from me, what it was that he’s looking for when I go to Commander Spock. What am I suppose to be seeing? Doing?
I should ask him. I should tell him that I’m lost. That I’m floundering. But I fear that may be worse. That might infuriate him further. But I don’t know. I don’t know that it will.
But it might.
So I don’t ask.
“How do you not notice that the alien you’re fucking every night suddenly disappeared?” He twirls around to face me.
I wince, dropping my eyes. He’s furious. He’s never been furious with me before. “I-I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He doesn’t believe me. Guess I can’t really blame him. I have no excuse. Because there is no excuse.
I take a breath. “He threw me out of his place the last time I saw him.” I just figured he needed time to cool off. I figured I’d be receiving a call from him soon to return to his apartment, to take my clothes off, to let him fuck me.
Robau’s face contorts, revealing the anger he no doubt was fighting to control. “He threw you out?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
He sighs. “Do you know where he went?”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know when he left. He doesn’t talk to me. He just fucks me and throws me out.” I don’t tell him about the nights he allows me to stay. It doesn’t matter if I do anyway. Commander Spock still doesn’t talk to me then, either. I don’t tell him that I fear the Commander dead. I don’t know what he’d do then. I don’t want to know. So I keep it to myself.
“I have been very forgiving, Nyota. You have been at that blasted Academy for nearly four years. You’ve been sleeping with one of the most respected officers there; the one, I might add, that’s heading the Special Forces, for nearly three months. And you still have nothing. No information. I am beginning to doubt your commitment to the mission, to me.”
I shake my head furiously. “I am committed. I am. And I’m not lying. I swear I’m not!” Yes, I am.
His anger is scaring me. He glares at me, face red, the vein in his forehead and neck pulsing angrily.
And I suddenly apologize. If I say it enough, maybe he won’t punish me. “I’m sorry, sir. I really am. I’m trying. But Commander Spock is untrusting. He’s Vulcan. They aren’t close to anyone.”
“Half-Vulcan,” Robau corrects. “And surely a woman of your abilities wouldn’t have any trouble getting the alien bastard to open up to you. Spread your legs wide enough. Pretend to enjoy it. Although, if I am to understand it correctly, there’s not a lot of pretending involved.”
I drop my gaze, ashamed. “How did they get Gaila?” I ask so quietly, my voice nearly a whisper. I don’t want to talk to him anymore. I want to talk to Gaila. She isn’t violent. She isn’t raging. She also isn’t here.
“Gaila? She got what she deserved.”
I gasp. “Did you turn her in?” Please, no.
He guffaws and stomps toward me. I shrink away from him, backing up on the tiny mattress. But he bends down and grabs me by my arms, lifting me to my feet. “Gaila is unimportant.”
I shake my head. “No.”
He shakes me. “Gaila is not the issue here. We are talking about your gross inability to do your job.”
Again, I shake my head. “I’m trying, sir. I swear I’m trying. But I don’t know -“
He interrupts me, tightening his grip on me. “No, you listen to me."
I try to pull away. I try to get him to let go of me. "You're hurting me."
He doesn't let go. He simply tightens his grip further, making me wince. “Perhaps that is something that I should have done a long time ago.”
My eyes widen. A long time ago? What is he saying? “Wha-“
“I have been kind to you, Nyota. I have been patient. I have been careful not to harm you.”
But he’s hurting me now. I try to pull away from him but to no avail. He’s not releasing me.
He continued. “Because I thought this was what you needed.”
I need him to let me go. I need to get away from him. I pull against him again, trying desperately to get away. But he won’t let me go.
Suddenly, he propels me into the nearest wall, slamming my back against it. I cry out, my heart pounding. I never thought he’d do this to me. I trusted him. He’s not supposed to be this way. One of his hands leaves my shoulder to caress my cheek. I flinch, jerking my face away from him.
His eyes narrow. “You would deny my touch and yet spread your legs for that fucking alien?”
That fucking alien. Such hateful words from someone who was supposed to want peace among throughout the Empire. Someone who made a place for an alien in his own bed. “Gaila is an alien.” No, Gaila was an alien.
“Gaila” - He spit her name like a curse - “was disposable.”
“What did you do to her?” The words slip from my lips again before I can stop them.
He smiles at me. It’s not a nice smile. When did that change happen? He has always had a nice smile. A kind smile. Why is he behaving this way? “We’ve already had this conversation, Nyota. Gaila is unimportant. You are my focus right now.”
What is he talking about? Why is he behaving this way? I’m nervous. Shaking. This is my shining knight in armor. He’s not supposed to be this way. Why is he acting this way?
He reaches up and tears the wig from me, forcing my long hair to tumble down my shoulders. He fists the wig and grabs my neck with the other, pressing me into the wall. He shoves the wig into my face. “I thought we agreed that this pathetic excuse of a disguise was only to be used on the Academy’s campus. That you were to dress as what you really are here?”
I don’t say anything, too terrified. This is Robau. The man who saved me from the streets. This is Robau. He’s not supposed to do this.
He stares at me for several moments. I feel uneasy under his gaze. I want to go away from here. I want to go back to my dorm. I want to return to Spock.
Spock.
Commander Spock who may be dead.
Would he save me? If he were here? Would he rush in to release me from this man’s grip? He did it once. Would he care, would he do it again?
Suddenly, without provocation, without warning, Robau throws the wig aside and kisses me and I freeze. I don’t move. I don’t breath. I don’t react when I feel him press his lips forcibly against mine, when I feel him shove his tongue into my mouth. I don’t know how to react. I don’t know what to do.
A hand weaves its way under the waistband of my pants and into my underwear, pressing against me.
It’s then that I finally react. I don’t want to let that happen to me again while I stand and do nothing. I will fight. Even if it is futile. I deliver a powerful kick between his legs. He cries out, tearing his lips from mine, falling against me and pressing me tighter into the wall. I reach up and shove him away. He stumbles backward and I run toward the door.
If I can get away, I can be safe. I can pretend it didn’t happen. I can pretend he’s not like the others. I can pretend.
But he reaches out and grabs my hair. I scream. He spins me around, throwing me off balance. And I slam my head against the edge of a dresser.
Then darkness.
by SlwMtionDaylite
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I own nothing. Paramount, et al. own all. I really wish they would let me borrow Spock for a while though.
Rating: MA/NC-17
Genre: Angst, Drama, Erotica, Hurt/Comfort
Characters/Pairing: Spock/Uhura
Word Count (Chapter Seventeen): 4105
Beta: jlneveloff
Warnings: Language, explicit and non-explicit sexual situations, slight dub!con, rape, violence, minor Fem!slash
Summary: Alternate Mirror Universe. He wants to protect me; I want that protection, need it, in fact. But I am willing to betray him if and when the time comes. We are not working together. I know my goals. But what are his?
Author's Notes: Umm, I won't lie...I'm a little nervous about this chapter (and the upcoming two)...which is one reason I've taken so long to update. But, I've decided to just not change it. This chapter...is NOT pretty; please keep in mind the warnings listed above.
We're somewhat nearing the end. At this time, I'm predicting about 24 or 25 chapters, maybe one more or one less.
I've also got two additional works-in-progress, if you are interested. :) Engulfment and Mes-torik T'khiori However, because I'm nearing the finish line with this story, special emphasis will be placed on getting this one done.
PREVIOUS CHAPTERS
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Corrosion of the Shining Knight
I manage to make it out of the door without breaking into a sprinting run. I walk to the turbolift and press the button, desperate to get out of this building before Pike changes his mind. I feel like I’m being set up, even though that thought is entirely ridiculous. I have no reason to feel that way. I don’t even know why I do. But why does it feel like the Commander is being careless? Really, leaving his door to allow me entrance while he’s not here? Careless. Forgetful. So un-Vulcan. I wonder if he did it on purpose. If he somehow knew I would still drop by and stand in front of his door. And watch it open.
I shouldn’t have entered.
Then I wouldn’t have encountered Captain Pike. He would not have placed his hands on me, threaten me. Or at least, he wouldn’t have done it there. Now. I have no doubt he would have eventually.
At least I know that he is the one who snuck me in. Somehow, that thought doesn’t comfort me. Doesn’t relax me. In fact, it puts me on edge more. He wants something from me. He wants me to pay him for his...sacrifice. And there is only one type of payment he seems willing to accept.
Something I don’t want to give him. Something I don’t want to give to anyone else. Ever.
I should have turned right around and left when the Commander didn’t answer my call. I should not have entered and I should not have loitered after determining his absence. I shouldn’t have stared at the blood... Why did he leave the blood behind? And so much of it? It’s green. A part of me wonders if it didn’t belong to one of his prisoners at the Wall. Maybe it didn’t. Maybe it doesn’t belong to an unknown alien at all. Maybe it’s his.
There was a lot of blood.
And a disappearance not of his orchestrating would certainly explain the messy state of his quarters.
Maybe he was killed.
My heart seizes at that thought. And the turbolift opens. I shakily step inside. I lean against the wall, consciously focusing on my breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
Maybe he was killed.
I don’t know why this thought terrifies me.
If he is dead, then I am once again alone here. No one but Captain Pike would know my secret. My true identity. I should be pleased with this. I would be able to continue my mission without fearing his sudden change of heart and subsequent report of me. I wouldn’t have to worry about allowing him to fuck me. I wouldn’t have to ask myself every day why I let him, why I yearn for it. I wouldn’t have to see the blood on his hands anymore. I wouldn’t have to think of what he does when he goes to the Wall, wondering who he’s going to execute-murder-today. I wouldn’t have to think about anything but my mission, whatever that truly is. I sometimes wonder; Robau's orders seem so fluid, always changing, and I’m always left in the wake, struggling to understand what he wants of me. With Commander Spock dead, I wouldn’t have to wonder about a lot of things.
But...
I want him to be alive. I want him to come back. He is also my only emotional connection in this place, as twisted, as messed up as it is. As fucked up as it sounds. If he is dead, then I am once again alone here.
I don’t want to be alone.
But I’m not. I’m not alone here. Commander Spock is not the only one to know my secret. Captain Pike. My skin still crawls from his touch.
Tears burn my eyes. I rub them furiously with the heels of my hands. Not the place for this. Never the place for this. I drop my head and wrap my arms around myself, trying to...I don’t know.
The lift opens, having reached the ground floor, and I look up. I halt.
Kirk stands in front of me; a woman stands behind him, head down, hair covering her face. He smiles at me. It’s not kind. He steps forward. I step back. I cringe at my weakness. I don’t have anything to fear here, right? He surely wouldn’t try anything here, where the officers lived. Not that the officers would really care, I chide myself. They don’t care. They wouldn’t care if he suddenly stripped me naked right here in the turbolift, revealing my feminine body. Hell, they’d probably join in.
He chuckled slightly. And took another step. The woman followed as was expected of her. She didn’t meet my eyes, didn’t even look up. Kirk entered the lift fully, pressing a finger into my uniformed linen-clad chest and backing me into the wall behind me. He towered above me, standing closely; his breath hot on my face.
“Is Captain Pike in?” He runs his finger down my chest, across my bound breasts.
My blood freezes and I don’t look up at him-I am already so terrified of Pike, of the Commander’s disappearance-instead I focus my attention to his chest. Praying that he’s not about to discover my secret right here in the lift. Don’t look up, don’t look up. Don’t let him see your fear. Don’t let him see the vestiges of the tears. He’ll jump. He wouldn’t hesitate. I nod.
“Good.” He steps to the side, giving me just enough room to make my escape.
Which I gladly do, releasing a long breath, fighting the urge to cry. I steal one final look at the woman. I wonder who she is. Do I know her? Probably not. Does she want this, what’s surely coming to her? Who knows. I don’t. I wouldn’t want it. But, like I said, some women do. Some women are so beaten, so withdrawn that they don’t fight anything. They don’t fight the possibility of being used by two men-which I’m sure is what’s about to happen-for a night. They don’t question what life could be like if they weren’t subjected to this life. Unlike this woman, I have experienced what life could be, if only for a brief moment, if only a lie fabricated by a mastermind to get me to comply, to agree with his mission. But I have an advantage over this woman. I’ve tasted that freedom, and I long for it. God, how I long for it. I look at that woman, blond hair draped in front of her face. I want her to look at me. I want her to see me. But she doesn’t. She just stands beside Kirk in the lift, her scantily-clad body covered in bruises.
No, she’s not a fighter.
She doesn’t care.
She’s about to be fucked by two men, used in ways I had escaped, had fought. Am still fighting, if I’m completely honest with myself. And she doesn’t care. I can’t decide if that’s a blessing. Or a curse.
I would have fought. I have fought. I would rather be dead.
Or perhaps she is ignorant of other ways. Perhaps she doesn't know that there are some places that are safe, that care. That would protect her.
They do protect us, right? Robau is doing this to protect us, to safe us, right? I used to be so sure. Now...I'm not sure of anything other than the fact that Gaila is dead.
And Commander Spock is missing.
And I want him back.
I'm not sure why.
The door slides closed and she’s gone. With Kirk. And Pike.
And with a dreadful tug on my heart, I must try to forget her, to not wish for her freedom.
I walk down this sidewalk again. Toward the whorehouse. The breeze rustles my pant legs, my large uniform top and I wish that I could make my uniform larger. I wish it would swallow me up. On campus, I am Benjamin Uhura, the xenolinguistics major who is accelerating to the top of his class and talks to no one. Off campus, I am a woman again. This is my secret. No, that was my secret. That was how I moved around the city. My uniform, ill-fitting as it is...this is how I move around the city, now.
I can’t afford to take the risk of dressing as a woman again.
It would break me, I think.
I’ve already contacted Robau; Today I am to meet with him, discuss my progress. I suppress the urge to snort. Progress. What progress? The closest connection I had within Starfleet has vanished. Some say he’s on leave. But that blood. So much of it.
No.
I think he’s dead.
I should feel relief with that possibility.
But I don’t.
Robau is not going to be happy. I know he’s not. He’ll be furious about another setback. Another hitch in his plans, whatever those plans truly are. I am going to be punished.
I know I am.
I’m terrified to go to this meeting. But I know of no way out of it. Not without risking his wrath.
I approach the Wall. I dread this long unending slab of concrete. I dread the bodies I’ll see hanging from it today. But I only see one body today. This is unusual. Since Commander Spock took control, there’s been a significant increase in fresh corpses. Corpses that are always removed before the stench becomes too much to stomach.
Today, one body.
Only one.
One body that becomes clearly the closer I come.
Emerald liquid stains his body, pouring from beneath the bag. Long slashes of green. Gashes. Bruises. All old. He was tortured. The smell, God, the smell. He’s been here for a while. I feel bile rising in my throat.
The white bag stained green was placed haphazardly on his head; it doesn’t completely encompass his head. Whoever strung him up didn’t care. Or was in a rush. Or both.
I see the outline of a pointed ear, slightly curved at the tip.
Vulcan.
I halt, my breath trapped in my lungs. I’m afraid. Afraid to get any closer, even though I know I must.
It can’t be him. It can’t be.
Another step. I slowly move to stand in front of the hanging body.
Like all the other ones previously, this one is nude as well. Clothes are for dignity. I’m surprised they allow women to wear them out in public, those few times you see them out. The Admiral never allowed me to wear clothes. They just got in his way. Some of the women at the whorehouse don’t wear them. Probably for the same reason.
And these bodies don’t wear them.
They belong to the very dregs of our twisted society; that’s what the Empire tells us anyway. They don’t deserve the dignity of clothing.
I look at him. The cuts are jagged. The gashes deep. The bruises angry. The shoulders are too broad. The stomach not as lean, not as muscular. The hips, too wide. The body does not belong to Commander Spock. I can tell that clearly, so attuned to his body as I have become.
It’s not the Commander.
I release a breath.
Of course, it’s not. The execution of a high ranking officer would have been public knowledge. There would have been a gathering. An assembly. A public execution.
Yes, they only reserve those for executions they deem worthy of such spectacle. And the Commander’s standing within Starfleet would have garnered such worth. And people would have attended, because they were forced to. People would have cheered. People would have cried, begged for his life. The executed are the heroes for the broken and beaten people.
No, this is not Spock.
It’s somebody though.
I just don’t know who.
The bouncer at the entrance of the whorehouse waves me in. He is familiar enough with my presence that he doesn’t question me. Doesn’t ask where I’ve been. He doesn’t have any idea what I’m doing when I’m here-he knows I’m not one of their girls; he knows because he has seen me as a woman and as a man-but he doesn’t question me. It’s not his job. Not his place. Robau convinced the pimp to allow us to conduct our meetings here-I still don’t know how he did that-and that’s all the bouncer needs.
“He’s already inside.” He steps aside, allowing me to enter.
I nod, suddenly nervous. There’s no telling how Robau will react to this latest development. With anger, I’m sure. I just don’t know if he’ll lash out at me. And that’s my biggest source of anxiety. What is he going to do to me when he finds out?
I step through the door and walk down the short foyer until I enter a large atrium. Wide and open, with a large bar dominating the middle, this place is already busy. Men populate the room, surrounded by the pimp’s numerous women. Several are in various stages of sexual intercourse-fucking; some of the women are moaning, some are crying. It’s enough to make me cringe. I hate this place. Abhor it.
I spot Robau almost immediately. A statue among a rolling sea of rutting, fucking bodies. He’s wearing another suit-he loves his suits-and leans casually, gracefully against the bar behind him. He nods toward me, his eyes narrow, and he motions for me to follow; he’s already secured the room.
I follow, weaving past the undulating, thrusting bodies, ignoring the moans, the whimpers, the grunts.
We enter the room and Robau immediately seats himself on a chair placed before the bed. He motions toward the lumpy mattress, inviting-ordering-me to sit. I secure the lock on the door and do so, placing my hands in my lap. I look at him. I’m nervous, uncomfortable. I’m not used to doing these updates with him. It’s usually Gaila. But I guess it won’t be her anymore. She’s dead. Spock killed her. I still want to know how she was arrested. Did Robau give her up?
Would he do that?
My heart races.
No, I shouldn’t allow myself to think of him like that. He’s not. He’s not them. He is kind, gentle. He is my savior. My knight in shining armor in a world so dark, so harsh. He wouldn’t. He’s above such travesty.
I’m sure Janice thought so.
Gaila, too.
He sits before me, silent, stony. His posture in the chair is impeccable. Back straight. Legs crossed. Hands folded neatly on his thighs. But he’s silent. What’s he waiting for?
He lifts his eyebrows.
I take the chance and speak first. “Commander Spock is gone.”
“Gone?”
I nod. “Yes, sir. He’s on personal leave.” That’s what they say anyway; that’s the official word given out by the admirals and captains when curiosity became too much, when students’ mutterings in the hallways became a nuisance. Maybe he’s not voluntarily on leave, though.
His eyes widen. “Personal leave? When the hell did this happen?”
I hesitate. He’s going to be mad at me. I took so long to notice. It will infuriate him. “F-five days ago. I found out five days ago.”
He jumps to his feet, towering over me. I flinch. “Five days?! And I’m just finding out about this now?”
I drop my eyes and say nothing.
He scoffs and backs away, pacing the room. I release a small breath of relief. If he’s across the room, I’m safer. If he decides to come after me, I have enough space to attempt to escape. I hope he doesn’t. I hope he doesn’t punish me. I watch him like a hawk, my eyes glued to his pacing form. He’s muttering to himself, his face growing red. He’s angry. I guess I can understand that. This is another kink in his plan. A plan that’s been going on four years with no progress. I’m horrible at this.
I've spent four years concerned about my own success in the Academy, having tasted freedom for the first time in years, that I haven't given much thought about Robau's plan, about the Resistance's goal. Just mine. I've been selfish. And now, I'm supposed to be close to something, I'm supposed to be giving Robau vital information. But all I can think about is my pending graduation and Spock's disappearance.
If only I could understand what it was he was wanting from me, what it was that he’s looking for when I go to Commander Spock. What am I suppose to be seeing? Doing?
I should ask him. I should tell him that I’m lost. That I’m floundering. But I fear that may be worse. That might infuriate him further. But I don’t know. I don’t know that it will.
But it might.
So I don’t ask.
“How do you not notice that the alien you’re fucking every night suddenly disappeared?” He twirls around to face me.
I wince, dropping my eyes. He’s furious. He’s never been furious with me before. “I-I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” He doesn’t believe me. Guess I can’t really blame him. I have no excuse. Because there is no excuse.
I take a breath. “He threw me out of his place the last time I saw him.” I just figured he needed time to cool off. I figured I’d be receiving a call from him soon to return to his apartment, to take my clothes off, to let him fuck me.
Robau’s face contorts, revealing the anger he no doubt was fighting to control. “He threw you out?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
He sighs. “Do you know where he went?”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know when he left. He doesn’t talk to me. He just fucks me and throws me out.” I don’t tell him about the nights he allows me to stay. It doesn’t matter if I do anyway. Commander Spock still doesn’t talk to me then, either. I don’t tell him that I fear the Commander dead. I don’t know what he’d do then. I don’t want to know. So I keep it to myself.
“I have been very forgiving, Nyota. You have been at that blasted Academy for nearly four years. You’ve been sleeping with one of the most respected officers there; the one, I might add, that’s heading the Special Forces, for nearly three months. And you still have nothing. No information. I am beginning to doubt your commitment to the mission, to me.”
I shake my head furiously. “I am committed. I am. And I’m not lying. I swear I’m not!” Yes, I am.
His anger is scaring me. He glares at me, face red, the vein in his forehead and neck pulsing angrily.
And I suddenly apologize. If I say it enough, maybe he won’t punish me. “I’m sorry, sir. I really am. I’m trying. But Commander Spock is untrusting. He’s Vulcan. They aren’t close to anyone.”
“Half-Vulcan,” Robau corrects. “And surely a woman of your abilities wouldn’t have any trouble getting the alien bastard to open up to you. Spread your legs wide enough. Pretend to enjoy it. Although, if I am to understand it correctly, there’s not a lot of pretending involved.”
I drop my gaze, ashamed. “How did they get Gaila?” I ask so quietly, my voice nearly a whisper. I don’t want to talk to him anymore. I want to talk to Gaila. She isn’t violent. She isn’t raging. She also isn’t here.
“Gaila? She got what she deserved.”
I gasp. “Did you turn her in?” Please, no.
He guffaws and stomps toward me. I shrink away from him, backing up on the tiny mattress. But he bends down and grabs me by my arms, lifting me to my feet. “Gaila is unimportant.”
I shake my head. “No.”
He shakes me. “Gaila is not the issue here. We are talking about your gross inability to do your job.”
Again, I shake my head. “I’m trying, sir. I swear I’m trying. But I don’t know -“
He interrupts me, tightening his grip on me. “No, you listen to me."
I try to pull away. I try to get him to let go of me. "You're hurting me."
He doesn't let go. He simply tightens his grip further, making me wince. “Perhaps that is something that I should have done a long time ago.”
My eyes widen. A long time ago? What is he saying? “Wha-“
“I have been kind to you, Nyota. I have been patient. I have been careful not to harm you.”
But he’s hurting me now. I try to pull away from him but to no avail. He’s not releasing me.
He continued. “Because I thought this was what you needed.”
I need him to let me go. I need to get away from him. I pull against him again, trying desperately to get away. But he won’t let me go.
Suddenly, he propels me into the nearest wall, slamming my back against it. I cry out, my heart pounding. I never thought he’d do this to me. I trusted him. He’s not supposed to be this way. One of his hands leaves my shoulder to caress my cheek. I flinch, jerking my face away from him.
His eyes narrow. “You would deny my touch and yet spread your legs for that fucking alien?”
That fucking alien. Such hateful words from someone who was supposed to want peace among throughout the Empire. Someone who made a place for an alien in his own bed. “Gaila is an alien.” No, Gaila was an alien.
“Gaila” - He spit her name like a curse - “was disposable.”
“What did you do to her?” The words slip from my lips again before I can stop them.
He smiles at me. It’s not a nice smile. When did that change happen? He has always had a nice smile. A kind smile. Why is he behaving this way? “We’ve already had this conversation, Nyota. Gaila is unimportant. You are my focus right now.”
What is he talking about? Why is he behaving this way? I’m nervous. Shaking. This is my shining knight in armor. He’s not supposed to be this way. Why is he acting this way?
He reaches up and tears the wig from me, forcing my long hair to tumble down my shoulders. He fists the wig and grabs my neck with the other, pressing me into the wall. He shoves the wig into my face. “I thought we agreed that this pathetic excuse of a disguise was only to be used on the Academy’s campus. That you were to dress as what you really are here?”
I don’t say anything, too terrified. This is Robau. The man who saved me from the streets. This is Robau. He’s not supposed to do this.
He stares at me for several moments. I feel uneasy under his gaze. I want to go away from here. I want to go back to my dorm. I want to return to Spock.
Spock.
Commander Spock who may be dead.
Would he save me? If he were here? Would he rush in to release me from this man’s grip? He did it once. Would he care, would he do it again?
Suddenly, without provocation, without warning, Robau throws the wig aside and kisses me and I freeze. I don’t move. I don’t breath. I don’t react when I feel him press his lips forcibly against mine, when I feel him shove his tongue into my mouth. I don’t know how to react. I don’t know what to do.
A hand weaves its way under the waistband of my pants and into my underwear, pressing against me.
It’s then that I finally react. I don’t want to let that happen to me again while I stand and do nothing. I will fight. Even if it is futile. I deliver a powerful kick between his legs. He cries out, tearing his lips from mine, falling against me and pressing me tighter into the wall. I reach up and shove him away. He stumbles backward and I run toward the door.
If I can get away, I can be safe. I can pretend it didn’t happen. I can pretend he’s not like the others. I can pretend.
But he reaches out and grabs my hair. I scream. He spins me around, throwing me off balance. And I slam my head against the edge of a dresser.
Then darkness.