Star Trek Fic: Emotional Compromise (1/2)

[trekkinthestars]

Title: Emotional Compromise
Author: Trekkinthestars
Fandom: Star Trek XI
Pairing: Always-a-girl Spock (/Kirk/McCoy)
Rating: NC-17
Warning: Descriptions of torture and rape. Don’t read if you have issues with either.
Summary: Spock is abducted by aliens, who try and use her to make Kirk give up command of the Enterprise. He refuses, and Spock pays the price.
Notes: Based on a mix of this prompt on st_xi_kink , and another prompt which wanted a woman crew member to be caught and attacked, and escape on her own. Also, totally unbeta’d.
Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with Star Trek, unfortunately.


Even covered in her own blood, Spock managed to look defiant. Her chin was raised and her eyes were hard even as she knelt, hands chained, at the feet of the enemy captain. Her wrists looked raw and a cut above her eye was dripping blood. She made no move to wipe it away.

From the look of the men surrounding the captain, she hadn’t gone down without a fight. One man was hugging his ribs, another dabbing at a cut on his face which was leaking white blood down his orange skin. The third, the one who was stood behind Spock, seemed the worse off, his eyes bruised and nose almost certainly broken.  That’s my girl, Kirk thought grimly, and then spoke.

“May I ask why you have a Starfleet officer, who also happens to be my first officer, as your prisoner?” He kept his voice cool, but could hear the edge of steel running through it.

The captain laughed, his red teeth flashing like blood. “This runt is your first officer?” he asked, almost merrily, and then turned to strike Spock across the face. Her head whipped back, hair cutting through the air, but she made no noise. Kirk forced himself not to react past one hand gripping his chair. He heard a gasp from behind him, from Uhura no doubt, and forced himself not to look away from the screen. When the captain pulled her gaze to meet his with a fist through her hair she just looked at him, silently, before spitting out a mouthful of blood.

“From the looks of your guards, I think you know that she’s no such thing,” Kirk said pointedly, and all the Telunions frowned at the reminder. The captain let go of Spock’s hair and took a step towards the monitor.

“She got lucky,” he said, almost threateningly, “but she won’t stay that way unless you give up your command codes and let us take your ship.”

“And if we don’t?” Kirk asked, trying not to let his hatred for the humanoid stood in front of him colour his words.

The captain laughed. “Then we’ll get them from her, and we won’t be gentle about it.”

Kirk opened his mouth to answer, but was beaten to it. “This plan is illogical and badly thought out,” Spock said loudly, although her voice was more raspy than usual. Someone gasped behind him again, and Kirk almost mirrored it. Shut up, shut up, his mind whispered.

“Not only does my life not balance out the lives of all of the crew on board the Enterprise, but if you do succeed in forcing any codes from me, of which there is only a one-point-seven-five chance, then they will have been changed by the time you attempt to use them. There is no deal to be made here.”

The captain frowned. “You would leave her here to die?” he asked, obviously aiming the question at Kirk, but he was again beaten by Spock.

“He is not leaving me to die,” she said, and then coughed, deeply. When she spoke again, her lips were stained with blood. “He is saving the rest of the ship.” Her eyes were boring into his. “He understands the regulations.” It was a warning, more than anything, to not do anything stupid, like, oh I don’t know, mount a rescue mission.

The captain kept looking at Kirk, and saw something in his face which made him grin. “He may understand them, miss first officer, but it looks like he may be willing to bend on them a bit, if we give him some incentive.” He turned a spoke to the guard with the broken nose. “Take her to questioning room one, and set it up to transmit.” He turned back to Kirk with another grin, cruel and sharp, which made the purple tattoos on his cheeks wrinkle. “You might want to watch this alone, captain,” he said, eyes flicking over the bridge crew, who were all sat frozen in their seats. “It will be too much for the children you call a crew.”

The screen blanked out then, with one last smile from the captain, and Kirk all but leapt from his chair, shouting orders as he made his way to the turbolift. “Chekov, I want you to do anything you can to get through those shields. Call up Scotty and have him working on it as well. Uhura, I want you to tell McCoy to meet me in conference room one, now, and when the next message from the Telunions comes through, put it through there. And get on the line to Starfleet and find out where the hell our backup is.”

“Sir,” they both snapped out and started to work as fast as he’d ever seen them, worry lining their faces.

“Sulu, you have the conn,” he said just as the lift doors closed, and he saw the man nod in acknowledgement before his view was cut off. Then he span and punched the wall, hard. “Goddammit,” he yelled as his fist hit, and he felt the pain bloom across his hand. “Fuck.”

He leant against the wall, injured hand cradled in his good one. It had been an ordinary mission. Safe and simple, just to collect spore samples, until the Telunions had appeared from no-where and grabbed Spock. One moment, she had been stood a few metres from him, the next there had been a flash of orange in his peripheral vision and three security officers were dead and she’d been snatched.

Probably because they thought she’d be a weak touch, Kirk thought to himself as he left the lift and moved towards the conference room, since she had been the only woman on the away team. The Telunions couldn’t have known she was half-Vulcan, and more than capable of defending herself.

And now they were demanding something that he couldn’t give, not even for Spock. She was right, as always. He’d already changed all her codes over, meaning nothing they forced from her would be worth anything, and he wouldn’t give up his entire ship just to save her. He couldn’t.

He shoved the door open and sat at the long, polished table, in front of the screen which would soon display his first officer again. Now there was nothing he could do but wait, and hope the crew came up with something, soon.

He started as McCoy stomped into the room, face set in a deep scowl. He took one look at Kirk and then rolled his eyes, and pulled out a dermal regenerator and a hypospray. He jabbed the spray into Kirk’s neck and then pulled his injured hand towards him, ignoring Kirk’s hiss at the movement.

“How did I know you’d do something damn stupid like this, Jim?” he asked, although his soft tone counteracted the harsh words.

“Because you probably did the same when you saw how she mouthed off to those pricks,” he said easily, head against the top of the chair.

“Of all the time for her damn fool logic,” McCoy muttered, and Kirk lifted his free hand to grip his wrist, thumb running softly over the skin there.

“She’ll be ok,” he said, trying to believe it himself. “She’s tougher than this.”

“She better hope so,” McCoy muttered as he ran the regenerator over Kirk’s skin one last time and then released it with a squeeze. “Or she’ll be dealing with me.”

Kirk couldn’t help a grin at that. “Scary,” he said, and McCoy cuffed him around the head before he pulled him close with one warm hand, so their foreheads were touching.

“Tell me we aren’t leaving her there,” he whispered against Kirk’s lips, and he nodded in reply.

“She’s coming home, Bones,” he said quietly, an oath into his lover’s mouth.

He felt McCoy nod against him and then sighed, worry building again in his gut. He liked to think that he’d be this caught up about any of his crew being kidnapped and held hostage, but he can’t lie to himself. Oh, he’d stop at nothing to get them back, work just as hard, but it would be without the sharp pain in his heart, in that Spock-shaped place meant for her alone. He knew Bones felt it too, saw it when his clever surgeon’s hands put her back together after a mission gone wrong. They loved each other, and they both loved her, but she didn’t know that. She was skittish and stubborn, and it had taken the entire eight months of the mission so far just to build their friendship. Now, they just had to hope she made it back so they could show her how much she meant to them.

Kirk’s communicator beeped, and he picked it up. “Kirk here.”

“The Telunions are sending another transmission, Sir,” Uhura advised him and Kirk nodded.

“Send it through,” he said quietly, and felt McCoy’s fingers wrap around his under the table as the picture began to appear.

Spock was chained to the wall, her arms high above her and her back to the screen. Her blue tunic was already cut and torn, stained green at the edges, and her head was slumped. It was obvious they hadn’t been gentle when moving her to the room.

“Ah, you made it,” the captain said jovially, and then gestured to where Spock hung. “Now you can watch and enjoy the consequences of following your regulations.”

One of the guards, the one whose nose was broken, stepped in from the side of the screen, a long whip unravelling from his hand as he walked towards Spock. She didn’t move as the first hit sliced across her back, splitting the fabric of her tunic as though it was made of paper. She didn’t react at all, except for the movement of her long fingers wrapping around the chains that held her.

Kirk and McCoy could do nothing but watch as she took hit after hit, as green blood beaded from the cuts which started to overlap on her back.

They weren’t even asking her any questions. Her speech had obviously gotten through to them - this was for Kirk’s benefit, using her to try and break him.  The captain was watching them, eyes glinting with cruel joy, and Kirk forced his face to give nothing away, even as the whip began to hit harder, as Spock could no longer keep in grunts of pain.

He raised an arm and the whipping stopped. “Have you changed your mind?” he asked Kirk, and he shook his head. He could tell that his face was pale, and the inside of his cheek was bleeding from where he’d been biting it to stop himself from crying out, the taste of blook on his tongue like an attempt at solidarity with Spock. “Of course not,” he grinned, and gestured again with his hand.

As they watched, the whipping stopped and Spock slumped down in the chains, her arms straining to hold her weight. That was when a new guard walked up to her, a heavy club in his hand. He ran one stumpy hand along her side, bumping over her ribs, before he lifted the club and swung. It hit her ribs full on, and Kirk knew he hadn’t imagined the crack of bones snapping. Spock inhaled sharply, which would have been a scream of pain in anyone else. Kirk scowled, nails digging to McCoy’s hand as though it could stop his heart from trying to beat out of his chest.

“This is pointless,” he managed to get out, miraculously steadily, and that brought the Telunion captain’s attention back to them. “I won’t tell you anything.”

“So she does mean so little to you,” he said, and moved closer to her, running one finger along the pale skin of her arm, pressing down on bruises and cuts. Spock didn’t shy away, not exactly, but Kirk could tell she didn’t want his touch. Didn’t want to feel whatever emotions he was pushing through her skin. The captain undid the chains and yanked Spock across the room. Her natural grace was gone, she could barely keep her legs under her, but he pulled her anyway until she fell against a simple bed, upper body pressed against the metal. He pulled on the chains, forcing her to climb onto it, and then hooked them onto the wall. He pulled her hair and made brought his face close to his. He whispered something Kirk couldn’t hear, and Spock moved, slowly, so she was lying on her back, fresh wounds touching the table.

“Bastards,” McCoy muttered, and Kirk nodded, a burning rage filling his stomach. Why were they even watching this? Why weren’t they shooting their ship to hell? Oh right, because their weapons at least matched if not outgunned the Enterprise, and it was a miracle that they hadn’t already just said to hell with it and attacked. It was a hideous thought, but Spock’s torture was a safer course of action. It was giving the crew time to try and figure out how they were going to get out of this.

“Since you care so little about the pain being caused to your little officer, I think I’ll leave her in the capable hands of my most trusted crew.” The captain lent in close, and Kirk had never wanted to kill someone more. “I’m sure it will be worth it. Maybe she’ll even enjoy it.” With a final sharp smile he was gone, leaving two crew members alone with Spock. They looked gleeful, and one stepped forward so he was at the end of the bed, his gaze hungry and feral.

“I’m first,” he said, voice a growl, and the second man nodded, then moved to lean on the wall, covering part of the camera. There was the sound of fabric ripping, and then Spock’s eyes flitted down to the edge of the bed, alarmed, before she shut them tightly, let her head fall to one side. There was a scuffling noise, heavy breathing, and alarm started to coil in Kirk’s gut, only increasing as the guard they couldn’t see moaned deeply.

“Jim,” McCoy whispered, broken, and Kirk nodded, tightening his grip on the hand wrapped around his.

“I know.” He didn’t look away even as Spock’s closed eyes creased further shut, and the guard they couldn’t see groaned deeply, or when the sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the room. He kept his gaze on Spock’s face, wishing this wasn’t happening, trying to send her strength through the distance between them.

Although the second guard stayed partly in front of the camera, it was little comfort, as they could still see Spock’s upper body moving up and down the bed in a regular rhythm as she was thrust into. Her hands were claws, gripping at the air, and she was biting her lip. As Kirk watched, a tear escaped from behind her closed eyelid and she whimpered as a particularly hard thrust drove her hard up the table.

“That’s right,” the guard watching said, and then there was a rustle of fabric. “Make her feel it.”

Spock’s lip split beneath her white teeth, green dripping her chin as the movements started to increase in speed, her face twisted in pain, but she refused to speak, to make any noise. The guard assaulting her let off a loud moan and Spock’s eyes closed, and Kirk bit down on his lip at the broken look on her face. He must have pulled out then as they heard the sound of clothing being put back together, and then the first guard was stood next to the second.

“Enjoy her,” he grinned, and licked a splash of green blood from his thumb. “She’s delicious.”

The second guard didn’t reply; the eager look on his face said more than words could have.

When the first guard left the room, the second one moved to stand in his place, exposing Spock again. Her leggings had been ripped from her body and hung from one ankle. Her legs were hanging off the table, limply, and green blood dripped down slowly from between her legs into a growing puddle on the floor. Kirk had to force himself not to punch the screen or look away, teeth clenched and nails digging into McCoy’s hand. Bones was gripping him back twice as hard.

Spock looked up as the second guard took hold of her legs and tried to force her to wrap them around his waist. She refused to keep them there, letting them fall, and with a growl the guard moved them so they were hooked over his shoulders. He lined himself up and then looked into Spock’s dark eyes. “I’m going to enjoy taking you, over and over,” he said viciously and his hips moved forwards. It was the last thing he ever said.

Kirk flinched as a crack echoed around the room and the guard slumped suddenly, falling on top of Spock’s body. She didn’t react other than to straighten her legs and then move her hands so they were overlapping. A quieter crack rang around the room and Kirk watched as Spock yanked her left hand through the manacle which had been holding it. It left a long, bloody gash in her skin, but it freed her, and as they watched she freed her second hand and then pushed the guard from her body onto the floor.

“She broke his neck,” McCoy said, wonderingly, and Kirk turned to look at him. His face has gained back some of the colour lost as they’d watched the pain inflicted on Spock.

Spock was sitting up now, and they watched as she sat, head bent and hands clenched, for a long moment. Kirk had seen her do that before, many times; she was pulling her control back around her, finding her centre where pain and emotion had no place. He had seen her walk with injuries which should have had her unconscious thanks to that control, and he breathed a sigh of relief that the Telunions hadn’t managed to break it. Then she sat up, and started to move. She pulled up her leggings and then stepped, gingerly, to the body of the guard. She pulled the phaser from his belt and then moved towards the camera.

Up close she looked even worse. The cut above her eye had stopped bleeding, but now they could see the bruising around it. Her lip was split, and she had a bruise blooming across her cheekbone, which had caused the bottom of her left eye to swell slightly. “Captain,” she said quietly. “I will make my way to the bridge of the ship, where I will hopefully gain control. I would appreciate your help with this venture.” She glanced to her left, off camera, and then looked at them again. “I am on floor six, port side, and will be heading through the centre of the ship to reach the bridge. Please advise Ensign Chekov of this fact so that he does not destroy my route.” Her eyes were dark, but not empty. Kirk looked from her to the green-stained walls of the room. Yeah, he thought. Firing on their ship as a distraction sounded like a fucking great idea.

“I will contact you when I have reached the bridge,” she said quietly and then reached up her hand in the traditional Vulcan farewell. Kirk reached out to touch her fingers on the screen, but before he could reach her, she had gone.

Kirk looked over at McCoy, saw the tears in his eyes and nodded determinedly. “Get sickbay ready to receive her,” he said as he stood, intent on getting to the bridge as soon as possible.

“You think she’ll make it out?” McCoy said, his tone as hopeful as the words were doubting.

Kirk looked at him with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Last time she was angry she wiped the floor with three Klingons, whilst telling me how to hack into their computer mainframe. I think it’s been proven more than once that with the right motivation she can do pretty much anything.”

They separated in front of the turbolift, with a brush of their hands against each other, and then Kirk put his captain face back on as he approached the bridge.

“Report,” he snapped out as soon as he was on the bridge, and Uhura spoke first.

“Starfleet don’t have any ships which will get here sooner than two days,” she informed him. “Their orders are to handle this as diplomatically as possible, but if it comes to it then shoot to destroy.”

The unspoken even if Spock is still on board hung between them, but he just nodded. “Very well.” He turned to Chekov. “Ensign. I want you to fire on their ship. Don’t aim to destroy, aim to disrupt. I want them fully distracted but not in danger of breaking apart.”

“Sir?” he asked, and Kirk felt everyone on the bridge look at him, curious, probably desperate to know what he had seen that had created this order.

“Try not to aim for the port side on floor 6, or the centre of the ship,” he continued, not looking at anyone but the Russian, “since that’s the path Commander Spock will be taking to the bridge.”

“Yes, sir!” Chekov said eagerly, and started to charge the weapons, fingers flying over his console.

Kirk turned to Sulu. “Be ready to dodge any return fire. Keep us moving, use any manoeuvres you can which entail that they’re being hit, but we aren’t.”

Sulu nodded with a brisk, “Sir,” and turned his attention back to his work.

Kirk sat in his chair, jaw tense and gaze locked on the ship which filled the viewscreen. As he watched, Chekov started his attack and Sulu started to move them, and Kirk watched as they worked in perfect harmony to fire and dodge.

“The Telunion’s are hailing us, captain.”

“On screen,” he replied, and smiled grimly as the enemy captain’s visage appeared, an incredulous look on his flushed face.

“Why are you attacking my vessel?” he asked, lowly. “This action will not do your precious first officer any good.”

“I don’t think you could do anything worse to her,” Kirk growled, and indicated to Chekov that he should keep firing.

The captain on the screen grabbed his console as the bridge shook, and then looked at Kirk with fire burning in his eyes. “She will pay for this,” he said, voice almost a growl.

Kirk opened his mouth to silence his threats when his attention was grabbed by a Telunion flying across the screen behind the captain, bleeding from the head. He hit a console heavily, and didn’t get up. Another crew member ran behind the captain, obviously to deal with the incoming threat, and was met half-way by Spock. She dodged a punch and then jabbed him in the throat, punched him in the jaw, and pinched his neck. He fell like a sack of rocks and Spock moved swiftly so she was stood alongside the captain, who hadn’t even fully turned around to face the intrusion, her hand steady as she held a phaser to his forehead.

“Seal the bridge,” she said, voice even. Her face was passive, splattered with white and green blood. Her left arm was hanging at her side, a large cut near her shoulder staining her arm green up to the elbow, the thumb she had dislocated to escape her cuffs swollen and raw. From the frozen way the rest of the bridge was looking at the screen, various expressions of sadness and anger on their faces, each member of his crew would be happy to rip apart the Telunions by hand.

The Telunion captain said nothing, and she repeated her order. “Seal the bridge, or I will shoot you and do it myself. There will be no third request.”

“Vulcan’s are pacifists,” the captain scoffed, but Kirk could see the hint of fear in his eyes.

Spock turned the phaser up to kill. “I am half human,” she said quietly as she jabbed him in the forehead. “As such, when emotionally compromised I can act with violence.” She jabbed him again, harder. “I do not think it would be wise to test my beliefs at this juncture.”

“The last time she was compromised, she pretty much choked me to death,” Kirk drawled, and saw the captain pale even further, and then nod.

“Ok, ok, I’ll seal it,” he said, and then proceeded to do so.

Spock nodded and then punched him in the face. They all heard his nose snap, watched his head fling backwards, and then she was moving again. Kirk opened his mouth to stop her from doing something rash, but stopped as she dropped the phaser and performed a nerve pinch on him and shoved him from the captain’s chair.

Her hands flew over the controls and they watched as the ship suddenly stopped. System after system was being shut down, weapons, communications, engines, until it was dead in the water. She looked up at them again. “The ship is in lockdown, Captain. I recommend at least two security teams to handle the crew, who can be beamed up once I have dropped the shields. I am also sending over all the information from their computer, including command codes, so we should have no problem retaining control.”

“Incoming data confirmed,” Uhura said. “Transferring to main computer.”

Something beeped on Chekov’s station, and he looked up at Kirk, wide eyed and excited. “Shields have been dropped, Keptin.”

“Scotty,” he yelled into his communicator as he stood. “Lock on Spock and beam her up now.”

“Aye, Sir,” came the enthusiastic reply, and as Kirk watched she faded from the viewscreen in a flash of golden light.

“McCoy, get to transporter room one, now. Security, I want at least a two team detail to the transporter rooms as soon as possible, ready to receive prisoners from the enemy ship.” He received confirmation of both orders and then turned to Sulu and Chekov. “You two, scan that ship. I want to know how many Telunions are on it, and then I want you to organise their transfer over here with security, so we can get them all locked in the brig as soon as possible.”

“Sir,” they nodded.

“You have the conn, Sulu,” he said as he walked towards the lift. “Make sure they captain is one of the first prisoners sent over. I’ll be handling his interrogation myself.” He just heard the confirmation as the doors shut.

When he reached the transporter room, it was to find Spock lay on a biobed heading to Sickbay. “Is she alright?” he asked McCoy, who frowned and shook his head.

“She fainted as soon as she realised she was really back, Scotty says,” he replied as they made their way quickly along the corridors. “And no wonder. Broken ribs, phaser burn, so many lacerations she looks like a damn Zebra, and a nice handful of internal injuries, left arm all but useless. It’s a miracle she managed to walk out of that room at all, let alone fight her way to the bridge.”

“Look after her, Bones,” Kirk said as the beam up of the prisoners started to be planned through his communicator. “I’ll come and check on her as soon as the crew and their captain are all safely contained.”

Onto Part 2