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Pride and Logic Chapter 22

Leonard McCoy paused briefly outside the entrance to Nyota’s dormitory, checking his reflection in the door and blowing into the palm of his hand to check his breath. Although he knew Nyota wouldn’t care about such things--and they were not dating--Len was still cognizant of the fact that he was about to spend the night with one of the most beautiful women in Starfleet on his arm. He had to look the part.

He hadn’t seen his friend in over three months and his intensive internship on Starbase 8 had left him with little time for subspace chats over the comm. So, he and the missus were due for an extended catch up session before the new term got underway. A night of dinner and swing dancing awaited them in Los Angeles--Len wanted to be sure that none of his friends or associates would be present to witness his skill on the dance floor. Kirk had teased him maliciously last your for his flawless execution of the waltz at the new term formal. If Jim called him twinkle toes one more time, McCoy would flatten him.

Len stepped off of the lift onto Nyota’s floor and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Cadets in civilian attire ambled through the halls, talking loudly and laughing with friends. Loud music filtered into the corridor as doors slid open only to be silenced when they shut again. Everything appeared to be normal for a Friday night before the start of classes, yet Len couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“You’re imagining things, ol’boy,” he muttered to himself as he made his way to Nyota’s room.

He pressed his hand to the buzzer on her door and waited. After thirty seconds with no answer, Len pressed the buzzer again. After a third time with no answer, his wariness returned.

“I hope you’re decent, honey, because I’m coming in,” Len yelled at the door, more for his benefit than hers.

McCoy quickly punched in the access code Nyota gave him last  year and stepped into the dark room.

“Lights, 80 percent,” he ordered.

The lights flickered on, revealing a room in chaos. Books, papers and PADDS littered the floor; pictures hung askew on the walls; chairs were overturned and shattered glass littered the rug.

“Good, Lord,” Len muttered as he made his way through the mess towards Nyota’s bedroom door.

The door to Nyota’s sleeping quarters stood ajar, the door pushed off its track.  Len shoved the door open completely and gasped at what he saw. Nyota’s unconscious body lay splayed on the bedroom floor.

“Darlin’ no.”

Len rushed towards her, his medical scanner in hand, when he suddenly received a hard kick to his back, sending him hurtling to the floor by Nyota’s side. McCoy quickly rolled to his feet. He barely saw his attacker before his head snapped back from a firm punch to his jaw. Two blows to his gut quickly followed, causing McCoy to double over in pain. A sickening crunch filled the air as a foot connected with McCoy’s head, sending the cadet flying backwards into the wall. McCoy slumped down the wall, blood spilling from his broken nose and his vision swimming.

“How empty were your threats from last year,” Sybok mocked as he stooped to pick Nyota up from the floor. “You didn’t even manage to land a single blow.”

“You sick bastard,” McCoy spluttered as he fought to stay conscious. “Leave Nyota alone.”

Sybok laughed. “I don’t think so. I’ve come a long way for the pretty cadet. I think I’ll keep her.”

Sybok pulled a small rectangular device from his pocket as he balanced Nyota on one shoulder.

“Would you be so kind to inform my darling brother that if he wishes to see his whore alive, he’ll follow the instructions I’ll send him to the letter.”

Sybok pushed a button on the device and dematerialized, taking Nyota with him.

“Damn green blooded...” McCoy managed to curse before the blackness overtook him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spock walked down the dimly lit path towards the Admiral McDowell Medical Building. He received an emergency summons to the hospital shortly after three in the morning. The nurse who paged him gave him little information about why his presence was required. As far as he knew, he was not the emergency contact for anyone on campus. Spock could only think of one other possible reason for his summons, but he would not allow himself to dwell on the thought that some accident had befallen Cadet Uhura. He had no evidence to support such a conclusion and he found the idea of her injured or ill to be inordinately upsetting.

Spock entered the medical center and strode directly to the reception station.

“I am Lieutenant Commander Spock. I was summoned at 0330 hours for an unspecified purpose.”

The Andorian ensign behind the desk nodded her head before quickly typing his name into her computer console.

“Yes, you were summoned to attend to one Cadet Leonard McCoy. You will find him on floor 14 in room 208 B.”

Spock nodded curtly before making his way to the turbolifts.  Spock was not well acquainted with Cadet McCoy. He knew him to be a particular friend of Cadet Uhura. However, he could not understand why McCoy would call for him. Spock stepped off of the lift and onto the 14th floor, bypassing the nurse’s station as he made his way directly to room 208B.

“I already told you I don’t want any more of those damn sedatives,” McCoy growled at a stern faced nurse.

“But Cadet, your injuries are extensive and Doctor Andrews recommends that you get plenty of sleep.”

“Well I’m a doctor too, Skippy, and I know a broken nose and a cracked rib ain’t going to kill me and I sure as hell don’t need those damn elephant tranqs. So, why don’t you take your junior-physician toy kit and go play doctor with some other sap! Besides, I have to stay lucid to talk to Commander Pointy Ears here.”

Spock rose one eyebrow at the cadet’s colorful diatribe. Although his method was crude, the cadet’s invective had the desired result of sending the nurse scurrying from the room.

“Cadet McCoy, I am sure that you were appraised of Starfleet protocol when you enlisted. However, I shall make the effort to remind you that the proper etiquette for addressing a superior officer...”

“Look you green-blooded hobgoblin,” McCoy shouted over him,”I don’t have time for your damn etiquette lessons...”

“Cadet McCoy, your continued disrespect...”

“Will you just shut up and listen! Nyota’s been kidnapped!”

Spock stilled, his rebuke of the cadet’s behavior dying on his tongue. A peculiar numbness overcame him as he processed what the cadet had said.

“Would you please repeat that,” he managed after a moment that seemed to stretch impossibly long. “I believe that I misheard.”

McCoy’s face reddened.

“Nyota’s been kidnapped. Your damn brother kicked my ass and took off with her earlier tonight. I told campus police as soon as I came to, but those dimwits don’t know where to start. They can’t find any trace of her.”

Spock felt his numbness quickly give way to rage. He barely heard the rest of McCoy’s explanation as his blood rushed loudly in his ears. The primitive Vulcan passion that he had struggled to subdue for the past several months nearly consumed him; the urge to claim his life-mate pushed aside by his lust for her attacker’s blood. He had never felt an emotion so potent and wild. Part of him gloried in this new sensation—pushed him to run from the medical center to hunt down his brother and claim his mate. Spock was grateful that the logical part of him still maintained control. He knew that giving into this irrational impulse would not help him rescue Nyota. Spock shut his eyes as he willed his heart rate to return to normal and the green haze of his vision to clear. He stepped closer to McCoy’s bio-bed, his hands gripped tightly behind his back.

“Tell me all that has transpired.”

Spock listened closely as McCoy related the events of that morning in detail. He was already formulating a course of action. 

"Have the cadet's parents been informed of her abduction?" Spock asked.

"Yes. I believe the campus police already called them. Goodness, they must be worried sick..."

"Very well," Spock replied, cutting off McCoy's explanation. "You have been very informative."

Spock turned to leave the room when McCoy called out after him.

"Good God, man! How can you be so damn calm? Your bastard brother kidnapped one of your students. She could be dead or badly injured. Don't you care at all?"

Spock blinked. "Over emoting will not ensure the cadet's safe return. Now, if you will excuse me..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," McCoy yelled as he slid off of the bio-bed. "Where are you going?"

"I intend to retrieve the cadet."

"She has a name!"

"I am aware of Ms. Uhura's name. Your emotional outburst is only delaying my attempt to rescue her."

"Our attempt," McCoy added.

Spock lifted one eyebrow as he cocked his head to the side.  "You will be of little assistance to me in your current physical state."

McCoy reddened. "Well the miracles of modern medicine will ensure that I'll be right as rain in an hour or two. Besides, I owe that Vulcan an ass whooping."

"The results of your last encounter with my brother would suggest that said 'ass whoopimg' is highly unlikely to occur."

McCoy harrumphed.

"Well, you may need my medical expertise," McCoy persisted. "Hell, Nyota is like a sister to me. I can't just sit here and do nothing knowing that bastard has her."

"Very well," Spock replied. "You may accompany me. Meet me at the Jameson Spaceport in four hours."

"Great!" Spock and McCoy turned to see Kirk leaning in the doorway.

"Where are we going?"


***************************

Nyota slowly regained consciousness. Her head ached terribly and her limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. Had she really drank that much with Len last night?

Nyota opened her eyes and looked around in confusion. She was not in her dorm room bed. In fact, she was pretty sure she was no longer in San Francisco. Memories of the previous night suddenly returned to her. She had never gone out with Len. She had just stepped out of the shower, her body covered in a bath robe, when she spied Sybok reclining on her bed.

“What a welcome sight to greet a visitor,” Sybok drawled, his amber eyes roaming over her body.

“What are you doing here, Sybok?” Nyota growled as she began to edge towards the door.

“One would think you were not happy to see an old friend,” Sybok laughed before pulling a phaser out of his jacket pocket. “Not so fast, kitten. It would be a shame if I had to shoot you or burn such lovely brown skin.”

Nyota stopped her slow retreat. “What do you want, Sybok?

She watched as the Vulcan slowly got to his feet, keeping his phaser trained on her.

“I just thought I’d take you on a little trip. A vacation, if you will,” Sybok said with a smirk as he stepped towards her.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

Sybok laughed. “This phaser says otherwise.”

Sybok reached towards her with his free hand. Nyota ducked, quickly dropping to all fours and sweeping Sybok’s legs from underneath him with a low kick. Sybok fell hard to the ground, the phaser bouncing out of his grasp and skittering across the floor. Nyota scrambled to her feet and ran towards the open door when Sybok’s right hand whipped out and grasped her roughly by the ankle. She screamed as she fell to the floor. Sybok dragged her towards him, as she kicked widly with her free leg. Nyota managed to land a blow to his jaw, sending Sybok’s neck snapping back. Sybok slowly turned his gaze towards her, his tongue darting out to lick the emerald blood from his split lip.

“I can see why my brother is so enamored of you,” Sybok said as he pined Nyota’s limbs to the ground. He climbed over her, pressing his legs firmly against her sides.

“You have such fire,” he drawled as his eyes roamed over her partially clothed form, the top of her robe having come undone in their struggle. “I doubt my milksap of a brother was Vulcan enough to appreciate your charms.”

Nyota’s smiled cruelly to cover her embarrassment. “And I suppose you would know what to do?”

“Most assuredly,” Sybok replied.  “Would you like a demonstration.”

Nyota began to feel lightheaded, her body taking on the strange languidness she now recognized as Sybok exerting his telepathic abilities to manipulate her will. Nyota’s limbs relaxed and her body sank into the carpet.  Sybok’s body followed suit as he pressed against her. She made no protest as his lips pressed against hers, his hot tongue invading her mouth. Nyota wanted to vomit, but she found her will to resist him whithering under the force of his mental influence. Soon she found herself meeting his enthusiastic kisses with equal fervor.  Sybok soon quit her mouth to pepper kisses along her jaw and down her neck, his lips smiling smugly against her skin as he elicited a moan from her lips.

“I wonder if my saint of a brother would still want his little human if he knew how easily you bent to my will?” Sybok laughed as he pulled at the tie of her robe.

Uhura found her ire rising as Sybok’s hands left her flesh, the fog of his influence clearing to reveal a single minded rage.

“His little cadet lifting her bottom like a beast in heat,” Sybok said as he slid his hands down her torso.

Sybok’s taunting abruptly ended  as Nyota’s knee connected hard with his groin. Sybok cursed as he rolled from atop her. Nyota clamored to her feet and headed for the door when she felt a sharp pinch to her neck and her world went black.

Nyota swung her legs off of the spartan metal cot, her bare feet settling on the cold iron floor. She shivered. She was still dressed in the bathrobe she had worn when she was abducted. Sybok hadn’t thought to provide her with a change of clothes or even a pair of shoes. Nyota looked around her cell for anything that she could use to her advantage. Her prison consisted of three bare metal walls, a toilet in one corner and a small metal sing in the other—both seemed to seamlessly fit into the corners of the room. The forth wall was a force-field that crackled and spluttered. Nyota tiptoed close to the transparent barrier to get a better look at the rest of the ship. The energy from the force-field prickled at her face, hands and legs and caused her to rise into even more rebellious curls around her head. Nyota squinted as she peered out into the dimly lit hall. She could make out very little of her surroundings and had no idea if she was on a small freighter or a much larger starship.

Nyota returned to her metal cot, drawing her knees toward her chin in order to conserve warmth. Hopefully Len would have realized she had been taken and alerted the authorities by now. However, he would have no way of knowing who had taken her or where. The calm to which she had so fiercely held onto since she regained consciousness quickly fled her. She began to shake as question after question assaulted her: How would she be rescued? What did Sybok plan to do with her? Why had he taken her in the first place?  

An image of Spock pacing the length of her quarters as he proposed entered her mind. Spock. Sybok had taken her to get to Spock. A small hope lit within her chest. He would come for her, surely.

************************

Spock entered the Jameson Spaceport at exactly 8:00 hours. He was impressed to find Cadets McCoy and Kirk already waiting for him, their casual attire from that morning exchanged for their uniforms and service holsters. As soon as Spock had left the medical building he went to his offices to place a series or urgent calls. It was a particularly trying four hours as he haggled with Starfleet brass, a few ambassadors—his father included—and Mr. Ugway. Yet, his negotiations were ultimately successful. He had a shuttle at his disposal and the full cooperation of Starfleet.

While these negotiations were burdensome, Spock found the most taxing aspect of the morning to be the pre-recorded subspace communication he had received from Sybok. Sybok had demanded that he procure 2.5 million credits in pressed platinum for the safe return of the cadet along with the assurance that neither Starfleet or the Federation would be involved in the transaction. They were to meet on a small uninhabited moon orbiting a planet 500 lightyears from Earth. He had ended the transmission with a video of Nyota lying unconscious and partially clothed in a holding cell. Spock felt his breath quicken as his possessiveness and bloodlust returned in full force. When the screen returned to an image of Sybok threatening to harm Nyota should he deviate from the plan, Spock smashed the console with a loud roar.

Spock had little time to meditate in an attempt to regain mastery over his emotions. He feared that no amount of meditation would allow him to return to his equilibrium. Only a limited number of options remained if his fears were true: he could seek the treatment of healers, he could physically join with his bondmate or he could fight to the death. He had no time to seek out a healer. His bond with T’Pring had been dissolved and he had neither the time nor the inclination to seek her out had their bond remained intact. That only left him with his present course of action. He stopped before McCoy and Kirk, nodding his head to each in greeting.

“Cadets, if you would follow me.”

Spock led the men to the private shuttle hanger where they passed row after row of luxury personal spacecrafts.

“Damn, they said you were rich, Commander, but I didn’t expect you to be so…so rich,” Kirk said.

“I do not own a personal spacecraft,” Spock replied. “I merely called in a favor.”

They turned a corner and approached a sleek silver ship. Commander Shuran stood waiting for them at the foot of the entry ramp, a large crate supported by anti-gravity boards by his side.

“Do you have the platinum?”

“2.5 million exactly,” Shuran replied. “I sincerely hope that you don’t intend to pay the bastard.”

“Sybok will receive all that is due to him,” Spock stated, his voice hard.

Shuran’s mouth thinned into a firm line as he nodded in understanding.

“I will support whatever action you choose to take, my friend.”

“Right,” Kirk said as he looked between the pair of officers. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Spock started blankly at the cadet, but McCoy could sense the ire underneath the Vulcan’s blank visage.

“Um, Jim, in case you’ve forgotten, we’re just coming along as guests to this rodeo.”

“The doctor is inelegant but correct,” Spock added. “You both are to follow my every command. While this is not an official Starfleet operation, the penalties for insubordination remain the same.”

Spock strode up the ramp to board the ship with Shuran following closely behind.

McCoy looked to Kirk before clapping him soundly on the back.

“Jim boy, just try not to get us killed or, worse yet, court-martialed.”












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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.