What!? Why has nobody invited Bones on a Pre-Surak adventure a-la-Lord-Vaako? Leonard "Bones" McCoy as a young healer taken by the clan army and trained to kill. Skilled and ruthless, he destroys hundreds of Men at his Lord's command. Until he is ordered to behead a mere boy that stands in the way of their warring. He is only defending his mother and the younger boy still clinging to her neck. The boy holds a sword much too large for his small size. His father's. Likely one of the men Leonard killed at the city gate. The Clan Lord ordered Leonard to kill the boy and continue with the conquest. To his eternal shame, Leonard obeyed the command of his Lord. The city is won and Leonard lays down his blade at his Clan Lord's feet and swears he would never touch a blade again. Swears never to spill the blood of any man on the battlefield. Enraged, the Lord has his hands bound and his war braids shorn. Leonard is marched through the streets, naked and painted in white slave's paste. He is sold. Taken from his homeworld, Leonard is traded and bartered for. "A brave warrior." They shout at first, "Just needs a little persuasion." They beat him. Twice, he stands at the knife edge of Death and he prays for release. He is not granted that mercy. Then they no longer call him Warrior. He is useful only for labor and pleasure and the slavers shout words that mean 'durable' and 'strong' and 'virgin'. Space means only darkness and silence in the slavers hold, cold and alone. The slavers say they are going to a planet where a warrior of his breeding will be valued. They need not know he is a broken soldier, one reasons, that he will not fight is not our concern. Leonard puts his head on his arm and closes his eyes. He prays for a dreamless sleep. This mercy he is permitted. The planet is a desert. When he is hauled from the cargo bay, he is blinded by the force of their sun. For seven minutes, he is blind. Dragged through the dusty market, touched on all sides by prospecting buyers. His arms and thighs are squeezed and slapped and his mouth is pried open to examine his teeth. Leonard is not a warrior any more. He is barely human. They chain him to a metal spike buried in the solid rock and leave him in his tattered pants to burn in the scorching sun. He is already burned, skin red and hot, inflamed with the damage of too long in direct sunlight, when a hand touches his cheek. "Jim." A voice says distantly, "We are not here to purchase slaves." The hand turns his face to better examine him. Leonard has enured this for long enough to know the hand on him is taking care to be gentle. "This man-" "A warrior!" The slavers shouts from the shade. The hand turns Leonard's face to meet his eyes. He knows their value as a slave to men's pleasure. One eye is hazel, the other pale blue. A genetic marvel. The man holding his chin in unimpressed. "You are a healer, not a warrior." He says, so sure. Leonard nods, barely, just a jerk of his head in the stanger's hand. The man releases him gently and turns to the slavers in the shade. They argue and a man with black hair down his back in braids so like the ones Leonard once bore proudly and light armor across his shoulders and side silences them with just a few words. The smaller man with him, blonde and dressed in light linens and gold jewelry, slips a few bangles from one wrist and offers them. The slavers snatch them up and Leonard is unchained. The blonde man, the man with the warm honey colored eyes, takes Leonard's arm and helps him rise. "He is gravely damaged, Jim. There is no guarantee he will return your favor." The dark haired man says. He looks like a fighter, ranking high is these beings display skill with decoration the way his own people do. "He needs water." The one called Jim says softly, "Some salve for these sunburns." He smiles at Leonard, but gently, trying to being soothing. "I know how much those burns hurt, I had them just as bad when I first arrived." He is careful not to touch them and Leonard limps beside him. The warrior walks behind them. "Have I a master now?" Leonard asks, tongue dry and rasping. Jim's smile melts. He stops at a pair of creatures sitting in the sand, saddles strapped to their back. He pulls a skin from one saddle and drizzles a little water into Leonard's open mouth. It's not nearly enough, but he knows too much will make him sick. "Spock is not like that." Jim says, speaking low, "I was gifted to him six rotations ago. He was cold toward me then. But he's diffrent. We are t'hy'la and to be bonded the next time the fever takes him." "A pleasure slave." Leonard translates. Jim laughs. "Nothing so simple, my friend." Leonard is hoisted onto the riding creature and Jim climbs up behind him. "You will not made to fight or pleasure any man." The warrior, Spock, says, throwing a veil like cover up to Jim. It's dusky red and sheer and Jim pulls it over Leonard's head. His world goes dim and soft and Jim puts am arm around him. "This world is not the hell you imagine." Jim murmurs, "We ask you to heal our wounded and care for the sick. In return you will be provided food and shelter and a safe place to sleep. No one will force you to do anything ever again." Leonard wants to believe him. Gods, he wants to believe this honey eyed man and the warrior master that trails his so called slave. Leonard leans his burned shoulders back against Jim's chest and lets himself doze off in the oppressive heat. He feels Jim tuck the veil to keep him comfortable and thinks maybe this really won't be the hell he dreams. Maybe Jim means it.
