Chapter Text
Part Three (Cont’d)
“I do not like this.”
Jirel had a feeling that Klath was going to say something like that. The Klingon was nothing if not predictable.
“I am a warrior,” he continued, “I do not run away.”
“Hey, Klath, don’t think of it as running away,” Jirel offered, “Think of it as running…towards…our way out of here.”
“That is just another form of running away.”
“Ok, fine. But look at you,” he said, gesturing to the Klingon’s limp, blood-soaked arm, “You need to get that sorted.”
“I have my other arm.”
Jirel sighed. They had only made it as far as the corridor outside the brig, where the intention had been to split up. Except Klath wasn’t a fan of the fact that he was being asked to get back to the Bounty with Natasha, rather than join the assault on the cloaking device.
“Klath,” Denella chimed in, trying to look more understanding and coming at the debate from a more Klingon perspective, “This is the best battle plan. You need medical treatment, and we need someone back on the Bounty to help with our escape.”
“I do not require medical—” Klath got that far before he growled in pain.
“Yes you do,” Natasha said from next to the Klingon, “It’s a bad wound, and it’s probably already infected. I’ve done what I can for now, but either we get you treated asap or that other arm of yours is all you’ll have left.”
Klath stared daggers at her, but she stayed firm, staring back at him. This might set the friendship thing back a few steps, she admitted to herself, but she didn’t flinch.
“We need to proceed on our mission,” Not T’Prin reminded them, the Vulcan woman growing tired of observing the odd behaviour that was on display in front of her.
Klath and Natasha continued to stare each other down for a few more moments, before the Klingon finally and reluctantly nodded.
“Good enough for me,” Natasha said, “We’ll see the rest of you back at the hangar bay.”
Jirel looked over at Denella and Not T’Prin. The Vulcan woman gestured for them to move down the corridor, then took one final moment to look back at the unhappy Klingon.
“I believe I should apologise,” she admitted, “I needed to maintain my cover while we were in the hangar bay, but it was not my intention to shoot you.”
Klath looked down at his injured arm, then back up at the Vulcan. “That was not my intention either,” he admitted.
With that, he turned away, and walked as quickly as he could with Natasha down the corridor. Not T’Prin turned back and led the others in the opposite direction, each of them now holding a disruptor pistol that they had liberated from a nearby weapons locker.
“The cloaking device is this way,” she said as they moved, “If we can disable it, they will be exposed within Federation space and Sokar will be arrested.”
“Who knew Sunek’s little cult could be so unfriendly,” Jirel offered as they moved.
“The V’tosh ka’tur are mostly harmless,” Not T’Prin explained as they turned a corner and proceeded down the next corridor, “Unfortunately, Sokar and his followers are not strictly part of that collective any more. He has taken them down a more...radical path.”
“You don’t say.”
“That is why the V’Shar have been monitoring him. But over the last year or so, he has been growing more unhinged, his emotional manipulations have become stronger and more violent, and attracted more and more followers to his group.”
“There’s something I don’t get,” Denella shot back as they reached another intersection, “Why the hell is he doing any of this?”
Not T’Prin didn’t reply immediately, which unsettled the Orion woman all over again.
“There is something else you should know,” the Vulcan woman eventually said instead, “About your friend.”
“Yeah,” Jirel nodded, “We still need to rescue him while we’re—”
“It may not be that simple,” she said, interrupting him, “By now it is likely that Sokar has had time to meld with him. If so, it is likely that your friend is under his control.”
“What are you saying?” Denella pressed.
“I am saying,” Not T’Prin replied with a tone of complete sincerity, “That if we meet him, he will likely be working for them. It may be necessary to subdue him in order to complete the mission.”
Jirel and Denella looked at each other grimly. Jirel gestured to the disruptor in his hands.
“Take it these things don’t have a stun setting?”
Denella shook her head.
But they didn’t have any time for what Not T’Prin was saying to sink in.
Because then the shooting started.
* * * * *
His mind was flooded with fresh visions of horror.
He was back in the same chair that he had never seen, in the same office where he had never been, with the same doctor he had never met. The restraints he had never encountered before were tightly secured around his wrists and ankles, that weren’t his.
After a moment, he felt the familiar touch of Doctor Sevik’s fingers on his face as he was prepared for another purge. He tried to brace himself this time, having already had some experience of the procedure, but it didn’t help. At all. And deep down, he knew it wouldn’t. After all, how do you brace yourself against an emotional purge?
The pain slammed into him like a sledgehammer. There was no controlling it. Every fibre of his body, from his toes to the tips of his fingers felt like they were ablaze.
It was an impossible sensation to describe, to have his emotions purged. The closest he could have managed would be to imagine what a forest must feel like as a wildfire rips through it, indiscriminately immolating everything in its path and leaving behind nothing but scorched earth. Except this was happening to his entire mind. One by one, he felt the emotions burned off from his very soul.
First agitation, then fear, then frustration, then delight, joy and love. Each of them in turn were turned to ash by the virtual inferno that coursed through his mind.
And all that was left behind was pain.
* * * * *
Sunek lay on the bed of the quarters, panting deeply to recover from the latest meld. He couldn’t remember how many there had been now. Three, or possibly four.
As with the others, the pain had been excruciating, but it was worth it for him to feel stronger. Or at least, New Sunek felt stronger. Old Sunek felt weaker than he had ever been, displaced further to the back of his thoughts, sent into exile along with all the questions that New Sunek didn’t want to answer.
Instead, the anger and torment grew and festered inside of him, powering him up like a full hit of stimulants.
He felt T’Len’s presence next to him, standing over him as he lay and recovered. He could sense Sokar still in the room as well.
“Is he ok?” he heard T’Len say.
No, Old Sunek said. No, I’m not ok! Something’s very wrong! Help me!
But, of course, nobody could hear Old Sunek.
“I’m way beyond ok,” Sunek said, as he opened his eyes and looked at the two figures in the room with him, “Actually, I’ve never felt better.”
Liar, said Old Sunek. To nobody.
He sat up on the bed and breathed in deeply, embracing the swirling emotions in his mind. It didn’t bother New Sunek that said emotions only seemed to be negative ones. There was no happiness left behind by a meld with Sokar, it seemed.
It didn’t bother New Sunek, but it was definitely bothering Old Sunek.
“I’m sorry that you have to go through all this,” T’Len said gently, reaching out and taking his hand, “But it is necessary.”
In the back of his mind, Old Sunek still felt the comforting crackle of electricity as her hand touched his. But New Sunek didn’t feel anything. He wrenched his hand away from hers and jumped out of the bed, smiling his new-found cruel grin.
“Ugh. You sound like my mom,” he scoffed, without warmth, “Like I said, I feel great.”
He turned to Sokar, who had taken a seat in order to recover after breaking the meld.
“You really went through all that?” he asked. Not a question born of concern, or worry for the trauma that Sokar had apparently suffered. More simple morbid curiosity.
“Every time I went to see Doctor Sevik,” Sokar replied with a tight nod, “Everyone on the Tolaris has now seen the evil that was done to me, and to the others. And you can clearly see why we must have our vengeance.”
No, Old Sunek screamed from somewhere, this is all wrong!
Old Sunek tried to convey this to New Sunek. Tried to help him remember the crew of the Bounty, his old demeanour, anything. But New Sunek wasn’t listening. There was something in the way. An impenetrable wall of anger.
“Yep,” he nodded, “I definitely understand.”
Sokar’s strained face creased into a dark grin of his own. One of satisfaction at his impending victory. He knew that they were now less than five hours from Vulcan, still under cloak.
His moment of contentment was rudely interrupted by the chirp of the comms panel on the wall of T’Len’s quarters. He tried not to let any sign of irritation show as he walked over and tapped the panel.
“What?” he barked, “I asked for no interruptions!”
“My apologies,” the voice of Tepal came back over the link, sounding distinctly more angry than apologetic, “But we have a problem…”