DISCLAIMER: The Star Trek characters are the property of Paramount Studios, Inc. The story contents are the creation and property of Cheree Cargill and is copyright (c) 2004 by Cheree Cargill. This story is Rated R.
ERRAND OF MERCY: MIND RIPPER
Stardate: 3199.3, Personal Log, First Officer Spock recording.
Captain Kirk once attempted to explain to me how it felt to have his mind invaded and drained by Dr. Adams' device on Tantalus. I never fully understood ... until now. I have undergone such a mind rape at the hands of the Klingons and I am still reeling from the violation of this event. It was also my first face-to-face encounter with these people and I understand now, as well, their reputation for ruthlessness and sheer cruelty.
In my training as a Starfleet command officer, I underwent simulated capture and torture, but nothing could prepare me for the real thing. I thank my Ancestors for the fortitude they gave me to withstand it, for otherwise, I would not have had the stamina to maintain my mental shields against their mind-sifter.
I was taken from the council chamber on Organia and transported with my guards to the Klingon command ship. The first thing that assaulted me when we materialized was the smell of the place. It was the stench of unwashed bodies, raw and rotted meat, sewage, and things I could not identify. Vulcans have highly developed senses of smell, evolved in our thinner atmosphere, and I had long ago decided that Humans were some of the dirtiest beings I had ever encountered, although I had learned over the years to accustom myself to their scents. This was something else entirely. It was like a blow to the face and I nearly reeled before I caught myself.
The Klingons noted my reaction and laughed uproariously, speaking in their guttural language before shoving me off the transporter platform. For my benefit, one of them spoke Standard. "Oh, our poor trader is offended! Perhaps we should find him some poseys to smell!" Then he shoved me again. "Get on, you! You'll be smelling your own shit before long!"
They took me to a room, bare except for a long, medical-looking table with an apparatus at one end and shackles at the four corners. I was made to strip naked and lie prostrate on the cold metal. I had already prepared myself for the contact of icy steel against unprotected skin, but I still winced slightly as my body flinched away from it. Again the guards made sport of my weakness and roughly pulled me spread-eagle, slapping the cuffs around my wrists and ankles so that I could not move more than an inch or so.
Kor's lieutenant, K'Viq, who was in charge of the interrogation, jammed the evil looking apparatus onto my face and head, attaching contacts to my temples and adjusting other areas to the psi points. He had obviously studied Vulcan physiology and knew how to adjust the mind-sifter in order to obtain the most information. I wondered if he'd already had practice on other Vulcans.
Then, he leaned over me and demanded, "Your name, Vulcan! And what are you doing here on Organia?"
"I have already told you that," I answered. "My name is Spock. I am a trader, dealing in kivas and trillium."
"And what could you possibly trade for here on this rock?"
Quickly I searched my brain for a plausible answer. "The Organians grow an herb that is used in ointment. I trade my wares for that and simple artifacts that they make here."
"You are lying," K'Viq stated calmly and without preamble activated the mind-sifter.
I felt as if the top of my head had been ripped away and my brain exposed to the air. Static electricity seemed to radiate all over me and the hair on my naked body stood straight up. Fingers crawled over my brain, searching, probing for entry. Dimly, I was aware that K'Viq was leaning over me again.
"I ask you again, Vulcan. What is your name and why are you here?"
"My name is Spock," I ground out through clenched teeth. "I am a trader in kivas and trillium!"
K'Viq nodded to one of the other Klingons and that man shifted a setting on the mind-sifter.
I managed to keep from crying out but I was unable to prevent my first level of mental shields from being breached. Hurriedly, I retreated deeper into my mind, reciting to myself the Tenets of Surak as a protection from the machine. K'Viq questioned me about various things and I babbled about the colors of Sas-a-Shar, about the canyons of Llangon, and the marketplace in ShiKahr where I had helped my grandmother sell bazic fruit and kais meal when I was a boy.
K'Viq was becoming infuriated. "You are an enemy alien!" he spat, quite literally, his spittle falling onto my face. "Tell me what I want to know! Who are you?!"
"I am Spock..." I whimpered.
The mind-sifter was turned to the next level and my whole body lifted off the metal table as fire shot through all the nerves of my body. My brain felt as if it were being sliced apart with a blade. My next layer of shields fell before it. Again, I managed to retreat before it and again I managed to shelter behind the deepest mental wall I could build. My physical body was left behind as I exerted all my will against the alien invasion. I was vaguely aware that my bowels had evacuated, that an ejaculation had been forced from my erect penis, and that my stomach was about to eject its contents forcibly.
Even as bile rocketed up my throat, I heard K'Viq snap, "Turn his head! Don't let him drown in his own puke! We haven't got what we need yet!"
Someone yanked my face to one side and I vomited explosively. The Klingons seemed to enjoy the show and through my tears, I saw coin exchange hands as they laughed and bet on my endurance.
"Enough!" K'Viq ordered. "Tell me what I want to know, Vulcan. Or next time I'll let you drink to your death!"
"Spock..." I whispered around the foul taste in my mouth. It was the only word I could get out, for my consciousness was busy cocooning itself, preparing for the next level of assault.
It never came and after an endless time of questioning, K'Viq abruptly straightened and turned away. "He's telling the truth," he declared.
"He's lying!" one of the other Klingons growled.
"I know my business!" K'Viq roared back at him. "Do you want to try this level on yourself?! No one withstands Level Four!" He walked away. "Dress him and send him back down to the planet. He disgusts me!"
The next actions were a blur, for I was still deep within my mind and dazed from the Klingon brutality. My clothing was pulled on over my own filth and I was hurried back to the transporter room. I was taken not to the council chamber, but to a room in the citadel, Kor's office there. I found Captain Kirk with him, his face worried but controlled.
K'Viq saluted his commander and stated, "He is what he says. A Vulcan trader named Spock. His main concern is how he will do business now."
"He will find that business has taken a turn for the worse," Kor sneered. "Very well, Vulcan. You may go. But you will be watched."
Captain Kirk caught my eye and asked, "Are you sure you're all right?"
It took me a second to collect myself and answer, "Perfectly, Baroner. But it was an ... interesting experience."