The Sirens of Thayra

The cell Spock awoke in was barren, a heavy steel door sealing the four red-clay walls with an electronic lock. The cot he had been placed on was canvas, hanging from a frame that was cemented into the ground. The Vulcan could only assume, logically, that after the guards had knocked him out shortly after shoving him into the transport he had been carried here and locked away. What they planned to do with him, he was not sure.

Standing, he saw that Doctor McCoy lay unconscious on an identical cot opposite him. He crossed to the other man and pushed lightly on the Doctor's shoulder, hoping to rouse him. McCoy groaned and opened his eyes. “Damn, did I fall down a turbolift shaft or did those guys decide to start testing those spears on my brain?”

Spock raised an eyebrow, ready to respond by pointing out that neither statement was true. He realized, though, that McCoy was making a typical Human joke and changed his mind. “It would seem, Doctor, that the weapons the natives wield make use of electrocution as a form of subduing their enemies.”

“Effective,” he said, sitting up. Looking around, he said, “Where's Jim?”

“It would seem,” said Spock, “that he has been taken elsewhere.” He looked out the thin slit in the door's frame. “It will be difficult to tell if he is in another cell.”

McCoy climbed off the cot and joined Spock at the door. “Jim!” he whispered loudly. “Jim!” There was no answer.

“If he is unconscious as we were, doctor, it is likely that he cannot hear you.”

“Jim!” McCoy shouted.

A guard appeared in their view, scowling. He kicked the door with a loud clang and said, “Be quiet!”

The two stepped back, McCoy giving Spock an accusatory frown. “I didn't not infer that you should shout, Doctor.”

“Yeah well...” McCoy mumbled. “We gotta get out of here, contact the ship.”

Spock looked around. “Regrettably, I do not see any options at the moment. Perhaps if we are able to surprise the guards we can escape, but there is no way to tell where we are, let alone how to find our communicators.”

“Well what the hell do you suggest we do then? Sit around and wait?!”

“Unfortunately Doctor, that is our only option at this time. We can, however, assume that at some point our captors will have to decide what to do with us, the makeup of this room suggests that this is a holding cell, not a permanent jail site.” He looked around the room, where it seemed obvious to Spock that with the lack of facilities and the cleanliness of the room, there was no reason to believe that the residents intended keep them there forever. At least, not yet, anyway.

Matron Hathra's entourage of consorts brought the one called Kirk into her chambers changed into the same baggy gray pants and tracking collar as the rest of her servants. The sight of her clan's crest displayed prominently around his neck pleased her a great deal. Hathra found this male very appealing and wanted to make sure no other woman tried to take him from her. Kirk was slowly coming down from the drug-like high that her mark had put him on in the streets. The green cut in his forehead as fading as his body attempted to heal the small wound. The venom Hathra had released into his bloodstream was becoming more and more diluted with each pump of his heart. She knew it would not be long before the male would be back to his senses again.

She wanted him unaltered.

The entourage led Kirk into her sitting area and left him there alone, as they were instructed. Hathra watched from the small viewscreen next to her vanity out of sight in her adjoining bedroom. His eyes were more alert and he inspected the room carefully. She could see by the way he moved that he was still unstable, dizzy. Regardless, the collar would keep him in line and if that was too forceful for her needs, she had other ways of subduing the male.

The Matron turned off the screen and went to join her newest addition. The sitting area was surrounded by layers of curtains and when she stepped into the circle of couches Kirk looked surprised, as it seemed she appeared from nowhere. He looked ready to strike with bold questions and demands, but the energy he tried to put behind his efforts made his head reel and he shook his head, trying to focus.

Hathra stepped toward him and pointed at the couch behind him. “Sit.” Still fighting the venom, Kirk lowered reluctantly onto the cushions. She took to a sofa opposite him, lounging gracefully while still maintaining her clear dominance over the room. “You told me you did not have a clan. You are renegade men, then. And the woman with you, she is your leader.”

“No,” he spoke quickly, but was still too foggy to clarify.

“No?” Hathra found the way he fought the venom amusing. He was turning out to be a very strong male, something that she could use in her clan.

“We are not renegades,” he said.

“If you do not have a clan, then you have done something to outcast yourselves. I assume it is the fault of that maiden. She is too...weak...to have been an usurper. Tell me what happened. Tell me where you came from.” Hathra's voice changed into the ominous, deep commanding tone that she had used on Mayl in the city. Kirk looked defiant, but there was little he could do to resist her command.

Kirk straightened confidently to answer. A sly smile spread across Hathra's face. She could tell that he had the will to be the strong male he was but not so strong that he could resist her hold over him. He would think he was regaining his freedom, but he would do everything she commanded. “I am James T. Kirk,” he said as if he were trying to give her a command, now. “I am the Captain of the USS Enterprise from the United Federation of Planets. We are on a mission to seek out new life and civilizations. We came from our ship to this planet to study your culture. We are not renegades of any clan here because we are not from this planet.”

Hathra laughed, both because the concept was absurd and because Kirk looked so pleased with himself. “Captain,” she said, “is that so. Then what is the female? Your superior?”

Kirk looked confused. “No, Tria is just a guest on my ship. She is not even a member of the crew.”

“What?” Hathra laughed. “Are you telling me that you are in command and she is nothing?”

“Where we come from, command is given based on merit, not on gender.”

That made her stop laughing. That was a dangerous suggestion indeed. She kept the command in her voice. “Where is your ship?”

“In orbit above this planet.”

Hathra looked confused. “What does that mean, orbit?”

“It means that the Enterprise is circling outside the planet's atmosphere, flying at a safe distance while we beamed down to investigate your city.”

“Fly?” She leaned toward the Captain. “What is that?”

“You know,” he said, “to fly...to move above the ground.”

“You mean hover,” she said, making it sound obvious. “If your ship is hovering nearby our city I want you to take me to it.”

“No not hovering. It's up there,” he pointed up to the ceiling. “The Enterprise isn't on the planet. It's above it. Above the clouds.”

“Impossible,” she said.

“No it's not-”

“Silence!” Hathra was becoming angry. The things that he was saying made no sense. For something to move over the clouds, it was not possible. But here this male was telling her that it was. He was telling her that he was in charge of other men and that they had no matron. She had thought she was gaining a formidable consort and at best knowledge of a weak clan that had lost some of its members, but this was much different. Something about this was not right, but she needed to learn more before the other Matrons called a council. The more she knew than them the better and if things went well, Hathra could gain control over the city, something that she desired very much.

She stood up and settled into the couch next to Kirk. He smiled at her, “I'm sorry if I offended you.” How quaint, he was trying to charm her.

“No,” she crooned. “You just don't make any sense.” She leaned in closer to him, letting the scent of her skin fill his nostrils. “Please, explain to me about your ship...”