HAVEN

Kirk was silent as the carriage sped on its way. The vulcanoid driver was curious about them so it was essential that he and Spock continue to play their parts until alone. Leaning his face against Spock's knee, he closed his eyes safe in the knowledge that he would soon be away from the stronghold and Zuma's power. It did not matter where they were going so long as it was away from M'Ran; as long as he was with his bond-brother. Lulled by the smooth movement of the rig, he slipped into a doze only to start with surprise as it came to a sudden halt. Spock was shaking him. He stared up at his friend in confusion.

"Jim, we have arrived at the inn," Spock murmured.

He scrambled to his feet, swayed precariously but a strong hand grasped his elbow and helped him out of the vehicle. Shivering now with only the ragged tunic for protection against the chill night air, Kirk waited as Spock paid the driver. A humming in his ears warned of the now all-too-familiar experience of passing out, and he only stayed conscious because of Spock's touch now leading him into a small two storey building. He stubbornly hung onto the reality of that grip as he negotiated the stairs within, trying to force his numbed legs to move. Although aware of being watched, he could not clearly identify the faces. Spock's gentle voice encouraged him as his body trembled with reaction, but he bore the discomfort gladly, knowing he would soon be alone with Spock; soon he would truly be safe and at peace.

Soon. The word silently reverberated in his mind.

He was released. As the pain from his many injuries stabbed at him again, he staggered and almost fell. With grim determination he stood, wordlessly watching as Spock bolted the door behind them, and waited for the moment they would truly be alone with one another. How he had yearned for that moment.

This very moment, his mind whispered.

Spock turned to him, his expression filled with anxiety and a concern that shattered any remnants of stubborn resistance left in Kirk's indomitable character; that very trait which had allowed him to defy the tyrant, Zuma.

"Spock." Total weakness engulfed him. "Spock." He swayed as the sheer relief and joy hit him in one overwhelming wave. Strong hands caught him. "Spock," he sobbed, allowing himself to succumb at last to his emotions, falling into his friend's arms and holding him tightly. He was enclosed in a Vulcan embrace, security enveloping him like a warm blanket, causing his heart to sing with joy and his spirit to soar. He wept quietly with utter happiness.

"Jim, we are safe here," Spock whispered, in a hoarse voice. "Come you will bathe. I will tend to your injuries then you will rest and sleep."

Kirk could neither think nor speak. He hung onto Spock, physically unable to stand unsupported now, his legs shaking beyond his capacity to control. All his exhausted mind knew was that he did not have to fight any more, and for the first time since his capture it was all right to relax. Spock was here with him; the one person in the galaxy he could permit himself to lean on.

Like a child he was lifted and carried into the small, adjoining bathroom and gently placed down upon a fleecy rug. He sat there watching as Spock filled the tub with steaming hot water drawn from an unusually-shaped faucet. It looked like some legendary dragon to Kirk's exhausted eyes and he smiled at the thought, content to be exactly where he was. The sense of peace filtering through him was a sensation not experienced for far too long. The scent of the aromatic herbs Spock sprinkled into the water reminded him of summer days spent planting his mother's garden, and he only partially understood the Vulcan's words about their medicinal properties.

Spock interrupted the daydreams, insisting Kirk attend to bodily functions before allowing him into the bath. Wearily and reluctantly, Kirk obeyed for the scented water called to him with the promise of release of tension and aching limbs. Bemused, he allowed Spock to assist him in cleaning his teeth then help him into the tub where he slowly sank into the gently lapping caress of the soothing water. Spock permitted him to soak for a time, whilst running the scanner over his bruised and wounded body, not saying a word but silently ascertaining his medical condition. Kirk watched for a few moments then closed his eyes, comforted by the familiar sound of Starfleet technology, the heat surrounding his body, and most of all by the presence of his closest friend.

The gentle healer's touch of his t'hy'la brought further relief. It penetrated his skin to ease the many injuries he had received and he welcomed it, smiling a little, as a memory of his mother bathing him as a child returned to him. Spock's touch was as gentle as hers had been; amazing from one whose strength far exceeded his own. How incongruous it was to be washed, rinsed clean from top to toe, lifted from the tub, wrapped in a large towel, and carefully rubbed dry by one who normally avoided physical contact.

"You're pampering me," he murmured contentedly.

"You need to be pampered, Jim," Spock replied, lifting his friend once again.

"I can walk," Jim said, but his protest was half-hearted. His legs would not hold his weight and he knew it.

"You will not attempt it. Permit me to care for you," Spock insisted.

Well, I've given Spock permission to do anything necessary to help me, Kirk reflected. I must abide by that.

This was not the time for stubborn male pride; it did not matter if Spock witnessed his total helplessness but his Vulcan friend was the only one he would ever allow that dubious honour, and Spock would permit only him to see his own vulnerability. This inner acceptance and knowledge of one another was part of the profound and honest friendship they shared; it was a trust which both treasured beyond all else.

He was carried into the bedroom and placed onto the downy comfort of the large bed. Spock sat beside him, opened the med.-kit and prepared a hypo. The angular features were pale, the skin drawn tightly over the high cheekbones. Kirk could easily read the signs showing the worry his friend had endured. He caught at one hand, holding it tightly between his own.

"I owe you more than my life this time."

"I only wish I had arrived sooner." Spock returned the pressure gently.

"It doesn't matter. You're here now."

Spock studied him with concern. "Jim, I am not a doctor. I can only give you a drug for the pain and bruising, and an antibiotic to cover any infection. That is the sum of my knowledge on these matters. Your internal injuries are severe. You need expert medical attention but I do not know when the ship will return, and I will not take any further risks with your health. There is only one possible option open to me. It is very difficult but you must allow me to attempt it."

"A healing meld," Kirk stated.

"More than a healing meld, Jim. It requires a trust more profound than any you have ever shown. It demands a giving which may be impossible for you. There is a danger of losing your identity within me if I err or am not skilled enough to keep a division between us. Even for trained healers this is not to be taken lightly. It requires an intimacy of self such as you have never before experienced.

"Nor you," Jim added with a slight smile.

"Indeed," Spock replied honestly. He placed the hypo down and slid from the bed to kneel upon the floor. "But I will heal thee, my t'hy'la. I would pay any price to achieve that. See, I will beg thee most humbly for thy permission."

Kirk's eyes sparkled with tears. "Does the master plead with the slave?" he murmured, deeply affected by his friend's words and actions.

Spock shook his head. "Thy t'hy'la pleads with thee as is his right."

Kirk's smile widened. "Then I grant thee permission, my t'hy'la. I await thy healing touch." Somehow the formal Vulcan mode of speech seemed correct; the only way to deal with this emotionally charged situation.

Dark eyes lit up with joy. "I thank thee."

Kirk watched the gleaming, black hair with growing contentment as Spock bowed until his forehead almost touched the bed. A sense of well-being flooded through him. "Drugs will be unnecessary, Spock."

"As you wish," Spock replied, looking up into trusting hazel eyes. "The meld will be difficult, Jim. It employs a physical and mental contact of great intensity. I must channel the power through my hands into your mind and body. You must be completely receptive and totally passive. If there is any resistance the healing will be dangerous for both of us. Do you understand? You must allow me complete control."

"I will allow it," Kirk replied without hesitation. "I place myself in your hands. Please proceed." He tightened his grip on the fingers able to wield such miraculous power.

A smile lit up Kirk's gaunt, worn face, causing a sting of tears behind Spock's taut eyelids on seeing this glimpse of the man his friend had been only nine days earlier. Resolving to restore that dynamic, confident person, Spock returned the smile in a spontaneous surge of affection for this man who had suffered so much humiliation. He pressed Jim's hands, sending relaxation to the pained psyche, bringing happiness which showed in the depths of those expressive, hazel eyes. Spock swallowed hard, deeply moved by that trust which was given to him alone.

Gently unclasping his hand from Kirk's, he reached out to initiate the mind-link. Carefully, he established enough control to slowly ease his fingers away one by one. The med.-scanner readings had confirmed what his own senses had already told him; the injuries were deep-seated and severe. He would have to attempt to heal as never before.

During previous times it had been spontaneously induced by the powerful bond they shared. Spock was not a trained healer despite having inherited the Gift from Sarek's family. He had never studied the medical arts beyond the basic level needed for his own self-healing, but now he must concentrate on focussing his natural powers on the task of curing his t'hy'la whilst keeping his own mental shields from being destroyed. It was a hazard in this type of deep-healing, even for those skilled in the technique.

It was the ancient way of his people, successfully used before the advent of modern medicine, rarely applied now because of the lowering of personal barriers involved. The price paid by the healer in emotional pain was severely debilitating, but on occasion there was no choice. Like now. Spock would willingly suffer any agony if Jim could be even partially helped.

He placed his hands on the human's upper body, tracing a line along the skin, sensing the injuries underneath with telepathy attuned to Jim's special aura. On finding each one, he sent a tendril of healing power into it, initiating the cure. The task was long and painstaking as he covered the surface of his friend's body but he did not flinch from it. Breathing evenly, he concentrated on directing the power through his fingertips into the passive form. Never had he used the Gift in this way nor known such satisfaction as every damaged cell responded to his touch; never had he felt such emotion reaching into him from another as Jim's gratitude and affection were absorbed by his mind. Jim's trust in him was absolute, frightening in its intensity.

Time passed. Exhaustion hammered at him but he forced himself to ignore it for he would never cease until Jim TiTwas as fully healed as possible. Nothing mattered more to him that his t'hy'la's wellbeing. With that knowledge at the forefront of his thoughts, he reapplied himself with increased vigour to the ancient force of the Vulcan heritage within him.

Kirk floated on air. In the wake of Spock's touch, a glowing warmth spread throughout his body to drown out all the pain. He drifted in a semi-conscious state, yet was always aware of the telepathic presence within him. His contentment became complete; his need to be with Spock satisfied as a part of his t'hy'la's being rooted inside his mind in a closeness which surpassed any he had ever experienced. He trembled as the healing power advanced through him in rippling waves to reach the deepest hurts of mind and body. He groaned as the intense forces battled the persistent remnants of Zuma's tortures. Then suddenly, the sensations warring within him threatened to overwhelm him completely. He could not bear them. Stop! he pleaded. It was out of control; he had to find himself. Panic flared. Stop! He had to regain control!

Jim. An urgent inner voice stopped him.

He relaxed, acknowledged the warning and forced his own compliance. There must be no resistance, only complete passivity; it was imperative he accepted all that was happening. Remembering his trust in his alien-brother it was not difficult to settle down again.

After a while, the sensations slowly filtered away leaving a great calm in him, body and soul. No pain or aches, no despair or unhappiness; all were gone leaving only a profound sense of satisfaction in his awareness of the Vulcan's reassuring presence.

He opened his eyes. "Spock," he murmured, slowly turning onto his side. He reached out to clasp his friend's shoulder and met dark, exhausted eyes. "What did you do to me?"

Spock lowered his gaze in an attempt to hide his tiredness from the other's keen look. "It was the deep-healing meld of ages past. The P'Tal Zaan T'hy'la - the healing of warrior-brothers.

Kirk's interest was caught. "You must tell me more about this but first you will rest. You're exhausted. You can't hide that from me, Spock." His eyes felt increasingly heavy. He could scarcely keep them open now. With a sigh of resignation, he lay against the plump pillows unable to fight the lethargy which assailed him. "You must rest and sleep, you... " His head fell back and there was silence.

Spock fought his own weariness. Healing drained both healer and patient but the intensity of the P'Tal Zaan T'hy'la had caused a fatigue deeper than any Spock had ever known. With the remnants of his strength, he touched his captain's forehead to ascertain that the sleep was peaceful and sound. Satisfying himself that no nightmares or pain troubled his friend, he breathed a sigh of relief. The meld had worked. How well? Only time would tell for that and the repercussions in their relationship.

As unconsciousness threatened to overwhelm him, Spock struggled to reach the chair but found his limbs would not obey him. Once again he attempted to enforce his will upon his suddenly heavy legs but failed. Giving into his body's demands, he lay down upon the floor and slid into a deep, dreamless sleep.

CAPTAIN

Kirk stretched out, exhilaration sweeping him as his muscles tautened then relaxed in a languorous drowsiness and freedom from pain. Daylight filtered through the half-shuttered windows; bird-song penetrated the quiet room with sweet melodies and this world suddenly seemed a more pleasant place.

He opened his eyes. "Spock," he murmured, wanting his friend to share in the peaceful moment. There was no reply. He quickly sat up, searching the room with his eyes but there was no sign of his friend. He slipped from the bed and almost fell over the prone Vulcan. "Spock!" he exclaimed worriedly, kneeling down to turn the other over, sighing with relief on seeing the rise and fall of the living form's chest under his hands. For a moment he had succumbed to the irrational fear that Spock had not been breathing.

The Vulcan's eyes slowly opened and regarded him.

"What the hell are you doing sleeping on the floor?" Kirk demanded, through his profound thanksgiving to whatever deity or guardian angel watched over them.

Spock's eyes widened. "I do not know, Captain!"

"The bed is for sleeping on, not the floor."

"Indeed, Captain, but you were sleeping on the bed."

"It wouldn't have mattered if you'd slept there too, Spock. There's plenty of space for two," Kirk replied not without certain amusement.

"It did not seem proper, Captain," Spock commented.

Kirk burst into laughter. It renewed him, body and soul, with a feeling of lightheartedness he had not experienced for too long a time. He half-lifted the fatigued Vulcan onto the bed and covered him with a sheet, then sat down beside him. "After what you did to me!" he exclaimed, still chuckling. "Surely sharing a bed is nowhere near as intimate as whatever we did share during the healing-meld, my bashful friend?" He shook his head in confusion. "Does that make sense?"

"I am unsure, Captain, but please believe that I did not intend to sleep on the floor." An eyebrow rose in the familiar way. "Fascinating. I was attempting to reach the chair but remember nothing further."

Suddenly Kirk understood. "You collapsed with exhaustion. Damn it, Spock. Don't you ever think of yourself? You've spent yourself in healing me. Lie down and rest; that's an order."

"Jim," Spock protested.

"Do as I tell you. Sleep."

"Captain, I do not need sleep at this time."

"Spock... " Kirk warned, pointing a finger at him.

"Captain, it is not necessary for me to sleep," Spock insisted.

Kirk knew when to concede to Spock's wishes in such matters. "Okay, rest then." He prowled the room like a caged animal, eyeing the luxurious trappings with distaste. "Do you have any clothes that will fit me?"

"There are some in the travel-bag." Spock watched his captain's easy, athletic movements, hardly able to believe how well the Healing had restored him. "It is possible that they will be somewhat large for you now but... "

Kirk grimaced, reached over and rummaged in the large, animal-hide bag, lifting out silky tunics, leggings and undergarments. "Don't they ever wear anything other than this stuff?" he asked disapprovingly. He held up a gauzy garment, looking through its transparency at Spock.

"It is a hedonistic society, Captain, and... I had to pick clothes suitable for a slave."

"Well, I'm sick of going around half-naked, being ogled by everyone."

"I can assure you Captain that I will not ogle you."

Kirk grinned widely. "You - I don't mind. Hell, you've been deep inside my cells, my mind, the very core of my being; places no-one else will ever go. I've got nothing to hide from you."

Spock raised his eyebrows but made no comment. He was pleased though for if Jim was finding his sense of humour again, able to joke a little about his ordeal, then it was a welcome sign of returning normality. He lowered his eyes to give his friend privacy to dress, and a short time later looked up to see him wearing tight-fitting, black leggings, and a sparkling, gold tunic held together over the chest by chain-work lacing. Spock almost smiled at the choice of clothing.

"I like these colours," Kirk said, flashing him a brilliant smile.

"I thought you would, Captain," Spock said. They had been deliberately picked. Spock had reasoned that the familiar colours, in a style as close to a uniform as the fashions of this culture would permit, would be an excellent way of boosting his captain's morale.

Kirk laughed infectiously, and Spock was happy to see him so confident and alert again. The Healing had worked beyond his widest expectations.

"You know me too well." Kirk stood straight and proud as he looked at himself in the mirror. "I'm hungry. Is there any food here?"

It was another excellent sign. The return of a normal, healthy appetite.

"There is fruit on the table." Spock indicated the small item of furniture, in the corner of the room, which held a bowl filled with colourful alien fruits and a decanter of water.

Kirk brought the food and drink over; perched cross-legged at the bottom of the bed, and began to eat. After almost devouring a juicy apple-like fruit, he suddenly remembered his friend and, with a guilty smile, offered him the bowl.

Spock accepted a bunch of purple berries and ate silently, waiting for his captain's hunger to be appeased, knowing it would be easier to discuss their future plans then.

"Tell me everything that's happened to you since my capture," Kirk said, after he had taken a long drink of water.

He sat in silence as Spock briefed him, then commented, "There's nothing we can do but continue to keep checking in the hope that the Enterprise returns soon. Until then we must make survival plans. I don't trust Zuma. He is obsessed by me, and might attempt to kidnap me. We must leave."

"I agree, Captain. He is the most powerful lord on this continent. His reach is long, he has an army at his command and his spies are everywhere. It will not be easy to leave his domain unobserved."

"I know, Spock." Kirk sighed resignedly. "Well if we have to play master and slave for a few more days, it'll be no problem."

Spock raised a sceptical eyebrow which caused Kirk to grin with embarrassment. It would not be that easy for a man like his captain to act such a part, but he would do it to protect Spock's life and his own. As for himself, Spock knew it would be extremely difficult to treat his friend in the manner these vulcanoids did with their slaves, but he too would accept it. With the luck so venerated by humans, perhaps they would be able to go into hiding until the ship returned and avoid as many awkward situations as possible.

"Very well, Captain," he replied.

"I know you found it disquieting when I kissed your hands and especially when I kissed your foot but slaves are expected to behave in a servile fashion." A look of satisfaction crossed the mobile features. "It really burned the bastard up didn't it?"

"You wished to retaliate for all he forced you to suffer," Spock acknowledged, "but there was danger in that."

"I know but the danger was there anyway. Why shouldn't I pay him back?" Bitterness had replaced the earlier mood. "He deserved it and more. Oh god, Spock, how I want to kill him. He doesn't deserve to live.

The distress and anger radiating from Jim were evidence of his still-shaky peace of mind. The healing meld had eased the worst of the trauma, however only time, support, and the compassion and knowledge of McCoy would be able to deal with the rest. The Enterprise - and the Doctor - were far away, and Jim needed constant help to deal with his sufferings here and now. Spock knew he was the only one who could provide the emotional support needed, but how was he - a Vulcan - to supply human compassion? Fool! Coward! he berated himself. He was linked to this human in a manner even more profound than before. It was impossible to withhold any support necessary. It was his duty, his privilege to serve his bond-brother, to ensure Jim's comfort and happiness.

"I believe that I understand, Jim. I too feel great anger against Zuma. If it were possible, I would execute him for daring to abuse you."

Hazel eyes filled and overflowed. Kirk wiped the moisture from his face. "No, Spock. I wouldn't want you to take such a revenge. Barbaric human that I am, even I'd probably stop short of killing him, but I would love to pay him back somehow."

"Indeed, Jim. There was a moment last night when he displayed jealousy. It occurred when you stayed against me, even when I had ceased to hold you. I admit to deliberately showing him that you were my possession in order to cause him grief. Most un-Vulcan behaviour but effective."

Kirk chuckled softly. "Just don't start believing I am your possession, Spock."

"Really, Captain!" Spock exclaimed, eyebrow rising indignantly. "However Zuma's behaviour is highly illogical."

"No, Spock, not to me. He is a tyrant; unloved, feared and hated. He takes all, for he has no wife, lover or friend. Power is his only companion, and it has corrupted him totally. His jealousy of all who know love is widely known. He separates any who dare to show happiness with one another. If he suspects the depth of the friendship between us... "

"Then we will be doubly careful," Spock replied, as Kirk grew still and apprehensive. "I must brief you on what I have learned. I have ascertained that these people call themselves the SaSharim. It is logical to assume that they are descended from those who left Vulcan, during the time of Surak, on the ship Sas-a-Shar. The records at the Vulcan Science Academy list the names of every vessel which departed, along with crew and passengers. The Sas-a-Shar carried members of a warrior clan from the desert you know as Vulcan's Forge. Their leader was named Szuma. They were warlike; their telepathy weak. However it is possible that some may have had the ability. If their descendants have learned the proper application of even a minor Gift, they will make formidable enemies."

"Telepathy unchecked by Vulcan codes of discipline. Frightening!" Kirk said. "It's still so difficult to accept that these barbarians come from even a warrior clan, Spock."

"Indeed, Jim. True slavery is unknown in Vulcan history. I have been unable to discover why it has been adopted here. The clan codes of honour normally would never have permitted it. Bondservants were considered 'the property' of the leader but they had rights and only worked for a specified time to pay off their debts. They were not abused."

Kirk shrugged. "Well, maybe here it's been distorted into the slavery we've seen. Consider this, Spock. A planet of primitive people is faced with a ship that comes from the sky. It would be too easy to consider its occupants as gods. Maybe the Vulcans became too used to being worshipped and began to like it. With that extra muscle and technological skill, it would have been simple to control the natives."

Spock was silent. Kirk's speculation was only too believable.

A little while later, after a constructive discussion on their immediate future, they decided to travel back to Firanol and beyond. The forest was deep and covered a vast area. It would be possible to hide there, until the ship returned, safe from the reach of Zuma and the slave-traders. Both men agreed that it was too risky to live openly in this alien society. If either of them dropped their guard it would be only too likely for them to be revealed as impostors. Their fate at Zuma's hands would not be a pleasant one.

As they prepared to leave, Spock forced the heightened link between him and his t'hy'la into the background. He could sense too many of the human's moods and, worse still, some of his thoughts. He used supreme control to ignore the background hum of the other at the edge of his mind. The damage done to his barriers during the meld needed attention but would have to be dealt with later when there was time. Spock knew it could not be dismissed for long, and hoped that Jim would not become aware of the difficulty he faced. The strain on him was immense but a price he was willing to pay, not to further distress his friend. Jim had suffered physical abuse. Spock would never permit him to have the privacy of his mind invaded.

BLUFF

The knock on the door was urgent. Kirk nodded to the Vulcan who, after drawing a deep breath, asked for the identity of the visitor.

The voice of Sendel's cousin, the innkeeper, was raw with panic. "Lord Zuma awaits below. He wishes to speak with you, sir."

Kirk's shoulders tensed with fear, he slumped but quickly regained control. He was not about to allow himself to be unnerved. "You must receive him, Spock," he murmured.

Spock stared at him with concern. "Very well but you must stay out of sight."

Kirk shook his head. "He'll expect to see me. Don't be afraid for me, Spock. I will play my part; make sure you play yours."

"Jim!" Spock reached out a hand as if in supplication.

Worried that he would too easily give in to the pleading in his friend's gaze, Kirk stepped back. To hide from Zuma, not to see his evil face, hear his rasping voice! Somehow he must find the strength for them both. "Everything depends on allaying his suspicions. He must not suspect us in any way. If he does we're dead, maybe worse than dead." Kirk stood straight; every inch the starship captain. "We must continue the charade with every believable touch possible. We must show him what he wants to see. Do you understand, Spock? A bluff geared exactly to his twisted mind."

The Vulcan bowed his head in acceptance of his captain's logic. "Very well, sir. What must I do?"

Kirk moved close to his friend, and spoke in command mode. "You must be dominant and imperious. You have tamed me, and now I'm completely submissive to you. Take that as your right, treat me as property for on this world that's exactly what I am. As for Zuma, flaunt your 'royal blood', be arrogant and commanding. You did it last night. You have to make him respect and more important - fear you."

The human saw his every word sink in, and clearly knew the difficulty Spock was having in accepting them. Compassion softened his tone as he reminded Spock of a vow once made. "You have sworn to protect me. Does it matter what form it takes?"

Spock stared at him for an endless moment. "I will protect and defend thee with my life," he replied hoarsely. "I am thy t'hy'la, and will do what is necessary."

Kirk smiled in acceptance of those words and the emotions behind them. "I thank thee, my t'hy'la."

"Are you prepared?" Spock asked, businesslike now.

Kirk licked at lips which had suddenly gone dry. To face Zuma again! How would it be possible? "At least it won't be so damn painful to kneel!" he tried to joke.

The Vulcan's mouth quirked in his version of a smile, and that steadied Kirk as the innkeeper was told to show Zuma to the room. Still, there was an uncharacteristic edginess to Spock, which although not outwardly noticeable, was very apparent to Kirk. He did not question how he was so aware of it, only knowing its intensity.

"Spock," he said as the idea suddenly hit him. "Sit on the chair. Don't stand as he enters. You must play this royalty act to the hilt."

He rushed into the bathroom, picked up a vial of sweet-scented oil and immediately returned to the other room. Spock had unbolted the door and now reclined nervously on the large, comfortable divan. Kirk sighed on receiving the distinct apprehension from his friend. Poor Spock, he commiserated. What I have in mind is going to shock you.

Taking his courage in both hands, Kirk knelt in front of his first officer, unbuckled the gold sandals, and lifted a slender Vulcan foot onto his knees. The inevitable response was swift.

"Jim!" Spock whispered in shock, drawing his foot away as if stung.

Kirk opened the vial, determinedly took hold of the Vulcan's foot again, and proceeded to massage the oil into the skin. "Permit me to be your slave. It's my only safety from Zuma." He looked up into troubled eyes which cleared as Spock yielded to the logic of those words. Kirk could sense his attempt to relax and smiled in encouragement.

There was a loud knock on the door. The hairs on the back of the human's neck rose as Zuma entered the room. Familiar cloying perfume wafted over to his nostrils, bringing horrific memories with it. He bent closer to his friend in an attempt to shut Zuma's presence out, intently concentrating on the green-tinged skin of the foot he attended, noting all the narrow veins, the hard ankle bone, slim toes and perfectly shaped nails. Vaguely, he heard voices around him, chastised himself for his weakness and regained some measure of control. Keeping his head lowered, he continued to work on his friend's feet, unconsciously finding the pressure points used in an ancient therapy he had once been shown; the slow steady strokes bringing a calming influence to himself and to Spock.

"Your slave is most industrious," Zuma commented, as he eyed the bent back. "But you keep him covered up too much."

Spock hesitated, unsure of how to answer in a manner Zuma would respect. "I train my slaves to be useful in all ways but their physical attributes are for my eyes alone." There was a jolt of silent laughter from Kirk which convinced him he was on the correct track.

Zuma was silent for a moment, then tried again. "How have you subdued him? I cannot understand it. I am an expert in slave handling yet could not tame him."

Spock's eidetic memory recalled some ancient novels once read on the subject. "Slaves are like animals. There are some who will feed from only one master. This is such a one. It is no reflection on your abilities, Lord Zuma, but he could not bend to your will for he awaited me."

Jim's approval and delight penetrated through the physical contact, causing Spock to smile and slip into his role with more ease. "He is bound to me and will serve no other master. He knows that I expect his complete obedience and will not dare risk my punishment."

"How would you punish such a slave?" Zuma asked, curiously. "I tried everything. He fears nothing."

"He is mine alone." Spock tried to formulate a convincing story based on his scanty knowledge of the subject of slavery. "He exists only to serve me. If I denied him that service it would be punishment enough". Jim's amusement radiated strongly, and Spock relaxed further. "He is mine, body and soul. I will accept nothing less from him."

The foot massage was pleasantly enjoyable. Any remaining tension slipped away under the concentrated attention of the cool hands. Spock was aware of the various therapies of human beings, many of them from ancient origin but still practised today. He had never before permitted anyone to touch him in the manner Jim was doing although there were specialists of such skills in the Enterprise medical department. The effectiveness of such a crude method was surprisingly efficient yet, much as it eased his nervousness and relaxed his body, Spock knew that never would he allow anyone but Jim such a familiarity.

"Such is the power of royalty," Zuma said, bringing him back to reality. "Tell me truly, Lord Spock. Are you a prince of the blood?"

"Are you blind?" Spock asked, annoyed at being brought out of his musing. "Is it not obvious? There was a quiet but distinct chuckle from the vicinity of his feet.

Zuma bowed his head. "I ask your pardon, my lord, if I have shown you insufficient respect."

"My title is unimportant, Zuma, but my influence is not. I can do much for you if you wish it." He watched the greedy eyes consider it and searched for some plausible tale to tell him and perhaps... just perhaps give his captain some pleasure as well. Their earlier conversation about revenge replayed in his mind and an idea presented itself.

"Jim, enough. Return the oil then come back here at once," he ordered.

Although confused, Jim scurried away like a perfect picture of an obedient servant. Spock noted how Zuma's eyes followed the captain's movements, and decided to really give the tyrant something to be jealous about; to cause him some pain as punishment for his vicious treatment of the man Spock called brother. Zuma was unfit to walk upon the ground Jim had touched or breathe the same air; he was the lowest of the low, a maggot, a worm, worse for even those forms of life had important functions in nature. Zuma had none.

He waited until Jim returned. "Sit," he commanded, motioning his captain to a place on the ground, between his feet.

Kirk's eyes widened slightly but, covering a smile, he sat down on the floor and lowered his eyes. Spock pressed the fair head down against his bare knee and stroked the hair slowly as if petting a sehlat, his only form of experience in tactile behaviour. He noted Jim's surprise and further amusement at their incongruous situation but as Zuma caught his breath in sharply, a message flashed between Vulcan and human outlining the next phase of their plan.

Jim wrapped his arms around Spock's leg and closed his eyes. "Master, my master."

Spock frowned, unsure of exactly what they were doing but aware of the soaring lust emitting from the SaSharim lord. Jim's actions and his own were inflaming Zuma. "We live in strange times," he said, disturbing the other's concentration.

Zuma reluctantly lifted his gaze from the slave. "Yes, my lord."

"I need vassals I can trust. Are you such a one?"

Greedy eyes narrowed with interest. "I could be. Will you explain your requirements and... my payment?"

The lustful stare fixed on Jim again as the tyrant saw the kisses being pressed on Lord Spock's knee. A shudder passed through Zuma's muscled frame, a deep flush staining his face. Spock smiled on seeing those reactions despite finding it difficult to control his own embarrassment over Jim's latest actions.

"My requirements are many but the payment would be worthwhile," Spock said. He slid his hand under the neck of Jim's tunic to the skin beneath, ready to transmit support. "Perhaps a certain slave could be ordered to do your will."

Zuma's gasp was audible.

Kirk was rarely shocked but he almost choked as the words and their implication became clear. His peaceable, gentle Vulcan was becoming a little too adept at playing his owner! After a moment, the firm reassurance entered him through sensitive Vulcan fingertips, and he laughed at himself for the moment of doubt. A few years ago, Spock would never have been able to bluff his way through this. There was pride in the knowledge that he had been Spock's tutor in this. Still, he wondered where his innocent friend could have found such ideas!

Well, he could not allow the pupil to surpass the teacher!

"Master, master, I beg you not to give me to another." He twisted around onto his knees to face Spock, grinned slightly and winked.

Spock frowned for a second but quickly followed his lead. "You question me? How dare you! As my slave you will learn that I expect total obedience from you in all things." He grasped Kirk's wrist. "If I order you to place your hand into the fire for me, you will do so. You are mine and will obey me."

Kirk could scarcely believe how well Spock was playing this. "Master," he cried, "forgive me, I beg of you." His eyes were wide with amusement as he stared up into his friend's intent face.

Spock released him and he bowed his head down to the ground, appearing the subservient, grovelling slave to Zuma's envious, watchful eyes. He grinned a little to himself, wondering if there was any part of his first officer enjoying the chance to command an often impulsive, illogical human.

"You will have to do better than that to gain my forgiveness," Spock said.

That remark caused Kirk to almost choke. He suppressed his laughter. Did his innocent friend even realise the innuendo behind those words to one such as Zuma? He clasped his hands together and looked up. "I will do anything, master, anything you desire."

Spock stared at him keenly. "Yes you will - later."

Kirk could barely control himself. He bent his head down, his shoulders shaking with the force of his silent laughter. Even human ears easily heard the heavy breathing from the Lord of M'Ran. Spock was dangling Zuma on a string - like an expert.

"If I order you to do Lord Zuma's will as if it were my own, you will obey," Spock added.

"I will obey my lord and master," Kirk said.

Spock stared down at the lowered head and wondered what the illogical human found so amusing. He would never fully understand Jim's sense of humour but was pleased, nonetheless, to see it. It was a sure sign of his captain's recovery, yet Spock was concerned. After they had escaped from Zuma, would Jim suffer a delayed shock from having been in the company of the one who had abused him? If only he knew more about human psychology!

"Indeed you will, slave," Spock replied for Zuma's benefit. He looked over at the spellbound tyrant. "I require an oath from you. I require your allegiance. Then I shall return to the Royal House and commend you to my father. I will inform him of your might and suggest that he make you supreme lord of the continent. I am his favourite son. He shall agree. Once you are monarch here, then you will provide me with your army and we shall launch an attack on all our enemies. You will be my war chief, my right hand, perhaps one day... my chancellor. The king is old with not many years to live."

He noted how Zuma absorbed his words. The thought of more power, even access to the Royal House was intoxicating to him. Spock delved into his knowledge of Earth's barbaric history. "I have a sister," he added, "unmarried at present. She might be persuaded to look kindly upon her brother's friend and ally."

"My lord!" Zuma breathed, his face flushed with excitement. "You do me great honour."

Spock was aware of Jim's bemusement. He glanced down to see the approving expression on his friend's face. "My slave and I shall leave immediately. I will send word as soon as possible, and shall look forward to receiving you at court." The hope flooding the human swept through the damaged barriers, causing Spock to almost flinch openly. To cover his reaction, he abruptly stood up. Jim scrambled out of the way, sat back on his heels by the side of the divan and watched as Zuma stood before Spock, the arrogance and sadistic demeanour lessened before his t'hy'la's commanding presence. Spock stood wrapped in a mantle of imperious royalty. He held out his hand, demanding homage, whilst Zuma stared at it then at the impassive face. The vulcanoid lord seemed to be struggling within himself.

"Your fealty is required, Zuma," Spock demanded.

Zuma swallowed but still fixated in his obsession murmured, "The slave, my lord."

Spock's expression was hard. "You will have him when I bring you to court. He will obey your every command."

Zuma's eyes raked over Jim in unadulterated lust, causing shivers of revulsion through the body of the one who had suffered his tortures. A wicked smile crossed the dissipated features on seeing that response. "My every command," he repeated.

The Lord of M'Ran knelt before Spock and kissed his hand. Kirk caught his breath, and grinned up at his friend in an admiration which became delightful satisfaction as Spock suddenly pinioned Zuma's arms behind him in an unbreakable grip, and forcefully pressed the florid face onto the ground.

"Do not double-cross me, Zuma. I have spies everywhere. Do not tempt my wrath."

Zuma did not struggle. Jim could see the muscles on Spock's arms tighten, relentlessly increasing pressure on the one who had caused his captain's agony and humiliation. The despot moaned in pain as the strength of a Vulcan trained in martial arts was used upon him without pity.

"I will not, my prince," Zuma gasped.

Spock twisted the arms up Zuma's back to within a fraction of the bones snapping, before releasing him. "Remember this lesson well." Zuma toppled over, breathing harshly as he lay upon the floor, his face pale and covered with sweat. "You may leave now. Await my messenger."

Weaving with shock, Zuma struggled to his knees and bent his head down low. "Yes, my prince," he replied in a shaky voice.

Spock waited calmly, his arms crossed over his chest, as Zuma bowed himself from the chamber. Once the sound of the retreating footsteps had faded, he walked to the door, bolted it and with a very deep sigh leaned back against the firmness of the wood.

Kirk stared in wonder although knowing why Spock - who would never use his superior strength on anyone - had applied physical force. The peace-loving Vulcan had deliberately caused pain and humiliation to another in retaliation for his captain's ordeal. Kirk tried to swallow the hard lump in his throat as he realised anew the extent and depth of their bond of friendship. He could sense a further awareness between them now, as if he could almost receive Spock's thoughts and emotions and transmit his own. It was a comforting feeling; one that made him feel secure.

He stood up, walked over to his friend and gazed into the dark, unreadable eyes. He wanted to speak but for once in his life found it difficult to express himself in words. Instinctively, his thoughts reached out and were accepted, but a painful embarrassment was returned to him and he flushed involuntarily with its intensity.

"Was I convincingly forceful, Captain?" Spock suddenly asked.

"Forceful!" Kirk exclaimed with a grin. "You were perfect. I never thought I'd see the day when Zuma would be afraid of anyone." He clasped the narrow shoulders tightly. "I'm proud of you but... " He swallowed. "I'm not sure I liked the part when you offered me to him. It was... um... inspired though."

"It did appear to excite him. Most illogical."

Kirk laughed, relaxing as Spock's earlier tension eased. "My congratulations on a fine performance."

"Thank you, Captain, but I must warn you that we are not free yet. We must depart at once if we are to reach the forest by nightfall."

Kirk knew his friend was correct. Zuma was not to be trusted; the sooner they were away from his influence the better. "Very well."

"Stay by me at all times, Jim. He may yet attempt to abduct you. I do not comprehend obsession but I fear its results."

Kirk squeezed the other's warm shoulders. "Don't worry, I won't be leaving your side for even a second. I'm not a fool. You're my only protection here." He grinned and added with a touch of mischief. "Your slave will tend you most faithfully."

"Indeed, you may massage my feet again," Spock remarked with a glint of reciprocal teasing in his eyes.

Kirk spluttered and laughed. "I noticed you enjoyed that."

"It was most... interesting," Spock replied.

"And relaxing," Kirk added.

"Indeed, most relaxing," Spock conceded with a tiny smile lingering at the edge of his mouth.

"You admit it?" Kirk asked in surprise.

"It is illogical to deny that which is known," Spock answered, but before Kirk could comment on that, the Vulcan suddenly became withdrawn." We must make haste, Captain. The day is already well gone."

Kirk nodded, sensing the other's relief at his ready acceptance, respecting his friend's privacy despite wanting to explore the obviously enhanced understanding between them. He wisely did not pursue further but as they packed their belongings the light, teasing banter continued.

"I think you enjoy playing the master."

"Only if the slave obeys me."

"If I had to be anyone's slave, Spock, I'd be yours."

"A dubious compliment, Captain.

FIRANOL

The shaggy k'zels took them to Firanol swiftly and without incident. However both officers knew they were being followed by Zuma's spies and tried not to show any open concern to one another. Night descended earlier than they had anticipated, so they decided to stay at the inn rather than risk travelling on the roads in the dark. The danger of ambush was high and neither of them cared to take the chance.

Sendel was pleased to see Spock again. The elderly SaSharim scrutinised Kirk carefully. "He is worth the regard of one of the Royal House. A prize indeed. A worthy companion, my lord."

Spock nodded graciously. "I want your best room, Sendel. Bring food then do not disturb us."

Sendel bowed deeply. "As you will, my lord."

Kirk watched as Spock dealt with the innkeeper, proud of his friend's ability to act the royal prince, noting how Sendel treated Spock with the utmost respect. However, occasionally the gaze of the older vulcanoid would fall upon him, and keeping in the guise of the humble slave, Kirk would avert his eyes. He clasped the travel-bag to him, also aware of the curious stares of the other guests and staff on him, trying to remain calm.

It was not easy for a man of command to play the slave but Kirk would willingly do so, knowing it to be nothing compared to the ordeals his first officer had endured. Spock - a friend like no other - had braved and bluffed his way through this barbaric world to rescue him from a life of bitter servitude, and then had healed him body and soul from the effects of his nightmarish ordeal as Zuma's slave. What kind of horrors had the gentle, civilised Vulcan seen on this planet, perpetrated by people descended from his own species? What might it do to Spock's pride in his Vulcan heritage?

Their rooms were small but comfortable. Sendel brought the food and was ready to serve it; Spock, however, dismissed him and bolted the door behind him. Kirk sat down at the table and ate hungrily. His appetite had returned full force, his body craved nourishment but embarrassed by what might appear to be greed, he tried to restrain himself.

Spock pushed another food-laden plate to him. "Eat it, Captain. I do not wish to be the recipient of Dr. McCoy's anger when he discovers your weight loss. He will blame me for not taking care of you."

Kirk grinned and did not protest, for the food was delicious; it had been so long since he had eaten properly. "Okay, but I insist that you have something too."

Spock conceded but only ate to please his captain.

Later, after there was no response to their latest call to the Enterprise, Kirk wearily lay back on the silken covers of the large bed. What if she never returned for them? What if she was destroyed! Would they be trapped here forever? The Enterprise, his beautiful, silver princess destroyed!

Inconceivable!

His mind sought reassurance, instinctively turning to the Vulcan's strength, and he sighed as the familiar, gentle mind-touch soothed his jangled fears.

"Rest, Jim. Sleep. I will watch over you," the deep voice murmured.

"Are Zuma's spies here at the inn?" he asked.

"I believe so. We must be vigilant. Sleep now for we must travel far tomorrow."

"I'll take second watch."

"No, you must sleep the night through. A Vulcan can manage without sleep for weeks if necessary. Permit me the privilege of keeping watch."

He stared over to where Spock sat on a plush, padded chair. It was difficult to force his heavy eyelids to remain open; he was so tired. There was so much he wished to tell Spock, so much gratitude he needed to show, but his friend was always so reserved when it came to open displays of affection. Even now, perhaps more than ever, after the profound togetherness of the Healing. He sighed in defeat, sinking into the warm arms of sleep but at the very edge of consciousness sent a silent message across the now ever-present link between them. The force of his emotions easily carried it to the target. My t'hy'la, I love and honour thee above all others.

Spock sat in the darkness of the room, his mind reverberating with that heartfelt message. He could scarcely breathe for the intensity of Jim's emotions was painfully sharp. All they had shared in the past, the depth and frequency of the mind contacts, had heightened the telepathic unity they had known to a degree which alarmed Spock. Now after each meld, the period of time in which they could reach one another in thought and feeling when physically apart was increasing. He recalled other instances when he had been fearful of the incredible attunement of their minds and had once even recoiled from it.

He could not hurt the still fragile human by rejecting that need for the comfort only he could supply. All it was possible to do was accept the feelings he was being given with dignity and grace then hope, that once they had departed from this planet with its horrific memories, this new and worrying development in their already warm, close relationship would settle down, as before, to normality.

A nagging doubt persisted in his highly sensitive mind. He attributed it to his damaged barriers but could not rid himself of the gut notion that something was different. He promised himself the time to repair his shields as soon as he and Jim returned to the Enterprise. Without their protection he would find it impossible to live in such close proximity with humans.

He thought of the future and the uncertainty it held. Their five year mission was almost at an end; they were due to return to Earth in three months. What would happen then? It had never been spoken about for it seemed so unreal not to be serving on the Enterprise together; she had been their home for so many years.

Dismissing his last thoughts as illogical, Spock concentrated on the present situation. Zuma's spies were in the vicinity, and had to be eluded. Jim's welfare was his responsibility. If only the Enterprise were here to beam them to safety! He made his hourly check but once again there was no response. If only she would return for them!

Jim moved restlessly about, murmuring in his sleep. The dreams became more disturbing as the shadowy figure of Zuma intruded. Spock sent a calming influence along the link, banishing the tyrant's image and replacing it with peaceful scenes of his captain's boyhood home in Iowa. Comforted, Jim settled into a deeper sleep and was quiet, his arms clasped around the pillow like a child hugging a cuddly, soft toy

Spock sank into a light meditation which would allow him rest but would not dull his alertness. He would hear every sound, be aware of Jim's presence at all times. He could not permit himself anything deeper whilst trapped on Kathal. He would guard his t'hy'la's sleep throughout the long night.

***

The heat surrounded him like a warm blanket. It was pleasant, comforting, and was steadily accompanied by a fast, thumping sound; familiar, non-threatening to his sleepy consciousness until a sense of urgency intruded bringing him swiftly awake.

The reality of the body against his back brought horrific memories to the fore. He struggled to escape. No! he cried inwardly.

Jim, I beg forgiveness, Spock's mind-voice called. We are being watched.

The panic dissolved to be replaced with concern. How? Where?

I became aware of them two point five minutes ago. There are spy holes on the far wall. I was remiss in not finding them earlier.

Kirk swore, but soon desisted on becoming aware of the Vulcan's distress at receiving such negative emotions. It's okay, Spock. They probably were disguised, anyway. How many are watching? Can you tell?

Possibly two. I thought it prudent to lie down. They would find it odd if I remained on the chair all night. I ask pardon for disturbing your sleep.

Kirk dismissed the apology. You're quite correct, Mr. Spock. If Zuma's spies reported that you were not being pleasured by your slave, he would find it highly suspicious. Okay let's give them a show.

A show, Captain! The Vulcan was totally bemused.

What an innocent you are, Spock, Kirk responded with a chuckle. He opened his eyes a crack but could see nothing in the darkness of the room. Vulcanoid night vision, however, was extremely well developed and they would have to be very careful. Pull the covers over us both, Spock, he ordered. We don't want them seeing us properly. He slid onto his stomach, pulling the weight of the Vulcan on top of him. Okay, let's make it look and sound good.

A confused and embarrassed Vulcan first officer lay motionless on his captain's back. Sir!

Kirk's exasperation could not be contained. Spock, we're going to fake sexual intercourse. Now move with me and don't be concerned over the noises I make.

Yes, Captain, the Vulcan replied.

I don't usually have to fake this, you know, Kirk grumbled. Yet again he had never been in bed with a Vulcan male before! I'd be the envy of half the crew - if they knew, he added.

Really, Captain! Spock exclaimed but his attention was taken by the movements of the body under him.

Move, Spock.

He obeyed but frowned in surprise as his captain moaned and bucked beneath him, the sweat from the naked form causing Spock to slide around in an alarming manner. He gripped the broad shoulders for support. What strange practises these humans had!

"Oh master! Master! Please, oh master!" Jim cried in a gasping tone.

Jim, are you well? he asked, concerned.

A wave of amusement pierced his mind. Of course I am. Spock, will you make a few grunts and groans and let's finish this. I'm being roasted alive here by your body heat!

Very well, sir, Spock replied. He was still hopelessly confused but did as his commanding officer had ordered, his Vulcan dignity recklessly discarded as they finished the performance with frantic movements and a variety of grunts and cries.

Taking his cue from Jim, Spock lay still. His psionic senses reached out and found the watchers' emotions. He recoiled at their vicarious enjoyment of what they thought they had witnessed, but knew that any suspicions now would be allayed. He relaxed and only then became aware of the distress from his friend. He rolled off Jim's body and lay close, not touching, afraid that he had accidentally hurt him.

Jim, please forgive me if I have caused you pain.

Aching, silent sobs flooded his senses. Oh, god, Spock. I must really trust you! I didn't even hesitate in suggesting this!

Now Spock understood the other's mood, and it was with deep pride that he accepted the acknowledgement of that trust. I am honoured.

Jim's mood abruptly changed and it was laughter which now silently rocked his body. Are they still there? he eventually asked.

Spock discreetly checked, both telepathically and visually, and noted no signs. They are gone.

Probably relieving their... um... tensions somewhere, I'd guess.

Indeed, but I will remain vigilant. Please sleep. We must continue at first light. The only safety lies within the forest.

Yes. Kirk wiped the sweat from his face and settled down. Sex with a Vulcan is a heated business, Mr. Spock, he teased.

Really, Captain! Spock exclaimed scandalised.

I'm only stating a fact. How is it possible for a human to cope with Vulcan body heat?

I do not know, Captain. Such matters do not concern you. They are of the utmost privacy.

I see. Okay, Spock but if we have to fake it again, I'll want some answers.

Spock was silent. He watched the human slide into a peaceful slumber, and remained by his side for the remainder of the night. He had been correct to trust no-one on this planet for Sendel must have been bribed or coerced into giving the spies the adjoining room. The sooner they left the population centres, the better. As the pervading darkness began to lift, he woke Jim and, carefully maintaining their roles as master and slave, they prepared for departure.

FOREST

No-one followed as they travelled to the forest. They had left their mounts at the inn, for the animals could not have negotiated the thick woodlands, yet made good time and soon were plunging deep along the tree-lined pathways. As night drew near they made camp in a small clearing. After eating some of their provisions they settled onto the warm cloaks purchased earlier in Firanol and gazed up at the starlit sky straining, impossibly, to see one very bright point of light above them. Their home - the Enterprise.

Over the next days, Kirk relaxed like he had never done before. The peaceful sounds of nature soothed his soul; the fresh scents of the plants intoxicated him. Spock's steady and comfortable companionship so generously given; the many interesting and stimulating conversations they engaged in; the easygoing acceptance of one another when mind-speech unconsciously replaced verbal communication brought Kirk alive again. Slowly, the bitter memory of his enslavement began to fade into the background, accepted but seemingly without the power to seriously distress him any more.

Lulled by the peace of the place, all fear of pursuit was slowly put aside. It was a mistake they both bitterly regretted one morning as they awoke to the pressure of cold metal against their necks.

Spock opened his eyes to see SaSharim soldiers surrounding him. A shadow fell across him and he knew before looking whose malevolent presence stood near. Zuma.

"Well, Lord Spock, why do you dally here? I had thought you would be far across the sea to your home."

"Release me," Spock demanded, whilst trying to dampen the violent nausea seeping into him from Jim. He swiftly sent reassurance along the link.

Zuma gestured to the guard, and the sword was removed from Spock's throat. The Vulcan stood up, glanced at the prone, shocked human then imperiously returned his attention to Zuma. "What is the meaning of this?"

There was a cunning expression on their enemy's face. "I was concerned about a son of the Royal House travelling without escort, my lord. I followed and discovered you had not reached the coast. Naturally I was worried that you'd been waylaid by brigands. The roads are not safe at night."

"Your concern is commendable. However I decided to dally with my slave for a time before returning home. The forest is such a peaceful, idyllic place."

"How very nice. Just you and your slave," Zuma remarked, his eyes clouding over with envy.

"Release him," Spock ordered. "I do not wish him damaged. He is valuable merchandise." He added a silent message for his numbed friend. Be calm, Jim. Be my slave; come over here and do not leave my side.

Zuma smiled, nodded to the soldier who threatened Jim and the man obediently stepped back. The despot watched avidly as the slave hurried over to his master and knelt at his feet. He noted the subservience the Zalar showed, a humility which had never been given to him. Jealousy ate at his vitals. Why should this stranger have such a prize? Surely he - Zuma - had rights of possession on his own land?

He stared at the arrogant royal lord who had humiliated him, and a thought occurred to him. "What proof do I have that you are truly of the Royal House? Where is your seal of identity? How can I be sure that you are a son of Solkar?"

Spock could not restrain his eyebrow from rising over the name of his father's grandsire, a traditional name from Surak's line as was his own. "How dare you question my lineage, Lord of M'Ran! The evidence is before your eyes; the black hair and distinctive skin colouring prove my identity. I could have you flogged for questioning me."

Zuma hesitated at that threat. Spock knew that he must not allow himself to be intimidated by this petty tyrant, but it was difficult for him to bluff in this manner. It was not in his personality, to override his natural honesty, to play such a part. Yet he must, for Jim's life was at stake. Calling upon his human half, the years of study as Captain Kirk's first officer, and the sometimes hare-brained schemes he had been a party to such as the gangster impersonation on Iotia, Spock immersed himself in the part of outraged royalty.

Kirk chewed at his lips, a strong feeling of helplessness permeating him as he listened to the two vulcanoids. He sensed Spock's uncertainty and cursed the fates for bringing Zuma into their lives again. His friend had only begun to relax recently; now the danger from the sadistic tyrant loomed over them again. If only he could do something!

The answer came in a sudden flash of insight.

Of course! Spock would be out of his depth here if Zuma insisted on seeing proof of identity. There was only one course of action and it lay in his hands. He did not have to like it but perhaps their only way of escape depended on it. He prayed that he was not deluding himself into believing that he could control the situation. There was only one way to find out. After a deep, calming breath he looked up at Zuma, knowing that his former master would be aware of him.

He comforted himself in the knowledge that he had done this before, ruthlessly, with alien women when his ship and crew had been at stake, using his sexuality to seduce and trick them. He could do it now, no matter how it repulsed him. Zuma's beady eyes glistened and flamed as they stared down into his. A smile and sigh of pleasure escaped the muscled SaSharim lord.

Spock tensed. What was Jim doing? Then realisation struck him as to what a dangerous game his friend played. Spock had seen him do this before. Jim, he tried to warn. In return he received the firm conviction from the other that there was no choice. To bait Zuma this way was their only option. With a deep, bitter fear gnawing at his heart Spock reluctantly agreed to go along with the plan.

"I am inclined to be generous, Zuma," Spock said, forcing a slight smile. "Dismiss your men; return them to Firanol. I believe you deserve some reward for your concern and loyalty to me."

Zuma's breaths came in harsh gasps as Spock's meaning was understood. He immediately complied with Spock's wishes and, as he roughly barked orders to the soldiers, did not notice the meaningful look exchanged between the royal lord and the slave nor was he aware of their silent conversation.

Jim, it is too dangerous.

It's our only chance. We can't allow him to find the communicators or med.-kit. He must not learn we are impostors.

He is powerful.

He cannot overcome us both, Spock. Have faith in our bond of brotherhood.

T'hy'la, I...

"They are gone," Zuma interrupted. He was standing too close; the unpleasant odour of his body assaulted their senses, his black eyes sparkled ominously with lustful anticipation. "He must give me all that he gives you."

"Do you hear, slave?" Spock stared down at his friend, struggling to mask his fear. "He wishes what is mine. Would you give that to another?"

No, my t'hy'la, Jim sent silently. Courage, we shall prevail. Aloud he said, "If it is by your order, my lord."

"Then bow to the ground at his feet. Give him that which is his due." He stepped back, silently adding, I am with thee. We shall not be defeated.

Shudders swept Zuma's body, the violence of his lust increasing as the stubborn Zalar - after an interminable moment - obeyed his master's orders. Zuma closed his eyes in anticipation. At last he would know satisfaction as he gained domination over the defiant slave; his passion would be satiated as the proud Zalar worshipped at his feet. He would be rid of his blind hunger to utterly possess the slave, the obsession overcome at last.

Suddenly, strong hands gripped his ankles, pulling him down. He crashed onto the hard ground, his head impacting against a tree stump. A cry of shock was wrenched from him as he realised the slave had brought him down. He struggled but before he could banish his dizziness, he was trussed up and securely locked into the shackles he carried, and left lying breathless upon the grass. He swore viciously, almost weeping with frustration and humiliation at being bound hand and foot like a slave. Fury exploded in his brain at such degradation. He struggled futilely against the metal fetters.

Spock stood watching his captain. "You did not need my assistance."

Kirk stood straight and turned to him. "No, not this time." He walked over to stand at his friend's side and together they watched Zuma's frenzied effort to break free.

"You enjoyed that," Spock stated.

Jim looked at him with grim satisfaction. "Yes, I did but it doesn't please me to see any being in such distress."

"Many would say that he deserved it and more. You are too compassionate, Jim."

Kirk shrugged. "There were times I dreamed of what I'd do to him if ever the chance came my way."

"You now have the opportunity."

"Leave him." Kirk looked up at him, the strain in his eyes all too obvious. "His men will find him eventually. I don't seek vengeance on him any more."

Spock sensed the strange depression. His captain - the most merciful of men - could not bring himself to take revenge on the one who had caused him the worst type of humiliation and abuse. Spock's admiration for such a unique man overcame his normal restraint, and he unhesitatingly placed his arm around the drooping shoulders.

Gratefully, Kirk leaned back against him, soaking in the support offered with selfless generosity. "My friend, let us leave. We'll seek a hiding place deeper in the forest."

"Very well, Captain, but it would be a wise precaution to silence him."

Kirk nodded his assent, waited as Spock gagged the despot securely, then picking up their travel bag, chose a direction the tricorder indicated would lead them to the heart of the vast woodlands.

They travelled for hours, setting a fast pace, wanting to put as many kilometres between them and their possible pursuers as possible. When night fell, they made camp within another clearing. It was dark and claustrophobic; tall trees ringed the area, their heavy branches almost grazing the ground. Kathal's moon could barely be seen and the stars were completely obscured by the clouds.

The regular communications check was again greeted with silence. "Damn, what has happened to her?" Kirk murmured as he half-heartedly nibbled on a piece of fruit from their provisions.

"Any number of problems could have delayed her, Captain. You must be patient."

Kirk could scarcely identify his companion's features in the dim light. "I don't have your patience, Spock."

"Indeed, you are most human in that regard," Spock commented.

Kirk chuckled. Spock always knew the way to cheer him - a friend like no other. He settled down upon the hard ground and tried to sleep but his thoughts continued to return to Zuma. Memories of the treatment he had received from those hard, merciless hands caused shudders to wrack his body. Spock had dampened the horror of it but had not erased the memory. Zuma's sudden intrusion into their life this morning had brought back his ordeal in every vivid, sickening detail. He tossed and turned whilst his mind tried to understand why and how it had happened. A cold sweat broke out all over his body and he shivered.

A warm hand touched his shoulder; those psionic senses were highly attuned to him now. "Why did he delight in torturing me? Why did he want me so badly?" Kirk hesitated for endless moments as he searched for an answer. "Did my defiance inflame him? If I had acted the terrified and submissive slave, would he have left me alone? Did I bring it all upon myself by my behaviour? Was it my fault?"

Spock knew the danger in this talk. Those who had been abused often suffered guilt feelings, blaming themselves for provoking the abuser. "No, Jim. It was not your fault, believe my words, t'hy'la, none of it was your fault." He had to dispel these doubts and fears before they rooted and twisted inside Jim to cause problems that would be difficult to cure.

He sent reassurance through the touch then tried to answer the questions. "He saw a man of indomitable spirit who would not be subdued. He could not bear the sight of one who was the very opposite of his evil. He wanted to break and corrupt you. He wanted to stamp out what is good and just."

The tremors under his hand did not cease and he sought to increase the measure of comfort. Never had Spock known his friend to be so distressed and full of self- doubt. He leaned over the shaking form, massaging Kirk's tightly bunched shoulder muscles in an attempt to unknot the tension, physically as well as telepathically. Kirk, caught up in the renewed horror of the happenings and his own analysis of them, resisted him.

"His touch repulsed me, everything about him revolted me. There was no fragment of decency or fellow feeling, only that selfish need for self-gratification and I was in his power. I fought him... " The voice caught but he continued shakily. "I fought him to the limits of my strength and beyond but still it wasn't enough."

"Jim, do not dwell on it anymore. You have suffered enough. You are safe now and we are together. Be assured that I will not permit any more harm to come to you. If you wish it, if you cannot live with the memory, I will erase it for you. I will not allow you to endure any more torment."

The soothing psionic touch finally filtered through Kirk's doubts and recriminations. He sighed resignedly, allowing it access to his mind and threw his self-pity aside, secure in the knowledge of a loyalty and devotion which belonged to him alone.

"What would I do without you?" he asked as drowsiness began to seep into his weary limbs. The tension drained away, leaving him weakened but relaxed. "I owe you everything." His eyes opened for a moment then grew heavy and closed. "I... I... " he mumbled under his breath. My t'hy'la, I... he reached silently, but sleep claimed him and he spiralled into blackness.

Spock sat in silence beside him, watching in Vulcan vigil, not permitting disturbing dreams to trouble Kirk as the silence of the forest surrounded them like a warm cocoon. Eventually as his own exhaustion overtook his ability to stay awake, he initiated the light meditation, and monitored his friend's wellbeing until morning.

TRUTH

Kirk awoke suddenly, alert to the approaching menace. "What is it, Spock?" he asked as he scrambled to his feet.

Spock was standing, his keen eyesight scanning the edges of the clearing. "We are being watched, Captain."

"Zuma?" Kirk asked, horrified at the thought of the despot finding them again.

"I do not think so", Spock replied.

The two officers stood back to back, ready to defend one another, as the watchers silently emerged from behind the shadow of the trees. The newcomers were humanoids; they were dirty, ragged and fierce hatred shone from their faces. A tall woman stepped forward, her eyes burning with an intensity of glee. Straggly brown hair almost covered her dirt-encrusted face; there was a whip in her hand which she tapped impatiently against her thigh as if very anxious to use it. She began to nervously pass it from one hand to the other.

Kirk stepped protectively in front of Spock. "Who are you?"

Her smile showed broken, jagged teeth. "We are escaped slaves. Who are you, pretty one?"

Kirk gathered all his wits about him, knowing that his famous 'golden tongue' would be needed, for these humanoids posed a great danger to Spock. What would they do to him if they thought a 'master' was in their power. The difficulty was in knowing how to play it; the greatest of care was needed in determining what they would and could accept.

"I am a former slave to Lord Zuma," he stated. As he had reckoned, the very name brought fear and disturbance to these people who possibly included many of Zuma's slaves amongst their number. "My new master won me from him in a wager." He noted their surprise and continued with the story now their interest had been caught. "Lord Zuma was displeased for he enjoyed mistreating me. Twice he has followed in an attempt to get me back, but Lord Spock is a kind and just person and would not permit it. We tricked Zuma and left him bound and helpless in another clearing. My master allowed me to place the shackles upon Zuma's ankles."

Astonishment at his words spread through the former slaves. "Zuma is bound!" the woman exclaimed. "You shackled him!"

"I did. We flee from his vengeance. Will you help us.?"

The woman turned to the others. "This cannot be true. Why would a lord permit a slave to touch another master?"

"My master is gentle and courteous. He does not believe in the oppression of others," Kirk ventured, wondering how they would accept that. "He saved me from Zuma's excesses. He is a healer who has cured my wounds and takes me to safety."

"Let us see this paragon of masters," shouted one of the others. His cry was taken up by the rest, causing a growing knot of fear to twist in Kirk's gut. The mood of these people had turned ugly perhaps dangerous.

Kirk turned to his first officer, exchanged a long look of apprehension with him, then nodded. Spock moved to his captain's side, clasped his hands together behind his back in military-style and stared straight ahead. He towered over all present but none of the former slaves recoiled from him - an encouraging sign.

"He is of royal blood," the woman said. "None other have the distinctive colouring and sheen of the hair. See its blackness. He is a prize indeed."

"No, he is not yours," Kirk protested, taking a different tack. "You will not harm him. He saved my life."

The woman eyed him with interest. "All know of Zuma's tastes, his peculiar pleasure in adult males."

"I defied him and he punished me for it," Kirk stated.

"And this lord saved you?"

"He did."

The woman was openly sceptical. "No-one defies Zuma and lives. You lie. None would dare to bind him. You speak lies, all lies."

"I tell the truth. My master saved me; do not be afraid of him." Kirk began to sweat. These slaves had known only brutality in their lives. How were they to believe that not all the vulcanoids were their oppressors?

The woman brandished her whip, ready to use it. "You cannot deceive us. You are contemptible. I know of ones such as you; slaves who love their masters and willingly comply with them, keeping them in power. We fight for freedom. We will overthrow the tyranny."

"And how do you do that?" Kirk countered. "Little rebel groups hiding in the forest mounting the occasional ambush? It is not enough, nor is it the correct way. Can't you see that?" He cast aside any doubts about violation of the Prime Directive, for the seeds of rebellion were already here. He was not interfering with this planet's culture "Not all the masters are like Zuma. There are ones who care for your people and would help you."

He watched the surprised reactions, to those words, on their grimy, strained faces. "Surely you can learn to work together with those sympathetic to your cause. Mutual trust and understanding are the only ways forward. Any other paths will lead to violence and bloodshed of a type you have never experienced. Gain the support of the masters who hate the oppression. Co-operation is the only answer."

"Co-operate with those who enslave us!" the woman exclaimed. "Those who torture and maim those who are weaker!"

"If you retaliate by torturing and maiming, then what does that make you?" Kirk asked. "Just like them! Can't you see that? Do you really want to be like them?"

The woman hesitated and looked towards the others. Kirk breathed a little easier, placed a hand on Spock's arm and communicated non-verbally with him about the next stage. Both agreed that perhaps it was time to tell these people a simplified version of the truth. "Please listen to me. Lord Spock is not my master."

After a moment of silent shock everyone spoke at once, voices raised. Perhaps the incorrect decision. Spock's thoughts were highly audible to the receptive human.

Kirk waved a hand in dismissal. No. I'll make them listen. He stepped forward, nudging Spock along with him. "I am telling you this to show that there's another way." He glanced at his t'hy'la, smiled and continued, "In our country, our two peoples are allies and friends. We work together in peace and harmony in a place where all are equal." A murmur of astonishment swept the group; Kirk inhaled deeply and prayed that his words would be accepted. "I am not a slave. I became separated from my companions and was captured. Zuma bought me from the traders. He wished to break me but could not. I was his prisoner for nine days."

The pain returned full force as the memories replayed themselves. Spock noted it at once, and his concern was obvious as he placed a protective arm around the smaller man's shoulders. Kirk grinned reassuringly. "I'm okay, Spock."

Spock nodded. I am with thee, Jim.

With the telepathic message reverberating in his mind, Kirk swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment to privately absorb the strength flowing into him. Then he continued with his story. "Spock searched for me, posing as a master so as not to arouse suspicion. He was stranded at the Inn of Firanol during the rains, and was unable to reach Zuma's stronghold. He arrived just in time to stop Zuma from... " He tried to rid himself of the lump blocking his throat. "He stopped Zuma castrating me, pretended that he could enforce my compliance to him and won me in a wager. Although we kept up the pretence of master and slave, Zuma was suspicious and followed us."

The female leader's face was full of wonder. "Why did you not kill Zuma?"

"It is not our way to kill," Kirk answered.

"Your tale is a strange one and difficult to believe." The woman hesitantly moved closer, the whip lying ready in her grasp. "You are entitled to revenge yourself on one who has tortured you."

The two Starfleet officers remained perfectly still as the halting steps brought her closer. Now was the most important moment; she must overcome her fear of the vulcanoids and accept that violence was not the answer.

"This is not your master?" she asked unsurely.

"He is not my slave," Spock replied, startling her further, "nor am I his master. He is the one who commands me; the one whose orders I obey."

As the meaning of Spock's words was understood, an excited babble of voices filled the clearing. "You are the master!" the leader exclaimed in confusion, and pointed at Kirk with a trembling hand.

"No," Kirk replied gently. "We have no masters or slaves. All are free. I command him, by his choice, as his senior officer within the navy we both serve "

He watched as they tried to absorb that concept. It was difficult for these ragged victims of tyranny to change their way of thinking. Was it even possible for them to overcome thousands of years of servitude to the masters, for them to accept that some of the vulcanoids might be willing to assist in overthrowing the system? To learn trust was very difficult when all these people had known, throughout their history, was callousness and cruelty. His heart went out to them.

He looked up at Spock, seeing the same pity in the dark eyes.

"It is difficult to understand but a pleasant idea," the woman eventually said. "One of us commanding a master!"

"He is my closest friend," Kirk said. "More than a friend; we are like brothers. Can you conceive of that? In my country his people are deeply respected for their knowledge, civility and non-aggression. We have tried to learn control of our own violent instincts from them. There are ones here such as Spock. You must seek them out, enlist their aid."

There was a loud murmur from the group but the woman ignored it. She studied Spock for a very long moment then cautiously walked around him, alert for any signs of aggression. Spock stood immobile and non-threatening, not moving a muscle even when she tentatively touched his arm.

"You are thin yet muscled, not soft with good living as the masters are." Spock bowed courteously in acceptance of her words, startling her deeply by his action. "You bow to me!" she exclaimed, and took a step back.

"Indeed, my lady. Are you not the leader of these people?"

A sudden glowing smile lit up her tired face, and for the first time Kirk noted just how young and how pretty she was. Downtrodden and abused all of her life, she had been given a taste of Vulcan courtesy and respect. She frowned with bewildered pleasure then straightened to her full height and returned the bow.

"I am their leader," she replied with self-conscious dignity.

"Then you will understand the concept of leadership and why one person can command others." Spock indicated his captain. "He is my leader. I honour and respect him above all others. That he is of another race is of no consequence. Leadership qualities transcend all barriers. Listen to him. He speaks the truth."

Kirk smiled with delight and much admiration at his friend. "There can be peace between your peoples although it will not be easy to accomplish. There is a possibility of help for you. I can make no promises but there are courts of law which might listen to your grievances with sympathy. If you tell us all you know of the history of your country and others, we will try to assist by taking the news of your plight before them." He reached out to grip Spock's hand between his own. "Believe in the true brotherhood you see before you. It is possible to renounce fear and hatred. The face of the unknown is not necessarily evil. I beg you to trust us."

The leader of the runaway slaves smiled slightly, turned to her people and lifted her arms into the air. "I believe them," she cried.

Kirk sighed with profound relief. He met Spock's gaze and they conversed silently. Thousands of years of oppression by vulcanoids, and still they cannot fear you, Spock. Your aura of truth and goodness is too strong.

A green tinge stained the angular face. I believe your words had a distinct bearing on the matter, Captain.

Teamwork, my friend.

Indeed.

***

They left the rebel camp after having had many interesting conversations with the former slaves. The Zalar had been generous with their meagre provisions, and eager to converse with Spock whose non-hostile, quiet manner soon had won over even the most suspicious and timid. They had learned many horrific facts about Kathal's culture, with Spock becoming very withdrawn as he digested the full scale of the SaSharims' barbarity towards the Zalar.

Three days later, the excited voice of Lt. Uhura answered their midnight communication check. Both men stared at one another in wordless joy. Kirk suddenly laughed, grabbed Spock's arms and swung the unsuspecting Vulcan around in exuberant delight. Losing his balance Spock fell backwards onto the ground, dragging his captain with him. Kirk's hilarity was infectious and Spock was unable to restrain a smile as they both crashed down onto the grass.

"Captain, are ye all right?" the anxious voice of Mr Scott inquired. "What's happening down there?"

"You wouldn't believe it," Kirk replied, as he marvelled at the grin on the face of the Vulcan. "Stand by to beam us up."

As he scrambled to his feet, he could hear the cheers from the bridge crew. He chuckled with happiness, placed the communicator on his belt then watched as Spock slowly stood up - all Vulcan dignity even now.

"My friend, we are going home," Kirk murmured.

"Indeed, Captain. With your permission I will put the case of these unhappy people to the Vulcan Council. The behaviour of these vulcanoids is an abomination. They have broken all the Tenets of Vulcan law. They cannot be permitted to continue their oppression of the Zalar."

Kirk sensed the strain in his friend and willingly agreed. "Of course, Spock. You have my permission."

Spock nodded but did not reply.

Kirk smiled at him, projecting his affection and deep respect. "Thank you for all you've done for me here. Thanks is not enough but I don't know what is."

"You would have done the same for me," Spock said, his tone full of conviction. "You would have put your hand in the fire for me. I would not need to ask."

Shakiness overcame Kirk. He sat down upon the grass, and stared out into the inky darkness. Spock was correct. He would have done all those things and more for his friend. He had willingly played the part of the slave for Spock, not in the least embarrassed or troubled by any of the demeaning acts he had been obliged to perform. He could never have escaped with anyone else nor, without any regard for his own personal dignity, given himself over so completely to another's care. His life and integrity were safe in Spock's hands.

Spock settled down into a cross-legged position beside him. "Jim, we must leave this place. In time the memories will fade but as I have already offered, I will erase them if you wish."

Kirk grasped his courage to him. He would not permit the memory to be lost. He would deal with it and overcome it as he had all others. He could do that with the support of his Vulcan friend.

"Thank you, but I wish to retain it. You've minimised the pain and I don't want to forget how you rescued and healed me." The Vulcan's face could barely be seen in the almost total blackness. "I will always be touched by your devotion to me." He held out his hand in the Vulcan salute. "I will always be thy friend."

As he had wished, Spock's hand touched his in this reaffirmation of their vow of brotherhood, the tingle of contact spreading through their bodies and minds as Spock echoed the words. "I will always be thy friend."

The communication intensified and they sat for many minutes empathising with one another in the ancient, fraternal bond they shared. Their thoughts intermingled freely, the closeness approaching a unity which rivalled the depth of the P'Tal Zaan T'hy'la until they parted with silent agreement, both strengthened and comforted by the psionic rapport. No words were necessary as they returned to reality and prepared themselves for transporter pick-up in an effort to settle into familiar routine.

"Energise," Kirk said, his thoughts reaching out again to the other. In return he received the glow of support on which he had so utterly relied in this place.

Seconds later, the whine of the transporter reverberated in the quiet clearing. Curious, nocturnal animals came to investigate the alien sound but found nothing unusual. Indifferent now, they scurried away and returned to their normal hunting and prowling. Silence reigned once more in the ancient forest of Kathal V.

Click on thumbnail for larger picture

Slaveworld - Part 5

Return to Home Page