inu_spockya

The Empire's guards had force-weapons and ablative armor. No knife, however sharp, was much of a threat to them. Kirk began looking around, trying to find that booth again. He'd lost his best boot-knife in a bar-fight at their last planetfall; perhaps he could find a replacement for it here.

The next thing he knew he was sitting on his ass in the dirt, while the person who had knocked him over took off in a cloud of dust. He retained only the barest impressions of flying black hair, pointed ears, bare feet... What the hell? What was a Vulcan doing here, on an Orion Empire colony world? Didn't Vulcans mostly stay on their own homeworlds? He was sure he'd read that somewhere; it was
Vulcan's version of the compromise that Terra had made.

http://inu-spockya.livejournal.com/3388.html : Mirrored Inquisition, TOS K/S Mirrorverse...  Mendez laughed, idly caressing a swollen, abraded cheekbone with the tips of his fingers, enjoying the slick wetness of the blood, the fevered warmth of alien skin. The room was cold even to human perceptions, and the prisoner could no longer hide his shivering, or his revulsion at the other's continual touching. Mendez’ smile grew wider. “You might as well give up now and save yourself a lot of trouble. I’ll break you eventually; we both know that. I have all the time in the world.” He leaned closer for a moment. “Tell me what I want to know, and I can make your ending easier.”

woo hoo hoo, it works!  man, if I had me a brain, I'd be dangerous, heh heh heh...

inu_spockya

The lash whistled through the air, striking both bloodied and undamaged flesh with the same flat ‘crack.’ The chained man grunted softly as each blow landed, but made no other sound. The lash-wielder’s breathing was louder than his own.

Finally the inquisitor signaled a halt. The soldier lowered his whip while the inquisitor walked around both of them, the better to survey the damage already done. All things considered, he mused, the
questioning was progressing well enough. These things took time, especially with a subject like this one. Quite possibly another session in the agony booth might be productive. It was worth thinking about. The first one had been most amusing to watch, once the booth had sufficiently eroded that famous control...

inu_spockya

Evil Author Day 2013 #2: Wharf Rat

This is actually my second EAD post – I put the first one up before I realized that I have no idea how to edit journal posts. (now fixed, thank you Amanda, you rock my world!)  And of course I couldn't remember everything first – that'd be too logical/easy, yeah? Oh-kay; bolshoyeh spaseebo, tovarischee! Ladies and germs, I give ya LJ – so helpful, aren't they?

So anyway, this one's an AU, as are most of mine. The Orions are the top dogs in this universe; Jim Kirk is a junior pilot on a tramp-freighter when his ship makes planetfall on Spock's homeworld.

A flashing holo-display caught Kirk's attention, and he turned to examine its source. A small, dingy booth sagged between its flashier neighbours, with a selection of self-contained data-displays and
reference cubes, miniaturized viewer/players, chronometers, stellar reference charts... Vulcan stuff, some of it, and Deltan, and a very few Zacathan pieces, though the price on any of those was more than Kirk made in even a very good year. The booth's proprietor was muffled under multiple layers of gauzy cloth. Other than a vaguely hominid shape, Jim couldn't see anything definitive. But the meaning of the sweeping gesture the being made toward its wares was perfectly clear. Jim smiled and backed up. "I'm just browsing today, gentle being," he said quietly. The other nodded and stepped
back into the shadowed rear of the booth. Jim stood dreaming, glancing at cube after cube, wishing he could buy the lot and take them all back to the ship. But even if he could afford them, the Orions probably wouldn’t let him take any of them offworld. Tech-export licences were very expensive and for humans, hard to get.

The Empire controlled those, too.

Best not to dwell on that. There was nothing he, personally, could do to change it, not today anyway. Instead he returned to the main part of the market. There had been one booth with a tempting display of various kinds of knives, knuckle-dusters, small personal weapons. Those were legal; anything that didn't have a power-pack was permitted.

The Empire's guards had force-weapons and ablative armor. No knife, however sharp, was much of a threat to them. Kirk began looking around, trying to find that booth again. He'd lost his best boot-knife in a bar-fight at their last planetfall; perhaps he could find a replacement for it here.

The next thing he knew he was sitting on his ass in the dirt, while the person who had knocked him over took off in a cloud of dust. He retained only the barest impressions of flying black hair, pointed
ears, bare feet... What the hell? What was a Vulcan doing here, on an Orion Empire colony world? Didn't Vulcans mostly stay on their own homeworlds? He was sure he'd read that somewhere; it was
Vulcan's version of the compromise that Terra had made.

Vulcan had taken the other route. They kept to themselves on their own few worlds, and did not interfere with Empire business. The Orions claimed that Vulcan had nothing they wanted. Tavern rumours claimed stranger things. Kirk had heard tales of Orion Empire pilots flying their attack ships into the Vulcan suns – but he gave little credence to those. Still, to find a Vulcan here was more than
passing strange.

inu_spockya

Shadows Linger
(TOS K/S, h/c)

The comm-terminal’s this way. Sorry to bother you, but it’s the *Enterprise* -- they said it was important.”

The civilian steward led him toward a discreetly-placed comms lounge. Spock suppressed his concern with the ease of long habit; soon enough he would know what was wrong.

Hopefully -- though hope was, of course, illogical -- it would not be necessary for him to cancel his trip. The annual Colloquium of the Interstellar Society for the Study of Temporal Physics was always a worthwhile excursion; this year he had the honour of presenting a paper himself. In his own quiet way Spock was looking forward to the reactions of his peers.

Much of the time his discoveries were classified, study of them permitted only for those with need-to-know clearance. But on this occasion StarFleet had granted permission. The organisms that had invaded the Denevan system had all died in the same instant, from one side of that solar system to the other -- a distance of over forty light-minutes. A majority of the organisms had been well beyond the range of their crude satellite weapons, yet all of them had died as soon as those on the planet itself expired. Careful measurements had shown absolutely no time lag. The implications were intriguing.

“Right in here, sir...”

“Thank you. I can find my own way back, if you wish to return to your duties.” Spock turned to enter the lounge, thinking of his shipmates, the steward already dismissed from his thoughts.

His only warning was the slight scuff of a foot behind him. There was one searing instant of pain...